believe it's a Bosche mine. It made enough
fuss to be one, yet it seems in such an extraordinary position."

"How about getting round to have a look at it?" I said to ----.

"Right-o," he said; "but you know we can't cross the road there. I
think if we back well down, about one hundred yards, we may nip across
into No. 2 Avenue. That'll bring us out near 'Jacob's Ladder.'"

"Lead on," I said. "I wish I had known. I came in across the road
there," pointing down our firing trench.

"You've got more pluck than I have," he said. "You can congratulate
yourself that you are alive. Anyway, come on."

Eventually I reached "Jacob's Ladder," and asked an officer what had
happened.

"I don't know," he said; "but whatever it was, it's smashed our front
trench for about eighty yards: it's absolutely impassable."

Another officer came running up at that moment. "I say," he said,
"there's a scene up there for you. A trench mortar gun had a premature
burst, and exploded all the munition in the pit; blew the whole lot--men
and all--to pieces. It's made a crater thirty yards across. It's a
beastly wreck. Can't use that section of the front line. And to make
matters worse, Fritz is pumping over tear-shells. Everybody is tickled
to death with the fumes."

"Don't cheer me up, will you?" I remarked. "I'm going to film the trench
mortar this afternoon, both the H.T.M. and the 2-inch Gee. I can thank
my lucky stars I didn't decide to do them earlier. Anyway, here goes;
the light is getting rather poor."

The officer with whom I was talking kindly offered to guide me to the
spot. Crumps were still falling, and so was the rain. "We'll go through
'Lanwick Street,' then bear to the left, and don't forget to keep your
head down."

[Illustration: THE PLAN OF ATTACK AT BEAUMONT HAMEL. JULY 1ST, 1916]

[Illustration: OVER THE TOP OF BEAUMONT HAMEL. JULY 1ST, 1916]

There are two things I detest more than anything else in the trenches:
they are "whizz-bangs" and rats. The latter got mixed up in my feet
as I was walking through the trench, and one, more impudent than the
rest, when I crouched down to avoid a burst, jumped on to my back and
sprang away into the mud.

"We will turn back and go by way of 'White City,' then up King Street.
It may be cooler there." It certainly was not healthy in this
neighbourhood.

Turning back, I bade my man follow close behind. Entering the main
trench, I hurried along, and was quite near the King Street