four
sneezes from father, the new housemaid dropping the dinner tray and
the chapel-keeper dropping the plate, will give you some idea--get
them to try), four shells fell 50 yards away on our left. We were then
halted by a sentry, one of my own battalion. Meanwhile, I saw the
whole sky lit up as all our heavy guns were letting themselves go a
bit; I suppose they knew the machine guns had been unkind to us and
were trying to show their sympathy. The sentry challenged, I replied
with our names and ranks. He glibly replied "Pass friends, all's
well." As we were passing him to go to the C.T. (communication trench)
I noticed something funny about his face, so I asked him what was the
matter with it. He answered that he was wearing a gas helmet. I asked
him if it was for amusement, or because he thought his face would
frighten the passers-by. He answered that there was a gas attack on.
Then an infernal din broke out, artillery, rifles, machine guns, &c.,
Very lights. I can tell you we got our helmets on pretty slick. Of
course, Kitty (that's Kitton) had forgotten his (he's getting the
other battery in the brigade, a Scot--a topping chap), but as I had
two I lent him one of mine, keeping the prettiest, a blue and white
striped one, for myself. Then we proceeded up the C.T. Well, you have
never worn a gas helmet. It smells like ten hospitals and nearly
suffocates you. I could not breathe out of mine at first and the
windows got misty, but it got all right soon. You can imagine what it
was like, nearly suffocated, hardly able to see or hear, and
slithering about in army rubber boots on the ice in the bottom of the
C.T., catching my cloak in everything, never knowing who was coming
towards us, whether it was a fat, greasy Fritz or what it was, not
having the faintest idea what was happening in the front and the
firing line we were making for, unarmed except for the moral effect
our gas helmets would create by their hideousness.

However, I soon managed to breathe out and to see a bit. Then I
noticed the position of the Very lights and saw we still held the
front line, so we felt reassured, especially as we could hear the
topping sound of our own shells whizzing over our heads, about the
most comforting sound I have ever heard. When we came to Battalion
Headquarters we found that the gas was off and gladly took off our
helmets and tried to push on to the firing line. But we had awful
difficulty, as about 800 men, who had been in