civilized world rang out their joyful peals at the signing of the
Armistice.

Up went the German rockets and coloured lights calling for help, (p. 277)
and ever and anon a red glow in the sky told us that we had blown up
an ammunition dump. The noise was earth-shaking, and was even more
exhilarating than that of the barrage at Vimy. I was so carried away
by my feelings that I could not help shouting out, "Glory be to God
for this barrage!" The German reply came, but, to our delight, it was
feeble, and we knew we had taken them by surprise and the day was
ours.

A strange sound behind us made us look around, and we saw the advancing
tanks creeping down the slope like huge grey beetles. Our men were
just in time to divert the course of one which threatened to cut our
telephone wires. Then the 5th Battalion got out of their trenches, and
the stretcher-bearers and I went off with them down the slope. The
wood through which the German lines ran was called Hangard Wood and
lay on the opposite side of the valley. Here and there lying in the
ripe grain which covered the fields were bodies of the wounded and
dead of the 13th and 16th Battalions. The stretcher-bearers set to
work to carry off those who had been hit. A sergeant followed me and
we skirted the wood looking for wounded, while he was able to become
possessor of a machine-gun and several German revolvers. The wheat had
been trampled down by the men in their charge, but was still high
enough in places to conceal a prostrate form. By this time the attack
had passed through the wood and the enemy were running before it. The
German artillery now concentrated their fire on the valley, which
soon, in the still morning air, became thick with smoke. It was
impossible to see more than a few yards in front of one. We heard the
crash of shells around us, but could not see where they burst. The sun
had not risen and we soon lost our way in the mist. We could not tell
from the direction of the sound which was the German barrage and which
was ours.

I was going on ahead when I came to a large shell-hole that had been
made in some previous battle. At the bottom of it lay three apparently
dead Huns. I was looking down at them wondering how they had been
killed, as they were not messed about. I thought that they must have
died of shell-shock, until one of them moved his hand. At once I
shouted, "Kamarad", and to my intense amusement the three men lying on
their backs put up their