right
there that I would bivouac in the open. It was just getting down to
"kip" when a sentry came up and said I would have to get inside. It
seemed that Fritz had the range of the Quarries to an inch and was
in the habit of sending over "minnies" at intervals just to let us
know he wasn't asleep.

I had got settled down comfortably and was dozing off when there
came a call for C company. I got the men from my platoon out as
quickly as possible, and in half an hour we were in the trenches.

Number 10 platoon was assigned to the center sector, Number 11 to
the left sector, and Number 12 to the right sector. Number 9
remained behind in supports in the Quarries.

Now when I speak of these various sectors, I mean that at this
point there was no continuous line of front trenches, only isolated
stretches of trench separated by intervals of from two hundred to
three hundred yards of open ground. There were no dug-outs. It was
impossible to leave these trenches except under cover of
darkness--or to get to them or to get up rations. They were awful
holes. Any raid by the Germans in large numbers at this time would
have wiped us out, as there was no means of retreating or getting
up reinforcements.

The Tommies called the trenches Grouse Spots. It was a good name.
We got into them in the dense darkness of just before dawn. The
division we relieved gave us hardly any instruction, but beat it on
the hot foot, glad to get away and anxious to go before sun-up. As
we settled down in our cosey danger spots I heard Rolfie, the
frog-voiced baritone, humming one of his favorite coster songs:

Oh, why did I leave my little back room in old Bloomsbury?
Where I could live for a pound a week in luxury.
I wanted to live higher
So I married Marier,
Out of the frying pan into the bloomin' fire.

And he meant every word of it.

In our new positions in the Grouse Spots the orders were to patrol
the open ground between at least four times a night. That first
night there was one more patrol necessary before daylight. Tired as
I was, I volunteered for it. I had had one patrol before, opposite
Bully-Grenay, and thought I liked the game.

I went over with one man, a fellow named Bellinger. We got out and
started to crawl. All we knew was that the left sector was two
hundred yards away. Machine-gun bullets were squealing and
snapping overhead pretty continuously, and we had to hug the dirt.
It is sur