ere fading with every crash. I took out my pocketbook,
containing some letters from my mother and some personal things, and put
them on one of the beams, so that, being in another part of the building,
they might perhaps be found some day. The shelling continued and shells
dropped completely round the cellars, demolishing nearly everything in
sight. The enemy evidently wanted to obliterate the whole place. The smell
of the smoke and the dirt from the debris was choking, and every minute we
expected to be our last. Suddenly it stopped. Philosophy and fear
disappeared simultaneously as I sputtered out a choking laugh of relief.
Then Hawkins, my servant, in a scared voice started, and the others joined
in, singing the old marching refrain of the Training Camps:--

"Hail, hail, the gang's all here,
What the hell do we care!
What the hell do we care!
Hail, hail, the gang's all here,
What the hell do we care NOW!"

When a man has lived night after night in a trench, he gradually finds it
quite possible to snatch a good night's sleep. In other words, it is
merely a case of becoming acclimated to rackets, smells and food. I had
always been able to sleep, but on the night following the bombardment of
the chateau I just could not doze off. I thrashed about continuously, and
while in this restless state harbored the notion that trouble was brewing
for me. Every one has had that feeling, the feeling that hangs in your
bones and warns you to watch out. Well, that is how I felt.

At last the sun rose and with it came a beautiful morning, warm and sunny.
I walked out amongst the ruins to see the extent of the damage caused by
the shelling of the previous day. I was waiting for the stew which was
cooking on a little fire near the side of the cellar. The "dixie" was
resting on two old bayonets, and they in turn rested on bricks at either
side. Towards noon a big shell came over and landed in the moat, covering
everything around with a coat of evil-smelling, black mud. This shell was
followed by another, arriving in the part of the ruins where once a
cow-shed stood. I was talking to Hawkins, my batman, when I saw him dive
across my front and fall flat on his face. At the same time I was in the
center of an explosion, a great flame of light and then bricks, wood and
cement flew in all directions. For a few seconds I thought I was dead,
then I picked myself up and saw that blood was pouring down the front of
my j