e road, into which the crumpled-up chassis subsided
with a crash. Fortunately the driver was not there, or for him it
would have been a case of "kingdom come." I was at the head of
our lot, along with my friend Lieutenant Gardner. We considered
what we should do--whether to push straight through to our
destination, which was not two hundred yards away, to wait where
we were, or split up into small parties. We arranged that he
should lead on, while I would wait to see all the column pass and
hurry up stragglers. Gardner had not got farther than fifty yards
when a six-incher came plonk within a few yards of him. Luckily
he and all his lot had time to prostrate themselves, and there
were no casualties. I was gathering the remainder of the party,
when whew! crash! and I felt a terrific detonation at my very
elbow, and for a moment was stunned and deafened. A Boche shell
had pitched not five yards behind me. How I was not blown to
smithereens will always be a marvel to me. As I staggered about
under the shock of the explosion I could feel bits of steel and
earth pattering on my helmet like rain. After the first momentary
shock I was in full possession of my wits, and I quickly realised
that, for the moment at least, I had lost all sense of hearing in
my right ear. But this was a small price to pay for the escape.
Such a miracle would assuredly never happen again. A few hours
later I had regained a good deal of hearing power, but it is not
right yet. Experts, however, tell me that this effect will pass
off in time. A fragment of the shell passed through the right
sleeve of my heavy overcoat. I am glad to say we had no
casualties at all, though the enemy kept on dropping heavy stuff
round about us all day.

Well, cheer-oh! I am keeping as fit as a horse. My appetite, I
regret to say, gets bigger every day.

_September 27th, 1916._

Our working party having finished its duties, I have now been
appointed Requisitioning Officer to the 2nd Cavalry Brigade.
This is much better than that horrible job with the Supply
Column. The war news is splendid, but some glorious men have
"gone West." We are paying a big price for victory. The death of
Raymond Asquith is a great tragedy. A brilliant life
extinguished, one