d, and we dug ourselves in in some
partly-formed trenches there. In these trenches we stayed till well
on into the afternoon, sending in reports every half-hour of what we
could see to the H.Q. of the Infantry Brigade in Essarts. Evidently
the enemy had renewed his attacks, for there was heavy shelling all
along the front, and a number of shells again came in amongst the
batteries about Essarts. During the afternoon the 7th N.F. moved
forward to some trenches in support, on the ridge east of Essarts. And
there the observers joined them after dark. The firing had been hot
all day, but it now died down. And it really looked as if the enemy's
attacks had become exhausted for the time being.

This forward move by the battalion was, I found, preliminary to taking
over the front line trenches to the north and east of Bucquoy. And
shortly before midnight we moved out through the darkness and took
over these trenches.[18] The front line lay on the high ground beyond
the village. The H.Q. which we took over were in a mined dugout to the
west of the village. This dugout had been made by the Germans before
the end of 1916, and it was small but very deep. It soon became
unconscionably stuffy, as there was only one entrance. But it was
better than being in the open.

Next day the enemy kept fairly quiet, but the village was shelled
occasionally with heavy howitzers. I went out with two observers to
the high ground west of Dierville Farm. But we saw no movement by the
enemy's troops. Later on the enemy's guns became more active on the
roads, and the road leading back to Essarts received salvoes all day.
Orders came for our relief which was to start after dark. It was not
until 10 P.M. that the companies in the front line were relieved and
the H.Q. Company was free to move off. The journey to Fonquevillers,
where we were going, was not without interference from the enemy.
Hitherto I had had great luck in escaping being shelled on the roads
at night, but to-night my luck was out. As we moved back along the
road to Essarts--the doctor and I at the end of the column--a number
of gas-shells were dropped on the windward side of the road. They were
not thick enough to stop us, but they smelt very bad. As we approached
the cross-roads east of Essarts a 5.9-inch shell fell close by the
roadside. We had a shower of mud thrown over us by this shell, and
three more came in quick succession, but not quite so unpleasantly
close.

An incident a