ay be imagined
uncomfortably hot at times, especially during the night, part of which
I spent in the trench outside. We only got a few shells from the enemy
here, his attention was directed more to the village behind us and
Gommecourt Wood in front.

On April 1 we got orders to proceed after dark to the front line
trenches at Bucquoy--A Company was to hold those on the left, with B
Company to their right. We were also given a route, but in the
darkness it was difficult to find and it led to a curious incident on
our journey forward. We assembled the company on the road outside
Gommecourt and made towards the village as fast as the crowded state
of the road would allow. Happily we were not shelled here, but there
were signs on the road that others had not been so fortunate. When we
reached Gommecourt, a mere ruin now of broken trees and buildings, we
were clear of the press of transport and troops. We turned south-east
hoping to strike a tramway running towards Biez Wood. Nothing,
however, could we see of the tramway, and we could only push on,
hoping to find it. After going on awhile we certainly seemed to be
reaching a rather queer place, for we saw our men setting out wire,
and a rather scared little man appeared out of the darkness and told
us that 'Jerry was over there,' pointing down the road. We did not
stop for this, but when a German Verey light shot up almost under our
noses, we decided that we had indeed come too far and that it was time
to turn back. This we did without waste of time and retraced our steps
to Gommecourt. I was expecting any minute to hear a machine-gun open
on us down the road. But if 'Jerry' was there in any force he had
decided to keep quiet, and we got safely back to Gommecourt. After
this experience we took a way that we knew, although it was not the
one laid down for us. And after a long march in the dark we struck the
Essarts-Bucquoy Road, and found our guides awaiting us on the road
near Bucquoy. Whilst this relief was going on our field batteries kept
up a hot fire on the enemy's front, but he made no reply.

The guides took us by a winding route through the north end of Bucquoy
to the trenches, which consisted of an old German drain, very straight
and about six feet deep. It ran parallel to the east side of the
village and about 200 yards from its outskirts. The Company H.Q. lay a
little way behind the front line and consisted of a short narrow slit
in the ground, roofed over with