nocked out. It seemed as if it was never going to
cease. I never went through such a disagreeable experience in my life
before. Then, to crown all, gas shells began to be mixed with the
others. There was soon a regular stink of gas; I smelt it this time all
right. We got our respirators on, which added to our discomfort. This
went on for quite a long time. Then it also began to pour with rain and
we were all drenched. The night was pitch dark. Every now and then the
exploding shells around us and far away, the burning dumps near Ypres
and the star shells along the line, lit up the whole panorama with an
effect like that of lightning. The water and mud grew thick in the
trench; and still the shells fell thickly all around. We were thankful
for the discomfort of rain because it saved us from being gassed."

"July 15th.

"About 1 a.m. Giffin decided, the shelling having slackened a little,
that we had better get down a mine-shaft near; so we stumbled along to
it in anything but a happy frame of mind. Everybody was cursing. Despite
our discomfort, however, the humour of the situation under such
circumstances cannot fail to strike one; I could not help chuckling.
Eventually we got down the mine. It was horribly damp and dirty down
there, but the atmosphere was much clearer; there was no smell of gas.
That was a relief. And we felt much safer here! No heavies could reach
us at such a depth as this. But it was all darkness. We remained in this
subterranean sanctuary for three hours, standing on a water-covered
floor, amidst dripping walls, in the darkness; above us, all the time,
we could hear the dull thud and feel the vibration of the bursting
shells. For want of anything better to pass the time away the men began
to air their opinions about the war to each other. 'We're winning!' 'Are
we heck as like; Billy's winning. Judging from t'newspapers you'd think
t'war was over long since! They keep telling us he's beat; but they want
to come out 'ere and see for 'emselves.... They say t'last seven
years'll be t'worst!' Such was the conversation which was going on.
Others had a sing-song. 'Hi-tiddle-ite! Take me back to Blighty; Blighty
is the place for me!' rang out with great enthusiasm from the darkness
underground.

"When we did go upstairs again daylight had dawned. We left the mine at
4.20 a.m. Giffin went, with one or two men, back to the trench to
replace the camouflage; he told me to get back to the Ramparts with the