y well alone, and thrust along the river bank
and to the wood of La Bruyere, where we linked up with the division on
our right. Lefroy was in the first area, and Masterton in the second,
and for three hours it was as desperate a business as I have ever faced
... The improvised switch went, and more and more of the forward zone
disappeared. It was a hot, clear spring afternoon, and in the open
fighting the enemy came on like troops at manoeuvres. On the left they
got into the battle-zone, and I can see yet Lefroy's great figure
leading a counter-attack in person, his face all puddled with blood
from a scalp wound ...

I would have given my soul to be in two places at once, but I had to
risk our left and keep close to Masterton, who needed me most. The wood
of La Bruyere was the maddest sight. Again and again the Boche was
almost through it. You never knew where he was, and most of the
fighting there was duels between machine-gun parties. Some of the enemy
got round behind us, and only a fine performance of a company of
Cheshires saved a complete breakthrough.

As for Lefroy, I don't know how he stuck it out, and he doesn't know
himself, for he was galled all the time by that accursed flanking fire.
I got a note about half past four saying that Wake had crossed the
river, but it was some weary hours after that before the fire
slackened. I tore back and forward between my wings, and every time I
went north I expected to find that Lefroy had broken. But by some
miracle he held. The Boches were in his battle-zone time and again, but
he always flung them out. I have a recollection of Blenkiron, stark
mad, encouraging his Americans with strange tongues. Once as I passed
him I saw that he had his left arm tied up. His blackened face grinned
at me. 'This bit of landscape's mighty unsafe for democracy,' he
croaked. 'For the love of Mike get your guns on to those devils across
the river. They're plaguing my boys too bad.'

It was about seven o'clock, I think, when the flanking fire slacked
off, but it was not because of our divisional guns. There was a short
and very furious burst of artillery fire on the north bank, and I knew
it was British. Then things began to happen. One of our planes--they
had been marvels all day, swinging down like hawks for machine-gun
bouts with the Boche infantry--reported that Mitchinson was attacking
hard and getting on well. That eased my mind, and I started off for
Masterton, who was in greater s