George and I laid our wire to the convent – it had been deserted hurriedly, and was well stocked with provisions. We found biscuits, butter, jam, etc and had a good feed, and brought some away with us.
[It] was fairly warm getting back to the guns – they sniped [at] us across a large scarred field – wasting good ammunition.
Two signalers dug a shallow trench by the edge of the field and amused themselves, putting their hats on a flag pole, for the Germans to shoot at. ditto
We fired hard all the morning. The enemy replying on the village, they did grand shooting on the Church [for] shell, after shell passing through the steeple. [i]
Finally it caught fire, and was soon one mass of flames, and the steeple from the clock collapsed with a crash, it was an awe inspiring sight. But it seemed they wanted to get at us, for they shelled the fields in front and behind very hard.
Our wagon line, [which was] some distance behind, had a few men wounded and horses killed. Fortunately at the guns we had only one man wounded.
Our infantry had been forced to retire, we sent for a infantry escort for our guns of 100 men, but one platoon of 20 men. At dark George had gone along wire to forage for food, bullets were very plentiful and I stuck to our little trench waiting for him to get into communication and return with the spoils.
Things seemed to [be] quieting down for about half an hour, when suddenly the Germans played a machine-gun dead on us. We all thought they had us, but the infantry were on our left now, although we did not know, [and they took care of them].
While waiting for George, I heard strange rustling sounds in the trees [on] the other side of the stream. I, for the moment, thought it was some of the German Snipers getting in our rear. I crawled very cautiously on my knees to a small bridge crossing, and along the stream. [I] found after no little time, the sound I had heard was caused by some tame rabbits, which the chaps had released from an adjoining farm. It was amusing to think of it after, but not at the time.
Old George returned loaded with goods, when I mentioned the machine gun and the rabbit stalking, he said “B – the guns and rabbits too. Have a bit of this strawberry jam, Old China – it’s the goods.” I declined the food, for I was too dry to eat, and nothing drinkable was to be got, except the water in the stream, and that was dirty. But I had to drink it next day. The night passed rather quickly. [ii]
October 23rd – 24th
At dawn George and I went along our line, which had got broken during the night, [and] some small houses by the road, which the previous day had been occupied by our chaps, were utterly destroyed.
[There was] one great hole in the centre of the road; [it] was the largest I had seen. [It] must have been caused by a very large shell.
By the terrific burst in the village, they were putting the same like there, for with every shell a complete house seemed to go in the air.
We reached the convent and connected the telephone in the attic. We had to get in a ditch on our way back for the shelling was rather hot. [When] we reached the guns, we fired a few rounds, [and] the wire was broken again by a “coal-box”. We kept up communication by flag.
Our wire was broken no less to five times during the morning, and it was very unhealthy work repairing it.
A little on our right was a small farm, and chickens, rabbits, and all provisions had been left by the inhabitants, when they left so hurriedly. There were also a couple of goats, which we collared for milk. [Later] I prevailed upon George to nip over to the farm, while I attended to the firing, and make a can of tea.
No sooner had he left, than a German Horse Artillery Battery [opened dead on us]. It was horrible, and nothing could have lived above the ground. By the guns, we were absolutely tied to our little trenches, and it was impossible to fire.
This went on for two hours, I thought old George must have been caught by the farm. [I] was greatly surprised to see him come crouching along by the trees with the can in his hand. About 5 yards by my trench, our two officers were, one of them, Lt Marshall, stood up to shout to George to get under cover. [iii]
I was talking to George as Marshall shouted, [then a] whining bang [and] Marshall collapsed with seven shrapnel bullets in him. [This] all happened in a flash. Old George must have had a charmed life then, for how he lived through it, back from the farm, is to me marvellous.
We had the tea anyway, [for] it cost near one life, and a dozen very narrow escapes. We enjoyed it, for tea with real milk was good.
We were shelled very heavily all day [and] several were wounded.
The Wagon Line and hospital in our rear caught it also. The position was untenable, and we received orders to retire at nightfall.
At dusk George and I resolved to wind in our wire, we would need it, as no other was obtainable. I had just started, when a “Johnson”[1] burst immediately in front, rather more close than where they had been bursting in salvos of four all day.
I laid down, and splinters and lumps of earth passed over my head. I heard the other three coming, and dodged behind a large tree by the stream, in my haste [I] fell into the stream; perhaps it was well for me I did, for the splinters took some pieces out of the tree.
That seemed to be the German’s final salvos, for after waiting awhile, we started again.
An occasional bullet was all that passed to the convent. [It] was dark when we got there, and we hurried down to the crossroads where our horses would be awaiting us. We were held up by French Cavalry but eventually got to our horses, only to find that another fellow, named Hodge, who was to meet us from the convent, was not there. [iv]
We decided to go and look for him, and on the way we heard him coming along the road. We hastily arranged to give him a scare [by] turning our hats with peaks to the rear. We waited, it was very dark, when he got near us we both jumped to the head of his horse; old Hodge thought Germans had him, and it was not until we burst out laughing, he tumbled to who we were.
We marched back and joined the Brigade. [We] then marched, through various villages and finally bivouacked about 12 miles from our recent hard scrap. It was great relief to sleep on straw and above damp ground.
October 25th
A day of rest – The farm was inhabited [and we] had a feast of bacon and tomatoes, also some boiled milk, the first since I left home.
Busy in morning overhauling phones, and in afternoon writing letters. It rained hard at night [with] no shelter [we were] wet through. George and I made our bed on some dry straw, but was near washed away before morning.
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