We were roused next morning with kicks from the platoon commanders, and, after much struggling and putting on of wrong equipments, we marched out, but not before each man had received two ounces of Gold Flake tobacco, the first English tobacco we had seen since leaving home.

It was the fourteenth day of September, and raining. Leaving the village, we marched down a road for about five hundred yards, bordered on each side by high banks. There a halt was called. On our right we could hear the sound of shots, and the Corporal in charge of the range-finder was sent to the top of the bank to take the range. He could not see very far, on account of a heavy mist, but reported the King's Royal Rifles advancing. We then doubled by platoons through an avenue of trees exposed to the enemy's fire, and gained some fields on the further side of the road, lining the hedges. From there into the valley led one road which was little more than a narrow defile; then it wound away to the right front over the crest which the Germans held. Halfway up this road was a small village called Tryon. At the rear and facing the crest held by the enemy was another and smaller hill thickly wooded. Before taking us through the defile and into the valley, the words of the Brigadier were: "That ridge has to be taken by nightfall—otherwise we shall be annihilated."

That day witnessed one of the worst battles I have ever experienced, as we were badly equipped with guns, having mostly only eighteen-pounders—"pop-guns," as the boys called them—whilst it was the first day on which we met the really big guns of the Germans—those promptly dubbed "Jack Johnsons."

Our particular front was facing a beet-sugar factory just off the main road, and there the fighting was very furious. By midday we had taken several of the Prussian Guard and of the Death's Head Own Hussars prisoners; also report went round that we had captured twelve guns, which news cheered us greatly. One prisoner, a Prussian Guardsman, remarked on the way back: "Never mind, boys; we shall soon be back in dear old London again!"

On one occasion early in the day, having to retire from the top of the crest down into the valley, our Company-Sergeant-Major took us vi the other hill through the wood to the position at the summit of the hill which the Germans held. It was a splendid move, well carried out, and without the loss of a single man.

On gaining the summit on the first occasion one team of our machine-gunners took up position and held it the whole of the day, helping us greatly to secure the position against all enemy assaults. The men stood their ground splendidly, three of them being recommended for the Distinguished Conduct Medal. On our right was the 1st Brigade, and connected up with us was the Black Watch. One large shell of the Germans which pitched amongst a platoon of theirs standing between two haystacks completely wiped them out with the exception of two men.

We continued to advance and retire the whole day through. First we gained ground and the Germans drove us off again; then we came back with redoubled energy, until towards evening we began to hold on and the Germans to retire. On the right of the road was a haystack on fire, and we were in a small trench just thrown up behind it. The bullets were flying from that rick as if a magazine was on fire and it was very unhealthy. At one time we were in a swede field, and a large shell burst in front of us, covering us with dirt. A chum of mine, being hit very forcibly with a flying swede, up he jumped, shouting: "I'm hit, I'm hit!" but came to the conclusion that he wasn't as bad as he had thought.

As darkness came on we all formed up in line, and the Brigadier, coming to the crest, remarked: "The Brigade will bivouac on the ground they now hold. Dig in." There and then we commenced a line of trenches, which are there to this day.

It had been a most awful and bloodthirsty day, with two of the finest bodies of men that ever faced each other opposed to one another. There was bound to be a good fight, and it was the cleanest and most sporting day's battle I have ever fought. Of course there was no time for food, and we got none that day; but we had the satisfaction of knowing that we had accomplished what we set out to do. We naturally had very heavy losses, including our second C.O., several other Officers and a large number of N.C.O.'s and men—in all nearly four hundred. The rations came up that night while we were digging our trenches; they were brought up under cover of the darkness right to the front line and there dumped. Those who were near when they arrived were fortunate, as they got their shares; others who were further away got none. I was one of the fortunate ones, and filled my pockets with small biscuits and a lump of cheese, on which I kept two chums all next day.

During the night we dug our one-man trenches six-foot long and as deep as we could make them; it was hard work at times, the soil being very rocky. I got fairly well down nearly four feet by daybreak, when my Platoon Sergeant came along and ordered me to join my section further along the line, another man whose section was near me taking over my trench. It couldn't be helped, as we had all got mixed up in the day action the day before. When I joined my section I found the trench I had to take over only about a foot deep, and the whole week following, although I was digging on every possible occasion, I could not get down more than six inches, as I had to go through sheer rock.

Soon after daybreak the Germans were off again, shelling our trenches with shells of every calibre. This continued for an hour, but did very little damage. After that they continued to shell our gun positions in the rear, our guns keeping up a steady reply. One Howitzer battery of ours was in a cave, running out by means of rails, situated in the wooded hill behind our lines. The enemy continued to shell with every kind of gun the whole time I was on the Aisne—that is, over a month—and the only casualty that battery had was one man wounded. The German shells would burst round it with a huge roar and a noise very much like "Krupp," and this small gun would answer with a short sharp bang, for all the world as if a little boy had put his fingers to his nose at a policeman.

Just behind the line and halfway down the slope of the hill was the small village of Tryon, where there was a public wash-house. A large shell had pitched there, but never exploded; its weight was not less than one hundred and twenty pounds. There was another on the roadway, and two or three of them in the valley: one stood up on its base. We were down there one day getting wood, and a chum of mine put his foot on it, knocking it over. An Officer passing at the time remarked: "You would have looked well if that thing had gone off!" My chum did not wait to hear any more—he was off.

That valley, when we left it, was like a pepper-box top—simply perforated every few yards. How we managed to remain alive on the Aisne the first week was simply a mystery. Food was scarce; and once we had a single loaf issued out between a hundred men. We tossed for it, the winner to receive the lot, the others going without. After the first week we were much better supplied, having bread or biscuits, with a ration of cheese or bacon, but precious little of that; and oftentimes I tossed for the lot and lost all! Fortunately there were plenty of potatoes and carrots in the ground—these we dug up, boiling them, and, after straining the water off, partook of them with a slice of cold corned beef. Some would boil the beef with the potatoes, thereby getting the salt from the beef into the potatoes: this we called "bully stews."

Our Division, I believe, took the extreme right of the British line on the Aisne; anyway, the French were joining us. They were very quiet by day, but as soon as darkness set in they would start a rapid fire all along their line, our boys remarking: "The French have got the wind up." Our orders were not to fire on any account, but to use the bayonet. At night every other man in the front line was posted as sentry, doing one hour, after which the alternate men would do an hour. This continued until daybreak, when sentries were lowered to one in three.

The third night after taking the Aisne we expected an attack from the enemy, and the whole Regiment stood to till morning. It was truly beautiful—it rained incessantly, and one could not see more than a yard in front of one's nose! That night a man of the Black Watch came in having been left out since Monday's battle: he had nearly every toe shot off and was almost blind. He had—so he told us—been in one of the boilers of the beet-sugar factory, and a German had fired several shots into the boiler, killing some more men who were in there with him. A Guardsman also came in, shot all over.

On the fourth night I was allotted a nice job. My Section Sergeant, coming to me just after dark, said: "I've a nice little job for you."

"Oh yes," says I—thinking it was a nice little berth behind with the transport—"what is it?"

"Do you know anything about barbed wire?" says he; "just twisting it around stakes?"

"I don't know," says I: "I may be able to do it; anyhow I could have a try."

"Well, out in front about forty yards," says this Sergeant, "you will find a lot of stakes and two reels of barbed wire. Now you go out and I'll send another fellow to knock in the stakes while you can twist the wire round them and make some entanglements."

I can't say I liked the job, because I didn't! The enemy lay only a few hundred yards away, and I had to go out there attracting attention by knocking in stakes and twisting barbed wire around them, a thing the enemy would be sure to try their best to prevent. But it had to be done, so off we started, creeping over the top. We were looking for nearly an hour for this wire and, after twice nearly walking into the enemy's lines, we at length found it, and managed, after several volleys from the enemy, to accomplish our task, and rig up some sort of defence. Every night after that, whenever we occupied the front line, I was one of the men erecting the barbed wire entanglements, and many were the narrow squeaks I had at the hands of the Germans.

At the end of the first week we were relieved by the 21st Brigade, containing the Sherwood Foresters and West Yorkshires. They were a new importation from England. My word! didn't they look smart, while we who had gone through so much looked worse than tramps, absolutely reeking of mud. We were taken back to a village about five miles in the rear, and on the way back we had again to go through the defile by which we entered. Our batteries were still there, but the stench from dead horses was awful. This village was at the back of the wooded hill aforementioned, and there were several caves there, perfectly safe from the shells of the biggest guns yet made. In these caves we were lodged, and we had a chance of a rest—the first real rest we had since commencing the Retirement. At the bottom of the hill was also a river, where every one indulged in a bathe.

We were in those caves for two days; on the third day we were called out at 4 a.m., and we proceeded to a village on our right previously occupied by the French. To get there we had to cross a sky-line, fully in view of the German observers. We men knew that sky-line, for while we lay in our trenches the whole of the previous week we had watched the Germans shell it when the French troops marched over it. Unluckily for me, my Regiment was the last regiment of the Brigade to go over. The other three got through safely; but, as the road was thick with mud, we had taken to the field, and thus gave the Germans an even better view of us. Two companies were nearly over before we had it: we were the last two, when over they came in batteries, five shells at a time. We were of course forced to fall back over the crest, but not before we had had twenty-five casualties, though we eventually reached our objective without any further losses.

That village was one of the very worst I had come across—dead horses and dead men everywhere. It was full of caves, in which we were kept; but we stayed there only one day, during which an enemy aeroplane passed over, and on seeing us dropped a silver ball which slowly floated down to where we were, thereby giving the range to the German batteries. But they could not hurt us on account of the good cover afforded by the caves. It was the first silver ball we had seen, and at first we took it for a bomb.

That night we returned to our old caves once more. I afterwards heard that the reason of our being called out was that the 21st Brigade, which had relieved us, had lost the trenches through a great enemy attack, but had regained them by nightfall. Whether that was the true reason or not I was never really able to learn, but, on going back to those trenches at the end of the week, which we did, we found a large grave, with a heading which read: "Thirty-seven Officers and Men of the Sherwood Foresters lie here." It was a Thursday night on which we went back to our old billets in the caves, and on the following Saturday we once more returned to our old positions, only a little further to the right, the 1st Brigade taking over those we had dug in the first place. There we spent another three weeks, two regiments taking the front line and two in trenches in support a little lower down the hill. First of all we worked this arrangement alternately four days in the front line and then four days in reserve, but this was soon altered to forty-eight hours.

It was a fine sight when we were in the trenches in front to see the relieving battalions coming up to relieve us: there were no communication trenches then, and they had to advance in extended order—lines and lines of them; and when the enemy opened fire, as indeed they did occasionally, they all dropped down as one man. As soon as the firing ceased they were off again, and so on until they reached the trenches, when they would fall down just in rear, and on the word of an Officer we would get out and they would get in. We would retire in the same order as they advanced.

There was plenty of work on the Aisne during those days, the men in the front line connecting each single trench up with another, so as to form one long continual line; also the making of bunny holes. During the day we had the usual order: one man in three on sentry, now commonly termed in the trenches "look-out"; and, at night, every other man—if a quiet night, one would be on sentry, one resting, and one taken for digging a communication trench, each man taking his turn an hour about. Those in the reserve lines would all turn out with picks and shovels the whole of the night, digging one main communication trench.

One Sunday morning we came in for a bad time. The enemy finding our reserve trenches, which we then occupied with the 2nd Royal Sussex, with enfilading shell-fire, put several sixty-pounders amongst us, causing a lot of damage. After that occasion those trenches were never occupied, but we made up straw dummies in khaki, and set them around each dug-out; and we used to get great fun from watching the enemy shelling them, our boys remarking: "That's it, Fritz! Go ahead, and let them have it!" One shell went right through the Officers' mess-cart while the Officers were at tea, killing two. That cart had a history; how we came by it is worth relating. During the Retirement we were ordered to give in our great-coats, which were placed on the baggage-waggons. There was also on one of these waggons my Company's money for paying out the men. This was done early one morning, and, when we marched off, the Armourer Sergeant and a certain number of men were left behind in charge, to follow on when everything was ready. I was afterwards told by one of this party that the Regiment had not got very far down the road when the Germans entered the village. One of our men, seeing the Germans coming and noticing this Cape cart with horse attached on the other side of the road, made a dash for it, and drove hard after us. He succeeded in getting away and joining the Regiment, but the Germans had done their best to stop him, as the cart was riddled with bullet-holes. The other men rushed out the other side of the village, thereby being cut off; there were about fifty of them from various Regiments, and, when called upon to surrender, preferred to make a fight of it. They lost one killed and two wounded; and some then gave in and some made off. One man who joined us again told me they used the open country by night and hid by day, for four days. They went about like that in khaki, and on the fifth day got into a house and, procuring civilian clothing, made their way to Dunkirk, whence, after seeing the British Consul, they were sent to England. Of course, as there was no line established like that which the Germans have now in France, it was possible to do so. The Armourer Sergeant was amongst those taken, but he escaped from Germany later.

We were much better off now than at any time before; supplies came up more regularly, and we also had an issue of rum, as well as the Paris edition of The Daily Mail every day. We learnt whom we were up against—the great Von Kluck, immediately dubbed old "One O'Clock," since every day at that time they used to bombard us. It was here that we first heard that we were "the contemptible little army." Here we also received a draft of reinforcements other than Regulars, the Special Reserve joining the few remaining regulars.

I had here an experience of being a sniper. I was on sentry-go in the front line one morning when an N.C.O. came up to me and inquired "what class shot" I was. I replied "first class"—which I was. "All right," he said, "you're the man we want. Come with me to the Captain." After putting another man on sentry, I followed him. He stated my qualifications to the Captain. "Just the man!" says the Captain; "the reason I sent for you is that we are persistently being troubled by a sniper, and I wish you to crawl out in front and bag him." "Very good, sir," said I—no good saying anything else; so I asked him the position he thought the German was firing from. "Half right," said he; "if you watch closely until those leaves blow aside, you will see his head"; which I did after a minute or so. "I want you to get that man," said the Captain. Off I crept over the top with loaded rifle, and, after going a couple of hundred yards, I lay down and waited, rifle ready cocked. As soon as the leaves moved I let drive my whole magazine at him. Then I waited again. The leaves moved once more, so he was still there. I got suspicious and crawled nearer; but found no enemy sniper—nothing but a post stuck in the ground! No more sniping for me!

Our stay on the Aisne was drawing to a close, but I heard afterwards that two civilians—one an old man and the other a girl—had been shot as spies, the man for working an underground telephone and the girl for sending off carrier-pigeons. These people had lived the whole time along with other civilians in the little village behind the line; they were found out by the French Division who relieved us. Every day, as regular as clockwork, the enemy had shelled us for an hour after daybreak, and for an hour at midday, and again another hour at dusk, with an occasional burst during the night. Rifle-fire was always plentiful on the Aisne at night on both sides.

We left the Aisne in the small hours of the morning of the sixteenth of October, being relieved by a French Division, after we had been in the trenches the whole of the time since the battle of the fourteenth of September. Whilst the French Division was coming up at midnight with the utmost quietness and on a pitch-black night, the enemy poured shrapnel into them, causing the loss of fifty-two to that Division, which simply went to show that the Germans had a pretty good idea of what was afloat.

That morning we marched to Braine, and there we entrained for what we all thought was going to be a rest, but really proved to be a harder task than anything we had had before.