After the bombardment of Ypres there still remained seven more days before our memorable nineteen days' sojourn in the ghastly Salient was to end. And memorable those days certainly were. Nearly every day brought with it some fresh adventure. For any boy who, like this boy, craved for excitement, and, while hating war theoretically and disliking it temperamentally, was not blind to the romance and grand drama of it all, there was ample satisfaction in the Great War; and perhaps on no other sector of the line did all the factors which are conducive to excitement obtain as they did in the dead city of the Salient and the shell-ploughed fields around it.

My diary of July 14 carries on as follows:

"Up about 2 a.m. Twenty-eight more men in B Company reported sick with gas, but they were not sent to hospital. The M.O. said that they would be excused duty to-night and must report sick to-morrow morning. We had a little more gas in the afternoon. I think a German heavy exploded one of our own gas dumps near the Canal Bank. A dense cloud of vapour rose in that vicinity, and we felt the smell slowly drifting towards us in the almost breathless calm of a bright summer afternoon. Giffin, who was the senior officer present at the time, ordered respirators on. But it did not last long, so we went on with our tea.

"In the evening Giffin and I were on a working party with Sergeant Clews, Sergeant Dawson and forty-five other ranks. We proceeded to Potijze Dump and drew tools; thence to Pagoda Trench and carried on with the making of a new trench branching off that trench. All went well for the first three quarters of an hour. Our guns were pounding the German trenches the whole time—the first preliminaries in the bombardment preceding our offensive. But the Germans do not always allow us to have all our own way in these matters; they always retaliate. And, by Jove, we did get some retaliation too! At 10.50 p.m. quite suddenly, a heavy shell exploded just near us; and a regular strafe commenced. I was standing near a shell-hole at the time, so I immediately crouched where I was; the men digging at the trench at once took refuge in the trench. In a few minutes I mustered sufficient courage to make a dash for the trench. I got there just in time, for, soon afterwards, a shell burst almost where I had been. They were dropping all round us, both in front of and behind the trench. Only the trench could possibly have saved us. And it was a marvel that no one was hurt as it was. I honestly expected every moment to be my last; it was a miracle that none of our party were hit. If we had remained out in the open I firmly believe that the whole lot would have been knocked 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 remainder as quickly as possible. I did so. We went along the road all the way from Potijze to Ypres. We were literally chased by gas-shells; we had to run in respirators as fast as we could go; we came round by the Menin Gate and got back into the Ramparts, safe and sound, about 4.45, very thankful that nobody in our party had got hurt. Other battalions out on working parties had had a good many casualties. One party of the King's Own had had one killed and eleven wounded by one shell on the Canal Bank.

"When I got back to the Mess dug-out I found Captain Andrews, Dickinson, and Allen all sitting there. They had not been to bed. They had had a deuce of a time. The shells had been falling here as well—also the gas. But due precautions against gas had this time been taken! Captain Andrews declared that the rain had saved the lives of hundreds of men. Giffin got back soon after me. He is feeling the gas. We all got to bed about 6 a.m....

"It was 3 in the afternoon when I got up. Before rising I read nine letters which were awaiting me—some post!"

After describing the happenings of the previous night in a letter written home that Sunday afternoon (July 15) I went on to say: "I shall pull through all these exciting little episodes all right. I am quite all right so far. Cheer up! Better times in store! We all look forward to that great day 'When war shall be no more.' It will be a glorious day when, at last, peace is attained. I am looking forward to the happy days to come and intend to have a good time then. We are now going through the storm. But there is a calm ahead: 'Peace shall follow battle, Night shall end in day.'"

My diary of July 15 carries on:

"In the evening I went on a working party with Allen. It was a case of extending the trench in Pagoda Wood another fifty yards. We set to work at 10 a.m. Our guns were bombarding the enemy trenches most of the time, but there were not many shells coming from the enemy. A few fell some hundred to two hundred yards away during the night. Our chief annoyance on this occasion was a German machine-gun firing from Kaiser Bill. It swept our trench completely. One man in my platoon, Berry by name, was wounded in the leg. It was a wonder there were no more casualties: the bullets were flying amongst us in great profusion. But they were mostly low, so not very dangerous. 'This is the place for "Blighties"!' Lance-Corporal Livesey encouragingly observed to me while they were whistling round us. We stayed at the job quite a long time. I was beginning to wonder when Allen was going to pronounce it finished; the men were obviously fed up. At last he let half the party go at 2.30 a.m. and told me to take them back. We returned by the road all the way from Potijze to the Menin Gate. It was 3 a.m. when we got back to the Ramparts. It was getting quite light. Allen followed on with the remainder about half an hour later; he came through the fields. We had some refreshment and then went to bed."

"July 16th.

"I did not get up until 3 p.m. this afternoon. Since 8 Platoon has practically ceased to exist owing to gas casualties, 7 and 8 are again combined under Giffin, and I am second-in-command. Baldwin remains platoon sergeant. If and when we get sufficient reinforcements the two platoons will separate again.

"The Germans have been bombarding Poperinghe with very big shells to-day. The shops, I hear, are all shut. It looks as if they intend to destroy the town. Our great bombardment of the enemy trenches is in progress."

That evening I wrote a lengthy letter home. In the course of it I said: "The padre is in hospital at present, having been wounded by a shell in the streets of the city the other day. It is only a very slight wound, so he will not be in hospital long. With regard to the four officers who were wounded on July 1—Ronald is in hospital in Bristol doing well; Halstead, with a wound in the stomach, is going to 'Blighty' shortly; Barker and Wood are very bad indeed, the former was given up altogether the other day. They are much too bad to cross the water yet. We were all amused to read in the Manchester Guardian that Halstead had been lately in the Army Ordnance Corps; it is, of course, incorrect.

"Whenever Colonel Best-Dunkley or Major Brighten come into our Mess they always ask me what I think of the war and when I think it is going to end. They came in yesterday. Colonel Best-Dunkley, with his customary squint and twitch of the nose (I have been told that he contracted this habit as the result of shell-shock on the Somme), said: 'Well, "General Floyd," what do you think of the war? How long is it going to last?' I replied: 'February, 1918.' They then always give vent to great amusement, especially when I mention Palestine; but I really think this sinister commanding officer is not at all badly disposed towards me; in fact I am inclined to think that he likes me! I do not dislike him at all.

"I am Orderly Officer to-night so am now going to bed. The Germans are sending copious gas shells over while I am writing this, but we have got the gas curtain down in our dug-out and it has been sprayed; all precautions have been taken; so we ought to be all right. There is also a good deal of shelling of a heavier kind going on; our guns are giving the German trenches hell at present; we have kept up a consistent bombardment all day. The Germans are giving us some back now; but I feel quite safe in this dug-out! I am glad I am not on a working party to-night. So good night! Again I say, 'cheer up!' It's a funny world we live in!"

My diary of July 17 states:

"Up 11 a.m. Had breakfast while dressing. Reconnoitred the road; all correct. At 1.10 p.m. I reported to Captain Warburton at Brigade Headquarters about a working party for which I was detailed. Carberry, the Brigade bombing officer, explained to me what was to be done. At 1.30 I set off with a party of Sergeant Clews and thirty-four other ranks including Corporal Chamley and Lance-Corporal Topping. The job consisted of carrying boxes of bombs from a dump at the junction of Milner Walk and the road to White ChÂteau; then detonating bombs which were not already detonated; then carrying S.A.A. from one spot to another about twenty yards away. I left Corporal Chamley in charge of the first dump, where the men left their equipment. I went backwards and forwards myself. On one occasion, while I was at the junction of Milner Walk and the road, General Stockwell appeared. He asked me what we were doing; I told him; he expressed himself satisfied and proceeded up the trench. It was a very hot day and I felt very tired. My head began to ache. We finished at 5.30 p.m. Then we came back. Our guns were blazing away all day, making a great row. It was 6.30 when we got back to the Ramparts. I reported to Carberry at Brigade. I felt very bad indeed now. The exercise in the heat, after gas, was taking effect upon me. I did not have any dinner, but lay down. I was told that I looked white. I felt rotten. Giffin also is bad; he got some more gas last night. A good many more have reported sick with gas to-day. I think I have got a slight touch of it now. However, as the evening advanced I began to feel much better. By midnight I felt quite well again."

On July 18 I wrote home as follows: "More gas shells came over last night. We had the gas curtains down again, but, even so, gas is bound to get in. There are fresh gas casualties every day. The number is rising rapidly. Giffin has, at last, reported sick with gas and has departed to hospital to-day—another officer less! So now instead of having no platoon at all I find myself in command of the two, 7 and 8!"

I never saw Lieutenant Giffin again. I shook hands with him in the dug-out and said good-bye when he announced that he had reported sick and was going down the line. He went away and never returned; I have heard absolutely nothing of him since.

"Our guns have been blazing away all night, and are still pounding the enemy lines. Our bombardment is now going full swing. But the Germans are sending shells over too. Five B Company men were wounded by one shell, just outside, this morning. One of them was Hartshorne. He has got four shrapnel wounds and is off to hospital. I have been speaking to him this afternoon. He said that they were hurting a little, but he seemed quite happy about it. He said that he wished he was in hospital in Middleton! It is nothing very serious; it should prove a nice 'Blighty' case!

"The padre is now back from hospital! He has not been there long, has he?

"A few of those men who went to hospital with gas on July 13 were marked for 'Blighty' and were just off, when General Jeudwine stopped them and said that as few as possible from this Division must be sent home at present. So, instead of going back, they have turned up here again as 'fit.' Hard luck!"

My diary of the same date (July 18) states that in the afternoon "I went on a working party with Sergeant Clews and fifteen men. We were filling in shell-holes on the road near St. Jean. After we had filled in a few we got shelled. We took refuge behind an artillery dug-out for about an hour. The shells were falling close all the time. One fell less than six yards from me. I quite thought we were going to have some casualties, but the only one we had was one man who got a scratch in the arm with a piece of shrapnel. At 5.15 we decided to come back via a trench, as the shelling was still going on. All got back safely. But it is most disconcerting—one cannot go out on a little job like that in the afternoon without having the wind put up us vertical! I had tea and dinner. Then to bed. I felt very hot and could not get to sleep. Allen returned from a working party at 10.15 p.m. There was a strafe on at 10.30; the German trenches were being raided in four places."

The following day, July 19, I wrote to my mother as follows:

"I got up at 2.30 a.m. this morning, and with Sergeant Clews's working party filled in the remaining shell-holes (outside Hasler House). We had a moderately quiet time. Only about three shells burst anywhere near us the whole time. Yet we were working in broad daylight! We got back at 5.45 and I then went to bed again. I had breakfast in bed. Then some post arrived: a letter from Father dated July 16 and the enclosed from Norman Floyd. As I expected, he, too, is now in the Army; has been for some months. He is in the 74th Training Reserve Battalion, and is thinking of going in for a commission. I have advised him to do so—in a letter which I have just written to him.

"I got up at midday and had lunch. The afternoon I took easy. The padre was in for tea. While we were having tea newspapers arrived. Captain Andrews opened the Daily Mail and exclaimed with horror: 'Good heavens! Churchill's been appointed Minister of Munitions!'

"'Hurrah!' I exclaimed, nearly tumbling off my seat in my excitement.

"'Good God! How awful!' dolefully exclaimed the padre, looking at me in amazement that I should express satisfaction at such a catastrophe. 'What? Are you pleased to hear that Churchill is in office again?' inquired he and Dickinson in surprise!

"'Rather! he's one of our two most brilliant statesmen,' I replied.

"Thereupon an argument began and continued throughout tea. I must say I never admired Lloyd George more than I do at this moment when, in face of most bitter public opposition, he has had the courage to give office to Churchill. I admire him for it.

"The new appointments are certainly of a sensational nature. Carson leaves the Admiralty and enters the War Cabinet as Minister of Reconstruction (whatever that may mean!). Montagu becomes Secretary of State for India in Austen Chamberlain's place. Then the most startling thing of all—the wonderful Sir Eric Geddes becomes First Lord of the Admiralty! That is very significant indeed. The appointment of that extraordinary production of the war to the Admiralty at this particular moment is not, I think, unconnected with the forthcoming operations. I leave you to surmise what I mean. Churchill has now once more set foot upon the ladder, despite popular prejudice. Watch him now. He will not rest until he has mounted to the top. It is really delightful. How angry everybody will be! Do, please, pull their legs about it for me! But watch also Sir Eric Geddes. He is one of the most remarkable men of our time—general, admiral, statesman!

"I am rather amused at the change in the Royal Name: our Royal Family is now to be known as the Royal House of Windsor! It does strike me as pandering somewhat to popular prejudice. That King George should change his name to Windsor cannot change the fact of his ancestry; he is still a member of the Royal House of Coburg, to which King Albert of Belgium and King Manoel of Portugal belong: no legal document can alter the facts of heredity! not that I think any the worse of him because he is a Coburg. However, the Royal House of Windsor will be peculiarly the British Royal Family and will probably marry amongst the British nobility. To that I have no objection whatever, as I have said before.

"No, I have not seen the King or the Queen out here; but I knew that the Queen was inspecting the hospitals in the town where we get off the train for this part of the front.

"Talking of hospitals—the Padre says that Barker is not expected to live many hours longer. The other three are pulling through. We have got another officer gas casualty to-day. Kerr, who has been suffering from the effects of gas ever since July 12, has reported sick to-day and has gone to hospital for a fortnight. One by one we diminish! I feel quite all right.

"I was talking to Sergeant Brogden—the new gas N.C.O.—last night. He comes from Middleton Junction. He says that he was in the Church Lads Brigade at St. Gabriel's.

"I have been reading the leading article about popular scapegoats in the Church Times, and I agree with it. I think the young Duke of Argyll's attack on Archbishop Davidson in the Sunday Herald was conspicuous rather for venom than for good taste.

"Earl Curzon's speech in the Lords on Mesopotamia I thought very sober and statesmanlike indeed. I read it in the Times."

The next day (July 20) I wrote home as follows:

"We actually had no working parties to take last night. How considerate of the Brigade-Major! So we had a good night's sleep. And we have not done anything particular to-day. We are going to have a change at last. After twenty days in the line we are going out to-night, and are going to have a few days in a rest camp some distance behind. The place to which we are going on this occasion is nothing like as far back as we were last month; but I can assure you it is a perfectly safe distance. So you need not worry. I can tell you it has been some twenty days! I have never experienced such a twenty days before; and I am glad to be looking back upon them, writing during the last few hours, rather than at the beginning. We are all glad to be going out again. General Stockwell has ordered that we have three days' complete rest; and Sir Hubert Gough has issued an order that on no account are the men in his Army to be worked more than four hours per day, inclusive of marching to and from parade ground, while out of the line. So the prospect is bright. It is now 4.10, and we are going to have tea. Our bombardment is still making a great row."

My diary of the same date (July 20) states:

"At 4.30 p.m. Captain Briggs, Dickinson, Allen, Sergeant Donovan and I walked via Wells Cross Roads, La Brique (where our guns were very close together, their sound almost deafening us as we passed them), to Liverpool Trench. Here we reconnoitred our starting points for the forthcoming push. Then Allen and I went on with Sergeant Donovan up Threadneedle Street to Bilge Trench. We watched, through glasses, the German line going up in smoke. In present-day warfare I certainly think that artillery is the most formidable arm of the Service; it is artillery which is the chief factor deciding success or failure in all the great battles in the West. It is even now preparing the way for us. After having had a look round from over the parapet in Bilge Trench we returned the same way we had come; and we actually got safely back to the Ramparts without having any adventures whatever!"

When we got back to the Ramparts our tour in the line was at an end. All we had to do now was await the arrival of relief. And a very pleasant sensation, indeed, that is to weary soldiers! The sensation of "relief" is the happiest of all the various sensations one had "out there." There were just a few hours of irritating expectancy to live through—followed sometimes, as at Givenchy in 1918, by some boring experience such as a "stand to" in some particular, and generally uninviting, positions—and then one would be free, safe and in a position and condition to enjoy a delightful sleep: free and safe for a few days, until the all too soon moment for return should come!