_October 5th._ Yesterday was comparatively quiet. It blew a hurricane
and in the afternoon rained hard. So we loafed about, gossiped, called
on some other messes, and in the evening dined with Captain Welsh 2/6
West Yorks. He gave us a bully dinner, and several young officers were
there--Captains Humphrey and Baker--they did not look twenty. Humphrey,
Welsh said, had a wonderful record for bravery. He had already been
decorated.
There has been a terrific barrage on since eleven a. m. We could hear
the roar all through dinner, and constantly Very lights were being
put up. The night was pitch black and we lost our way in the mud and
darkness in trying to get to the 2/6.
This afternoon we went out with the Padre to A. D. S. at Eauze. We were
going out on the railway embankment toward St. Léger when they began a
pretty stiff bombardment (the English). Shells were hurled over from
all directions and the air fairly hummed. It stopped our trip and we
watched behind an old piece of wall the shells breaking on Bull-dog
Trench, the German front lines. Some were big 5·9's and they threw up a
perfectly enormous cloud of earth.
We had tea in the A. D. S. with House and Blackburn. It is their casual
conversation that gives one the real sidelights on the situation. Fox,
an Engineer, was standing a bit down the road when a shell broke near
him. He came sauntering in as if it had been a rose-fall. When things
quieted down we walked down the road and joined some of the Engineers
for a bit of gossip. Then home in the ambulance.
Took a short walk into a small German cemetery. Boche when he retreated
scratched off the number of the unit on every cross.
_October 6th._ Rain. Nothing doing. Bitterly cold.
_October 7th._ Bitter cold. Had ten blankets and still shivered. Went
to service this morning. It was one of the most impressive sights I
have ever seen. The Divisional Yorkshire Band. Most of the men were
going up the line and were in heavy marching order. It made shivers up
and down one's spine.
We move to 45 C. C. S. this afternoon. Shall be sorry to go.
_October 9th._ We moved to C. C. S. in a pouring rain and came into a
wallowing mud hole after dark. We got a real British reception and
were shown into a tent that contained nothing. "Have you a servant?"
was the first question. "We have not," was the answer. So they detailed
us the camp idiot. Mud, rain and a howling gale, and British stoicism.
They are not a bit like the nice bunch we left.
There is nothing doing here but some trench fever cases (P. N. O.).
There is absolutely nothing to do or see, so we hang around in the wet
and cold and shiver.
I am anxious to hear what became of the little Padre, because some of
the men were "going over the top" Sunday night, and he was going with
them. If it does not rain this afternoon, McW. and I will try and find
our way back there on foot for tea, as Colonel Lister said he would
send us back in the bus if we did.