We are like brigands at large in a cave, but one thing spoils it--that
is, these blooming shells. The guns are only from six to eighteen
hundred yards off, but we cannot see them on account of their being
like ours, so cleverly concealed, and our aeroplanes cannot find them,
although if they go over it is ten to one they are heavily fired at,
but with them being so high it is impossible to see anything. We,
the machine gunners, are rather lucky, as we draw our rations from
the cooker where they are at present in the village, and then take
them to our house that we have, and where the corporal in charge of
the limber stays. He acts as cook, and we have bully stews, marrows,
walnuts, turnips, and different things, and plenty of potatoes: _Pte.
H. Tesseyman, Coldstream Guards_.