About nine o'clock the enemy indulges in what is usually described,
most disrespectfully, as "a little morning hate"--in other words, a
bombardment. Beginning with a _hors d'oeuvre_ of shrapnel along
the reserve trench--much to the discomfort of Headquarters, who are
shaving--he proceeds to "search" a tract of woodland in our immediate
rear, his quarry being a battery of motor machine-guns, which has
wisely decamped some hours previously. Then, after scientifically
"traversing" our second line, which has rashly advertised its position
and range by cooking its breakfast over a smoky fire, he brings the
display to a superfluous conclusion by dropping six "Black Marias" into
the deserted ruins of a village not far behind us. After that comes
silence; and we are able, in our hot, baking trenches, assisted by
clouds of bluebottles, to get on with the day's work.
This consists almost entirely in digging. As already stated, these
are bad trenches. The parapet is none too strong--at one point it has
been knocked down for three days running--the communication trenches
are few and narrow, and there are not nearly enough dugouts. Yesterday
three men were wounded; and owing to the impossibility of carrying a
stretcher along certain parts of the trench, they had to be conveyed
to the rear in their ground-sheets--bumped against projections, bent
round sharp corners, and sometimes lifted, perforce, bodily into view
of the enemy. So every man toils with a will, knowing full well that in
a few hours' time he may prove to have been his own benefactor. Only
the sentries remain at the parapets. They no longer expose themselves,
as at night, but take advantage of the laws of optical reflection,
as exemplified by the trench periscope. (This, in spite of its grand
title, is nothing but a tiny mirror clipped on to a bayonet.)
At half-past twelve comes dinner--bully-beef, with biscuit and
jam--after which each tired man, coiling himself up in the trench, or
crawling underground, according to the accommodation at his disposal,
drops off into instant and heavy slumber. The hours from two till five
in the afternoon are usually the most uneventful of the twenty-four,
and are therefore devoted to hardly-earned repose.