On December 3, which was a Friday, the British outposts brought in
six Bulgar deserters who had much of interest to tell. They said that
the Bulgars not only had suffered very heavily in their engagements
with the Serbians but were losing men rapidly owing to sickness and
frostbite.
What is more to the point, they warned the officers that a big attack
against our line was impending, that it had been arranged to take place
that day but that the severe snowstorm had caused them to put it off to
another day which would not be long delayed.
_March, 1916._
These opportune tidings which as events proved were thoroughly
reliable, were communicated to headquarters and the necessary
precautions for battle taken. The outposts were drawn in and finishing
touches given to the trenches.
The night before the great Bulgar attack began one of the battalions
held a pow-wow in their dug-outs, which they had covered in with a big
tarpaulin that hid the smoke of a matchwood fire, lit for cheerfulness
as much as for warmth. There was little in their surroundings to make
them happy, but their own lively spirits allowed them to triumph over
their environment and the night passed pleasantly in song.
In that bleak corner of the Balkans thousands of miles from home
Englishmen sang themselves happy with sentimental and topical ditties.
If a program had been printed it would have run like this: