During the Battle of the Somme our trench-mortar battery was going back
after a few days' rest. It was very dark and raining. As we neared our
destination it appeared that Jerry and our chaps were having a real
argument.
We were going up a road called "Queen's Hollow." Jerry was enfilading
us on both sides, and a rare bombing fight was going on at the farther
end of the Hollow--seventy or a hundred yards in front of us. We were
expecting to feel the smack of a bullet any moment, and there was a
terrible screeching and bursting of shells, with a few "Minnies" thrown
in. We were in a fine pickle, and I had just about had enough when
my pal (a lad from "The Smoke") nearly put me on my back by stopping
suddenly.
"I don't like this, Bomb," he said.
"What's wrong with you? Get on," I replied, "or we'll all be blown sky
high."
"Oh, all right," he said, "but I wish I'd brought me mouf orgin. I
could then have livened fings up a bit."--_"Bombardier" (R.A.), late
T.M.B., 7th Division._