Time, winter of 1917: scene, a track towards Langemarck from Pilkem.
Weather and general conditions--Flanders at its worst. My companion
that night was an N.C.O. "out since 'fourteen," and we had plodded
on in silence for some time. Suddenly behind me there was a slither,
a splash, and a smothered remark as the sergeant skidded from the
duckboard into an especially dirty shell hole.
I helped him out and asked if he was all right. The reply came,
"I'm all right, sir; but this blinkin' war seems to have lost its
charm!"--_J. E. A. Whitman (Captain, late R.F.A.), The Hampden Club,
N.W.1._