way we went to see it.
When we got there it was covered with a tarpaulin, but the officer in
charge took the sheet off and let us have a good look: at it--and such
a queer-looking monster as it was! It looked like a cross between an
elephant (without his baggage) and a mud turtle. We bombarded the
officer with questions, but he wouldn't answer many of them; only he
said that nothing but a direct hit with a six-inch shell would
penetrate its hide; and it could go through any hole or walk right over
a house. It was some diabolical device all right, and we went back
chuckling over the surprise that the Germans would get next day. That
night we went in, marching in single file. It was pitch-dark and the
Germans were shelling furiously, though before we left all our massed
artillery had carried out what is known as half an hour's
counter-battery work, the idea being to put as many German guns out of
action as possible. Our gunners had most of the enemy positions
covered, as our aeroplanes had been spotting them.

Well, we went in on the night of the 14th of September, 1916, and as I
had been wounded in the knee the day before I was limping along with
the other boys when, _whiz-bang_! a big shell burst right near us. It
killed several of the boys that were just ahead. I hadn't been able to
bend my leg a few minutes before, but believe me, I ducked when I saw
that shell coming and I never thought about my knee. I was with the
Stokes gun crew and was detailed off as a runner. This meant that I
had to keep in touch with the various trench mortar crews, and report
how things were going, to Headquarters. Tommy, Bink, and our other
friends were with the battalion. Just before daybreak the Sergeant
came around and gave us a snort of rum. We were lying in the trench
that we had dug that night out in No Man's Land. It was called a
"jumping off" trench. In front of us lay the German trench, and we
were supposed to capture it and also a sugar refinery that was located
a little further back. Altogether our advance was to cover about a
thousand yards. Just at daybreak our barrage burst on the enemy
trenches, and over we went; we got the front-line trenches without much
opposition, but where the Fritzies did make a stand there was some
dirty work. We were losing quite a lot of men with artillery fire.
Rust was hit in the back with shrapnel, and as he half turned, a bullet
caught him, smashing his jaw. Flare-pistol Bill w