he infantry who dug
the "leaping-off" trenches, and manned them afterwards through rain
and raid and bombardment. Horse transport and new batteries hurried to
their destinations. "Caterpillars" rumbled up, towing the heavier
guns. Infantrymen and sappers marched to their tasks round and about
the line.

Roads were repaired, telephone wires placed deep in the ground, trees
felled for dug-outs and gun emplacements, water-pipes laid up to the
trenches ready to be extended across conquered territory, while
small-gauge and large-gauge railways seemed to spring to being in the
night.

Then came days of terror for the enemy. Slowly our guns broke forth
upon them in a tumult of rage. The Germans in retaliation sprayed our
nearer batteries with shrapnel, and threw a barrage of whizz-bangs
across the little white road leading into the village of Hebuterne.
This feeble retaliation was swallowed up and overpowered by the
torrent of metal that now poured incessantly into their territory.
Shells from the 18-pounders and trench-mortars cut their wire and
demoralised their sentries. Guns of all calibres pounded their system
of trenches till it looked for all the world like nothing more than a
ploughed field. The sky was filled with our aeroplanes wheeling about
and directing the work of batteries, and with the black and white
bursts of anti-aircraft shells. Shells from the 9.2 howitzers crashed
into strong points and gun emplacements and hurled them skywards.
Petrol shells licked up the few remaining green-leaved trees in
Gommecourt Wood, where observers watched and snipers nested: 15-inch
naval guns, under the vigilant guidance of observation balloons,
wrought deadly havoc in Bapaume and other villages and billets behind
their lines.

Thrice were the enemy enveloped in gas and smoke, and, as they
stood-to in expectation of attack, were mown down by a torrent of
shells.

The bombardment grew and swelled and brought down showers of rain. Yet
the ground remained comparatively dry and columns of dust arose from
the roads as hoof and wheel crushed their broken surfaces and
battalions of infantry, with songs and jests, marched up to billets
and bivouacs just behind the line, ready to give battle.

CHAPTER II

EVE OF ATTACK

Boom! Absolute silence for a minute. Boom! followed quickly by a more
distant report from a fellow-gun. At each bellowing roar from the 9.2
near by, bits of the ceiling clattered on to the floor of the