wly but steadily I crawled on. Sergeant K---- and I lost
sight of one another. I think that he crawled off to the right and I
to the left of a mass of barbed wire entanglements.

I was now confronted by a danger from our own side. I saw a row of
several men kneeling on the ground and firing. It is probable that
they were trying to pick off German machine-gunners, but it seemed
very much as if they would "pot" a few of the returning wounded into
the bargain.

"For God's sake, stop firing," I shouted.

Words were of no avail. I crawled through them. At last I got on my
feet and stumbled blindly along.

I fell down into a sunken road with several other wounded, and crawled
up over the bank on the other side. The Germans had a machine-gun on
that road, and only a few of us got across. Some one faintly called my
name behind me. Looking round, I thought I recognised a man of "C"
company. Only a few days later did it come home to me that he was my
platoon observer. I had told him to stay with me whatever happened.
He had carried out his orders much more faithfully than I had ever
meant, for he had come to my assistance, wounded twice in the head
himself. He hastened forward to me, but, as I looked round waiting,
uncertain quite as to who he was, his rifle clattered on to the
ground, and he crumpled up and fell motionless just behind me. I felt
that there was nothing to be done for him. He died a hero, just as he
had always been in the trenches, full of self-control, never
complaining, a ready volunteer. Shortly afterwards I sighted the
remains of our front line trench and fell into them.

At first I could not make certain as to my whereabouts. Coupled with
the fact that my notions in general were becoming somewhat hazy, the
trenches themselves were entirely unrecognisable. They were filled
with earth, and about half their original depth. I decided, with that
quick, almost semi-conscious intuition that comes to one in moments of
peril, to proceed to the left (to one coming from the German lines).
As I crawled through holes and over mounds I could hear the vicious
spitting of machine-gun bullets. They seemed to skim just over my
helmet. The trench, opening out a little, began to assume its old
outline. I had reached the head of New Woman Street, though at the
time I did not know what communication trench it was--or trouble, for
that matter. The scene at the head of that communication trench is
stamped in a blurred but unfo