below for the rest of my equipment. While I was
gone, a shell fragment undid all my work by smashing the breech.

I had seen a new short German rifle in the dug-out with a bayonet
and ammo, and decided to use that. I hid all my souvenirs, planning
to get them when I came out if I ever came out. I hadn't much nerve
left after the bashing I had taken a fortnight before and didn't
hold much hope.

Our instructions were of the briefest. It was the old story that
there would probably be little resistance, if any. There would be a
few machine guns to stop us, but nothing more. The situation we had
to handle was this: A certain small sector had held on the attacks
of the few previous days, and the line had bent back around it.
All we had to do was to straighten the line. We had heard this old
ghost story too often to believe a word of it.

Our place had been designated where we were to get into extended
formation, and our general direction was clear. We filed out of the
trench at eight-thirty, and as we passed the other platoons,--we
had been to the rear,--they tossed us the familiar farewell hail,
"The best o' luck, mytie."

We soon found ourselves in the old sunken road that ran in front of
Eaucort Abbaye. At this point we were not under observation, as a
rise in the ground would have protected us even though it had been
daylight. The moon was shining brilliantly, and we knew that it
would not be anything in the nature of a surprise attack. We got
into extended formation and waited for the order to advance. I
thought I should go crazy during that short wait. Shells had begun
to burst over and around us, and I was sure the next would be mine.

Presently one burst a little behind me, and down went Captain Green
and the Sergeant Major with whom he had been talking. Captain
Green died a few days later at Rouen, and the Sergeant Major lost
an arm. This was a hard blow right at the start, and it spelled
disaster. Everything started to go wrong. Mr. Blofeld was in
command, and another officer thought that he was in charge. We got
conflicting orders, and there was one grand mix-up. Eventually we
advanced and went straight up over the ridge. We walked slap-bang
into perfectly directed fire. Torrents of machine-gun bullets
crackled about us, and we went forward with our heads down, like
men facing into a storm. It was a living marvel that any one could
come through it.

A lot of them didn't. Mr. Blofeld, who was near me, leape