s are carried on stretchers. Here, a man, ghastly wounded, minus
one leg and with the other almost severed, lies on a stretcher, calmly
puffing at a cigarette given him by the bearers, and attempts to raise
himself on his elbow that he may gaze at the curious scenes taking
place around him. Others just stagger along, their pinched faces
showing signs of suppressed pain, yet all have a quip or a jest on
their lips as they smoke the inevitable cigarette. The sight is truly
a wonderful one! The courage and calm that these wounded display in
the midst of their sufferings is beyond words, but they are
"Greatheart's all." Reinforcements are passing all this time on their
way up to the battle line, ready to throw themselves into the conflict
when their time arrives.

Again the infantry move forward to the third and final objective,
under cover of the friendly barrage, and, by the time they arrive at
their allotted destination, an advance of some three miles from the
canal bank has been effected since morning. The wire is linked up, and
the F.O.O. selects a good point of vantage, and makes himself and his
staff as comfortable as possible, and then proceeds to gather as much
information as he can obtain to send back over the line. The infantry
are now busy digging themselves in, and are being subjected to heavy
shell-fire, but they stubbornly resist all efforts to dislodge them.
By this time the batteries have all limbered up and advanced to new
positions, mostly out in the open, and an order comes over the
telephone from the B.C.'s for the F.O.O. to register the guns afresh:
so he at once picks up some dependable landmark, and with much
difficulty observes the rounds as they fall, and thus gives the
necessary corrections.

Then the wires break on account of the shelling, and some time is lost
before communications are again established. The enemy has now
recovered somewhat from the initial shock of the attack, and displays
much determination to recover lost ground--counter attacks are
launched without success. The F.O.O. now has an important message to
convey, but, when the telephonist endeavours to send it through, (p. 055)
there is no answering buzz. Thereupon the linesman is despatched as a
runner, and, on reaching the first relay station, he transfers the
written message to another linesman, who immediately sets out for the
next relief, and so on, until the message duly arrives at
headquarters.

Thus the day wears on: