We were hungry and thirsty, as well as tired, and shed our packs at
the dug-outs assigned us and went at the grub and the char offered
us by the men we were relieving, the Northumberland Fusiliers.

The dug-outs here in the Quarries were the worst I saw in France.
They were reasonably dry and roomy, but they had no ventilation
except the tunnel entrance, and going back so far the air inside
became simply stifling in a very short time.

I took one inhale of the interior atmosphere and decided right
there that I would bivouac in the open. It was just getting down to
"kip" when a sentry came up and said I would have to get inside. It
seemed that Fritz had the range of the Quarries to an inch and was
in the habit of sending over "minnies" at intervals just to let us
know he wasn't asleep.

I had got settled down comfortably and was dozing off when there
came a call for C company. I got the men from my platoon out as
quickly as possible, and in half an hour we were in the trenches.

Number 10 platoon was assigned to the center sector, Number 11 to
the left sector, and Number 12 to the right sector. Number 9
remained behind in supports in the Quarries.

Now when I speak of these various sectors, I mean that at this
point there was no continuous line of front trenches, only isolated
stretches of trench separated by intervals of from two hundred to
three hundred yards of open ground. There were no dug-outs. It was
impossible to leave these trenches except under cover of
darkness--or to get to them or to get up rations. They were awful