Bairnsfather's sketches portraying the humour and coolness that such
critical conditions create are in no particular exaggerated. A
certain building, prominently situated in a fairly large town, within
easy range of the enemy guns, was being used as B.H.Qs. It afforded
accommodation for about twelve officers and as many other ranks. The
outskirts of the town had been subjected to severe shelling during the
day. Towards evening the shelling ceased, but commenced again about
midnight; on this occasion the shells were directed more to the centre
of the town. Pieces of iron and a hail of shrapnel descended upon the
roof of our billet. All were awakened by the noise. From different
parts of the building the same query was advanced: 'Are you all
right?' Then a hurried conference was held, and the C.O. decided that
discretion was the better part of valour. With the aid of electric
torches we collected our blankets, etc., and descended to the cellar.
Everybody was cheerful. The report of the guns somewhere along the
enemy's lines was heard distinctly, and we would wait for the swish of
the shells as they hurtled through the air. Almost simultaneously
with the swish would come the crash followed by the sound of breaking
glass and falling bricks, and involuntarily we exclaimed in chorus,
'Another one in.' We thought of the poor devils who may have been in
the vicinity where the shell exploded, and various expressions of
sympathy escaped from our lips. Almost immediately on reaching the
cellar, there was a terrific explosion, and one of the chimneys of the
building crashed into the cellar. Gradually we lost interest and
became almost indifferent to what was going on. One by one we repaired
to our improvised beds on the floor. Sometimes one would have
difficulty in wooing the goddess of sleep, and his persistency in
asking questions was exceeded only by the annoyance experienced by
those to whom the questions were addressed. The usual question of the