The city of Ypres, which Sydney Baxter had entered some few months
previously, was now a heap of ruins. The whole country was desolate:
the once picturesque roads lined by trees were now but a line of shell
holes, with here and there leafless, branchless stumps, seared
guardians of the thousand graves. On June 7th, 1915, Sydney Baxter
writes:

"We have been having a very lively time, a second touch of
real life-destroying warfare. Many of the boys have been
bowled over. We have had a series of heavy
bombardments--shells everywhere, so that it was a matter of
holding tight where we were. However, I was again fortunate,
and have proved to myself and to the Captain that I can hold
my head whilst under heavy shell and rifle fire, although
it's impossible to keep one's heart beating normal under
such conditions.

"We are now entrenched for a day or two, but it is not
over-lively. A corporal who was a fellow bedman of George's
and mine at Crowborough has just been killed. The poor chap
died in agony.

"It is indeed comforting to know that so many are
petitioning 'Our Father' to spare me, if it be His will,
through all the dangers and hardships of this uproar, and
the confidence that the friends have in my return is very
helpful. I have had the feeling that God will give me
another chance of doing more work, but the thought of being
killed has not the terror it had. The idea of joining George