half-past five, and others a quarter past four--it is one of those
matters which become very important on these long dark evenings, and
friendships are apt to be broken over it. The clock tower,
unfortunately, disappeared finally at eighteen minutes past eleven
yesterday morning, so the controversy is never likely to be settled.

The bombardment broke out suddenly from behind us. We saw the long line
of men below clamber on to the surface, a bayonet gleaming here and
there, and begin to walk steadily between the shell-holes towards the
edge of the hill. From where we were you could not see the enemy's
trench in the valley--only the brown mud of crater rims down to the
hill's edge. And I think the line could not see it either, in most parts
at any rate. They would start from their muddy parapet, and over the wet
grass, with one idea above all others in the back of every man's
head--when shall we begin to catch sight of the enemy?

It is curious how in this country of shell craters you can look at a
trench without realising that it is a trench. A mud-heap parapet is not
so different from the mud-heap round a crater's rim, except that it is
more regular. Even to discover your own trench is often like finding a
bush road. You are told that there is a trench over there and you cannot
miss it. But, once you have left your starting-point, it looks as if
there were nothing else in the world but a wilderness of shell craters.
Then you realise that there is a certain regularity in the irregular
mud-heaps some way ahead of you--the top of a muddy steel helmet moves
between two earth-heaps on the ground's surface--then another helmet and
another; and you have found your bearings. That is clearly the trench
they spoke about.

Well, finding the German trench seems to be much the same experience,