That night, shortly after dark, there broke out the most fearful
bombardment I have ever seen. As one walked towards the battlefield, the
weirdly shattered woods and battered houses stood out almost all the
time against one continuous band of flickering light along the eastern
skyline. Most of it was far away to the east of our part of the
battlefield--in some French or British sector on the far right. There
must have been fierce fire upon Pozières, too, for the Germans were
replying to it, hailing the roads with shrapnel and trying to fill the
hollows with gas shell. They must have suspected an attack upon this
part of their line as well, and were trying to hamper the reserves from
moving into position.

About midnight our field artillery lashed down its shrapnel upon the
German front line in the open before the village. A few minutes later
this fire lifted and the Australian attack was launched.

The Germans had opened in one part with a machine-gun before that final
burst of shrapnel, and they opened again immediately after. But there
would have been no possibility of stopping that charge with a fire
twenty times as heavy. The difficulty was not to get the men forward,
but to hold them. With a complicated night attack to be carried through
it was necessary to keep the men well in hand.

The first trench was a wretchedly shallow affair in places. Most of the
Germans in it were dead--some of them had been lying there for days. The
artillery in the meantime had lifted on to the German trenches farther
back. Later they lifted to a farther position yet. The Australian
infantry dashed at once from the first position captured, across the
intervening space over the tramway and into the trees.