drilling, and digging bombing trenches.

One morning we were informed that we were going up the line, and our
march began.

It took us three days to reach reserve billets--each day's march
bringing the sound of the guns nearer and nearer. At night, way off in
the distance we could see their flashes, which lighted up the sky with
a red glare.

Against the horizon we could see numerous observation balloons or
"sausages" as they are called.

On the afternoon of the third day's march I witnessed my first
aeroplane being shelled. A thrill ran through me and I gazed in awe.
The aeroplane was making wide circles in the air, while little puffs
of white smoke were bursting all around it. These puffs appeared like
tiny balls of cotton while after each burst could be heard a dull
"plop." The Sergeant of my platoon informed us that it was a German
aeroplane and I wondered how he could tell from such a distance
because the plane deemed like a little black speck in the sky. I
expressed my doubt as to whether it was English, French, or German.
With a look of contempt he further informed us that the allied
anti-aircraft shells when exploding emitted white smoke while the
German shells gave forth black smoke, and, as he expressed it, "It
must be an Allemand because our pom-poms are shelling, and I know our
batteries are not off their bally nappers and are certainly not
strafeing our own planes, and another piece of advice--don't chuck
your weight about until you've been up the line and learnt something."