I was fast learning that there is a regular routine about the work of
the trenches, although it is badly upset at times by the Germans.

The real work in the fire trench commences at sundown. Tommy is like a
burglar, he works at night.

Just as it begins to get dark the word "stand to" is passed from
traverse to traverse, and the men get busy. The first relief,
consisting of two men to a traverse, mount the fire step, one man
looking over the top, while the other sits at his feet, ready to carry
messages or to inform the platoon officer of any report made by the
sentry as to his observations in No Man's Land. The sentry is not
allowed to relax his watch for a second. If he is questioned from the
trench or asked his orders, he replies without turning around or
taking his eyes from the expanse of dirt in front of him. The
remainder of the occupants of his traverse either sit on the fire
step, with bayonets fixed, ready for any emergency, or if lucky, and a
dugout happens to be in the near vicinity of the traverse, and if the
night is quiet, they are permitted to go to same and try and snatch a
few winks of sleep. Little sleeping is done; generally the men sit
around, smoking fags and seeing who can tell the biggest lie. Some of
them perhaps, with their feet in water, would write home sympathizing
with the "governor" because he was laid up with a cold, contracted by
getting his feet, wet on his way to work in Woolwich Arsenal. If a man
should manage to doze off, likely as not he would wake with a start as
the clammy, cold feet of a rat passed over his face, or the next
relief stepped on his stomach while stumbling on their way to relieve
the sentries in the trench.

Just try to sleep with a belt full of ammunition around you, your