AND COMMUNICATION TRENCHES, FIRST AID STATIONS &c &c.}


In extended order, two yards apart, we noiselessly crept across No
Man's Land. It was nervous work; every minute we expected a machine
gun to open fire on us. Stray bullets "cracked" around us, or a
ricochet sang overhead.

Arriving at the taped diagram of the trench, rifles slung around our
shoulders, we lost no time in getting to work. We dug as quietly as
possible, but every now and then, the noise of a pick or shovel
striking a stone, would send the cold shivers down our backs. Under
our breaths we heartily cursed the offending Tommy.

At intervals a star shell would go up from the German lines and we
would remain motionless until the glare of its white light died out.

When the trench had reached a depth of two feet, we felt safer,
because it would afford us cover in case we were discovered and fired
on.

The digging had been in progress about two hours, when suddenly, hell
seemed to break loose in the form of machine gun and rifle fire.

We dropped down on our bellies in the shallow trench, bullets knocking
up the ground and snapping in the air. Then the shrapnel batted in.
The music was hot and Tommy danced.

The covering party was having a rough time of it; they had no cover;
just had to take their medicine.