This was just at a corner leading right on to the Hill and
part of our old front line. We laboured here all night
through. Just before dawn the shelling increased, and the
bombardment grew very terrific. All possible were rushed up
into the crater to take the places of the fallen. Casualties
were terrible, and the wounded came past our corner in one
stream; several of my own friends were amongst them, and two
of them, who had come out with me, were killed just a few
yards away. This terrific cannonade continued until dawn,
when things quietened down a little. Every one's nerves were
on edge, and all of us were thoroughly tired out. In every
part of the trench lay numbers of dead bodies; in fact, to
move about, one had to climb over them. I sat down, dead
beat, for some time on what I thought was a sandbag. I
discovered afterwards it was a dead body.
"Shortly afterwards we were relieved by another regiment,
and in small parties of tens made our way back into Ypres.
This was done in daylight, and we were spotted and shelled
by the Boches. However, we were only too glad to get away
from that ghastly hell, and literally tore along the hedges
down past the reservoir into Ypres. At the hospital, at the
other end of the town, the remnants of the battalion were
collected, and it was there that Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien
spoke to us, congratulating our battalion on its stand the
night before.
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