Officers moved about and
tried to get their men interested in their surroundings, in their
comfort, in their protection, and in the rigging up of a defensive
battle if necessary. The men understood and worked with a will, and
laughter and song rang out over the torn earth. But every man knew that
in a place like this almost anything might happen; however, the worst
would never happen to _him_--the other fellow perhaps, but not him.
That, I imagine, was one of the secrets of sticking it.
Undoubtedly the Boche was putting up a fight for this bit of ground, and
his guns never ceased, only in the grey hours of dawn was there any
semblance of peace along the front, and then one felt that he had just
temporarily put a hand over the mouth of the guns in a straining
attitude of watching and listening for a movement on our part. A sudden
withdrawal of that hand and they would all bark forth together in a
terrible chorus. It was a strain for all, and faces began to show the
lines of wearing mentality. Our persons lost their spruceness too. There
was mud clinging to us, we were unshaven, equipment hung rather loosely,
but our rifles and ammunition were still as ever, and Lewis guns would
be found in good condition.
After two nights the battalion occupied the front positions, relieving
the 5th Manchesters, and headquarters were established in a good sound
pill-box at Wilde Wood. Another attack was being planned upon Borry and
Beck, to be carried out by the 5th, with ourselves in support.
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