“It didn’t ’alf put me wind up,” said Trotter, excitedly.  “When the first’n drops I lays down flat on the duckboards and one bursts just aside o’ me an’ smothers me with earth.  Then another’n bursts an’ I ’ears a man ’oller out—­krikey, ’e didn’t ’alf scream.  I gets up and another’n bursts, so I flops down agin, but it didn’t come so near that time.  I waits a bit an’ then I gets up an’ goes to see what they done.  I couldn’t see nothin’ at first, but I sees some fellers runnin’ about wi’ lights.  There was a noise in one o’ the wards, so I goes in.  A bomb must ‘a’ burst on the roof—­there was a big ’ole in the canvas.  The bed underneath was all twisted an’ torn, but there wasn’t nobody in it.  There was some wounded lyin’ in beds at the fur end of the ward, an’ one of ’em was cryin’ somethin’ chronic.  Then someone brings a light an’ I sees an orderly lyin’ by the side o’ the bed with a big ’ole in ’is face an’ the blood pourin’ out.  I goes roun’ to the other side—­gorblimy—­an’ there I sees the Sister lyin’ on the floor with ’er ’ead blown clean off—­I dunno where it was blown to, I couldn’t see it nowhere.  Krikey, it wasn’t ’alf a sight to see ’er body without a ‘ead lyin’ in a pool o’ blood.  It made me feel sick, so I ran orf an’ came ’ere.”

Private Trotter was trembling in every limb.  He was the pluckiest man I ever knew and capable of any piece of foolhardy daring.  But this time he was near a nervous breakdown.

We went to bed full of anxiety.  For a long while we lay awake, straining our ears to catch the sound of firing or the drone of German propellers.  But no sound broke the stillness of the night, and one by one we dropped off to sleep.

The next morning was clear and sunny.  The sky remained blue all day.  Not a cloud could be seen.  “Our turn next”—­that was the thought in everybody’s mind.

The evening was starlit once again.  As we lay on the floor of the marquee, wrapped up in our blankets, we heard the sound of bombing and firing in the distance.

Clear days and clear nights followed each other.  Sometimes a train would stop in front of the C.C.S., hissing and puffing, and throwing up a great shaft of light.  We would curse it, fearing that it would attract German raiders.

If only the fine weather would come to an end!  Give us wind and rain so that we could lie in bed without being oppressed by anxiety!  But the sun continued to shine and the stars to glitter.

The disaster that had befallen the adjoining C.C.S., which had been brilliantly lit up during the raid, had acted as a warning example to us.  At nightfall the windows of the theatre were screened with blankets and no lights were allowed to show in the wards or on the duckboards.

If only the trains would halt somewhere else at night-time!

One day a number of Flemish peasants began to collect hop-refuse in the surrounding fields.  They made three great heaps of it and set fire to them.  In the evening the heaps were burning brightly, but no one took any notice.