It was a cold misty morning when we awoke, but later the day was fine enough.  We got up, had a cheery and exiguous breakfast to distant, intermittent firing, then did a little work on our bicycles.  I spent an hour or so watching through glasses the dim movement of dull bodies of troops and shrapnel bursting vaguely on the horizon.  Then we were all summoned to H.Q., which were stationed about a mile out from Reumont on the Le Cateau road.  In front of us the road dipped sharply and rose again over the brow of a hill about two miles away.  On this brow, stretching right and left of the road, there was a line of poplars.  On the slope of the hill nearer to us there were two or three field batteries in action.  To the right of us a brigade of artillery was limbered up ready to go anywhere.  In the left, at the bottom of the dip the 108th was in action, partially covered by some sparse bushes.  A few ambulance waggons and some miscellaneous first-line transport were drawn up along the side of the road at the bottom of the dip.  To the N.W. we could see for about four miles over low, rolling fields.  We could see nothing to the right, as our view was blocked by a cottage and some trees and hedges.  On the roof of the cottage a wooden platform had been made.  On it stood the General and his Chief of Staff and our Captain.  Four telephone operators worked for their lives in pits breast-high, two on each side of the road.  The Signal Clerk sat at a table behind the cottage, while round him, or near him, were the motor-cyclists and cyclists.

About the battle itself you know as much as I. We had wires out to all the brigades, and along them the news would come and orders would go.  The ——­ are holding their position satisfactorily.  Our flank is being turned.  Should be very grateful for another battalion.  We are under very heavy shell fire.  Right through the battle I did not take a single message.  Huggie took a despatch to the 13th, and returned under very heavy shrapnel fire, and for this was very properly mentioned in despatches.

How the battle fluctuated I cannot now remember.  But I can still see those poplars almost hidden in the smoke of shrapnel.  I can still hear the festive crash of the Heavies as they fired slowly, scientifically, and well.  From 9 to 12.30 we remained there kicking our heels, feverishly calm, cracking the absurdest jokes.  Then the word went round that on our left things were going very badly.  Two battalions were hurried across, and then, of course, the attack developed even more fiercely on our right.

Wounded began to come through—­none groaning, but just men with their eyes clenched and great crimson bandages.

An order was sent to the transport to clear back off the road.  There was a momentary panic.  The waggons came through at the gallop and with them some frightened foot-sloggers, hanging on and running for dear life.  Wounded men from the firing line told us that the shrapnel was unbearable in the trenches.