it were occupied; and ever and anon gingerly glancing in the direction of the German trenches, wondering whether we were seen!  I cannot understand why we were not sniped; logically we ought to have been; but, fortunately, the enemy were not logical on this occasion.  We found the party of the Cheshires and then crept back.  We were walking over the same ground where the recent bombing raid had taken place.  I am glad the enemy did not do a stunt while we were there!  Kerr and Telfer were behind us, wiring.  Our patrol, or covering party, ran right across what was avant la guerre, the St. Julien Road.  It is now so completely overgrown with grass that it is scarcely distinguishable at first sight from the remaining country in no man’s land.  All went well until 12.30 a.m.  But for the rumble of the guns on both sides of us and the periodical sound of the shells flying high over our heads, the Very lights and the occasional rat-tat of a machine-gun, there was little in the peaceful, moonlit country-side to suggest to us the fact that we were between our own lines and those of the enemy!  However, at 12.30 a.m. we received a curt reminder that there was a war on, and that we were in the very heart of it.  Captain Blamey had given orders that, since I was to be officer of the watch in our trench at 4 in the morning, I must leave the patrol party at 12.30 and return in order to be able to get a little sleep before going on duty; so Beesley said that as it was now 12.30 I had better go; and I, therefore, stealthily made my departure.  A few yards behind were the wiring party; so I whispered a word or two to Kerr and Telfer.  Telfer said that I ought to have a man with me; one is not supposed to go about here alone; so he detailed a man.  We were just setting off when, like a bolt from the blue, a rifle bomb burst right amongst the wiring party with a crack; and immediately we heard groans.  Three men were wounded:  one had his leg very badly smashed, and the other two had nice ’Blighties’—­one in the leg, the other in the nose.  That was the first shot.  Shell followed shell and bomb followed bomb in one continuous succession; a regular strafe began.  We made a bound for the nearest trench (Hopkins Trench) behind us.  The bottom was full of water; that did not matter; in we splashed, and only just in time.  The shells were dropping everywhere.  An aeroplane flew overhead and dropped a few bombs, just to liven things up a little more!  And then a machine-gun also opened right on to us—­only the parapet of the little trench saved us.  But for this trench we would all have been wiped out; the bullets were peppering the parapet.  Such a to-do it was!  After about ten minutes of this, Kerr said that I had better go.  Then began the most desperate adventure I have so far struck.  I made a dash across the open into the communication trench and hurried down it, bent double.  I had to duck constantly, for shells were bursting around me every yard of the journey.  The dust raised