respirators on, which added to our discomfort.  This went on for quite a long time.  Then it also began to pour with rain and we were all drenched.  The night was pitch dark.  Every now and then the exploding shells around us and far away, the burning dumps near Ypres and the star shells along the line, lit up the whole panorama with an effect like that of lightning.  The water and mud grew thick in the trench; and still the shells fell thickly all around.  We were thankful for the discomfort of rain because it saved us from being gassed.”

“July 15th.

“About 1 a.m.  Giffin decided, the shelling having slackened a little, that we had better get down a mine-shaft near; so we stumbled along to it in anything but a happy frame of mind.  Everybody was cursing.  Despite our discomfort, however, the humour of the situation under such circumstances cannot fail to strike one; I could not help chuckling.  Eventually we got down the mine.  It was horribly damp and dirty down there, but the atmosphere was much clearer; there was no smell of gas.  That was a relief.  And we felt much safer here!  No heavies could reach us at such a depth as this.  But it was all darkness.  We remained in this subterranean sanctuary for three hours, standing on a water-covered floor, amidst dripping walls, in the darkness; above us, all the time, we could hear the dull thud and feel the vibration of the bursting shells.  For want of anything better to pass the time away the men began to air their opinions about the war to each other.  ‘We’re winning!’ ’Are we heck as like; Billy’s winning.  Judging from t’newspapers you’d think t’war was over long since!  They keep telling us he’s beat; but they want to come out ’ere and see for ’emselves....  They say t’last seven years’ll be t’worst!’ Such was the conversation which was going on.  Others had a sing-song.  ’Hi-tiddle-ite!  Take me back to Blighty; Blighty is the place for me!’ rang out with great enthusiasm from the darkness underground.

“When we did go upstairs again daylight had dawned.  We left the mine at 4.20 a.m.  Giffin went, with one or two men, back to the trench to replace the camouflage; he told me to get back to the Ramparts with the remainder as quickly as possible.  I did so.  We went along the road all the way from Potijze to Ypres.  We were literally chased by gas-shells; we had to run in respirators as fast as we could go; we came round by the Menin Gate and got back into the Ramparts, safe and sound, about 4.45, very thankful that nobody in our party had got hurt.  Other battalions out on working parties had had a good many casualties.  One party of the King’s Own had had one killed and eleven wounded by one shell on the Canal Bank.

“When I got back to the Mess dug-out I found Captain Andrews, Dickinson, and Allen all sitting there.  They had not been to bed.  They had had a deuce of a time.  The shells had been falling here as well—­also the gas.  But due precautions against gas had this time been taken!  Captain Andrews declared that the rain had saved the lives of hundreds of men.  Giffin got back soon after me.  He is feeling the gas.  We all got to bed about 6 a.m....