When we got back to the Ramparts our tour in the line was at an end.  All we had to do now was await the arrival of relief.  And a very pleasant sensation, indeed, that is to weary soldiers!  The sensation of “relief” is the happiest of all the various sensations one had “out there.”  There were just a few hours of irritating expectancy to live through—­followed sometimes, as at Givenchy in 1918, by some boring experience such as a “stand to” in some particular, and generally uninviting, positions—­and then one would be free, safe and in a position and condition to enjoy a delightful sleep:  free and safe for a few days, until the all too soon moment for return should come!

CHAPTER XIII

RELIEF

My diary of July 20 goes on to state how our relief was effected:  “We were relieved by a company of the 1/5th South Lancashires of General Lewis’ 166 Brigade at 8.45 p.m.  So I set off with my platoon at 9 p.m....  We went round Salvation Corner and across various tracks—­a very roundabout way; but Sergeant Baldwin, Sergeant Dawson and I between us managed to find our way to Vlamertinghe somehow.  Then we went along the road to Brandhoek Cross Roads and thence into our destination, B Camp, on the right.”

The letter which I wrote home on July 21 describes the events of the two days in greater detail without naming places.  It begins where my letter of the previous day left off, at tea-time:  “After tea yesterday I went up to the trenches to reconnoitre our own positions as they will be on ‘the day,’ and the front over which we shall have to advance.  I was accompanied by Allen and others.  We got there and back again without any adventures whatever; but we saw crowds of batteries bombarding the German lines.  The noise as we passed them was deafening.  And through our glasses we saw the German lines going up in smoke.  If the artillery fails to achieve exactly what the General orders the infantry is foredoomed to failure; and, conversely, if the artillery is successful the infantry ought to have things all plain sailing.  That was the secret of the victory of Messines last month.  Churchill, with his customary intelligence, has aptly summed up the matter in the following words:  ’In this war two crude facts leap to the eye.  The artillery kills.  The infantry is killed.  From this arises the obvious conclusion—­the artillery at its maximum and infantry at its minimum.’[8]

“We got back at 6.45 and had dinner.  At 8.30 we began to be relieved.  So, at 9, I got off with my platoon.  We had no adventures except that even the three of us—­Sergeant Baldwin, Sergeant Dawson and I—­had some difficulty in finding our way through the various tracks across the fields!  We passed some simply huge field-guns firing into the enemy lines.  On one occasion if I had not called out to inquire whether all was safe I would have been blown up with others by one of our own big guns.  ‘Just a minute,’ was the reply; and then a loud report nearly lifted us off our feet as the shell left the muzzle of the gun which was pointing across the path we were taking!  They ought to have had a picket out to warn passers-by as is done in the case of most big guns when firing.