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[page 80]
157
(11).
of these landing in a post would mop up the whole crew, but fortunately although some come dangerously close we have no casualties from this little 'hate'.
We atart for home (Coy. H.Q.) and are within 30 yards when Fritz evidently mistaking all the movement about our lines for a relief in progress, puts a barrage across us with surprising suddenness. Five nines, four twos, whizbangs, shrapnel, etc. scream and crash around in salvos, all falling about the places where reliefs would have to pass. Something hits me on the steel helmet (probably a bit of ice thrown up by an explosion) making it ring like a bell and causing my corporal to poke his head up from the neighbouring shell hole in which he x had taken shelter, to enquire if I was all right. For a quarter of an hour we are held here and by that time our "hevies" are seeking xxx out the German batteries which are doing the firing and continue to pound them for half an hour or so. There is one thing we can always rely on our artillery to do, and that is never to leave off until they have had the last say: and its wonderful what a comfort just a little thing like that is to the men in the trenches. You will hear them remark such things as "that's all right Fritz, but you'll get about ten back for every one of those" - this quite cheerfully, when the enemy's shells are knocking their parapets about.
We finish the last thirty yards at a run and cold and hungry we climb down into the evil smelling old Germ an dugout which is being used as our Coy. H.Q. "A qire from Head Quarters for you, Sir", calls the signaller. "Well what do they want? The number of tins of raspberry jam we had last Thursday week?" "No, sir, worse than that. They want to know