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[Page 23]
holes. We had begun our pilgrimage through the tragic Somme. Desolation everywhere - broken barbed wire, empty shell cases, not a human being in sight, not even a cow or a horse.
Late in the afternoon we reached an Anzac Camp - Semi-circular galvanized iron huts mounted on flooring a few feet from the ground. Some melancholy traces of former fighting were here in the shape of hastily filled in graves, some of them bearing the inscription "An unknown British Soldier".
Next day early while it was raining we pushed on & left left the road to cut across the country on duckboards which had been
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