are falling round our position, but not as plentifully as a few hours ago. The screams of our own big shells going over to the enemy do help
celerate celebrate "the day". The whir of nose caps, the explosion of his 5.9's & the sound of howitzer & other guns make our nerves jump. In any interval that may occur the larks sing to us joyously. Here as so often before we have the sublime, & the terrible side by side. The day is well spent but not over, but. Why should I want for night to write these few lines? We may not see darkness fall for any minute threatens to be our last. On our last carry, a big shell narrowly missed us in passing, & burrowed into the ground a few feet away. We fell on faces, & escaped. A shell has carried away a large piece of the bank above us.