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[Page 125]
in, I took a walk around and had a look at his 5.9 guns which had been dug in, in the village of Wharfusee, a deep dugout leading from one gun to the other. And here was the explanation of his light barrage, all around the guns had been plastered with shells and direct hits had been got on some guns, he could not have possibly worked them.
In front about 200 yds was another gun position but few shells had fell near it. There was his usual rubbish left about, including his black sour bread (I tasted it) and synthetic coffee made from burnt grain. I was standing in front of the crippled tank, that was in front of our position. In the side where the whizzbang had gone through a round hole had been made just about the size of the whizzbang, the hard steel had cracked in four or five places radiating from the hole outwards. Another fellow was looking at it, "Well I'm blowed", he said, "I never knew they were made of cast iron before"; simply because the steel had split, some fellows are funny, nothing would convince him to the contrary. Where bullets had struck the side it had only chipped the rust off and made a mark as if one had spit on the sides and bullets come with some force, it's this same kid that knows it. Inside were loaded Hotchkiss combs lying about all over the place. Inside the tank is a marvel of ingenuity, everything handy to where they are wanted, running tape measure direct sights on the small guns, and their shells in little pockets stuck in the side handy, After having a look at the tank I went