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[Page 132]
Near this place was a marquee, which had been a German hospital and was full of his medical stuffs and rubbish. One night, a day or so after I was asleep in the trench when a chap pushed me with his foot, get up he said, and get all your gear together and come along, oh!, I thought we are being relieved, this is alright, so I got everything even to my shovel; half asleep I trudge along, out of the town among the rest, just at the rear of the village, the lieutenant said to 2 fellows you stop here, and to 2 more a bit further on, you here, and find what cover you can, there's plenty of shellholes so we were spread out at intervals apart. What's this Jack?, I said to the fellow who was with me. The 19th and 20th are going to drive him out of Rainecourt, he said, and we are a covering party to them, have you a shovel? There isn't a blessed shellhole about except a small new whizzbang hole. I got my shovel from out of my equipment . Hurry up he said, his barrage will be down in about 3 minutes, so we set to work feverishly and dug how we did dig, we got a hole about 4 feet 6 inches long, and about 18 inches in depth then the shells began to come, so he crammed himself down in the bottom, and I crammed in on the top side, my feet were sticking out, and I stuck my face in the dirt. The shells seemed to be bursting everywhere, and each one seemed to be closer than the last, bits flick the dirt and struck our tin hats and a piece flopped on his equipment. Are you hit Jack? "No kid", only my equipment. This is a brute aint it Jack? "Yes kid its murder." Each shell that burst made us cram in tighter. I never thought such a small place could hold so big a persons. Bye and bye the bombard slackened and we got out numbed from our cramped position and found an old dugout where we stayed for a bit and as soon as dawn showed, we went out and carted the stew in. For the 20th