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[page 32]
61
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previously occupied this region knew of this and kept up a certain fire of shrapnel by day and night over the gully and more particularly over the road. During the night we took over the section of the front line held by one of our First Division battalions, the operation taking all night to perform owing to congestion in the saps caused through dead and wounded lying about, and carrying parties moving along with stores and ammunition. In the morning after repelling two half hearted German counter attacks we set to work to clean up the trenches, a by no means small job. Bodies, equipment, rifles, clothing, etc. lay about everywhere, and all a mixture of German and our own. Outside the trench both to the front and rear not a level or green spot remained. Great jagged, gaping craters covered the blackish (high explosive shells turn the earth in the immediate vicinity of the explosion black as though charred) ground, furrowed and ploughed by every description of projectile and explosive. Shell cases, bits of shells, chopped up barbed wire, "duds" (shells which have failed to explode) and nose caps lie everywhere and it seems impossible to realise that only a short time ago this had been a peaceful cultivated field. It is hard to know ones position in a land like this and anywhere it is difficult not to lose oneself. The shell holes and wobbling trenches are as confusing as a maze and the whereabouts of the enemy is not always easy to make out. Sometimes he will be in a trench at right angles to your own, sometimes he may be slightly in rear of your own trench and frequently he occupies the same trench as yourself separated off merely by a sandbag barricade. It was in the latter position that we found ourselves and it xxxxxxxxxxxx necessitated a whole day and night hand grenade fighting to get the Boche out. There is perhaps no more horrible form of fighting than bombing, unless it be gas. The range is so close and