Sitting in my new and temporary home, either a pig-style or a calf house. A covering of purloined straw on the floor has to some extent allayed the homely stench and some very bad tobacco is helping. Last night the noise of big guns and of unpleasantly propinquous shells from the irascible Fritz was distracting and shook a thick covering of rust over our recumbent forms. Apparently the powers considered the position too sultry for wagon lines, hence this afternoon’s move. At our guns some of the ranges given sounded alarmingly short.
After lunch we packed up and away a mile or two farther on and bivouacked in another dank and leafless orchard near another hill-top village. My housemate (it just holds two) is a funny little jockey-like individual who is one of the batmen. En route we passed batteries blazing in good style. I fancy we must be holding him. Taken all round things might be a lot worse, excepting the weather.
9.p.m. Recumbent in pig-style – but the roof leaks and is dripping on the paper – so my words will be brief. Moreover there is a huge pile of timber and rubbish suspended over my head which may fall, so the best thing to do is to crawl under my wet overcoat and forget both menaces.
[Image: 60-pounder battery of the Royal Garrison Artillery in position near Albert, 28 March 1918 IWM (Q 8645)]
[Image: 60-pounder battery of the Royal Garrison Artillery firing near Albert, 28 March 1918 IWM (Q 8647)]