Another rough spin last night; got to bed about midnight with a tot of rum. Guns again advanced. Carting over a terribly rough track in the dark – 3 trips. Wagon lines now where guns were – good protection from splinters. Immense activity everywhere – balloons go up in flames (or rather come down) and no place is immune from shells and bombs.
We are in a sharp salient and the sooner we get out of it the better, as the shells appear to be coming from the four points of the compass. Yesterday the valley in which we lay was systematically swept with big shells. Our cook got a bit through the cheek and in various places animals were hit.
Amongst the horrible sites are some pathetic ones. We were followed for some distance by a grievously wounded, wild-eyed, German horse – dying by inches and almost a skeleton. His eyes were terrible – a dumb reproach to mankind. You see dead birds, dogs, etc. that have been killed along with human beings. Then again, there stands near us a fine well-grown tree unscathed, whilst whole forests are rent in fragments.
Heavy fighting is going on all around us and every now and again a barrage, put up either on our sector or an adjoining one, tells that another attack is in progress, and the red cross motor ambulances pass to and fro. We hear that Bulgaria has capitulated unconditionally and Turkey expected to follow suit – “tres whizbang!” the soldiers say.
We give our animals as much grazing as possible, and rub over at the same time. The poor brutes are getting thin and poor. Our own tucker is now plentiful.
Men continue to go on leave and I am beginning to imagine that my turn is not many weeks away – this psychological condition is known in the army as “sweating on leave”.
Walk March 