The Morning After (12th October, 1918)

Two short but lively trips to the guns last night.  The Hun was shelling pretty freely so we lost no time about it, finishing just after dark and taking our guerdon in a huge jorum of vegetable stew followed by a rum issue.  After the usual fight with the invisible giants, trying to undress, and make a bed, within 2 feet of a very wet tarpaulin, had a good night’s rest.

Having an hour to spare, took a stroll with a tall taciturn Irishman into the village.  Did a little gesticulating with a solitary, male civilian inhabitant, who had hidden away and was avidly munching some brown flap-jack stuff he had baked.  Pottered about in the looted and dishevelled houses, with pot plants wilting in the front windows, beds overturned and habiliments strewn about the floors.

As I rode to water I was laconically informed that I go on leave tomorrow.  Things moving somewhat in the 2 foot high “bivvy”.

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