Oh, the relief! I slowly trudged back and slept the coma of utter exhaustion. The afternoon following things became desperate, and it was our lot to be sent up to help reinforce our depleted lines. A curious incident that often gives me food for thought took place just before we ventured out on our desperate attempt to reach the line in broad daylight. In the corner of two battered walls, birds had built a nest, and two or three young ones were occupying it. To keep from view of the airmen we took shelter behind these walls. I, as usual, was full of forebodings about the journey we were so soon to make. Judge of my wonderment when one of the boys called me to look at the way the parent birds were feeding their young. Apparently oblivious of war or anything else, with exclamations of delight, he studied the birds as no naturalist ever did. The sight sent my thoughts flying back to a little English home in Derby. "Spread out, boys," came the order. Our journey had begun. As we passed the third line we were handed additional ammunition, two bandoliers per man. The major left a file of men under the command of a lieutenant to look after our ammunition magazine. They shook hands and then we deployed out, bang in the open. With fearful cracks the shrapnel burst over our heads. Machine guns clattered, but with perfect steadiness the boys made their way to the second line. Here a fearful sight met our gaze. The trench was battered to pieces, while dead and wounded men lay everywhere. A call was sent for volunteers to get some of the stricken lads from the first line. An immediate response was given and under a terrible fire most of the bad cases were pulled out. The attack we expected fizzled out, but the fire never ceased. Campbell came along and asked for volunteers to carry out a badly smashed man. Four of my chums, each one as husky a specimen of manhood as one would wish to see, swore profanely they were "his meat." "Will you go out with them and carry their rifles?" said he to me. "Yes," said I, as my knees knocked together. The wounded man was placed on a stretcher and our journey began. The man on the stretcher was a big man and in spite of the strength of the four volunteer bearers, they were taxed to the uttermost owing to the roughness of the ground and the necessity for taking cover every other minute in order to save the wounded man and themselves from injury. We finally reached the road safely, with me bringing up the rear. I was carrying five rifles besides my own, and thinking it would be easier to handle them, I slung two over each shoulder, and fastened them with the bayonets slanting front downwards, and with the wounded man's and my own, one in each hand, I fairly bristled with bayonets.