Our aeroplane hovered over us at a comparatively low elevation. Its work was certainly very dangerous as it was liable to get in the way of the trajectory of the shells both from the enemy and ourselves. Our signallers had instructions not to delay an instant sending the required signals. The contact patrol aeroplanes are slow-going machines as a rule. Ours was distinguished by two long streamers attached to struts of the wings of the machine. The observer is seen hanging over the side of the fuselage, tooting a Claxton horn in a series of dots and dashes, and watching every movement we make. He must circle around continually, as he cannot stop his aeroplane. For three weeks we practised going over the tapes. On the night of the 6th of April, the officers were informed that our Brigadier General would be over to inspect the battalion on the morning of the 7th. We were pleased to inform our boys of this news, as we all knew that the visit of the Brigadier General meant we were to go in the line for attack very soon. Every officer and man was keyed up to concert pitch with excitement. We had no thoughts of death--we were to do a man's work in a man's way, and we were all eager for the fray. Many times we had observed the German front line trenches through our periscopes in daylight. At times we had raided small sectors of their front line trench at night, and this front line and the other trenches in the rear were soon to be captured and occupied by us. That night, three officers and one hundred men were sent up the line to dig the jumping-off trench for our battalion. This trench was to be dug in No Man's Land a short distance in front of our front line trenches and well clear of our barbed-wire entanglements. The night before the attack we had to crawl out of our front line trenches, through our barbed wire, and then into this jumping-off trench and lie there until the "Zero Hour." The Germans did not dream we would be so near to them.