“Oh, but we were having a merry party,” as Lieutenant Vandenberg said. Niven and his lieutenants were moving here and there to the point of each new explosion to ascertain the amount of the damage and to decide what was to be done as the result. One soldier described Niven’s eyes as sparks emitted from two holes in his dust-caked face. Papineau tells how a tree outside the trench was cut in two by a shell and its trunk laid across the breach of the trench caused by another shell; and lying over the trunk limp and lifeless where he had fallen was a man killed by still another shell. “I remember how he looked because I had to step around him and over the trunk,” said Papineau. Unless you did have to step around a dead or wounded man there was no time to observe his appearance; for by noon there were as many dead and wounded in the P. P’s’ trench as there were men fit for action. Those unhurt did not have to be steadied by their superiors. Knocked down by a concussion they sprang up with the promptness of disgust of one thrown off a horse or tripped by a wire. When told to move from one part of the trench to another where there was desperate need, a word was sufficient direction. They understood what was wanted of them, these veterans. They went. They seized every lull to drop the rifle for the spade and repair the breaches. When they were not shooting they were digging. The officers had only to keep reminding them not to expose themselves in the breaches. For in the thick of it--and the thicker the more so--they must try to keep some dirt between all of their bodies except the head and arm which must be up in order to fire. At 1.30 a cheer rose from that trench. It was for a platoon of the King’s Royal Rifles which had come as reinforcement. Oh, but that band of Tommies did look good to the P. P’s! And the little prize package that the very reliable Mr. Atkins had with him--the machine gun! You can always count on Mr. Atkins to remain “among those present” to the last on such occasions. Now Niven got word by messenger to go to the nearest point where the telephone was working and tell the brigade commander the complete details of the situation. The brigade commander asked him if he could stick, and he said “Yes, sir!” which is what Col. “Fanny” Farquhar would have said. That trip was hardly what could be called peaceful. The orderly whom Niven had with him both going and coming was hit by high explosive shells. Niven is so small--it is very difficult to hit him. He is about up to Major Gault’s shoulder.