The Manchesters were in the front line and Maple Redoubt. During the afternoon the Boche started putting heavies on to Maple Redoubt, and the corner of Canterbury Avenue. ‘Bad luck on the Manchesters again,’ we all agreed--and turned in for tea. There was a wonderful good fire going. ‘By Jove, they are going it,’ I said, as we sat down and Gray brought in the teapot. Thud! Thud! Thud--thud! We simply had to go out and watch. Regular coal-boxes, sending up great columns of mud, and splinters humming and splashing right over us, a good hundred yards or more. ‘Better keep inside,’ from Dixon. We had tea, and things seemed to quiet down. Then about six o’clock the bombardment got louder, and our guns woke up like fun. ‘Vee-bm ... vee-bm’ from our whizz-bangs going over, and then the machine-guns began on our left. Simultaneously, in came Richards (Dixon’s servant) with an excited air. ‘Gas,’ he exclaimed. Instinctively, I felt for my gas helmet. Meanwhile Dixon had gone outside. ‘Absurd,’ he said in a quiet voice. ‘The wind’s wrong. Who brought that message?’ Then up came a telephone orderly. I heard him running on the hard road. ‘Stand to,’ he said breathlessly, and Dixon went off to the ’phone with him. Nicolson appeared in a gas helmet. I was looking for my pipe, but could not find it. Then at last I went out without it. Outside it was getting dark. It was a fairly nippy air. The bombardment was going strong. All the sky was flickering, and our guns were screaming over. ‘Crump, crump,’ the Boche shells were bursting up by Maple Redoubt. ‘Scream, scream,’ went our guns back; and right overhead our big guns went griding. All this I noticed gradually. My first impression was the strong smell of gas helmets in the cold air. The gas alarm had spread, and some of the men had their helmets on. I felt undecided. I simply did not _know_, whether the men should wear them or not. What was happening? I wished Dixon would come back. Ah! there he was. What news? ‘I can’t get through,’ he said, ‘but we shall get a message all right if necessary.’ ‘What’s happening?’ I asked. ‘Do you think they are coming over.’ ‘No. It won’t last long, I expect. Still, just let’s see if the men have got their emergency rations with them.’ A few had not, and were sent into the dug-outs for them. Gas helmets were ordered back into their satchels. ‘No possibility of gas,’ said Dixon; ‘wind’s dead south.’ I was immensely bucked now. There was a feeling of tenseness and bracing-up. I felt the importance of essentials--rifles and bayonets in good order--the men fit, and able to run. This was the real thing, somehow. I made Lewis go in and get my pipe. I found I had no pouch, and stuffed loose baccy in my pocket. I realised I had not thought out what I would do in case of attack. I did not know what was happening. I was glad Dixon was there....