Since three o'clock we've had a lively time. The attack began about five minutes to three, by a shell splashing into the Forest near our battery. No one killed, fortunately. They've simply stormed away since then. I don't seem to be able to realise it and have been sitting in my room writing as though they were a hundred miles away. One so used to the noise. Everything is ready. We've got all the wounded prepared. If only the wagons would come.... Hallo! a shell in the garden--cracked one of these windows. I must go down to see whether any one's touched.... I put this in my bag. To-morrow ... and I am so happy that... * * * * * The end of Trenchard's diary. These are the last words in Trenchard's journal. It fills about half the second exercise book. The last pages are written in a hand very much clearer and steadier than the earlier ones. I would like now to make my account as brief as possible. Upon the afternoon of August 16 we were all at Mittoevo, extremely anxious about our friends. Molozov was in a great state of alarm. The sanitars with the wagons that arrived at about four o'clock in the afternoon told us that a violent attack in the intermediate neighbourhood of our white house was expected at any moment. The wagons were to return as quickly as possible, and bring every one away. They left about five o'clock in charge of Molozov and Goga, who were bursting with excitement. I knew that they could not be with us again until at any rate nine o'clock, but I was so nervous that at about seven I walked out to the cross and watched. It was a very dark night, but the sky was simply on fire with searchlights and rockets, very fine behind the Forest and reflected in the river. The cannonade was incessant but one could not tell how close it was. At last, at about half-past eight, I could endure my ignorance no longer and I went down the hill towards the bridge. I had not been there more than ten minutes and had just seen a shell burst with a magnificent spurt of fire high in the wood opposite, when our wagons suddenly clattered up out of the darkness. I saw at once that something was wrong. The horses were being driven furiously although there was now no need, as I thought, for haste. I could just see Semyonov in the half light and he shouted something to me. I caught one of the wagons as it passed and nearly crushed Goga. We were making so much noise that I had to shout to him. "Well?" I cried. Then I saw that he was crying, his arms folded about his face, sobbing like a little boy. "What is it?" I shouted. "Mr...." he said, "Andrey Vassilievitch...." I looked round. One of the sanitars nodded.