It was a miserable day, foggy and wet. The Dorsets were on the extreme right of our army, in a line of trenches on the low ground between Givenchy and the canal. The attack was pressed with great vigour by the enemy, and the 1st Bedfords, on the left of the Dorsets, were driven out of the village of Givenchy. The left flank of the Dorsets was now exposed to enfilading fire from the ridge on which Givenchy stands, and their position was distinctly precarious. Some of the left-hand trenches were all but surrounded, the enemy having pressed forward into the gap at Givenchy, and from thence bearing down on the flank of the Dorsets. That regiment, however, held on with the utmost tenacity and successfully defended its position against repeated and most determined attacks; but the position was distinctly critical, and it was felt to be essential that orders of some sort should be received from Brigade Head Quarters. The telephonic communication had unfortunately been cut and there was no means of getting a message through except by hand, which, in the circumstances, seemed an all but impossible undertaking. A private of the name of Coombs, however, volunteered to try, and on the outward voyage actually got through untouched, but on returning with the necessary orders he was shot clean through the chest, but continued running for another 200 yards till he had delivered his message. The orders received were that the Dorsets were to hold on, and this they continued to do, and with such good results that about 10 a.m. a long line of Germans was seen advancing with hands up and a white flag. The Dorsets left their trenches to accept this surrender and were instantly raked from end to end by concealed machine-guns from beyond the canal. These machine-guns had evidently been trained on the Dorsets' position in anticipation of that which actually happened, proving beyond any question that the whole thing was one carefully thought-out piece of treachery. The Dorsets being got fairly in line, and fully exposed to the concentrated fire of several machine-guns, literally fell in hundreds. Major Roper was killed and Col. Bols was shot through the back and actually taken prisoner, but in the subsequent confusion he managed to crawl away and rejoin what was left of his battalion. The most unsatisfactory part of the whole affair was, that if the French Territorials on the south side of the canal, _i.e._, on the right of the Dorsets, had been where they ought to have been, that which happened never could have happened; but instead of being up in line, for some unexplained reason they were a quarter of a mile behind.