“Our little party had to wait in their cramped position of tortured suspense till nearly 3 p.m. for the only relief we now looked for—the relief afforded by the excitement of desperate fighting against great odds. The enemy now launched an attack in overwhelming numbers, amid the continued roar of artillery. Once more they found us ready—a small party of utterly worn-out men, shaking off their sleep to stand up in the shallow trench. As the Huns came on they were mowed down—every shot must have told. Our rifles smoked and became unbearably hot; but though the end seemed near, it was not yet. When the Huns wavered and broke, they were reinforced and came on again. We again prevailed, and drove them back. Only one Hun crossed our trench, to fall shot in the heart a few yards behind it. The lip of our trench told more plainly than words can how near they were to not failing. Beyond, in No Man’s Land, we could do something to estimate the cost of their failure.... Exhaustion now did what shell-fire and counter-attacks had failed to do, and we collapsed in our trench, spent in body and at last worn out in spirit. The task we had been set was too great for us. What happened during the next two hours or so I do not know. Numbed in all my senses, I gazed vacantly into space, feeling as if the whole thing had been a ghastly nightmare, out of which I was now only awaiting complete deliverance. From this state of coma I was awakened by a shell which exploded just over me, and instantaneously I passed into unconsciousness. When I regained consciousness a few minutes after, my first sensation was that of having been thoroughly refreshed by sleep. But on moving I found that the fight for me was over.... I tried to rouse my friend, who had fallen face downward beside me. Getting no response, I lifted his head, calling upon him by name, but I could not arouse him. I then began with pain and difficulty to walk down the line. I found that the last two hours of shelling had done their work—only six remained alive in the trench. I aroused one sleeper, and told him I had been badly hit, and was going to try and walk out. He faced me for a second, and asked me what he was to do. I said there was nothing to do but carry on, as the orders of Saturday morning had not been countermanded. His brave ‘Right-o!’ were the last words I heard there—surely fitting words as the curtain fell for me.”