Six o'clock!... The hour fixed for the attack. A minute passed, a minute that seemed an eternity. Then the distant sound of a whistle reached our ears. The 22nd were leaving their trenches. There was about three hundred yards between their trenches and the horn of the wood which our comrades were to clear. To cross a space of three hundred yards, mainly on your stomach, requires a good quarter of an hour. The night was cold, but light clouds, already turning to burnished gold in the grey eastern sky, promised a fine day. You can't imagine what a tragic moment those minutes of breathless expectation are. And yet none of those who have come back from the dreadful experience ever regret having known it. Suddenly a sharp shot rang out at the bottom of the valley. Then two, three.... A German post had given the alarm, but too late, judging by the time that had elapsed. Our men must have been on them. Then to our right volleys crashed out, like a sheet of metal being ripped in two. It was the 23rd Company, whose orders were to maintain a steady fire on the Germans opposite with a view to holding them down and preventing them from helping their comrades in distress. Now the whole hostile line replied with nervous bursts which augured well for us. Their shooting was bad and their bullets flew high above our heads. Now and then a snapped twig fell beside us, like a leaf fluttering to earth. Any one who has done any fighting in wooded country knows what I mean. The din had lasted about five minutes when, on our right, an enormous flame shot up into the sky, illuminating all the heights opposite, and then dying out in a shower of debris. At the same moment there was the deafening roar of a terrific explosion. "That's what we wanted," I murmured to Vignerte. "There was a mine there, and they've fired it." On our own bit of front the firing had begun again with redoubled vigour. Then there was a sudden silence. A rocket went up from our lines. That rocket told our artillery that the 22nd had just got safely back to its trenches and that its turn had now arrived. The barrage opened immediately. We could now hear the invisible monsters coming from behind, describing their deadly curves above our heads. That roar gets louder and louder and yet seems so slow, so terribly slow, that you can never explain how it is you cannot see one of these birds that make such a tremendous noise. And then comes the end of the journey in the enemy's trenches, the blue and red flame, the earth and debris flying heavenwards in a sulphur column, the ear-splitting crash of the explosion. Vignerte and I watched the effects of the bombardment through our glasses. All at once I heard some one calling me. It was the runner between us and battalion headquarters. He came up, out of breath with running. "Sir! Sir!" "What is it?" "The Commandant wants you at once at his headquarters."