Yesterday the C.O. wanted a bombing-party to go out from B Coy to see what it could do. I had bagged that job weeks ago—and have been reconnoitring in front of our lines all this past week with a view to a ‘scrap’ some night. So last night I got a party—2 N.C.O’s and 1 man armed with Hand-grenades and myself with some of the new Hand-bombs—glorious things, just the size and weight of a Cricket Ball! Then at 12.30 this morning we got over the parapet and sailed over the intervening 200 yards. Of course I had planned the whole direction and spot to aim at etc: so we got up to 70 yards of the old Bosches without difficulty—going in single file—myself at the head ... and lying out in the long grass we could distinctly hear Fritz breathing hard over his spade-work—they were digging. I had previously arranged with de la Mare that he should send a series of flares up to show me where exactly I was and so beat the Bosch at his own dirty game. The difficult part lay in getting within 20 yards of them—for the hand-grenades are difficult to hurl much further with any accuracy. As a matter of fact I could have got much closer up to their trench, if I hadn’t been so anxious about the men with me—I would have done the whole job alone only the officer has to have 2 men and 1 N.C.O. with him on these occasions. If we had tried[40] to get any nearer than the spot which I eventually chose one of them would have given the show away I am sure. At any rate we waited for a few minutes whilst more flares went up, and then after gauging the distance I led off with cricket-ball No. 1—it was just like ‘throwing in’ from ‘cover’ (a fast long hop!)—only this time I had ‘some’ batsmen to run out and there was a price on those stumps! I fancy ‘things happened’ in their trench—as there were howls—and a bit of lyddite flew back and hit me just under the ear—mere scratch—only it spoilt my old coat for ever and ever—amen! The others then stood up and ‘threw in’—the wicket-keep put them down nicely—and we made haste back to the Pavilion!—it was a case of ‘appealing against the light’—for it was 1.30 A.M. by then and getting uncomfortably light. ‘Fritz’ seemed so scared that he never fired a shot—only sent up a brace of flares—during which we lay down flat in the long grass. When I got back Monypenny said I must go and have the scratch painted with Iodine and that sort of rot—so I went off with Crump (who—remember—is stretcher-bearer) to show me the way back to the dressing-station at the Canal. We just got there before dawn. I then ‘took car’ (don’t cher know!) to a place 2 miles back where I went to the Field Ambulance and had a sleep—then had the thing seen to and an injection v. Poison put into me—then to our billets by Red Cross Car, as the Battalion comes back tonight and they said it was not worth coming all the way back. So here I am—alone in our little farm house again—and am off to sleep in the barn as usual! The Battalion won’t arrive