On the 23rd of October we again attacked and gained more ground. By this time the Somme battlefield was a land of shell-holes and mud. The hardships we had to undergo were terrible. The bombardments never ceased, and sometimes it increased to drum fire. For the next few months we remained on this front, this being my third winter in the trenches, I was beginning to be "fed up" with the whole thing. I had had one seven days' leave to England at the end of 1915, and in November, 1916, I was granted one month's furlough on account of having completed my term as a time serving man. The Conscription Act coming into force kept me on for the duration of the war, but in consideration of my long service, having completed my thirteenth year, as stipulated on my attestation, this special leave was granted. What a relief it was to know that for the next four weeks I would not hear the shells or stumble along in the mud up to my knees, and, sometimes, up to the waist. How my mouth watered when I realized that I would get a change of diet from the everlasting bully beef and biscuits, commonly known as "hard tack." How pleasant to know that the "cooties" would soon be off me and a new change of clothing on my back. One can only appreciate good food and clean clothes after months of horror experienced by eating bully and biscuits and being tormented by "cooties," or, as we called them, "Wee Scunners." During the month's furlough I spent in London, I had the time of my life, but as all good days have to end at some time or other, I was soon back in the trenches, and to make things worse, we were on the Somme. Christmas day I again spent in the trenches, but this time there was no fraternizing, both sides being very bitter and for any of us to show a head above the parapet meant death from a German sniper. We could never forget the Zeppelin raids, the sinking of the _Lusitania_, and the despicable treachery of the enemy on every occasion, wherever they got a chance. The Germans proved themselves worse than the lowest savages, and Lord Kitchener said that they were worse than the Dervishes of the Soudan, the fanatics of the desert. Never will a British soldier forget the incident where British soldiers were burned alive, by the orders of Prince Rupprecht of Bavaria, and the crucifying of the Canadians at Ypres.