On the afternoon of the thirteenth of September--a Sunday afternoon--we took up position on the top of a large hill facing the valley of the Aisne. Whilst there, one or two shells came over and we had a few casualties, but the words of our Brigadier were: "They will not give battle here, but over there," pointing to some big hills about four miles away, behind which lay the town of Laon. On that morning we had anticipated some street fighting at a place we had come through called Bourge, yet, although they had had the streets well barricaded, they did not show fight, but elected to fall back. That night we were taken from our position on top of the hill nearer the enemy to a village and there put into billets. At eight o'clock every one was fairly comfortable, and we were settled in farm-buildings with plenty of good straw; but how we managed to sleep so comfortably--with the Germans only three miles off--I cannot say. Why they never blew us off the face of the earth with the big guns they possessed we often wondered--anyhow they didn't! and we got down, to dream of home, huddled into each other the best way we could to keep warm. CHAPTER V THE BATTLE OF THE AISNE We were roused next morning with kicks from the platoon commanders, and, after much struggling and putting on of wrong equipments, we marched out, but not before each man had received two ounces of Gold Flake tobacco, the first English tobacco we had seen since leaving home. It was the fourteenth day of September, and raining. Leaving the village, we marched down a road for about five hundred yards, bordered on each side by high banks. There a halt was called. On our right we could hear the sound of shots, and the Corporal in charge of the range-finder was sent to the top of the bank to take the range. He could not see very far, on account of a heavy mist, but reported the King's Royal Rifles advancing. We then doubled by platoons through an avenue of trees exposed to the enemy's fire, and gained some fields on the further side of the road, lining the hedges. From there into the valley led one road which was little more than a narrow defile; then it wound away to the right front over the crest which the Germans held. Halfway up this road was a small village called Tryon. At the rear and facing the crest held by the enemy was another and smaller hill thickly wooded. Before taking us through the defile and into the valley, the words of the Brigadier were: "That ridge has to be taken by nightfall--otherwise we shall be annihilated." That day witnessed one of the worst battles I have ever experienced, as we were badly equipped with guns, having mostly only eighteen-pounders--"pop-guns," as the boys called them--whilst it was the first day on which we met the really big guns of the Germans--those promptly dubbed "Jack Johnsons."