Suddenly, some shells passed over us. Their whizzing, and the formidable explosions that followed, warned us that these were not exactly children's playthings. The enemy had no doubt discovered us, for the projectiles dropped very near. We were obliged to move about frequently and to cross the brooks and canals, with which the whole district is interspersed, with the greatest speed. It was by no means easy always and several of us had an unexpected bath. On the road, behind us, the "big blackies" kept bursting, and one of them exploded on an artillery waggon. That was a tragical moment, and we never saw anything more of the waggon, the driver, or the horses. Finally, after a hundred events of one kind or another, it began to get dark once more. We were quartered for the night in the village of Oostkerke. Nothing happened during the night, but in the distance we could hear the ceaseless firing of guns and cannon. The following day, October 22nd, we made trenches all day long, covering them with material which we fetched from the half-deserted village. We went there along the railroad, thus avoiding the canals. Towards mid-day, an armoured-train arrived by rail, bringing some English cannons. At last, we said to ourselves, we were to have some heavy Artillery, with which to reply to the Boches. Job and I were just on our way back from the village, carrying a beam on our shoulders, and this prevented our seeing the signal. The cannon was suddenly fired, and we two found ourselves on the ground with the beam in front of us. We got up, almost stunned, and took ourselves quickly out of the way. The enemy replied promptly and, in front of us, just before the railway line, the "No. 15 Cigars" kept dropping. Each time that a projectile arrived, with its ominous whizz, we raised our heads, instinctively, just to see where it burst. Fortunately for us, not one of them reached us. We spent the night in our shelters, narrow holes in which we were obliged to remain close together like sardines, half stifled and cramped.