Impossible to describe the joy of throwing off our wet boots and coats, stretching ourselves on the mattresses, and pulling a blanket up to our chins. We were soon all fast asleep. After six hours real rest we woke feeling fit for anything. When we went out into the lane we found Jenkins in the middle of preparations for breakfast. He had dragged a table outside the cottage, discovered two chairs and two packing-cases, and laid four places with a miscellaneous assortment of knives and forks. For breakfast we had some fried ration bacon, a small and carefully apportioned wedge of bread each from the only loaf to be found in the village, coffee, and a tin of marmalade. The company passed the day in converting a ditch into a trench. Although they were supposed to be resting in reserve, the men needed no urging to dig. The day before they had come under shrapnel fire when they were fortunately in a fine natural trench, but the memory of the murderous hail of bullets which had swept over their heads was sufficiently vivid to make them all anxious to provide themselves with equally good cover against a second attack. Each man worked away individually for himself, digging away into and under the ground until he had scooped a little burrow in which he would be secure from shrapnel, no matter how accurately it burst over the trench. As the men finished their burrows to their satisfaction they lay down in them, pulled out their pipes and cigarettes, and smoked, watching with complacent interest the efforts of neighbours who had roots or rocks or other difficulties in the soil to contend with. The morning passed quietly, but at noon the enemy sent several shells over the ground where we were. One of these shells struck one of the cottages, crumpling it like a matchbox. I happened at the time to be back in the cottage where we had slept, helping Jenkins to concoct a stew for lunch. It was pitiful to see the terror of the old peasant woman and her husband, who sat dumbly in their kitchen, waiting for one of the great projectiles to come and wreck their home. As each shell fell the old woman lifted her hands and gave a little pitiful gasp. It was all more than she could understand, and no efforts of Jenkins or myself could calm her. However, they were a brave old couple, and as soon as the shelling was over busied themselves getting us potatoes and carrots for our stew from a store they had in a loft. They were delighted with a tin of army bully beef which we gave them for themselves. Except for this old couple, the farms and cottages were deserted, and I rather wondered why they had remained. Probably because they were too frightened and bewildered to do anything else.