class="x-ebookmaker-pageno" title="[32]"/>was that grand old colonel of ours with a foot rule held in one hand and a map in the other. We were all lined up in extended order about 1-½ miles from our objective and we had to advance over ground that had been ploughed up pretty badly by our own artillery that morning. Shortly, our colonel gave the order to advance. Almost at the same time our artillery opened up. We advanced in one long extended line. (I must say that we use a different formation today). We were all joking with one another. We had fixed bayonets and as we passed a trench I heard one artillery observing officer say: "By the Gods of War, isn't it fine." One of my gunners asked me for a chew of tobacco. We passed some of the trenches which our boys had taken that morning. I saw a big German lying on his face dead, and a few of our own lying around. Then again we came across a few more dead Huns. Here were a couple of skulls which had been thrown up by our artillery. One of our boys passed the remark that they would not even let the dead rest.

People talk about Fear; I must admit there is such a thing before you start over, but once you get started you are callous to everything. You see you own best friend killed alongside of you, but that does not stop you for you keep right on, never thinking that you may be the next, and even if you did you would say to yourself that you have got to go sooner or later, so what's the odds?

We were getting near to the Sugar Refinery that Fritz had put a barrage across. No matter, we kept on. We got to the trenches held by one of our other brigades. The second wave is supposed to stop here for a few minutes whilst the first wave keeps on. One of the boys who were holding the trench said "Keep on lads, don't be frightened. We gave them hell this morning. You ought to be able to do the same now." I got mad at him for thinking that we were not "playing the game," so I gave my gun team the order to advance. As we passed the Sugar Refinery, Fritz's shells were bursting everywhere—shells bursting in the air, shrapnel coming down on us white hot like snow. One of my men was hit. I took his ammunition and left him to get out the best way he could. Fritz's machine guns were now playing on us.