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We were to fill a gap on the left of the Lowland Division. I spaced out my four guns with Osprey at the second post from the left. It might as well have been the tenth post from the middle for all the difference it could make. I have put this down precisely because it is the kind of precise nonsense we used, to give substance to a figment of the imagination. It was the New Religion. There was a warfare on earth in which our four Lewis guns were enrolled in the forces of Light and Truth against the Powers of Darkness – The Devil's Own maybe? But that was only a joke – this was not a joke.
The bold contours cutting the sky-line, Messines Ridge, the great crater of the old battle – perhaps one ought to patrol round it to see if any enemy were there. Sweating with fear I set out. Then I became aware of figures on the crest; an enemy patrol. I had no grenades. But I had a revolver, blast it. I could fight. No, I couldn't – I was outnumbered. I was scared to death. I did not know where the enemy were, where our lines.
They saw me and then mercifully turned on their tracks and went back the way they had come. More Angels of Mons, or just devils from Hell, or shell-shock, or simple ordinary wind-up? I scrambled back to the trench, said good-bye to the second gun crew from the right and set out while it was dark enough not to be seen, to report to Advanced Company HQ. On my way I passed a curved corrugated iron sheet which formed the roof for an ideal little but for my section HQ. If only I could locate it by map reference I could tell Cook and Carter just where it was. It is such a relief to know exactly where everyone is. When you have no idea whatever where you are yourself it is, as I discovered, an admirable substitute.