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But these good times could not last very long, so we were soon marching back to the area we had left, bivouacking one night in a large forest near Barlin, the next night at Roclincourt, and the day following in the line again to the right of our last sector.
Next night we were billeted at Barlin don't get that mixed up with Berlin, it's not the same in an abandoned convent within range of the German guns. The roar of artillery was continuous and sounded pretty close. Now and again a shell would burst near by with a kind of hollow "spung", but for some reason we didn't seem to mind.
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