Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 6, 2025
My diary of July 9 tells how we once again got back to the cosy dug-outs in the Ramparts, those ramparts from whence was continually stretched out before our ken, in sunshine and in moonlight, the heart of the dead city. When I arrived at Potijze "Allen had gone to the Ramparts to take over, as B Company proceeds there to-night. D Company are going to Goldfish Château, the other side of Ypres.
We went along the road all the way from Potijze to Ypres. We were literally chased by gas-shells; we had to run in respirators as fast as we could go; we came round by the Menin Gate and got back into the Ramparts, safe and sound, about 4.45, very thankful that nobody in our party had got hurt. Other battalions out on working parties had had a good many casualties.
Company headquarters were close to the front line, and never consisted of anything more than a small shelter. The cooking was done in cook-houses in the company areas, fatigue parties being detailed to bring up rations and water in petrol tins. Battalion headquarters were housed in dugouts in the wood adjoining the White Chateau at Potijze, in front of which was a large cemetery.
"In the evening Giffin and I were on a working party with Sergeant Clews, Sergeant Dawson and forty-five other ranks. We proceeded to Potijze Dump and drew tools; thence to Pagoda Trench and carried on with the making of a new trench branching off that trench. All went well for the first three quarters of an hour.
At this time so short was the Battalion of officers that "D" Company had only one officer, who was the Company Commander, and as his company was disposed partly in a sector of trench known as X3, Potijze Defences, St. James' Trench and the Garden of Eden, he had a good deal to do.
Dickinson had a party further to my right. It is quite high ground up there, and the front line trench slopes down to the right; over the parados the open ground is much lower, dotted with trees; it looks quite quaint when a flare goes up. We left about 1 a.m. and returned via Strand, Oxford Road, Pagoda Wood and Potijze. Then along Track 4.
Tom was reclining near a dangerous corner, close by the Potijze Road which runs straight to the beginning of the British communication trench. German shells were constantly screeching their way through the air, and falling in various parts of the old town; but by this time he had become so accustomed to these ominous sounds that he had almost ceased to take notice of them.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking