In a few minutes I mustered sufficient courage to make a dash for the
trench. I got there just in time, for, soon afterwards, a shell burst
almost where I had been. They were dropping all round us, both in front
of and behind the trench. Only the trench could possibly have saved us.
And it was a marvel that no one was hurt as it was. I honestly expected
every moment to be my last; it was a miracle that none of our party were
hit. If we had remained out in the open I firmly believe that the whole
lot would have been knocked out. It seemed as if it was never going to
cease. I never went through such a disagreeable experience in my life
before. Then, to crown all, gas shells began to be mixed with the
others. There was soon a regular stink of gas; I smelt it this time all
right. We got our respirators on, which added to our discomfort. This
went on for quite a long time. Then it also began to pour with rain and
we were all drenched. The night was pitch dark. Every now and then the
exploding shells around us and far away, the burning dumps near Ypres
and the star shells along the line, lit up the whole panorama with an
effect like that of lightning. The water and mud grew thick in the
trench; and still the shells fell thickly all around. We were thankful
for the discomfort of rain because it saved us from being gassed.
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