The mist was lifting now, and the sun to the East was beginning to light up the ground.

We heard the crack of bullets, for the Germans were sniping us.

I made the runner go down into a shell hole, while I read the burial service, and then took off the ring.

I looked over the ground where the charge had been made.
There lay Regina Trench, and far beyond it, standing out against the morning light, I saw the villages of Pys and Miraumont which were our objective.

It was a strange scene of desolation, for the November rains had made the battle fields a dreary, sodden waste.