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completely lost my way - quite dark and no stars and no landmarks of any sort to guide me - every bit of the land is covered with shell holes. I had followed a large crack in the ground which wound in all directions and soon after leaving it, and not finding the post, I quite lost myself, and really hadn't the foggiest notion as to which was my way back.

For a few moments I was in as big a push as it was possible for a war to be in, and then I remembered my compass, which luckily I had with me, and from that I got my direction. I tell you, old girl, its not a nice feeling to be lost out there.

When we came out of the trenches, we had the same long march, but little shelling and far less traffic.

Four days in billets (a large stone floored kitchen with some kind of wire bunk for 2 companies officers), then 3 days in support trenches and back to billets.

The support trenches were not very interesting. The first night I fell into a hole, and got wet up to the waist, and didn't get dry till back in billets. We had one small dugout in which were 4 Cmy officers one cook one runner and one batman. On the roof [illegible] were corrugated iron sheets with spaces above, and here congregated hundreds of rats (this may be slightly exaggerated). I first became aware of these extra inhabitants of the Dugout, by a curious noise which by its continuity finally forced itself upon one's notice, over and above the artillery and other noise. It sounded something like a combination of the cooing of doves, the purring of cats and the noises made by sleepy fowls - principally it was like the cooing of doves. At first I could hardly believe it

BC Archives, MS-0089 Box 1 File 5 GLASSFORD, Deborah Florence (Leighton). Vancouver Correspondence inward, 1917.