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Arthur Douglas Crease Letters, Diaries and Scrapbooks

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Revision as of Apr 25, 2015, 9:52:07 AM, edited by 65.61.234.59

darkness crowding the trenches to an immoveable mass.

We lose such shelter as we had. Every direct hit means a bunch of casualties - Finally comes the runner authorizing us to come out & the getting back begins - Stumbling through the darkness, utterly exhausted so hungry that we don't know it - Losing our way in the maze of trenches but eventually by slow & painful degrees after many a necessary halt we get back to reserve.

There we find our comrades, a warm welcome & a hot meal. At first we can't sleep so we "chew the rag" for a bit until we find ourselves becoming insensible & senseless