It is clear that the British line is being heavily attacked.

Messages begin to arrive from the battalion commander on the left to say that all communication with his companies has now been cut.

The commander on the right also rings up to report heavy casualties.

Then the telephone wires on both sides are broken, and the Staff signal officer goes out to repair them under fire.

At last, precisely at the moment appointed, five minutes past six, in the rainy autumn dawn, our own guns--an enormous concentration of them--open a tremendous fire, and the earth-shaking noise "helps men to forget themselves, and go blind for the enemy." Then steadily the artillery barrage goes forward, one hundred yards every four minutes, and the infantry advance behind it, past the German front trench, to a ravine about three hundred yards further, which is known to be strongly held.
The final objective is a strong German position protecting a village in the valley of the Ancre.
Meanwhile, in the headquarters' dug-out, messages come pouring in "by telephone, by lamp-signal, by wireless, by pigeon, by runners, and reports dropped from aeroplanes." The progress of the battle is marked on the maps spread out on a table in the dug-out, and the Brigadier has to decide when his reserve battalion must be sent forward to assist.