I knew that to-night, in another ten minutes, I would be in the middle--the "very middle." As I waited there I recalled the pages of the diary of some officer, a diary that had been shown me quite casually by its owner.

It had been a miracle of laconic brevity: "6.30 A.M., down to the battery.

All quiet.

8.0, three of their shells.

One of ours killed, two wounded.