I remember, however, on one dark rainy night, being in a trench in front of Wulverghem.

The enemy trenches were at that point only thirty-five yards away.

I was squeezed into a little muddy dugout with an officer, when the corporal came and asked for a tot of rum for his men.

They had been lying out on patrol duty in the mud and rain in front of our trench for two hours.
Dandy was still the envy of our men in the transport lines, and one day I nearly lost him.

I rode up to Hill 63.