At precisely 7 am the crazy bombardment of the German front line started, cannons, heavy and light artillery, and our own rifle and snipers were all thundering away at the German fortifications. After an hour and a half of solid own@ge,we were finally ready to go over the top.
A whistle blew and we ambled along out of the trenches, there was no rush, the Germans would all be dead. Yet as Spatrick's head rolled along the ground and came to rest at my feet the horrible realisation hit me, they had deep trenches, and the bombardment had barely dented them!
As I pegged it a sfat as i could towards the German lines I saw Hugh get annihilated, his heart flying behind him still pulsing into another man's face, his brain pummeled on the ground and his barely regognizable liver spewed up my leg.
Just then we received two short sharp burts on the whistle 'Attack over'. We returned to our trench, just Mund and me, and cursed life. This war was rubbish. And then the Hun attacked.
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