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Round the stables themselves three hundred Germans were bayoneted,
until not a single enemy lived on this ground, and the light of day on
that 9th of August revealed a bloody and terrible scene, not decent
for words to tell. Not decent, but a shambles of human flesh which had
been a panic-stricken crowd of living men crying for mercy, with that
dreadful screech of terror from German boys who saw the white gleam of
steel at their stomachs before they were spitted. Not many of those
Durham and Yorkshire lads remain alive now with that memory. The few
who do must have thrust it out of their vision, unless at night it
haunts them.
The assaulting battalion had lost many men during the assault, but
their main ordeal came after the first advance, when the German guns
belched out a large quantity of heavy shells from the direction of
Hill 60. They raked the ground, and tried to make our men yield the
position they had gained. But they would not go back or crawl away
from their dead.


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