September 23rd
A quiet day, but for the usual cannonading on both sides, a few 5·9 shrapnel shells coming our way at four in the afternoon. Reinforcements arriving daily. A cold gale blowing all day. At six we have another bout of shelling, while we are loading up A.T. carts, one shell pitching right in our depot, and one of our poor chaps being badly hit, from which he is not expected to recover. (He has since died. A nice boy, only nineteen.)