Stewart's sanity and good humour shine through his moving and occasionally distressing diaries. There is not much hatred of "the Boche" but plenty for the unnamed generals who withdrew the men's rum ration, thus making them fight the battle of the Somme while stone-cold sober. "May they know fear on a cold morning at day-break," was Stewart's heartfelt curse. It was a fear that all felt but all internalised. "I only knew one man who showed his fear to all," records Stewart, "and his brother had just been killed." This is the story of those "who have spent a night standing, sitting or lying in mud with an east wind blowing and the temperatures below freezing point" for night after night, under heavy shellfire, waiting for the order to attack. "For days on end the officers would get what almost amounted to no sleep," he writes. "This deprivation particularly applied to company commanders who at all hours of the day and night were receiving and sending out orders and casualty returns, etc. Nearly all the hours of dark had to be spent visiting posts and positions." As well as rats, lice and fleas, the summer of 1916 brought "great big fat, sodden, overfed, bloated brutes, bluebottles and large houseflies. They settled on one's face and food. I have seen them on the roof of a dugout like a swarm of bees. Most of them must have come from and lived on dead bodies".