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Arthur's account describes how, entraining on 6th October 1915, "Speculation was rife as to where we were going, whether Belgium, which savoured of Ypres and all that name implied, or the new line between Arras and the Somme. The latter was a sector taken over by the British from the French in the July preceding, and had the name of being quiet and pleasant compared to the more northerly parts of the line."

Arthur recalled vividly his first impression of dawn in the trenches:

"One may forget the incidents of one's first night in the trenches, but one never forgets the first dawn. Gradually, out of the darkness, things begin to take upon themselves their proper shape. The first impression is that of desolation, for there is nothing so utterly forsaken or forlorn as 'No man's land' at first grey dawn. A maze of misty barbed wire, some in loose coils lying on the ground, some draped from stumps and stakes driven in at all angles, some in shell holes, all in a shapeless and indescribably jumble, stretches for about three yards in depth in front of the parapet. Then there is that desolate and shell-pocketed strip of land which terminates with the German wire, and beyond that again great heaps of chalk and brown earth begin to appear as the daylight comes. These are the German trenches, and behind them is the rolling country out of which the sun now begins to rise; country that is in the hands of the Germans, away beyond the pale. Those coils of rusty wire, hung on the rickety posts, form the boundary of civilisation."

Samuels describes their first "divisional exercise under the eyes of our new GOC Division, General Nugent. The remarks of our General on the day's performance were, to say the least of them, hardly as complimentary as we should have wished. They left an impression on the minds of those who heard them that will never fade, and they had their effect on all ranks."

On 22nd October, Samuels describes a dramatic attack as he is having breakfast:

"Suddenly – 'whiz-bang, whiz-bang', right at the door of the dugout. The blast form the shells knocked the cups and plates off the table. There was as pause for a second, then a terrific explosion which shook the whole earth. In half a minute we had on our equipment and ... ran up the stairs of the dugout ..."

"... just round a curve in the trench, and about ten yards in front of me, there was a terrific explosion. I was lifted clean off my feet into the air, and thrown flat on my stomach on the ground. Almost simultaneously another shell hit the top of the trench, and before I could think where I was, or recover my breath, the whole side of the trench leant over and fell on top of me ... Still the earth kept falling, and the weight on my shoulders and the small of my back became oppressive ... I began to heave with my shoulders and took a deep breath ... after what seemed like ages I got my head and shoulders clear. I was firmly fixed from my waist down, but in less than a minute had dragged myself out. I looked round, and saw that the entire trench had been filled in."

After he and others freed themselves, Samuels says he ran rousing other men sleeping along the trench, "who despite the terrific din of bursting shells were mostly sound asleep ... telling them to get out ... the air was thick with flying debris of every kind – posts, iron sheets, great baulks of timber were flying everywhere was the enemy blew our wire to bits. In particular I watched with fascination, a sheet of corrugated iron, blown from the roof of a dug-out, which flew about in the air like a card, and dashed hither and thither, finally coming down with a great slant on the parados of the bay next to where I was ..."

The attack, he says, continued with great ferocity: "The biggest shells were probably eight inch, and the air was thick with serial torpedoes, minenwerfer, and oil drums. The latter came hurling through the air turning ove rand over and exploding with a terrific crack, making a very large crater. Aerial torpedoes, designed more for moral effect than to cause actual damage, burst with a nerve shattering explosion."

The Germans, however, "though they had blown most of our wire away showed no signs of attacking. It was just one of those small intensive bombardments known at the front as 'a morning hate' or 'straffe'." When the bombardment concluded, Samuels says he was told that it was considered severe, and unusual on that front: "Two men were killed and sixteen wounded ... That night we dug a new trench ..."

Samuels says that "We spent a happy Xmas at St Requier, and as we were in billets decided to make the best of it. The men were in excellent health and spirits, football, shooting and route marches keeping them in training. The 18th of December being 'Lundy Day' was celebrated by some Derry men and other Ulster boys ..."

"Christmas, of course, produced a series of dinners given by the Officers Commanding Companies and Battalion Headquarters. To read the menu cards it was hard to believe we were in France, and that this was the second year of the war ... A service was held in the ancient Abbey of St Requier on Christmas Day, and a sacred concert, which gave our men an opportunity of listening to Christmas music."

In the New Year of 1916, the weather, Samuels recalls, turned bitter: "... by no means favourable, the trenches being full of slush and water. A heavy fall of snow also made the ground in a bad condition, and the men suffered greatly from the cold, which was intense ... On February 29 our first death occurred, poor Young Watt of No 12 platoon. He was killed by a shell while standing outside the door of his billet ..."

At Easter 1916, Samuels describes how Amiens was ordinarily out of bounds without a pass. But in 1916, "on Easter Monday official permission was granted to all", and many went to explore the town ... It was a chance to see civilisation again ... The ride back at night from Amiens was rather an interesting experience. After the first six miles the sky was lit up like sheet lightening. Then the villages all became dark, no lights to be seen, then came the halts at the different outposts, the constant flashes and rockets in the sky, awful, yet fascinating ..."

On May 16th, Arthur Samuels notes, "we again took over from the 13th Battalion Royal Irish Rifles (Downs) and this time a spell of beautiful weather favoured us and the trenches were quite dry and habitable ... During 18th-19th [May], the enemy gave us little peace, between trench mortars, heavies, and whizbangs ... During a heavy bombardment, while the shells went over and round us at a tremendous rate I was lying flat on my stomach to avoid some shrapnel that burst near. I looked round to see if there were any casualties among the men following, and noticed a head emerging from the earth which had fallen in all round suddenly there was a splutter, the head moved, and a very solemn voice said, 'Boys o' boys it's aboot time the referee blew his whistle', his thoughts must have been far away on the Balmoral football ground, perhaps he was thinking of a tough fight Malone v Queen's, in the old days."

Samuels recalls that on June 15th, 1916, the Battalion marched off to Martinsart Wood, "already occupied by numerous troops sent up in readiness for the great battle of the Somme. We sent working parties down to Thiepval wood to help in the digging of assembly trenches ... All was bustle and excitement, we heard we were to hold the line from Thiepval Wood to La Boiselle and Fricourt."

On 22nd June, he says, "the Tyrones went into the trenches." He has a "last talk to the NCOs", and then on 23rd June, says Samuels, the men paraded, and "marched to our trenches in Thiepval Wood ... It was a very hot march, but a glorious day, and all of us were in good heart ..."

Captain Samuels describes how, just before the battle was due to begin on 1 July 1916, he was injured:

"On the 26th, at 2-30, we had planned a gas attack, but there was no much wind, and the gas did not go well. [Lieutenant] Young and myself happened to be the next casualties, luckily both of us slight. Young was gassed, while on duty at a gas cylinder, and I got a touch of shrapnel from a whiz bang. It meant No. 29 C.C.S. for both of us, and very reluctantly we had to leave our men just on the eve of the first and greatest battle ever fought by the Division."

Though wounded, Captain API Samuels did recover sufficiently to rejoin and serve with his battalion. However, he was once again injured, this time fatally, at Messines and died on 24 September 1916.

He was buried at Ration Farm (La Plus Douve) Annexe.