rst over the top"--in itself a life-saving
factor that, had it been adopted earlier in the war, would have by a
large percentage reduced the British casualty roll.

The manner in which they would precede the infantry from zero (the hour
at which the advance is timed to begin) was practised over an old
stretch of trenches and wiring; infantry partaking in the manoeuvre.

Throughout the Norman camp a stir of suppressed excitement and slightly
apprehensive anticipation was apparent during the three days' training,
in conjunction with the remainder of the 86th Brigade, for the big
stunt. They rapidly grasped, after a hitch during the first day, what
was required of them, attaining on the completion of the rehearsals a
strong confidence in their powers to carry through their schedule.

They became conscious of an eagerness to try their mettle, to do
something "off their own bat." At the end of each day the Ten Hundred
swung in a long swaying column behind their band along the pave roads
homewards. Company after company sending up defiant echoes with the
marching rallies peculiar to the Normans, they splashed noisily through
the almost interconnected line of puddles. Upright, fine, free fellows:
the very cream of Guernsey's manhood.

At night they were well content, after a late dinner, to crouch around
the glowing brazier and talk, while Biffer surreptiously was wont to fry
the bacon he had commandeered. His arch enemy--N.C.O.'s--invariably
endeavoured to trap him.

"Ere, you, where'd you get that bacon?"

"Bacon?" Biffer looked up with baby-like innocence. "'Ad it sent--ain't
'alf got a scent, too."

"Oh, an' that piece yesterday was sent, too, I s'pose?"

"Yes, same animal. 'E's got pink eyes."

"Wot, the pig?"

"Course--think you get bacon off a canary? Want a bit?"

"Well (mollified), only fat left, I s'pose?"

"No--only rind. 'Ere you are."

IV

MOVING UP

Ten Hundred men stood faintly outlined in the purple pall of a starless
night. Stripped to the very essentials of a battle--"Fighting Order" but
carrying the valise on the shoulders and the haversack by the side.
Steel helmets, gas masks and one hundred and seventy rounds of
ammunition per man; no overcoats; no blankets; simply the rough, furry
wolf-skin jacket for protection o' nights. Hoarse orders broke
grotesquely on the damp air.

"Move to the right in fours ... right----!" By Companies the Normans
moved away; glancing for the last ti