lly was methodical and nicely
calculated to a speed that could be long and unbrokenly sustained.
During the first minute many bullets whistled and sang past, and Sapper
Duffy took no notice. A couple went 'whutt' past his ear, and he swore
and slightly increased his working speed. When a bullet whistles or
sings past, it is a comfortable distance clear; when it goes 'hiss' or
'swish,' it is too close for safety; and when it says 'whutt' very
sharply and viciously, it is merely a matter of being a few inches out
either way. Sapper Duffy had learned all this by full experience, and
now the number of 'whutts' he heard gave him a very clear understanding
of the dangers of this particular job. He was the farthest out man of
the line. On his left hand he could just distinguish the dim figure of
another digger, stooping and straightening, stooping and straightening,
with the rhythm and regularity of a machine. On his right hand was
empty darkness, lit up every now and then by the glow of a flare-light
showing indistinctly through the drizzling rain. Out of the darkness,
or looming big against the misty light, figures came and went stumbling
and slipping in the mud--stretcher-bearers carrying or supporting the
wounded, a ration party staggering under boxes balanced on shoulders, a
strung-out line of supports stooped and trying to move quietly, men in
double files linked together by swinging ammunition boxes. All these
things Sapper Duffy saw out of the tail of his eye, and without
stopping or slacking the pace of his digging. He fell unconsciously to
timing his movements to those of the other man, and for a time the
machine became a twin-engine working beat for beat--thrust, stoop,
straighten, heave; thrust, stoop, straighten, heave. Then a bullet
said the indescribable word that means 'hit' and Duffy found that the
other half of the machine had stopped suddenly and collapsed in a
little heap. Somewhere along the line a voice called softly
'Stretcher-bearers,' and almost on the word two men and a stretcher
materialised out of the darkness and a third was stooping over the
broken machine. 'He's gone,' said the third man after a pause. 'Lift
him clear.' The two men dropped the stretcher, stooped and fumbled,
lifted the limp figure, laid it down a few yards away from the line,
and vanished in the direction of another call. Sapper Duffy was alone
with his spade and a foot-deep square hole--and the hissing bullets.
The