a failure, that thousands of men had fallen and no ground had been
gained. The stretcher-bearers who brought them in had a similar tale to
tell, and everyone looked glum and pulled a long face. About noon,
although the advance on that particular portion was still hung up, a
report ran that success had been attained elsewhere along the line. In
the early afternoon the guns behind burst out in a fresh paroxysm of
fury, and the shells poured streaming overhead and drenched the enemy
trenches ahead with a new and greater deluge of fire. The rifle fire and
the bursting reports of bombs swelled suddenly to the fullest note yet
attained. All these things were hardly noted, or at most were heeded
with a half-attention, back in the dressing station, but it was not long
before the fruits of the renewed activity began to filter and then to
flood back to the doctor's hands. But now a new and more encouraging
tale came with them. We were winning . . . we were advancing . . . we
were into their trenches all along the line. The casualties bore their
wounds to the station with absolute cheerfulness. This one had 'got it'
in the second line of trenches; that one had seen the attack launched on
the third trench; another had heard we had taken the third in our stride
and were pushing on hard. The regiment had had a hammering, but they
were going good; the battalion had lost the O.C. and a heap of officers,
but they were 'in wi' the bayonet' at last. So the story ran for a full
two hours. It was borne back by men with limbs and bodies hacked and
broken and battered, but with lips smiling and babbling words of triumph.
There were some who would never walk, would never stand upright again,
who had nothing before them but the grim life of a helpless cripple.
There were others who could hardly hope to see the morrow's sun rise, and
others again grey-faced with pain and with white-knuckled hands clenched
to the stretcher-edges. But all, slightly wounded, or 'serious,' or
'dangerous,' seemed to have forgotten their own bitter lot, to have no
thought but to bear back the good word that 'we're winning.'

Late in the afternoon the weary doctors sensed a slackening in the
flowing tide of casualties. They were still coming in, being attended to
and passed out in a steady stream, but somehow there seemed less rush,
less urgency, less haste on the part of the bearers to be back for a
fresh load. And--ominous sign--there were many more of