e, and
then went forward for another look."

"By Jove, we did pepper 'em. And, hang me, if the major didn't say we
must go and make absolutely sure that we had outed 'em. There were
nineteen Boches in the trench, and they surrendered to the major....
Look at this pile of revolvers we took from them--fourteen altogether.
The major's promised to give this little beauty to the doctor."

And still the day's tale of triumph was not concluded. At seven o'clock
the infantry battalion that had been held in reserve made a combined
dash with troops of the Division on the left, and drove the tired
dispirited Huns out of Sailly-Saillisel, another 2000 yards on.

Our batteries fired harassing crashes all through the night, and were
warned to be ready to move first thing in the morning.

XI. ON THE HEELS OF THE BOCHE

Sept. 2: The side-spectacle that struck me most when I walked by myself
through Combles was that of a solitary Royal Engineer playing a grand
piano in the open street, with not a soul to listen to him. The house
from which the instrument had been dragged was smashed beyond repair;
save for some scrapes on the varnish the piano had suffered no harm,
and its tone was agreeable to the ear. The pianist possessed technique
and played with feeling and earnestness, and it seemed weirdly strange
to hear Schumann's "Slumber Song" in such surroundings. But the war has
produced more impressive incongruities than that.

The Brigade settled itself in the neighbourhood of Fregicourt. The --st
Infantry Brigade was already established there in a trench; and the
first job of work that fell to me was to answer the F.O.O. of another
Artillery brigade who had rung up Infantry Brigade Headquarters. "Huns
are moving along the road in X 429 b and c," said a voice. "Can you
turn one of my batteries on to them?" Our batteries were not yet in
position, but I saw, a couple of hundred yards away, two batteries
whose trails were lowered; so I hurried across and gave them the target
and the map spotting, and before long 18-pdr. shells were on their way
to ginger up the aforementioned unlucky Huns. An aeroplane fight
within decent observing distance aroused much more interest. No
decisive result was obtained, but the enemy airman was finally driven
away in full retreat towards his own lines. "Jerry isn't as cheeky as
he used to be in Flanders last year, is he?" said Wilde to me. "It must
be true that he's running short of 'planes."

T