. The German line was broken, and
report says that four Divisions poured through the gap. They captured
the second-line trenches, then the third, and penetrated far into the
enemy's rear.

Then--from their front and flanks, artillery and machine-guns opened
fire upon them. They were terribly exposed; possibly they had been
lured into a trap. At any rate, the process of "isolation" had not
been carried far enough. One thing, and only one thing, could have
saved them from destruction and their enterprise from disaster--the
support of big guns, and big guns, and more big guns. These could have
silenced the hostile tornado of shrapnel and bullets, and the position
could have been made good.

But--apparently the supply of big-gun ammunition is not quite so
copious as it might be. We have only been at war ten months, and
people at home are still a little dazed with the novelty of their
situation. Out here, we are reasonable men, and we realise that it
requires some time to devise a system for supplying munitions which
shall hurt the feelings of no pacifist, which shall interfere with no
man's holiday or glass of beer, which shall insult no honest toiler
by compelling him to work side by side with those who are not of his
industrial tabernacle, and which shall imperil no statesman's seat in
Parliament. Things will be all right presently.

Meanwhile, the attacking party fell back whence they came--but no
longer four full Divisions.

XVIII

THE FRONT OF THE FRONT

We took over these trenches a few days ago; and as the Germans are
barely two hundred yards away, this chapter seems to justify its
title.

For reasons foreshadowed last month, we find that we are committed to
an indefinite period of trench life, like every one else.

Certainly we are starting at the bottom of the ladder. These trenches
are badly sited, badly constructed, difficult of access from the rear,
and swarming with large, fat, unpleasant flies, of the bluebottle
variety. They go to sleep, chiefly upon the ceiling of one's dug-out,
during the short hours of darkness, but for twenty hours out of
twenty-four they are very busy indeed. They divide their attentions
between stray carrion--there is a good deal hereabout--and our
rations. If you sit still for five minutes they also settle upon
_you_, like pins in a pin-cushion. Then, when face, hands, and knees
can endure no more, and the inevitable convulsive wriggle occurs,
they rise in a vocifer