ising
eerie from the space between the lines, I heard a cry. A harrowing
"Oh!" wrung from a tortured soul, then a second "Oh!" ear-splitting,
deafening. Something must have happened, one of the working party was
hit I knew. A third "Oh!" followed, weak it was and infantile, then
intense silence wrapped up everything as in a cloak. But only for (p. 297)
a moment. The enemy must have heard the cry for a dozen star-shells
shot towards us and frittered away in sparks by our barbed-wire
entanglements. There followed a second of darkness and then an
explosion right over the sap. The enemy were firing shrapnel shells on
the working party. Three, four shells exploded simultaneously out in
front. I saw dark forms rise up and come rushing into shelter. There
was a crunching, a stumbling and a gasping as if for air. Boots struck
against the barbed entanglements, and like trodden mice, the wires
squeaked in protest. I saw a man, outlined in black against the glow
of a star-shell, struggling madly as he endeavoured to loose his
clothing from the barbs on which it caught. There was a ripping and
tearing of tunics and trousers.... A shell burst over the men again
and I saw two fall; one got up and clung to the arm of a mate, the
other man crawled on his belly towards the parapet.

In their haste they fell over the parapet into the trench, several of
them. Many had gone back by the sap, I could see them racing along
crouching as they ran. Out in front several forms were bending over
the ground attending to the wounded. From my left the message (p. 298)
came "Stretcher-bearers at the double." And I passed it along.

Two men who had scrambled over the parapet were sitting on my
banquette, one with a scratched forehead, the other with a bleeding
finger. Their mates were attending to them binding up the wounds.

"Many hurt?" I asked.

"A lot 'ave copped a packet," said the man with the bleeding finger.

"We never 'eard the blurry things come, did we?" he asked his mates.

"Never 'eard nothin', we didn't till the thing burst over us," said a
voice from the trench. "I was busy with Ginger----"

"Ginger Weeson?" I enquired.

"That's 'im," was the reply. "Did yer 'ear 'im yell? Course yer did;
ye'd 'ave 'eard 'im over at La Bassee."

"What happened to him?" I asked.

"A bullet through 'is belly," said the voice. "When 'e roared I put my
'and on 'is mouth and 'e gave me such a punch. I was nearly angry, and
'im in orful pain.