ay; the whole feeling is most probably the result of imagination
and desire to do great things.

On they swept. The leading Platoon was now covering the ground at such a
pace that it was impossible to catch up with them. As the ground was
open the whole line could be seen sweeping forward to engulf the enemy.
The long dotted lines of brown advanced steadily and inexorably. Line
upon line of them breasted the crest, and followed in the wake of the
leading wave. It was scarcely a spectacular sight, yet it was the
vindication of the British methods of attack.

The wild firing of the Germans had little effect. Curiously enough, the
line that suffered least was the first, and even in the others the
casualties were negligible. And all the time they were nearing the
railway bank.

But the end was in sight, and the enemy realised that further resistance
would be useless. They were caught. About half a dozen men sprang on to
the railway bank and began furiously to wag white sheets of paper or
rag--anything white. They must have been brave men to do such a thing.
The British gunners either did not see their signs, or perhaps refused
to accept them on account of various "jokes" that the enemy had at other
times played with the white flag. Anyway the firing continued with
unabated fury. They stood there to the end without flinching, and when
they fell other men took their places. It is mean and untruthful to say
that the Germans are cowards. Certain it was that their pathetic
bravery--there is always something sad about bravery--so touched the
British that they accepted the surrender without reserve or suspicion.
Even the artillery ceased fire.

At this point the leading Platoon broke clean away. They could not be
held in. The orderly advance degenerated into a wild dash. Men bent
double and rushed. Determination was written on each flushed face. The
Germans must have been terrified; it looked as if they were to be
bayoneted as they stood, with their arms raised in surrender. It must
have been a very trying moment for them, indeed, as the British raced
towards them up the incline. The leading men were soon clambering up the
embankment. What would happen? Was a disgraceful and bloody massacre
about to begin? The excitement was intense. The Subaltern ran on harder
than ever, with some vague idea of "stopping a scene," but he need not
have bothered. The men were not out for blood or scalps. All they wanted
was souvenirs or helmets