. Segur was easy:
one could skip whole phrases without losing his gist: one was not
worried by the words one did not know. He read of Napoleon's retreat on
Paris--in its time accounted the most scientific retreat in history.
Soissons! Montmirail! Why, they had almost passed into both these
places! How everything that had ever happened would shrink before
this--which was going on now, half a mile away.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE FIRST TRENCHES

Whether it was the second or third day of their stay in Poussey that the
march began again the Subaltern does not know. The only thing he
remembers is being awakened from a peaceful afternoon nap, hurrying
rather confusedly on parade, and marching off, out of the village.
Turning sharply to the left, the troops descended the hill, and at
length crossed the canal, which had evidently parted company with the
Aisne. All was quiet, and he was making his way drowsily along the dusty
road, when a whizz and a whistle brought him sharply to his senses.
There could be no mistake about it, the shell was coming right at them.

"Oh, damn," he said; "we've been spotted."

The shell burst short of them.

There was a space of about two hundred yards that would obviously be
shell swept, and the road offered not the slightest cover. Two hundred
yards ahead there appeared to be a good stout bank, which would shield
them very effectually. The only thing to be done was to rush on as fast
as they could, and thus suffer as few casualties as possible.

The men, however, did not quite realise the situation. By long training
and a great deal of actual experience they had learned that the best
thing to do when you are under fire is to tear for the nearest cover,
and, failing that, flop down on your faces where you stand, and take
your chance. As a general rule this proved sound enough, but in this
especial case it was obvious to the Officers that the longer they
delayed, the heavier would be the casualty list, a fact which the men
did not understand. The British soldier is a sportsman, and understands
the game as well as his Officer. He only wants to be led; and in battle,
scarcely that. Driving is an Art absolutely unknown in the British Army.

In the stress of the tense moments that followed, the Subaltern owned to
himself that as a driver he was not much good. The German artillery had
got their range to a yard, and it was very trying to have to stand up in
the open and spend precious seconds i