o did not seem to
have grasped that Doe and I were friends, had attached me to D
Company, which was in reserve on the slopes of Fusilier Bluff, and
Doe to B Company, which was holding the fire-trenches. The man was a
fool, of course, but what could a subaltern say to a colonel? And
Monty, too, had gone to live by himself. Finding that his new parish
was extensive and scattered, he had abandoned Fusilier Bluff, and,
choosing the most central spot, had built himself a sand-bag hovel
somewhere in the Eski Line. Struth! Everything was the limit.

I went to bed. And it was after I was deeply submerged in dreams
that I awoke with a start, for someone seemed to be telling me to
get up and dress, as there was an alarm afloat. A voice was saying:
"All the troops have been ordered to stand to, sir. There's an
attack expected. The Adjutant sent me to call you."

"Who are you?"

"Adjutant's orderly, 10th East Cheshires, sir."

"Thanks." Hurriedly dressing, I went out and found that the Bluff,
now white in the moonlight, was lined with men in full equipment.
Orders were being shouted, and telephones were buzzing.

"D Company, fall in."

"See that there are two men to every machine-gun at once."

D Company, with myself attached to it, left the Bluff and filed
through a communication trench to the firing line. Here every man
was a silent sentry, his bayonet shining in the moonlight. Doe,
whose eyes were bright with excitement, was walking hastily up and
down the company front, looking over the parapet, giving orders in a
fine whisper, and pretending in a variety of ways that he was
uncommonly efficient at this sort of surprise attack. I touched his
sleeve and asked:

"What's it all about?"

"Heaven knows! A sergeant spotted some trees waving in front of the
moon, thought they were Turks, and gave the alarm. He saw trees as
men walking. Sorry. Can't stay."

I wandered along the trench, seeing the men of my platoon properly
disposed so as to stiffen the resistance of B Company. Then I
returned for the latest news of the crisis to where Doe was
conversing with an unknown officer. They were recalling how they had
once travelled in the train together from Paddington to Falmouth,
and never seen each other again till this moment. Doe was praising
the lovely country through which the Great Western Railway
passed--Somerset, and the White Horse Vale, and the beautiful
stretch of water at Dawlish; or the red cliffs of Devon, where