"
I clamped my bayonet into its standard and rested the cold steel on
the parapet, the point showing over; and standing up I looked across
to the enemy's ground.
"They're about three hundred yards away," somebody whispered taking
his place at my side. "I think I can see their trenches."
An indistinct line which might have been a parapet of sandbags, became
visible as I stared through the darkness; it looked very near, and my
heart thrilled as I watched. Suddenly a stream of red sparks swooped
upwards into the air and circled towards us. Involuntarily I stooped
under cover, then raised my head again. High up in the air a bright
flame stood motionless lighting up the ground in front, the space
between the lines. Every object was visible: a tree stripped of all
its branches stood bare, outlined in black; at its foot I could see
the barbed wire entanglements, the wire sparkling as if burnished;
further back was a ruined cottage, the bare beams and rafters giving
it the appearance of a skeleton. A year ago a humble farmer might (p. 090)
have lived there; his children perhaps played where dead were lying. I
could see the German trench, the row of sandbags, the country to rear,
a ruined village on a hill, the flashes of rifles on the left ... the
flare died out in mid-air and darkness cloaked the whole scene again.
"What do you think of it, Stoner?" I asked the figure by my side.
"My God, it's great," he answered. "To think that they're over there,
and the poor fellows lying out on the field!"
"They're their own bloomin' tombstones, anyway," said Bill, cropping
up from somewhere.
Pages:
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71