"
Thus the environment of the Keep: the enemy's trenches were about
eight hundred yards away. No fighting took place here, the men's
rifles stood loaded, but no shot was fired; only when the front line
was broken, if that ever took place, would the defenders of the Keep
come into play and hold the enemy back as long as that were possible.
Then when they could no longer hold out, when the foe pressed in (p. 152)
on all sides, there was something still to do, something vitally
important which would cost the enemy many lives, and, if a miracle did
not happen, something which would wipe out the defenders for ever.
This was the Keep.
The evening was very quiet; a few shells flew wide overhead, and now
and again stray bullets pattered against the masonry. We cooked our
food in the yard, and, sitting down amidst the flowers, we drank our
tea and ate our bread and jam. The first flies were busy, they flew
amidst the flower-beds and settled on our jam. Mervin told a story of
a country where he had been in, and where the flies were legion and
ate the eyes out of horses. The natives there wore corks hung by
strings from their caps, and these kept the flies away.
"How?" asked Bill.
"The corks kept swinging backwards and forwards as the men walked,"
said Mervin. "Whenever a cork struck a fly it dashed the insect's
brains out."
"Blimey!" cried Bill, then asked, "What was the most wonderful thing
you ever seen, Mervin?"
"The most wonderful thing," repeated Mervin.
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