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loop-holes opened out on the enemy's front.
"Kore, Bill, Goliath, they're all up there," said Pryor, "and the
place is getting shelled too, in the last five minutes twenty shells
have missed the place, just missed it."
"Where does the sergeant-major stick?" I asked.
"Oh, I don't know, not here I think."
The courtyard was tense with excitement. Half a dozen new soldiers
were called to take up posts on the parapet, and they were rushing to
the crazy stairs which led to the roof. On their way they overturned a
brazier and showers of fine sparks rioted into the air. By the flare
it was possible to see the rain falling slanting to the ground in fine
lines that glistened in the flickering light. Shells were bursting
overhead, flashing out into spiteful red and white stars of flame, and
hurling their bullets to the ground beneath. Shell splinters flew over
the courtyard humming like bees and seeming to fall everywhere. What a
miracle that anybody could escape them!
I met our platoon sergeant at the foot of the stairs.
"Where does the sergeant-major hold out?"
"Down at Givenchy somewhere," he told me. "The Germans have broken (p. 165)
through," he said. "It looks as if we're in for a rough night."
"It will be interesting," I replied, "I haven't seen a German yet."
Over the parapet a round head, black amidst a line of bayonets
appeared, and a voice called down, "Sergeant!"
"Right oh!" said the sergeant, and rushed upstairs.
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