I was just on the point of turning back to the
road when one of our batteries concealed in the place opened fire, and
a perfect hell of flame burst out around me. I flopped to earth with
graceless precipitancy, and wallowed in mud. "It's all up 3008, you've
done it now," I muttered, and wondered vaguely whether I was partly or
wholly dead. The sharp smell of cordite filled the air and caused (p. 171)
a tickling sensation in my throat that almost choked me. When I
scrambled to my feet again and found myself uninjured, a strange
dexterity had entered my legs; I was outside the gate in the space of
a second.
Ten minutes later I found the sergeant-major, who rose from a blanket
on the ground-floor of a pretentious villa with a shell splintered
door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The rations had not arrived;
they would probably be in by dawn. Had I seen the mine explode? I
belonged to the company holding the Keep, did I not? The rumour about
the Germans breaking through was a cock-and-bull story. Had I any
cigarettes? Turkish! Not bad for a change. Good luck, sonny! Take care
of yourself going back.
I came in line with the rear trench on my way back.
"Who's there?" came a voice from the line of little cigarette lights.
"A London Irish orderly--going home!" I answered, and a laugh rewarded
my ironical humour.
"Jolly luck to be able to return home," I said to myself when I got
past. "3008, you weren't very brave to-night.
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