"When 'e's in a fightin' mood I'll put him
inside my shirt an' cut 'im amok. There'll be ructions; 'e'll charge
the others with fixed bayonets an' rout 'em. Oh! blimey! will they
ever stop this damned caper? Nark it. Fritz, nark yer doin's, (p. 199)
ye fool."
Bill cowered down as the shell burst, then sat upright again.
"I'm gettin' more afraid of these things every hour," he said, "what is
the war about?"
"I don't know," I answered.
"I'm sick of it," Bill muttered.
"Why did you join?"
"To save myself the trouble of telling people why I didn't," he
answered with a laugh. "Flat on yer tummy, Rifleman Teake, there's
another shell."
About noon the shelling ceased; we breathed freely again and
discovered we were very hungry. No food had passed our lips since
breakfast the day before. Stoner was afoot, alert and active, he had
slept for eight hours in his cubby-hole, and the youngster was now
covered with clay and very dirty.
"I'll go back to the cook's waggon at Givenchy and rake up some grub,"
he said, and off he went.
CHAPTER XIV (p. 200)
A FIELD OF BATTLE
The men who stand to their rifles
See all the dead on the plain
Rise at the hour of midnight
To fight their battles again.
Each to his place in the combat,
All to the parts they played,
With bayonet brisk to its purpose,
With rifle and hand-grenade.
Shadow races with shadow,
Steel comes quick on steel,
Swords that are deadly silent,
And shadows that do not feel.
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