Perhaps my eyes played me false, the objects might
be tree-trunks trimmed down by shell fire....
The message came out from our trench and the Corporal passed it along
his party. "On the right a party of the --th London are working." This
was to prevent us mistaking them for Germans. All night long
operations are carried on between the lines, if daylight suddenly shot
out about one in the morning what a scene would unfold itself in No
Man's Land; listening patrols marching along, Engineers busy with the
wires, sanitary squads burying the dead and covering parties keeping
watch over all the workers.
"Halt! who goes there?"
The order loud and distinct came from the vicinity of the German (p. 256)
trench, then followed a mumbled reply and afterwards a scuffle, a
sound as of steel clashing in steel, and then subdued laughter. What
had happened? Next day we heard that a sergeant and three men of the
--th were out on patrol and went too near the enemy's lines. Suddenly
they were confronted by several dark forms with fixed bayonets and the
usual sentry's challenge was yelled out in English. Believing that he
had fallen across one of his own outposts, the unsuspecting sergeant
gave the password for the night, approached those who challenged him
and was immediately made prisoner. Two others met with the same fate,
but one who had been lagging at the rear got away and managed to get
back to his own lines. Many strange things happen between the lines at
night; working parties have no love for the place and hundreds get
killed there.
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