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Page 21
The rain ceased and a cold sun shot feeble rays over the sullen
December landscape. Again a halt was called; the brigadier-general,
followed by two officers and several orderlies, galloped up, and a
hurried consultation with our colonel took place. In a moment the
battalion moved ahead only to come to a dead stop again after ten
minutes' slow marching, and find a company detailed off to guard the
rear. The other companies, led by their officers, turned off the road
and moved in sections across the newly furrowed and soggy fields. A
level sweep of December England broken only by leafless hedgerows and
wire fencing stretched out in front towards a wooded hillock, that
stood up black against the sky-line two miles away. The enemy held
this wood; we could hear his guns booming and now considered ourselves
under shell fire. Each squad of sixteen men marched in the rear or on
the flank of its neighbour; this method of progression minimises the
dangers of bursting shrapnel, for a shell falling in the midst of one
body of men and causing considerable damage will do no harm to the
adjacent party.
Somewhere near us our gunners were answering the enemy's fire; but so
well hidden were the guns that I could not locate them. We still
crept slowly forward; section after section crawled across the black,
ploughed fields, now rising up like giant caterpillars to the crest
of a mound, and again dropping out of sight in the hollow land like
corks on a comber. On our heels the ambulance corps followed with its
stretchers, and in front the enemy was firing vigorously; over the
belt of trees that lined the summit of the hillock little wisps of
smoke could be seen rising and fading in the air.
Suddenly we came into line with our guns hidden in a deep narrow
cart-track, their dark muzzles trained on the enemy, and the gunners,
knee-deep in the mire of the lane, sweating at their work. "We're
under covering fire now," our young lieutenant explained, as we
trudged forward, lifting enormous masses of clay on our boots at every
step. "One battalion is engaged already; hear the shots."
The rifles were barking on the left front; in a moment the reports
from that quarter died away, and the right found voice. The men of
the first line were in the trenches dug by us a fortnight earlier, and
there they would remain, we knew, until their supports came to their
aid. Already we passed several of them, who were detailed off on the
anticipated casualty list in the morning. These wore white labels in
their buttonholes, telling of the nature of their wounds. One label
bore the words: "Shot in right shoulder; wound not dangerous." Another
read: "Leg blown off," and a third ran: "Flesh wounds in arm and leg."
These men would be taken into the care of the ambulance party when it
arrived.
When within fifteen hundred yards of the enemy, the command for
extended order advance was given, and the section spread out in one
long line, fronting the knoll, with five pace intervals between the
men. We were now under rifle-fire, and all further movements forward
were made in short sharp rushes, punctuated by halts, during which
we lay flat on the ground, our bodies deep in the soft earth, and the
rain, which again commenced to fall, wetting us to the skin.
Six hundred yards from the enemy's front we tumbled into the trenches
already in possession of Battalion B, and I found myself ankle-deep in
mire, beside a unit of another regiment who was enjoying a cigarette
and blowing rings of smoke into the air. Although no enemy was visible
we got the order to fire, and I discharged three rounds in rapid
succession.
"Don't fire, you fool!" said the man who was blowing the smoke rings.
"Them blanks dirty 'orrible, and when you've clean't the clay from
your clothes t'night you'll not want to muck about with your rifle.
There's a price for copper, and I always sell my cartridge cases. The
first time I came out I fired, but never since."
Several rushes forward followed, and the penultimate hundred yards
were covered with fixed bayonets. In this manner we were prepared for
any surprise. The enemy replied fitfully to our fire, and we could now
see several khaki-clad figures with white hat-bands--the differential
symbols--moving backwards and forwards amidst the trees. Presently
they disappeared as we worked nearer to their lines. We were now
rushing forward, lying down to fire, rising and running only to drop
down again and discharge another round. Within fifty yards of the
coppice the order to charge was given. A yell, almost fiendish in its
intensity, issued from a thousand throats; anticipation of the real
work which is to be done some day, lent spirit to our rush. In an
instant we were in the wood, smashing the branches with our bayonets,
thrusting at imaginary enemies, roaring at the top of our voices, and
capping a novel fight with a triumphant final.
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