d daisy. Anyhow,
this is my last bomb, so the performance must close down till we get
some more jam-pots loaded up.'

The enemy mortars were evidently of better make, for they continued to
bombard the suffering Asterisks for another full hour. They did a fair
amount of damage to the trench and parapet, and the Germans seized the
opportunity of the Asterisks' attempted repairs to put in some maxim
practice and a few rounds of shrapnel.

Altogether, the 7th King's Own Asterisks had a lively twenty-four hours
of it, and their casualties were heavy, far beyond the average of an
ordinary day's trench work. Forty-seven they totalled in all--nine
killed and thirty-six wounded.

They were relieved that night, this short spell being designed as a
sort of introduction or breaking in or blooding to the game.

Taking it all round, the Asterisks were fully pleased with themselves.
Their Colonel had complimented them on their behaviour, and they spent
the next few days back in the reserve, speculating on what the papers
would say about them. The optimists were positive they would have a
full column at least.

'We beat on an attack,' they said. 'There's sure to be a bit in about
that. And look at the way we were shelled, and our Artillery shelled
back. There was a pretty fair imitation of a first-class battle for a
bit, and most likely there would have been one if we hadn't scuppered
that attack. And don't forget the bombing we stuck out--and the
casualties. Doesn't every one tell us they were extra heavy? And I
believe we are about the first Terrier lot to be in a heavy "do" in the
forward trenches. You see--it'll be a column at least, and may be two.'

The pessimists declared that two or three paragraphs were all they
could expect, on account of the silly fashion of not publishing details
of engagements. 'And whatever mention we do get,' they said, 'won't
say a word about the K.O.A. It'll just be a "battalion," or maybe "a
Territorial battalion," and no more.'

'Anyway,' said the optimists, 'we'll be able to write home to our
people and our pals, and tell them it was us, though the despatches
don't mention us by name.'

But optimists and pessimists alike grabbed the papers that came to hand
each day, and searched eagerly for the Eye-witness' reports, or the
official despatch or communique. At last there reached them the paper
with the communique dated the day after their day in the trenches.
They stared at it