a solid streak of uncooked dough from the centre
of his half-loaf and dropped it in the brazier.

Then the first shell landed. It fell some yards outside the parapet,
and a column of sooty black smoke shot up and hung heavily in the damp
air. No. 2 Platoon treated it lightly.

'Good mornin',' said one man cheerfully, nodding towards the black
cloud. 'An' we 'ave not used Pears' soap.'

'Bless me if it ain't our old friend the Coal Box,' said another. 'We
'aven't met one of 'is sort for weeks back.'

'An' here's 'is pal Whistling Willie,' said a third, and they sat
listening to the rise-and-fall whistling _s-s-sh-s-s-sh_ of a
high-angle shell. As the whistle rose to a shriek, the group of men
half made a move to duck, but they were too late, and the shell burst
with a thunderous bang just short of the front parapet. Mud and lumps
of earth splashed and rattled down into the trench, and fragments of
iron hurtled singing overhead.

The men cursed angrily. The brazier had been knocked over by a huge
clod, half-boiling water was spilt, and, worst of all, the precious dry
wood had fallen in the mud and water of the trench bottom. But the men
soon had other things than a lost breakfast to think of. A shrapnel
crashed overhead and a little to the right, and a sharp scream that
died down into deep groans told of the first casualty. Another shell,
and then another, roared up and smashed into the soft ground behind the
trench, hurting no one, but driving the whole line to crouch low in the
narrow pit.

'Get down and lie close everyone,' shouted the young officer of No. 2
Platoon, but the 'crump-crump-crump' of another group of falling shells
spoke sterner and more imperative orders than his. For half an hour
the big shells fell with systematic and regular precision along the
line of the front trench, behind it on the bare ground, and further
back towards the supports' trench. The shooting was good, but so were
the trenches--deep and narrow, and steep-sided, with dug-outs scooped
under the bank and strong traverses localising the effect of any shell
that fell exactly on the trench. There were few casualties, and the
Royal Blanks were beginning to congratulate themselves on getting off
so lightly as the fire slackened and almost died away.

With the rest of the line No. 2 Platoon was painfully moving from its
cramped position and trying to stamp and shake the circulation back
into its stiffened limbs, when there