s from what had been the face of
the trench and heaving them into place to make a breastwork on the new
front, while reinforcements rushed across from the German side and
opened fire at the main British trench a score of yards away.

Then, before the gasping takers of the trench could clear the dead and
wounded from under their feet, before they could refill their emptied
magazines, or settle themselves to new footholds and elbow-rests, the
British counter-attack was launched. It was ushered in by a shattering
burst of shrapnel. The word had passed to the gunners, careful and
minute adjustments had been made, the muzzles had swung round a
fraction, and then, suddenly and quick as the men could fling in a
round, slam the breech and pull the firing lever, shell after shell had
leapt roaring on their way to sweep the trench that had been British,
but now was enemy. For ten or fifteen seconds the shrapnel hailed
fiercely on the cowering trench; then, at another word down the
telephone, the fire shut off abruptly, to re-open almost immediately
further forward over the main German trenches.

From the main British trench an officer leaped, another and another
heaved themselves over the parapet, and in an instant the long, level
edge of the trench was crowded with scrambling, struggling men. With a
hoarse yell they flung themselves forward, and the lost trench spouted
a whirlwind of fire and lead to meet their rush. But the German
defenders had no fair chance of resistance. Their new parapet was not
half formed and offered no protection to the stream of bullets that
sleeted in on them from rifles and maxims on their flanks. The
charging British infantry carried hand grenades and bombs and flung
them ahead of them as they ran, and, finally, there was no thicket of
barb-wire to check the swing and impetus of the rush. The trench was
reached, and again the clamour of voices raised in fear and pain, the
hoarse rancour of hate, the shrill agony of death, rose high on the
sounds of battle. The rush swept up on the trench, engulfed it as a
wave engulfs the cleft on a rock beach, boiled and eddied about it, and
then . . . and then . . . swept roaring over it, and on. The
counter-attack had succeeded, and the victors were pushing their
advantage home in an attack on the main German trench. The remnants of
the German defenders were swept back, fighting hopelessly but none the
less fiercely. Supports poured out to their assis