Platoon, for instance (Commander Lieutenant
Cockerell), were to proceed in single file, carrying so many grenades
per man, up Charing Cross Road, until stopped by the barrier which the
enemy were understood to have erected in Trafalgar Square, where
a bombing-post and at least one machine-gun would probably be
encountered. At this point they were to wait until Trafalgar Square
had been suitably dealt with by a trench-mortar. (Here followed a
paragraph addressed exclusively to the Trench-Mortar Officer.) After
this the bombers of Number Three Platoon would bomb their way across
the Square and up the Strand. Another party would clear Northumberland
Avenue, while a Lewis gun raked Whitehall. And so on. Every detail
was thought out, down to the composition of the parties which were
to "clean up" afterwards--that is, extract the reluctant Boche from
various underground fastnesses well known to the extractors. The whole
enterprise was then thoroughly rehearsed in some dummy trenches behind
the line, until every one knew his exact part. Such is modern warfare.

Next day the Kidney Bean Redoubt was in British hands again.
The Hun--what was left of him after an intensive bombardment of
twenty-four hours--had betaken himself back over the ridge, _via_ the
remnants of his two new communication trenches, to his original front
line. The two communication trenches themselves were blocked and
sandbagged, and were being heavily supervised by a pair of British
machine-guns. Fighting in the Redoubt itself had almost ceased, though
a humorous sergeant, followed by acolytes bearing bombs, was still
"combing out" certain residential districts in the centre of the
maze. Ever and anon he would stoop down at the entrance of some deep
dug-out, and bawl--

"Ony mair doon there? Come away, Fritz! I'll gie ye five seconds. Yin,
Twa, Three--"

Then, with a rush like a bolt of rabbits, two or three close-cropped,
grimy Huns would scuttle up from below and project themselves from one
of the exits; to be taken in charge by grinning Caledonians wearing
"tin hats" very much awry, and escorted back through the barrage to
the "prisoners' base" in rear.

All through the day, amidst unremitting shell fire and local
counter-attack, the Hairy Jocks reconsolidated the Kidney Bean; and
they were so far successful that when they handed over the work to
another battalion at dusk, the parapet was restored, the machine-guns
were in position, and a number of "k