me along,
Bobby!"

Dusk had fallen. From the German trenches a thin luminous thread
stole up into the darkening sky, leaned over, drooped, and burst
into dazzling brilliance over the British parapet. Simultaneously a
desultory rifle fire crackled down the lines. The night's work had
begun.

XIX

THE TRIVIAL ROUND

We have been occupying trenches, off and on, for a matter of two
months, and have settled down to an unexhilarating but salutary
routine. Each dawn we "stand to arms," and peer morosely over the
parapet, watching the grey grass turn slowly to green, while snipers'
bullets buzz over our heads. Each forenoon we cleanse our dew-rusted
weapons, and build up with sandbags what the persevering Teuton
has thrown down. Each afternoon we creep unostentatiously into
subterranean burrows, while our respective gunners, from a safe
position in the rear, indulge in what they humorously describe as "an
artillery duel." The humour arises from the fact that they fire, not
at one another, but at us. It is as if two big boys, having declared
a vendetta, were to assuage their hatred and satisfy their honour by
going out every afternoon and throwing stones at one another's little
brothers. Each evening we go on sentry duty; or go out with patrols,
or working parties, or ration parties. Our losses in killed and
wounded are not heavy, but they are regular. We would not grudge the
lives thus spent if only we could advance, even a little. But there is
nothing doing. Sometimes a trench is rushed here, or recaptured there,
but the net result is--stalemate.

The campaign upon which we find ourselves at present embarked offers
few opportunities for brilliancy. One wonders how Napoleon would have
handled it. His favourite device, we remember, was to dash rapidly
about the chessboard, insert himself between two hostile armies, and
defeat them severally. But how can you insert yourself between two
armies when you are faced by only one army--an army stretching from
Ostend to the Alps?

One of the first elements of successful strategy is surprise. In the
old days, a general of genius could outflank his foe by a forced
march, or lay some ingenious trap or ambush. But how can you outflank
a foe who has no flanks? How can you lay an ambush for the modern
Intelligence Department, with its aeroplane reconnaissance and
telephonic nervous system? Do you mass half a million men at a chosen
point in the enemy's line? Straightway the e