."

He lifted his head above the sand-bags and looked towards the brown
heaps of earth perhaps a hundred yards away.

"Dost'a see any Germans?" some one asked.

"I'm not sure," replied the lad, "but I believe I see the top of a
German helmet."

"Duck down quickly," said another, "thou'st been holding thy head there
too long."

"Nay, there's no danger," replied the lad, "it's all as quiet as----"
But he did not finish the sentence; at that moment there was a crack of
a rifle and a bullet passed through the poor boy's brain.

"That will be a warning for you fellows," said an officer who came up
just then. "You must play no tricks; there have been hundreds of lads
killed here who would never have been touched if they hadn't been
careless and foolish. Let's have no more of your Hampstead Heath Bank
Holiday skylarking."

Tom did duty at the front trench on several occasions, but nothing of
importance took place. The Huns seemed comparatively quiet, and while
there was severe artillery work on both sides, Tom did not receive a
scratch.

The fourth time he went to the front lines, however, he felt that there
was a change in the atmosphere, and he saw by the strained looks and
the compressed lips of the men that something desperate was expected.
The officers gave their orders with more sternness than usual; every
one was alert.

Tom thought he knew what intense artillery work meant, but he realised
that day that hitherto he had seen and heard nothing. Such a tornado
of shells burst around him that it was like hell let loose. Hour after
hour the Germans bombarded our trenches, tearing great holes in the
ground, and undoing the work of months. It seemed to Tom that no man
could escape.

"Oh," cried the boy, "if they would be quiet for only a minute! If one
could only stop to take breath!"

But there was no cessation; it seemed as though the Germans were
determined to make a final and overwhelming attack; as though all the
explosives in the world were concentrated on those few miles.

The sights were horrible; he saw shells falling on groups of men,
tearing them to pieces, while all around him were the shrieks and cries
of the wounded. Some of the men who were yet untouched yelled as
though they were mad, others laughed, but their laughter was not
natural; it was frenzied, wild, just as though they were madmen.

"We can't stand it! We can't stand it!" cried the boy. "We shall all
be blown into eternity.