lets to the ground beneath. Shell splinters flew over
the courtyard humming like bees and seeming to fall everywhere. What a
miracle that anybody could escape them!

I met our platoon sergeant at the foot of the stairs.

"Where does the sergeant-major hold out?"

"Down at Givenchy somewhere," he told me. "The Germans have broken (p. 165)
through," he said. "It looks as if we're in for a rough night."

"It will be interesting," I replied, "I haven't seen a German yet."

Over the parapet a round head, black amidst a line of bayonets
appeared, and a voice called down, "Sergeant!"

"Right oh!" said the sergeant, and rushed upstairs. At that moment a
shell struck a wall at the back somewhere, and pieces of brick whizzed
into the courtyard and clattered down the stair. When the row subsided
Kore was helped down, his face bleeding and an ugly gash showing above
his left eye.

"Much hurt, old man?" I asked.

"Not a blighty, I'm afraid," he answered.

A "blighty" is a much desired wound; one that sends a soldier back to
England. A man with a "blighty" is a much envied person. Kore was
followed by another fellow struck in the leg, and drawing himself
wearily along. He assured us that he wasn't hurt much, but now and
again he groaned with pain.

"Get into the dug-outs," the sergeant told them. "In the morning you
can go to the village, to-night it's too dangerous."

About midnight I went out on the brick pathway, the way we had (p. 166)
come up a few nights earlier. I should have taken Stoner with me, but
he slept and I did not like to waken him. The enemy's shells were
flying overhead, one following fast on another, all bursting in the
brick path and the village. I could see the bright hard light of
shrapnel shells exploding in the air, and the signal-red flash of
concussion shells bursting ahead. Splinters flew back buzzing like
angry bees about my ears. I would have given a lot to be back with
Stoner in the dug-out; it was a good strong structure, shrapnel and
bullet proof, only a concussion shell falling on top would work him
any harm.

The rain still fell and the moon--there was a bit of it somewhere--never
showed itself through the close-packed clouds. For a while I struggled
bravely to keep to the tight-rope path, but it was useless, I fell
over first one side, then the other. Eventually I kept clear of it,
and walked in the slush of the field. Half way along a newly dug
trench, some three feet in depth,