d they had to cover was swept by machine-guns, and many fell, but
the others attacked again and again, regardless of their losses, and won
back part of the lost ground, leaving only a depth of five hundred yards
in the enemy's hands.

So the position remained until the morning of August 9th, when a new
attack was begun by the Durham, Yorkshire, Lancashire, and Midland
troops of the 6th Division, who had been long in the salient and had
proved the quality of northern "grit" in the foul places and the foul
weather of that region.

It was late on the night of August 8th that these battalions took up
their position, ready for the assault. These men, who came mostly from
mines and workshops, were hard and steady and did not show any outward
sign of nervousness, though they knew well enough that before the light
of another day came their numbers would have passed through the lottery
of this game of death. Each man's life depended on no more than a fluke
of luck by the throw of those dice which explode as they fall. They knew
what their job was. It was to cross five hundred yards of open ground
to capture and to hold a certain part of the German position near the
Chateau of Hooge.

They were at the apex of the triangle which made a German salient after
the ground was lost, on July 30th. On the left side of the triangle was
Zouave Wood, and Sanctuary Wood ran up the right side to a strong fort
held by the enemy and crammed with machine-guns and every kind of bomb.
The base of the upturned triangle was made by the Menin road, to the
north, beyond which lay the crater, the chateau, and the stables.

The way that lay between the regiment and their goal was not an easy one
to pass. It was cut and crosscut by our old trenches, now held by the
enemy, who had made tangles of barbed wire in front of their parapets,
and had placed machine-guns at various points. The ground was littered
with dead bodies belonging to the battle of July 30th, and pock-marked
by deep shell-holes. To cross five hundred yards of such ground in
the storm of the enemy's fire would be an ordeal greater than that of
rushing from one trench to another. It would have to be done in regular
attack formation, and with the best of luck would be a grim and costly
progress.

The night was pitch dark. The men drawn up could only see one another
as shadows blacker than the night. They were very quiet; each man was
fighting down his fear in his soul, trying to get a gr