is mouth grow
dry with some sudden panic fear that came from he knew not where, and
invaded him. A qualm of sickness took him, something gurgled in his
throat, and he spat on the floor of the trench. All this passed in one
second, for at once he was master of himself again, though not master of
a savage joy that thrilled him--the joy of this chance of killing those
who fought against the peace and prosperity of the world. There was an
attack coming out of the dark, and thank God, he was among those who had
to meet it.

He gave the order that had been passed to him, and on the word, this
section of the trench was lined with men ready to pour a volley over the
low parapet. He was there, too, wildly excited, close to the spy-hole
that now showed as a luminous disc against the blackness of the trench.
He looked out of this, and in the breaking dawn he saw nothing but
the dark ground of the dip in front, and the level lines of the German
trenches opposite. Then suddenly the grey emptiness was peopled; there
sprang from the earth the advance line of the surprise, who began hewing
a way through the entanglements, while behind the silhouette of the
trenches was broken into a huddled, heaving line of men. Then came the
order to fire, and he saw men dropping and falling out of sight, and
others coming on, and yet again others. These, again, fell, but others
(and now he could see the gleam of bayonets) came nearer, bursting and
cutting their way through the wires. Then, from opposite to right and
left sounded the crack of rifles, and the man next to Michael gave one
grunt, and fell back into the trench, moving no more.

Just immediately opposite were the few dozen men whose part it was to
cut through the entanglements. They kept falling and passing out of
sight, while others took their places. And then, for some reason,
Michael found himself singling out just one of these, much in advance of
the others, who was now close to the parapet. He was coming straight on
him, and with a leap he cleared the last line of wire and towered above
him. Michael shot him with his revolver as he stood but three yards from
him, and he fell right across the parapet with head and shoulders inside
the trench. And, as he dropped, Michael shouted, "Got him!" and then he
looked. It was Hermann.

Next moment he had scaled the side of the trench and, exerting all
his strength, was dragging him over into safety. The advance of this
section, who were to ru