"Very good, sir!" And the sergeant scrambles to his feet, salutes, ducks hastily as a shell seems to whistle past unnecessarily close, and dives into the rabbit-burrow in which his men are squatting. The C.O. returns to his glasses.
The C.O. of a British battery, in position some distance to the rear, has evidently also spotted that particular target, for puffs of bursting shrapnel have begun to appear over the wood and round the edges.
Now there is a distinct movement of troops emerging from behind the wood. It is a movement only which can be seen, for the men themselves can scarcely be distinguished against the grey-green country-side.
At the very same moment it seems as though all the guns in the world have been turned on to those few miles of British front, and to the batteries behind.
The British gun-fire wavers for a minute or so; but soon it picks up again though, alas! not so strongly as before.
The Yorks C.O. has lost his enemy infantry for a minute; they are working forward under the edge of a rise in the ground.
Now the front ranks appear, and the C.O. gives a sharp whistle of astonishment. Four hundred yards off, and it looks like a great glacier rolling down a mountain-side.
Nearer still it creeps, and the German guns have raised their range to give their infantry a chance. "Besides, there will probably be nothing but empty trenches to take anyway," they say.
Fifty yards nearer, and the temptation is too great.
"Let it go, Yorkshires!" he yells down the trench. (The command is not in the drill-book, but it serves very well.)