We each wore a wrist-watch, and believe me, neither one of us did over twenty minutes. The rain soaked us to the skin and her ears were full of mud.
Every few minutes a bullet would crack overhead or a machine gun would traverse back and forth.
Then all firing suddenly ceased. I whispered to Wheeler, "Keep your eye skinned, mate, most likely Fritz has a patrol out, -- that's why the Boches have stopped firing."
We were each armed with a rifle and bayonet and three Mills bombs to be used for defense only.
I had my ear to the ground. All of a sudden I heard faint, dull thuds. In a very low, but excited voice, I whispered to Wheeler, "I think they are mining, listen."
He put his ear to the ground and in an unsteady voice spoke into my ear:
"Yank, that's a patrol and it's heading our way. For God's sake keep still."
I was as still as a mouse and was scared stiff.
Hardly breathing and with eyes trying to pierce the inky blackness, we waited. I would have given a thousand pounds to have been safely in my dugout.
Then we plainly heard footsteps and our hearts stood still.