As I lay there I heard far away on the right the sound of rifle fire. Were they our troops or the French? Perhaps it was one of our divisions which we had been told was swinging round on our flank. So the division had done its march and was fighting now. I was glad we were not. It was much better to lie peacefully in a ditch. Fighting meant seeing one's pals killed—crawling about, peering forward with tired eyes—worry, anxiety, with, of course, always the fever of excitement. But we had all had a full share of excitement, and were not sorry to lie still until we were wanted. Hullo! The sound of firing was drawing nearer and swelling in volume. That must be the brigade on our right engaged. Ah! There were two sharp shots from the farm where the next company lay.
"Pass along the word for every man to stand to," I called, jumping to my feet.
"Sergeant X," I said to the N.C.O. next to me, "go down the trench and see that every man is awake."
Pht! pht! pht!
I ducked down into the trench. Half a dozen bullets came singing through the edge. There was sharp firing now on our right. The next company was evidently engaged. Away beyond the rifle fire had swelled into one big crash of sound. Suddenly a hot fire broke out in front of us. To the left I heard our two Maxims, like watchdogs, barking viciously. It was a night attack, then—the enemy had come up to have a go at us.
"Quick—get into the trench and line along to your left. Where do you want me?"
I looked up and saw Mulligan hurrying his men into my trench. He had been sent up with his platoon from the reserve company to strengthen the line.
"Anywhere you like, old boy," I called back; "but I should get down out of that quick." The bullets were literally singing round him.
Our men were now all standing up to the parapet, firing into the night. I craned forward, trying to see in the darkness. A bullet lopped a branch off my ear, and I withdrew my head hurriedly.
"They're all awake, sir," said Sergeant X, as he returned to his place beside me.