"How is it going?" Goyle asked.
"Oh, it's hell," the Adjutant of the Westshires answered.
"It is impossible to expect men to advance over such ground. We have only got about twenty yards. We have had a hundred down already—Leary and Blake are gone—Jones and Barty wounded. It is no good—they can't carry on. Look here; what I came back for was, would you send an officer with me, so that I can show him where we want your men? Our fellows are rather shaken. I think it would be a good thing if they would close up behind. One never knows what might happen."
I could read the Adjutant's thoughts. He dreaded lest his men should break. He knew if they had to advance farther they would be shot down like rabbits. Poor man, he as Adjutant of the regiment was responsible for the men's lives and conduct. The regiment was in danger of being wiped out. No wonder his hand shook, and he breathed in great gasps. Never have I seen a man so cruelly strained. He grew calmer as he sat there, and presently Goyle sent me back with him.
The Adjutant of the Westshires was quite calm as we returned to the firing-line. We found the Colonel of the regiment sitting on the ground behind a wall. He held a message in his hands. "Look there!" He read out the message to the Adjutant.
"The —th Brigade will continue their attack on —— at 11.30 A.M. The attack will be pressed home at all costs."
Both men looked at each other. They knew they had received the regiment's death warrant. No attack could succeed over such ground. The Colonel looked at his watch. I looked at the little iron-grey man sitting there waiting for the hour when he was to send his regiment to their doom. Then the Adjutant took me quietly, and showed me the places where he wished our men to come up. He was quite calm now as we peeped round the corner of a house at the lines which had to be taken at all costs. The firing had stopped now. The Westshires were lying out in the ploughland at the point they had reached. The Germans lined their trenches waiting for them to move.
But the time never came. Ten minutes later a staff officer had come up, inspected the ground, and cancelled the second order for the attack.
XIX. BY THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH
We were moved to the village very suddenly. There was no reason that we could see for the move. However, this transpired later. It was getting dusk when we reached the village. A and C Companies were sent at once up to the firing-line, and B and D Companies were lined along a ditch in support. The ditch had been prepared for habitation by the regiment who had held it before. At one point they had thrown some boards across the ditch and made a house underneath. This proved a very welcome shelter when later it came on to rain. We lay in the ditch for an hour or two listening to the last shells before nightfall, from one of our heavy batteries, singing overhead. The shells were sent in groups of three, and we could plainly hear each, whizz-whizz-whizz, chasing each other through the air, perhaps not more than twenty yards apart. We were comfortable enough where we were, and idly speculated on what errand of destruction the shells were bent. They sounded nasty great things to have coming in the wrong direction, and we wished the Germans joy of them.