“Tell him to come down.”
Private Ellis appeared at the door. Not a muscle in his body or face moved, but his eyes were glowing and glittering. “Got him, sir,” was all he said.
“What?” I cried. “Got that Boche in Aeroplane Trench? By Jove, tell us all about it.”
And so to the accompaniment of a whiskey and Perrier he told us exactly what happened. It was not till well after “stand-to,” it appeared, that any change had occurred in Aeroplane Trench. Then the periscope had wobbled and disappeared below ground. Then there had been another long wait, and the outline of the sunken road had begun to get faint. Then slowly, very slowly, a pink forehead had appeared over the top, and as slowly disappeared. I wish I had been there to watch Ellis then. I can imagine him coolly, methodically sighting his rifle on the trench-edge, and waiting. “I had to wait another minute, sir; then it appeared again, the whole head this time. He thought it was too dark to be seen ... Oh, he won’t worry us any more, sir! I saw one of his arms go up, and I thought I could see him fall against the back of the trench. But it was getting so dark, I couldn’t have seen him five minutes later at all.”
And if Ellis couldn’t, who could?
Next day, and for many days, there was no sniping from Aeroplane Trench.
CHAPTER IX
ON PATROL
“Hullo, Bill!” from Will Todd, as he passed me going up 76 Street.