“Hullo,” I answered, “where are you off to?”
“Going on patrol,” was the reply. “Oh, by the way, you probably know something about this rotten sap opposite the Quarry. I’m going out to find out if it’s occupied at night or not.”
“Opposite the Quarry?” said I. “Oh, yes, I know it. We get rather a good view of it from No. 1 Post.”
“That post up on the right here? Yes, I was up there this afternoon, but you can’t see much from anywhere here. The worst of it is I was going with 52 Jones; only his leave has just come through. You see, I’ve never been out before. I’m trying a fellow called Edwards, but I don’t know him.”
“If you can’t get Edwards,” I said suddenly, “I’ve a good mind to come out with you. Meet me at Trafalgar Square, and let me know.”
As Will disappeared, I immediately repented of my offer, repented heartily, repented abjectly. I had never been on patrol, and a great sinking feeling came over me. I hoped with all my might that Edwards would be bubbling over with enthusiasm for patrolling. I was afraid. With all the indifference to shells and canisters that was gradually growing upon me, I had never been out into No Man’s Land. And yet I had volunteered to go out, and at the time of doing so I felt quite excited at the prospect. “Fool,” I said to myself.
“Edwards doesn’t seem at all enthusiastic about it,” said Will. “Will you really come out?”
“Yes, rather. I’m awfully keen to go. I’ve never been before, either. How are you going?”
We exchanged views on how best to dress and carry our revolvers, which instantly assumed a new interest.
“What time are you going out?”