“Phew,” said Sergeant Tallis, the bombing-sergeant, as he looked out of his dug-out.
“More retaliation,” I said to the signaller, and stepped out again.
A grim exaltation filled me. We were getting our own back. I did not care a straw for their canisters or whizz-bangs. It pleased me to hear Sergeant Tallis say “Phew.” My blood was up, and I did not feel like saying “Phew.”
“The officer wants to know if that is enough,” said the telephone orderly, who had come out to find me.
“No,” I answered; “I want more.”
The Boche was sending “heavies” over on to Maple Redoubt. I would go on until he stopped. My will should be master. Again our shells screamed over. There was no reply.
Gradually quiet came back.
Then I heard footsteps, and there was Davidson. His face was glowing too.
“How was that?” he asked.
How was that? He had fired magnificently, though the Boche had sent stuff all round him. How was that?