“I’ve got over fences without wire cutters,” says I.
“It wouldn’t be right in this case,” he says. “You can’t have a trench raid without wire cutters. It’s never been done, and if we were to go wrong on an important thing, no telling what would come of it. You have to do things right, and there’s just one right way.”
“That settles that,” says I, “but, all the same, I can climb a barbed wire fence.”
“And we’ll go by land,” he says. “I never held much with naval attacks on land positions. Look at the Dardanelles fight. The navy got all the worst of it. No. We’ll make a land attack.”
“It’s a rotten long walk.”
“It’s strategy,” says he.
“Go ahead,” says I, “you know best.”
“We’ll wait till dark, and I hope it’s awful dark.”
“And we won’t be able to carry a lantern,” says I. “We’ll break our necks sure.”
“What we’ve got to do is plan it out,” he says, “and know every move by heart. It’s the only chance of success.”