The old hands had gruesome tales to tell of accidents that had happened during gun-practice. Once while being loaded, a gun had prematurely exploded backwards, making a great hole through gunner No. 3, right through his chest, a hole just the same size as the bore of the gun. As the corpse was being carried away afterwards the sun shone right through it; so that in the middle of the shadow cast by the body was a bright round spot exactly the same size and shape as the bore of a gun.
The brewer could not help thinking of this as he very cautiously pushed the shrapnel into the bore. Klitzing, however, shoved it vigorously with the rammer, so that its metal casing clinked against the inside of the gun.
"Now then, old fellow, easy on! The thing might go off!" whispered Truchsess.
But Klitzing only smiled, and the brewer sullenly thought to himself, "Well, if that clerk has no use for his life, I have for mine, anyhow!"
Carefully he pushed in the cartridge, and heaved a sigh of relief as the lock slipped back once more. At any rate, it couldn't explode at the back now and hit him.
The battery now started again and went on at an easy trot to the exercise-ground. In the midst of a luxuriant growth of heather they unlimbered. It was a wonderful picture, the guns and the scattered gunners on that peaceful sea of purple. The waves of blossom reached nearly to the axles of the blue wheels and above the knees of the men, and closed over the trail of the gun-carriage as it passed. The men had to make their way through the heather almost as if it had been a wood.
"Open with shrapnel! Straight in front! At the battery before the guide-post at the edge of the wood. Third gun! Two thousand eight hundred!" commanded Lieutenant Landsberg. "Fire from left flank! Fire from left flank!"--that meant that gun six should begin; that of the whole regiment it was to have the honour of firing the first shot in this year's practice.
Klitzing, as gun-layer, set the sight in a twinkling to 2800 yards, got astride the box, and laid the gun in the right direction.
The enemy's battery was not very hard to find. The young officer had not been given too difficult a task. Far away over the heath, where the sand gleamed yellow in the distance, six dark, rather broad patches showed up against the light ground, each surrounded by smaller objects. They were the six guns that were to be attacked, with the dummy men belonging to them. It was Sergeant Wiegandt's duty to verify the aim; he gave a satisfied nod, and then the word of command, "Gun six, fire!"
Upon which the men sprang out of the way of the backward recoil of the carriage, and Vogt, with a jerk of the body, pulled the lanyard and fired.