“One man hit by a stray bullet,” said J——, on his return.
“I heard the bullet go th-ip into the earth after it went through his leg,” said the other officer.
“Blythe was a recruit and he had asked me to take him out the first time there was anything doing. I promised that I would, and he got about the only shot fired at us.”
“Need a stretcher?”
“No.”
Blythe came hobbling through the traverse to the communication trench, seeming well pleased with himself. The soft part of the leg is not a bad place to receive a bullet if one is due to hit you.
* * * * *
Night is always the time in the trenches when life grows more interesting and death more likely.
“It’s dark enough, now,” said one of the youngsters who was out on another scout. “We’ll go out with the patrol.”
By day, the slightest movement of the enemy is easily and instantly detected. The light keeps the combatants to the warrens which protect them from shell and bullet-fire. At night there is no telling what mischief the enemy may be up to; you must depend upon the ear rather than the eye for watching. Then the human soldier-fox comes out of his burrow and sneaks forth on the lookout for prey; both sides are on the prowl.