I wandered on in the direction of our line. Near a junction of by-roads I heard some funny remarks passed by ration parties trying to find the way to their sections. To pick one's way in the dark over strange ground littered with débris is not an easy task. The exact language I heard would hardly bear repeating.
One party had evidently bumped into another. "D—— and —— who are you? Cawn't yer see, mate, I'm taking up company rations? Blimy, but 'ow the 'ell I am going to find the way—blowed if I know. Do you know where —— Company is? I'm taking up sandbags. Lost me —— way. 'Ave yer passed a dead 'orse? I knowed I passed it coming up. Good night, mate."
Both men went off into the darkness, swearing like troopers. Another man came up. He was whistling a homely song, but it came to an abrupt conclusion, for he evidently stumbled over some obstacle. Compliments began to fly, and he told the Bosche in plain language what he thought of him for leaving it there. His remarks were too pointed for expression in cold print.
The next to come along was an engineering officer. He could faintly discern me in the darkness.
"Hullo," he said. "Are you the ——?"
"No," I replied. "I'm sorry I can't help you. I haven't the least idea where they are. What's wrong?"
"I have to run out some wires to-night, but bothered if I know where they are. Missed my way near the wood. Some silly ass sent me wrong."
"Well," I said, "most of the troops I have seen have gone in that direction," pointing the way. He disappeared.
Apparently he was held up a minute or two later by some one else, for in the distance I heard a voice, "Do you know where —— Company is, sir?"
"No, I don't," in a rather irritated tone. "I can't find my own blooming way."