"Fire!" the T.M. officer shouted down.
Fire they did, and the concussion nearly knocked me head over heels. I was quite unprepared for such a backblast. Before they fired again, I got a man to hold down the front leg of my tripod. The gun was recharged; the order to fire was given, the lanyard was pulled, but no explosion.
"Hullo, another——"
"Misfire," was the polite remark of the sergeant. "Those fuses are giving us more trouble than enough."
Another detonator was put on, everything was ready again. Another tug was given. Again no explosion.
Remembering the happenings of the morning in another pit, when a premature burst occurred, I felt anything but comfortable. Sitting in the middle of about one hundred trench mortar bombs, visions of the whole show going up came to me.
Another detonator was put in. "Fire," came the order. Again it failed.
"Look here, sergeant," I said, "if that bally thing happens again I'm off."
"The blessed thing has never been so bad before, sir. Let's have one more try."
Still another detonator was put in. I began turning the handle of my camera. This time it was successful.