I tumbled after the colonel into the square hole that constituted the "O.P."—it had been a Boche trench-mortar emplacement. The sweat dripped down my face as I removed my tin hat; my hair was wet and tangled.
Johns, a subaltern of D Battery, was in the pit with a couple of telephonists. He was giving firing instructions to the battery.
"What are you firing at, Johns?" inquired the colonel, standing on a step cut in the side of the pit, and leaning his elbows on the parapet.
"Two hundred yards behind that road, sir—trench mortars suspected there, sir." He called, "All guns parallel!" down the telephone.
"Don't you keep your guns parallel when you aren't firing?" asked the colonel quickly. "Isn't that a battery order?"
Johns flushed and replied, "No, sir.... We left them as they were after night-firing."
"But don't you know that it is an Army order—that guns should be left parallel?"
"Y-e-es, sir."
"Why don't you obey it, then?"
"I thought battery commanders were allowed their choice. I——"