Another shell swished over; and another; plunged to ground in rear of him. The whole middle distance seemed a mass of stampeding beasts that hurled themselves through black fountains across the plains.
“Didn’t you hear me say get under cover, you sanguinary cigar-merchant?” rasped a voice at his ear. . . .
§ 5
“Another five minutes,” ordered the Weasel. “Tell ’em they can go to gun-fire if they like.”
Hostile shelling had ceased. Only, far away over the roofs of Vermelles, an occasional gray puff-ball betokened shrapnel. Sun shone on bare plain behind, on bare crest in front. Round the farm, little figures moved.
Torrington, V.C., pale and shaky, lay in the bottom of the recess between his sections: “What’s that, Sergeant Major?” he asked the man standing behind him. “Colonel says we can go to gun-fire, sir.” “All right. Tell ’em five rounds.” “Five rounds gun-fire,” megaphoned the Sergeant Major. Straker and Pettigrew, kneeling between their pieces, flung out hands in acknowledgment; repeated the order. Flames roared above Torrington’s head; chalk pattered down on him from the trench-walls. “How much longer, Sergeant Major?” “Four minutes yet, sir.” “Battery fire, till the last minute.” “Right sir. . . . At Battery fire, go on.”
“God’s teeth,” muttered Torrington, V.C. “I can’t stand this racket much longer.” . . .
“Stop!”
All round the hollow saucer of ground, noise ceased miraculously. Only, every now and then, the howitzers roared separately at their far targets. And from beyond the lip of the saucer came a distant stutter, as of men swinging gigantic rattles—the chattering of machine-guns.
Behind the tattered hay-stack, stood a signaller, flags outstretched. “W N,” wagged the signaller. “W N,” replied far flags at the corner of the houses under the Fosse Seven. Ammunition wagons came trotting across the field. . . . Down in the trench, black instrument in front of him, another signaller buzzed frantically. “F.O.O.” buzzed the signaller, “F.O.O.” But no answering buzz sounded in his ears. For the red wire lay frayed beyond the crest-line—and the guns were blind!