"Then, I shall have to cross over the lower trench; isn't that occupied, sir?"
"The battalion bombers will clear that out for you during the night."
"When is zero hour, sir?"
"Don't know; I've told you all I know at present. Take ten flares, and send up two when you arrive at your objective, and send up another two at 6 o'clock the following morning."
"What about ammunition and water, sir?"
"The water you've already got is supposed to last forty-eight hours. I don't know about ammunition; I think there's an ammunition dump in the wood, but I will find that out and let you know. All right; it's dark enough now."
Sch!—Crash!—Zug! A 5·9 burst on the parapet a few yards away. The thud of an awky bit was felt in our midst, and the sergeant-major jumped up, holding his foot. The C.O. looked up without turning a hair:
"Any one hurt?" he asked.
"Only my boots, sir," replied the sergeant-major, suspiciously feeling his heel.
I took my departure and began to grope around in the dark in search of the narrow track which would guide me back to my company. I searched for about ten minutes, but in vain, and I became for a while hopelessly lost in a mass of shell-holes. I knew the direction roughly, but direction was of little use in that wild confusion of broken ground and débris.