"Thanks, I will, though I'm as dry as a bone."
"Save your water; we've still got the attack to do. We've got an hour yet; that will give the men time to recover."
By this time, one by one, the men began to jump into the trench. As the men arrived, their faces pale and eyes started, we called them by name. They looked up and smiled with relief at seeing us sitting there, side by side. They recognised that the last jump had been made, and for the time being, at any rate, they were safe.
We had started through the wood, about one hundred and thirty strong, and barely eighty mustered for the final attack.
Some men of C Company appeared, threading their way along the trench. Farther in the wood, the commander, Lieutenant Barton, came up to arrange details for the attack.
"You got your new orders in time, then," I remarked.
"Just in time. It's hell, isn't it? I've lost heavily already, and we've still got to go over the top."
"I've got orders to take half the battalion bombers from you; where are they?"
"I would like to keep them; there are not many left, and they are badly broken up—been fighting all night."
"All right, you keep them. I'm going to form up between here and that broken tree. Will you form up farther to the left?"