OUR NEST (DUGOUT) IS ON THE RIGHT.
MEALS ARE ANY TIME WHEN ONE IS HUNGRY.
It was while trying to keep warm that first night over the little charcoal fire that I first learned how to handle my bayonet, if I was ever to be lucky enough to ram it so far into a German belly that I couldn't pull it out handily. The lesson came from a corporal of the East Lanks (Lancashires) who was explaining the advantages of the Lee-Enfield rifle and bayonet over the Ross, and his description was so realistically vivid that my teeth forgot to chatter with the chill I had.
"You see," he said, "if you push it in too far, you canna get it oot again, because this groove on the side o' it makes the 'ole air-tight; as soon as it is jabbed into a man the suction pulls the flesh all over it and you canna chuck it oot."
"Well, what would you do if you couldn't get it out and another mug was making for you?" I asked.
"Why if a twist won't do it, stick your foot on the beggar and wrench it out; if that won't do it, just pull the trigger a couple of times and there you are—she will blow out."
"Did you ever have any trouble yourselves?"
"Oh, aye. I remember at Landrecies, in the 'ouse to 'ouse fightin', my chum, Topper, and me were backed into an alley, with a wall at our back and a bunch of hulking Prussians pressing us hard. Some more of the boys fell on them from the side, but Topper and me had all we could do with the two or three that took a fancy to us. The Pruss that took a fancy to me raised the butt of his gun to smash me nut and I took a chance an' lunged. I lunged too 'ard and I 'ad the trouble I've just been tellin' ye, and in my funk I did just what I told ye; I twisted—she stuck; I wrenched and tugged—she stuck; and if I 'adn't fired and got the bloomin' blade free, I wouldn't a' been 'ere a-tellin' you about it."
"And why couldn't I do the same with this one?" I asked, referring to my Ross bayonet.