A pause. Regimental Headquarters being engaged in laboriously "buzzing" its message through to the Brigade, all other conversation is at a standstill. The Harmonious Blacksmiths seize the opportunity to give a short selection. Presently, as the din dies down—
THE F.O.O. (faint, yet pursuing). Is that C Battery?
A JOVIAL VOICE. Yes.
THE F.O.O. What a shock! I thought you were all dead. Is that you,
Chumps?
THE JOVIAL VOICE. It is. What can I do for you this morning?
THE F.O.O. You can boil your signal sentry's head!
THE JOVIAL VOICE. What for?
THE F.O.O. For keeping me waiting.
THE JOVIAL VOICE. Righto! And the next article?
THE F.O.O. There's a Boche working-party in a coppice two hundred yards west of a point—