THE JOVIAL VOICE. Yes, sir.
THE EAGER VOICE. I am O.C. Beer Company. They are shelling my front parapet, at L8, with pretty heavy stuff. I want retaliation, please.
THE JOVIAL VOICE. Very good, sir. (The voice dies away.)
A SOUND OVER OUR HEADS (thirty seconds later). Whish! Whish! Whish!
SECOND CHATTY SIGNALLER. Did ye hear that, Jimmy?
FIRST CHATTY SIGNALLER (with relish). Mphm! That'll sorrt them!
THE F.O.O. Is that C Battery?
THE JOVIAL VOICE. Yes. What luck, old son?
THE F.O.O. You have obtained two direct hits on the Boche parapet.
Will you have a cocoanut or a ci—
THE JOVIAL VOICE. A little less lip, my lad! Now tell me all about your industrious friends in the Coppice, and we will see what we can do for them!