Some joined in. Laughter broke out down the line. One chap began to whistle the Sailor’s Hornpipe and another, in a deep bass voice, tried to put impromptu words to it, after the manner of the popular version concerning “de debbil,” but without much poetic success:
“Did you ever see the Heinie
With his skin all black and spiny
A-diggin’ in the trenches
With his big toe nail?”
And another laugh followed, but it was cut short by a shell which tore through the air only a little above the heads of the men, and exploded not a hundred feet behind the last line. It was immediately followed by a second that landed about the same distance from the front of the first line and ricocheted, turning and twisting, then lying still—not ten steps ahead of the line. There was a little squirming, and two fellows were obliged to step almost over the menacing thing. Pulling down their steel helmets and lowering their heads, they veered apart, while some arms went up in front of faces and eyes. But the shell proved a “dud.” Had it exploded it would doubtless have sent half a dozen boys to the graveyard and the hospital.
“One back and one front and the next one—”
“A clean miss!” shouted Clem.