“How far is it?”
“'Bout four miles;” and then, “Got a match?”
“Yes—but it's dangerous to light up.”
“Must 'ave a smoke—nothink to eat or drink.”
“Well, here you are; light up inside my helmet.”
He did; this hid the lighted match from any sniper's eye. The other seven men came crawling out of the bushes to light up their “woodbines” and fag-ends.
“Well, I'm off,” said I, and once more went forward in the direction pointed out by the corporal and his lost squad.
“So long, mate—good luck!” he shouted.
“Same to you!” I called back.
And now came sleep upon me. Even as I walked an awful weariness fell upon every limb. My legs became heavy and slow. That short rest had stiffened me, and my eyelids closed as I trudged on. I lifted them with an effort and dragged one foot after the other. I knew I must get back to my unit, and that here it was very dangerous. I wanted to lie down on the dead grass and sleep and sleep and sleep. I urged my muscles to swing my legs—for I knew if once I sat down to rest I should never keep awake.