Tom thought he knew what intense artillery work meant, but he realised that day that hitherto he had seen and heard nothing. Such a tornado of shells burst around him that it was like hell let loose. Hour after hour the Germans bombarded our trenches, tearing great holes in the ground, and undoing the work of months. It seemed to Tom that no man could escape.
"Oh," cried the boy, "if they would be quiet for only a minute! If one could only stop to take breath!"
But there was no cessation; it seemed as though the Germans were determined to make a final and overwhelming attack; as though all the explosives in the world were concentrated on those few miles.
The sights were horrible; he saw shells falling on groups of men, tearing them to pieces, while all around him were the shrieks and cries of the wounded. Some of the men who were yet untouched yelled as though they were mad, others laughed, but their laughter was not natural; it was frenzied, wild, just as though they were madmen.
"We can't stand it! We can't stand it!" cried the boy. "We shall all be blown into eternity. Why do we stay here like this?"
He spoke to the sergeant who had given him a description of the first battle of Ypres some time before. The sergeant was comparatively cool; he had been through it before.
"It's nothing to you whether we are doing anything or not," replied the sergeant, "besides, don't be a fool; our guns are giving them as hot a time as their guns are giving us. Don't lose your head."
"I wouldn't mind if I could do something," said the poor boy, trembling.
"Do! Unless I'm mistaken there will be enough for us all to do very soon. There! firing has ceased! Look out!"
It was as the sergeant said; almost suddenly there was a calm, and a few seconds later Tom heard a command which made his knees knock together.