"Now, don't let's lose our heads."
"It's a good job we're going to hook it," Guillaumin said to me. "We're about done."
It was quite true. There were nothing but bewildered, dazed-looking men all round, with strained and haggard faces and trembling hands. They would not have counted for much against a resolute onslaught. The enemy, cautious and practical, seemed as busy as possible digging new trenches two hundred yards away from us.
I looked blankly at Guillaumin:
"What do you think? Are we done for?"
He began to chaff me.
"Could we ever be done for?"
The quartermaster-sergeant came round, with two of the men. All three were smilingly handing round their caps, collecting:
"Please help the poor."