That night the London Irish set out on their trek to the Somme.
CHAPTER XIX
THE SOMME
There's a shell as 'as fell in the mud,
A bloomin' big shell in the mud,
A bloomin' big shell,
An' it might give us 'ell.
As it would if it wasn't a dud.
I was watching and saw where it goed,
Exactly the spot where it goed,
In a sweat o' a funk,
I watched where it sunk,
And I'm thankful it didn't explode.
(From "The Dud.")
The trench was quite a good one for the Somme, about six foot deep with here and there a few dug-outs where men could sleep and eat.
There, on a certain autumn morning, we find the men of the London Irish again, waiting to cross No Man's Land and attack the Germans. A month has passed since they left Gorre and during that time they have seen much fighting in which they have earned great renown.
"We're too well known," Bubb often remarked bitterly, but beneath all his grumbling it could be seen that he was more than a little proud of his regiment. "We're too well known that's wot it is," he would continue. "If there's anything to be done oo's to do it? Us. We're always in the thick o' it. If the 'eads 'ear that there's a stiff job to be done and it wants an army corps to do it, wot do the 'eads say. They say: 'Put the London Irish, the footballers of Loos on the job. They'll soon do it.'"