"I didn't see the tanks," said Bubb. "There are none 's far as I could see."
"I saw one," Bowdy said. "Over on the right."
"There were two," said Flanagan. "Crawlin' along as if they were pickin' up worms. Big, ugly lookin' brutes they were. God! they'll make the Germans sit up.... You have yer helmet twisted round, Bubb."
Bubb adjusted his helmet, lit a cigarette, pulled his rifle towards him, cleaned a speck of dirt from his bayonet, then put his rifle back to its original place. Bowdy and Flanagan followed the movement with intent eyes. From their look it might seem as if their very existence depended on the job which Bubb had done.
"Yes, it's some strafing," said Bowdy. "The Germans are getting enough to go on with, anyway. Phew!"
The three men crouched to avoid the fragments from a shell which burst on the parapet to the left. Somebody called out for stretcher-bearers and the message sped along the trench.
"It'll be quite easy getting across here," said Bowdy. "One whistle and up you go and the best of luck. Here, I haven't got a cigarette.... Oh, yes, I have, here they are, I put them into the wrong pocket. Have one, Flanagan—one Bubb?"
Bubb took the cigarette, placed it behind his ear and continued smoking the one which he had in his mouth. "I'll keep this'n to smoke when we get across there," he said.
"It's about time to move now," said Bowdy, and he raised his head cautiously and looked over.
"There!" he said. "They're making head-way. No damned stopping them. Bravo! the tanks! Good old tanks!"