Then he passed, without further thought of Bowdy, to memories which came into his head at random. He thought of his home, away up a little glen in Galway, of the neighbours there, of Doalty Fadhan, the great gambler, who always won when he turned his coat outside in, of Eamon Hudagh, who got drunk at Glenagh Fair and lost his clothes somewhere at night; in the morning he came across the hills in a red flannel petticoat; of Paddy Brogan who cleared out the same fair with a stone in the foot of a woman's stocking. "I wish I was in Glenagh now," Fitzgerald said. "A good turf fire, a bit and a sup and the neighbours coming in for the night's raking." Then all these memories and desires floated together and jumbled themselves up in his head, and he fell asleep. He was awakened by a feeling that everything was not as it should be. For the unusual there was only one place to look, out on his front, and his eyes were already fixed on the grey, formless level which lay between his trench and the enemy's. Nothing changed there, everything just.... Then Fitzgerald saw a huge bulk take shape on his right front, twenty yards from the trench and fifty yards away from the spot where he stood. The bulk rose upright, like a gigantic monster of some pre-Adamite age, paused for a second as if considering something, then it burst in twain, and Fitzgerald flopped down into the mucky trench, half blinded and deafened by the flash and thunder of the exploding mine.
The earth had vomited its entrails out, a million rocks rioted through the air and ricochetted off the parapet; the dawn was thick with flying rubbish, the greater part of which seemed to be falling into the trench, dropping with a sickly splosh into the muck. The world was falling down around the ears of the Irishman.
"Out and man the mine crater!"
The order came along the trench like a half strangled whisper. Fitzgerald rose from the muck and spluttered the message along to the next bay, then gripped his rifle and clambered up and across the parapet.
Most of the men were already out and rushing towards the crater of the mine. Fitzgerald had a vivid impression of flying figures in sheepskin coats, of rifles in air, of bursting shells, of men stumbling, falling and rising, of hoarse-voiced oaths and imprecations, of queries and answers. "Not our mine, is it?" "I thought we were too far apart." "Are we to get into the blurry 'ole 'fore the gas clears away?" were a few of the remarks which came to his ears.
A corporal halted near him and shouted something about the risk the men were running. "We'll be poisoned by the fumes in the crater," he said. "We're coming across too soon. Far too soon," he muttered; "far too blurry soon!"
But no one paid any heed. To stop on the open was dangerous, and the Germans were out already. They could be seen, dark figures breaking through the enemy's barbed wire entanglements. Presently they would be engaged with the British in a hand-to-hand encounter for the possession of the crater.
Fitzgerald reached the rim of the hole and stood there for a moment looking down. Heavy coils of thick smoke wound snake-like along the bottom, where the black earth was illumined by ghastly phosphorescent lights that trailed up the sides in thin sluggish streaks. A few soldiers were already going down into the place and halting from time to time, taking stock of the scene before them. All were spluttering and coughing, and a few had pulled their gas helmets down over their heads and faces. "This is no blurry bean-fast, I can tell yer," Spudhole muttered as he tried to clamber back, crawling with difficulty almost knee-deep in the rubble. As he moved the clay shot away from beneath him, and he found himself in the unenviable plight of being able to advance a foot, only to find himself slipping back a yard.
The enemy shelled with unceasing persistency, and men were getting struck on the rim of the crater. Anywhere was better than where they were standing—they flopped into the crater, making futile efforts to save themselves, from rolling to the bottom, by clawing at the clay of the sides. Once down, however, they found to their relief that breathing was easier than they had anticipated.
"What now?" somebody enquired, looking vaguely round.