The enemy occupied a rise on our right, and a machine gun hidden somewhere near the trench swept that road all night. The gun was quiet all day long; no one ventured along there before dusk. A driver sat in front of the wagon, leaning back a little, a whip in his hand. Beside him sat another soldier.... Both were going to their death, the road at a little distance ahead crossed the enemy's trench.
"They have come the wrong way," I said. "They were going to Loos, I suppose, and took the wrong turning at the Vallé Cross-roads. Poor devils!"
A machine gun barked from the rise; we saw the driver of the wagon straighten himself and look round. His companion pointed a finger at the enemy's trench....
"For Christ's sake get off!" Bill shouted at them; but they couldn't hear him, the wagon was more than a quarter of a mile away from our trench.
"Damn it!" exclaimed Bill; "they'll both be killed. There!"
The vehicle halted; the nearside wheeler shook its head, then dropped sideways on the road, and kicked out with its hind legs; the other animal fell on top of it. The driver's whip went flying from his hands, and the man lurched forward and fell on top of the mules. For a moment he lay there, then with a hurried movement he slipped across to the other side of the far animal and disappeared. Our eyes sought the other soldier, but he was gone from sight, probably he had been shot off his seat.
"The damned fools!" I muttered. "What brought them up that way?"
"Wot's that?" Bill suddenly exclaimed. "See, comin' across the fields behind the road! A man, a hofficer.... Another damned fool, 'im; 'e'll get a bullet in 'im."
Bill pointed with his finger, and we looked. Across the fields behind that stretched from the road to the ruined village of Maroc we saw for the moment a man running towards the wagon. We only had a momentary glimpse then. The runner suddenly fell flat into a shell-hole and disappeared from view.