The men were busy in the trench which lay on the summit of a slope; the ground dipped in the front and rear. The field I came across was practically "dead ground" as far as rifle fire was concerned. Only one place, the wire front of the original German trench, was dangerous. This was "taped out" as our boys say, by some hidden sniper. Already the parados was lined with newly-made firing positions, that gave the sentry view of the German trench some forty or fifty yards in front. All there was very quiet now but our men were making every preparation for a counter attack. The Engineers had already placed some barbed wire down; they had been hard at it the night before; I could see the hastily driven piles, the loosely flung intricate lines of wire flung down anyhow. The whole work was part of what is known as "consolidation of our position."
Many long hours of labour had yet to be expended on the trench before a soldier could sleep at ease in it. Now that the fighting had ceased for a moment the men had to bend their backs to interminable fatigues. The war, as far as I have seen it is waged for the most part with big guns and picks and shovels. The history of the war is a history of sandbags and shells.
CHAPTER XV
The Reaction
We are marching back from the battle,
Where we've all left mates behind,
And our officers are gloomy,
And the N.C.O.'s are kind,
When a Jew's harp breaks the silence,
Purring out an old refrain;
And we thunder through the village
Roaring "Here we are again."
Four days later we were relieved by the Canadians. They came in about nine o'clock in the evening when we stood to-arms in the trenches in full marching order under a sky where colour wrestled with colour in a blazing flare of star-shells. We went out gladly and left behind the dug-out in which we cooked our food but never slept, the old crazy sandbag construction, weather-worn and shrapnel-scarred, that stooped forward like a crone on crutches on the wooden posts that supported it.
"How many casualties have we had?" I asked Stoner as we passed out of the village and halted for a moment on the verge of a wood, waiting until the men formed up at rear.
"I don't know," he answered gloomily. "See the crosses there," he said pointing to the soldiers' cemetery near the trees. "Seven of the boys have their graves in that spot; then the wounded and those who went dotty. Did you see X. of —— Company coming out?"
"No," I said.
"I saw him last night when I went out to the Quartermaster's stores for rations," Stoner told me. "They were carrying him out on their shoulders, and he sat there very quiet like looking at the moon.