"Oh, I don't know, not here I think."
The courtyard was tense with excitement. Half a dozen new soldiers were called to take up posts on the parapet, and they were rushing to the crazy stairs which led to the roof. On their way they overturned a brazier and showers of fine sparks rioted into the air. By the flare it was possible to see the rain falling slanting to the ground in fine lines that glistened in the flickering light. Shells were bursting overhead, flashing out into spiteful red and white stars of flame, and hurling their bullets to the ground beneath. Shell splinters flew over the courtyard humming like bees and seeming to fall everywhere. What a miracle that anybody could escape them!
I met our platoon sergeant at the foot of the stairs.
"Where does the sergeant-major hold out?"
"Down at Givenchy somewhere," he told me. "The Germans have broken through," he said. "It looks as if we're in for a rough night."
"It will be interesting," I replied, "I haven't seen a German yet."
Over the parapet a round head, black amidst a line of bayonets appeared, and a voice called down, "Sergeant!"
"Right oh!" said the sergeant, and rushed upstairs. At that moment a shell struck a wall at the back somewhere, and pieces of brick whizzed into the courtyard and clattered down the stair. When the row subsided Kore was helped down, his face bleeding and an ugly gash showing above his left eye.
"Much hurt, old man?" I asked.
"Not a blighty, I'm afraid," he answered.