“I enquired at the transports, sir,” said Monroe, “and no one appeared to know. They moved out quietly and left no word behind.”
“All right, we'll go up to Chateau Belge, and if they are not there, we'll make a shot at Zillebeck,” said Barry. “We'll go right away. We don't need a lot of truck this trip.”
It was a long and tiresome march, but Barry found himself remarkably fit, and already under the exhilaration of what was before him. At the Chateau Belge they found no word of their battalion, but they were informed that the shelling on the Kruisstraat road had been bad all afternoon, and was still going on. The Boches were paying particular attention indeed to the crossroads.
“All right,” said Barry. “We'll go up and have a look at it, anyway.”
A hundred yards further up the road they were held up by a sudden burst of H. E. shells, which fell in near proximity to the crossroads before them.
“Well, we'll just wait here a few minutes until we can time these things,” said Barry, sitting down by the roadside.
As they were waiting there, three soldiers passed them at quick march.
“Better wait, boys,” called Barry; “they are dropping quite a few shells at the crossroads.”
“We are runners, sir,” said one of them. “I guess we'll just take a chance, thank you, sir.”
“All right, boys, if you think best,” replied Barry. “Good luck!”