“But, Sergeant Matthews,” thundered the major, “your orders were to go to the very end of the trench. You know this battalion never goes out leaving its wounded behind.”
“We had a full load, sir,” said the sergeant, leaning against the wall.
“Well, you will have to go back,” said the major, “and complete the job. Can you carry on?”
“Yes, sir, I think so, sir.”
As he spoke Sergeant Matthews swayed along the wall and collapsed onto a bench.
“Give him a shot of rum,” said the major curtly to a runner.
“Let me go, major. I'll take the party,” said Barry eagerly. “The sergeant is all in. I've had an hour's sleep and a feed and I feel quite fit.”
“Oh, nonsense, the sergeant will be all right soon,” said the major impatiently.
“But, major, I should like to go. The sergeant is played out and I am perfectly fit. We can't take the risk of leaving wounded men up there in that trench. Besides, there's little danger now. The strong point is blown up, so the general told me before I left.”
“No, Barry, I won't allow it. I won't take the chance,” said the major. “My God, man! there are only five officers left. I have lost every friend I have got in the battalion, except Neil here and you. I'm damned if I'm going to let you go out over No Man's Land.”