Presently we heard the crackle of a piece of brushwood immediately out in our front. The intruder had gotten into our entanglement. "Halt! Who goes there?" No answer. I repeated the challenge; still no answer. We made our way cautiously through the hedge, unclicked our safety catches and were just about to fire in the direction of the sound when someone yelled, "Where's the Durham Light Infantry lying?" We ordered them to advance until within ten feet.
"Who are you?"
"Durham Light Infantry."
In the darkness we could not tell who they were but they spoke English like natives.
"What are you doing out here wandering around in this fashion?"
"Well," one of them answered, "we were taking a stroll and got lost and we want to find our way back."
We directed them and when they were lost sight of in the darkness, we resumed our places on each side of the gun and thought no more of the incident for the time. We again installed ourselves comfortably and were comparatively safe from the sniping in front, which was going on more or less all the time we were there, and about thirty minutes had elapsed when, in the silence of the night, I thought I again heard the crackling of a twig. Blaisdell heard it too. "Hist! Did you hear that, Grant?"
"Yes," I whispered.
We listened intently and heard it again, this time a little closer. We jumped up.
"Halt! Who goes there?"