“Anything to be seen, sergeant?”
“Nothing special, sir. I saw a man look over the parapet just now.”
“Well, give him a burst. Five or six will do.”
Bang-bang, bang-bang, bang-bang went the damned gun again.
Cliffe proved something of a sportsman, and, being so far unoccupied, he had borrowed my rifle and sniped away at intervals through his loophole. I don’t know what he saw to shoot at any more than I could discover where all the rifle fire came from. All of a sudden Cliffe called out to me in an excited whisper: “D’you want a shot, Lake? There’s an old Turk here poking his head up?” I jumped up, scrambled across to him and took hold of the rifle. Cliffe was staring through a loophole. “Look through here after me,” he said. “He’s right ahead, about six hundred yards off.” I took a long look, but could not pick him up. “D’you see the dead fellow in blue trousers.” I picked up the dead Turk all right, lying spread out in a little patch of flowers; and then, thirty yards or more to the right, I did see something move. True enough it was a man. “I’ve got him,” I said. I lifted my head over the parapet to level the rifle; but I had been too long and friend Turk disappeared. I stayed ready some time in case he came back; but he never showed again. Instead the cold morning breeze drifted against my forehead, and climbed about my hair, and I knew a strange feeling looking across that waste to watch our bullets strike the opposite trenches, telling myself the while at any moment Death might stalk from over there and bow to me. “Don’t keep your head up too long, Lake,” Cliffe said presently. “It isn’t over healthy.” I took his advice, but settled down where I was in case of fun later on.
Time went along very, very slowly. There was absolutely nothing doing. I tried to talk to Wilkinson and then to Cliffe; but there was nothing to talk about. The Englishmen became more depressed, and finally nobody spoke at all. Yes—I forget the lieutenant—who never lost interest in his gun, and who also called out directions now and then to the men shovelling in the passage way.
The rifle fire continued all the while, and many a bullet knocked up the dust on the opposite bank three or four yards off. The fire had not ceased from the hour of our landing, only up here the noise was sharp and fierce and close at hand.
The enemy shrapnel passed constantly over our heads, though I don’t think it did much harm, for it fell in the valley, which was generally empty, except of skulkers, who knew how to look after themselves. Our own guns remained silent. I sat and shivered and felt bored beyond belief.
At last matters mended somewhat.
“You’re wanted on the ’phone, sir,” Wilkinson said. “Who wants me?” “The colonel, sir.”