“Hicks is over here,” he heard the man next to him say. The platoon commander approached and bent down beside him.
“Hicks, we’ve got to have an outpost. The captain’s afraid there will be an attack. Take your gun crew out about five hundred yards and keep your eye peeled.”
Hicks failed to reply.
“Hicks, did you hear what I said?”
“Yes. All right.” Hicks rose and, followed by two other men, stolidly tramped off through the murk.
He strode along in the darkness, a little ahead of the others. Abruptly an illuminating rocket was fired from somewhere in front of them. Each man stopped motionless, as the incandescent arc fell slowly to the ground.
Stepping forward, Hicks’s foot encountered an empty can. It bumped over the ground cacophonously. The men behind cursed in a thorough and dispassionate manner.
For four years the earth over which they were walking had been beaten and churned by the explosions of shells. A labyrinth of trenches had been dug in it.
Their bodies brushed against stiff little bushes whose thin, wiry limbs grasped at their clothing like hands.
The men had reached the brink of a large cavity in the earth when another flare was fired. They jumped. The hole was wide and deep enough for them to be able to stand without their heads appearing above the bank.