Everybody was in the Signal dug-out (Signals build deep and strong). Secretly the clerks were praying for the disintegration of the typewriter and the total destruction of the overwhelming mass of paper (paper warfare had been terrible of late). The Staff Captain and the O.C. Gum Boots, who had been approaching the Headquarters, were already half a mile down the road and still going strong.
The Division rang up. One need hardly have mentioned that. In times of stress the higher formations rarely fail.
"What's going on?" they asked.
The Brigade Major was just going to say, when suddenly he remembered. That very morning he had been severely strafed for speaking of important things over the telephone when so near the enemy. "Had he not read the Divisional G 245/348/24 of the 29th inst.? What was the good of issuing orders to defeat the efficiency of the Bosch listening apparatus if they were not obeyed?" etc., etc.
True, it was conceivable that even without the aid of a delicate listening apparatus the Bosch was cognisant of an explosion that made his whole front line quiver; still orders is orders. So the Brigade-Major swallowed hard.
"C-can't tell you over the wires. Your G 245/348/24..."
"Yes, yes, we know all about that. Don't say it definitely, but give us an idea. Where is all this noise?"
"Here!—Oh!" piped the B.M. as a crump shook the receiver out of his hand.
"Send it in code at once. The G.O.C. is strafing horribly to know."