Explosions, nearer and yet nearer. The earth quivers under the continuous shell-bursts. An acrid smoke spreads in the trenches, now all alive. The men rush to arms. With an eye glued to their peep-holes the look-outs feverishly scrutinise the enemy's lines, while the infantry lean against the broad, high parapets or crouch in their dug-outs, stoically waiting for the rain of steel and fire to cease falling about their ears.
A FRONT-LINE TRENCH IN THE SOUTHERN SECTOR OF THE BELGIAN FRONT
A FOOTBRIDGE THROUGH THE FLOODS
Replaces a Road and carries a Narrow-gauge Railway.]
AN OUTPOST AMONG THE FLOODS
Armed with Machine-guns.
But the bombardment, far from dying down, seems to increase in fury. Here come grenades and torpedoes, bursting everywhere with a terrible din, excavating huge holes in the ground, throwing up great sheaves of earth and mud, scattering sand-bags, stakes, planks and beams in all directions, demolishing with fiendish persistency the ramparts built so painstakingly by our stubborn workers.