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Again there was a dull report, and we sent a second back this time behind their trench and again "Vorsicht! Vorsicht!" they sent an answer back. Four times this was repeated. A quainter way of making war it would be hard to imagine. They might have been boys playing "anty-over" over the old house at home. Bombs of this sort have little penetrating power.
Ich zog Den Basilisken auf an meinem Busen, Mit meinem Herzblut naehrt' ich ihn, er sog Sich schwelgend voll an meiner Liebe Bruesten, Ich hatte nimmer Arges gegen ihn, Weit offen liess ich des Gedankens Thore, Und warf die Schluessel weiser Vorsicht weg, Am Sternenhimmel," etc.
They were thrown from a small mortar with a light charge of powder, just sufficient to toss them over into the opposite trench. The Germans knew what was coming, and they were laughing and watching in the direction of the English trenches. "Vorsicht! Vorsicht!"
There was a dull report and at the same moment something shot up from the English trenches and, very clear against the western sky, came flopping over and over toward us like a bottle thrown over a barn. "Vorsicht! Vorsicht!" It sailed over our heads behind the trench, there was an instant's silence, and then "Whong!" and a pile of dirt and black smoke was flung in the air.
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