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There was no way o' dodgin', remember. We'd a ditch lippin' full o' water along both sides o' the road an' we knew without lookin' though the Left'nant did 'ave one squint that they was the usual brand o' ditch hereabouts, anythin' down to six foot deep an' sides cut down as straight as a cellar wall.

"That's what I just said, Bombardier," he sez, which it wasn't but I knew it was no use sayin' so. 'The airyplane swoops round an' comes flyin' straight to us an' passed about our heads an' circles round to have a good look at us. The Left'nant was fair riled. "Dash 'is impidence," he sez.

There was nothin' to be done an' nothin' to be said, an' we all knew it, but at the same time we was ready to jump to any order the Left'nant passed out. The shells was droppin' at about ten to fifteen seconds' interval, an' we could see it was goin' to be a matter o' blind luck whether one pitched short or over or fair a-top o' us.

"Just makin' reconnoissance," said one of the freebooters; "s'pose a feller has a right to walk around, hain't he?" "Not unless he has a pass," said the Quartermaster; "have you written permission to leave camp?" "Left'nant s'posed we might. Don't know as it's your business. Never see you in the regiment."

The airyplane flew off at last but even then the Left'nant wasn't satisfied. "He'll be off back 'ome to report this Ammunition Column on this particular spot on the road," he sez, "if he's not tickin' off the glad tidings on a wireless to 'is batteries now. An' presently I suppose they'll start starring this road wi' high-explosive shell.

But just as we rounded a curve an' came into a long straight piece o' the road, I hears a high-risin' swoosh an' before it finished an' before the bang o' the burst reached us, spout goes a cloud o' black smoke 'way far down the road. "This," says the Left'nant, "is goin' to be highly interestin', not to say excitin', presently.

'When we come clear o' the town there was a long stretch o' clear road to cover, an' we was ploddin' down this when we hears the hum o' an airyplane. The Left'nant squints up an' "It's a Tawb," he sez. "Beggin' your pardon sir," I told 'im, "but it's a German. No mistakin' them bird-shaped wings an' tail. He's a German, sure enough."

But we knew that the fellers that did go off would make a highly unhealthy circle around an' the prospect o' being there or thereabouts when the next boo-kay landed wasn't none too allurin'. The Left'nant yells to come on, an' we came, oh, take it from me, we came a-humpin'. There was some fancy driving past them crump holes in the road, but we might have been at Olympia the way them drivers shaved past at the canter.

But we wasn't countin' too much on it bein' miracle day an' we kept the wheels goin' round with the whistle over-'ead an' the crashes behind to discourage any loiterin' to gather flowers by the way. 'An' when we was well past an' slowed down again I heard the Left'nant draw a deep breath an' say soft-like ". . . a packet o' Chinese crackers." 'But 'e said something stronger that same night.

Soon as we was on the road the Left'nant gives the word to march at ease, an' lights up a cig'rette 'imself. "Great mornin' ain't it, Bombardier?" 'e sez. "Not more'n a foot or two o' mud on the roads, an' the temperature almost above freezin'-point. I'm just about beginnin' to like this job on the Am. Col. 'Ave you bin with a Battery out 'ere?"