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One wet and dismal dawn, as the battalion stood to arms in the neighbourhood of this delectable spot, there came a sudden shout from the enemy, and an outburst of rapid rifle fire. Almost simultaneously two breathless and unkempt figures tumbled over our parapet into the firing-trench. The fusillade died away.
One of these latter burst in mid-air, but hurt no one; and another time the grenade dropped right into the firing-trench but did not go off. Another nasty thing was when the grenade burst too quickly; many men have been killed by premature bursts during practice.
Its rightful occupants are scattered through the wood behind in dug-outs, in redoubts, or en plein air cooking, washing, or repairing their residences. The whole scene suggests a gipsy encampment rather than a fortified post. A hundred yards away, through the trees, you can plainly discern the Boche firing-trench, and the Boche in that trench can discern you: yet never a shot comes.
The firing-trench was a square emplacement cut into the ground and there was no easy exit in case of trouble; also our predecessors there obviously had had an accident on the spot, for I found a box of Mills grenades lying there, half buried, two or three of the grenades exploded and the rest more or less damaged and in a dangerous condition.
It is behind the firing-trench that the most unconventional scene presents itself. Strictly speaking, there ought to be and generally is a support-line some seventy yards in rear of the first. This should be occupied by all troops not required in the firing-trench. But the trench is empty which is not altogether surprising, considering that it is half-full of water.
Private Hans Dumpkopf, on sentry duty in the Boche firing-trench, gazes mechanically over the parapet; but the night is so dark and the wind so high that it is difficult to see and quite impossible to hear anything. He shelters himself beside a traverse, and waits patiently for his relief.
My arrangements were as follows: All round the huts on the hill-top, and close to them we dug some ten short lengths of deep firing-trench, curved in plan, and each long enough to hold five men.
We rushed out of the mess hall into the firing-trench, where we found the men on the alert, rifles laid on the spot where the Germans were supposed to have been seen. "Who are you? Answer, or we fire!" called the ranking young lieutenant.
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