The Gunner major had been
as good as his word. Punctually at one-fifty-five "Minnie's" two
o'clock turn had been anticipated by a round of high-explosive shells
directed into her suspected place of residence. What the actual result
had been nobody knew, but Minnie had made no attempt to raise her
voice since. Thereafter the German front-line trenches had been
"plastered" from end to end, while the trenches farther back were
attended to with methodical thoroughness. The German guns had replied
vigorously, but directing only a passing fire at the trenches,
had devoted their efforts chiefly to the silencing of the British
artillery. In this enterprise they had been remarkably unsuccessful.
"Any casualties?" asked Blaikie.
"None here," replied Wagstaffe. "There may be some back in the support
trenches."
"We might telephone and inquire."
"No good at present. The wires are all cut to pieces. The signallers
are repairing them now."
"_I_ was nearly a casualty," confessed Bobby modestly.
"How?"
"That first shell of ours nearly knocked my head off! I was standing
up at the time, and it rather took me by surprise. It just cleared the
parados. In fact, it kicked a lot of gravel into the back of my neck."
"Most people get it in the neck here, sooner or later," remarked
Captain Blaikie sententiously. "Personally, I don't much mind being
killed, but I do bar being buried alive.
Pages:
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238