These were suffering cruelly, for the German
artillery had the range to a nicety, and convenient sapheads gave the
German bombers easy access to their flanks. It is more than likely
that this very trench had been constructed expressly for the
inveiglement of a too successful attacking party. Certainly no troops
could live in it for long. "A" Company were to go forward and support.
Captain Blaikie, passing word to his men to be ready, turned to Bobby.
"I'm a morose, dour, monosyllabic Scot, Bobbie," he said; "but this
sort of thing bucks me up."
Next moment he was over the parapet and away, followed by his Company.
In that long, steadily-advancing line were many of our friends.
Mucklewame was there, panting heavily, and cannily commending his soul
to Providence. Messrs. Ogg and Hogg were there, shoulder to shoulder.
M'Ostrich, the Ulster visionary, was there, six paces ahead of any
other man, crooning some Ironside canticle to himself. Next behind him
came the reformed revolutionary, M'Slattery.
Straightway the enemy observed the oncoming reinforcements, and
shrapnel began to fly. The men pressed on, at a steady double now.
M'Ostrich was the first to go down. Game to the last, he waved
encouragement to his mates with a failing arm as they passed over his
body.
"Come along, boys!" cried Captain Blaikie, suddenly eloquent. "There
is the trench! The other lads are waiting for you.
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