But I hope not. We have a big stake, Waddell. If we can hold on to
this position until the others make good upon our right and left, we
shall have reclaimed a clear two miles of the soil of France, my son."
The Major swept the horizon with his glasses. "Let me see: that is
probably Hulluch away on our right front: the Loos towers must be in
line with us on our extreme right, but we can't see them for those
hillocks. There is our old friend Fosse Eight towering over us on our
left rear. I don't know anything about the ground on our absolute
left, but so long as that flathead regiment hold on to their trench,
we can't go far wrong. Waddell, I don't like those cottages on our
left front. They block the view, and also spell machine-guns. I see
one or two very suggestive loopholes in those red-tiled roofs. Go and
draw Ayling's attention to them. A little preliminary _strafing_ will
do them no harm."
Five minutes later one of Ayling's machine-guns spoke out, and
a cascade of tiles came sliding down the roofs of the offending
cottages.
"That will tickle them up, if they have any guns set up on those
rafters," observed the Major, with ghoulish satisfaction. "I wonder
if Brer Bosche is going to attack. I hope he does. There is only one
thing I am afraid of, and that is that there may be some odd saps
running out towards us, especially on our flanks.
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