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Kempis was stowed away for a more convenient season. The cigarettes were glowing more strongly than ever, and a few men shook hands with shamefaced wishes for mutual good luck. Here again Everitt must needs sneer at the imbecility of such sentimentalism. As though it made any difference! But the other recognized the snapping of taut nerves and took compassion on a feeble vessel. Rifles, fully cocked and with fixed swords, were slung over the right shoulder, and each man carried two bandoliers of emergency ammunition. Battle-order had discarded packs. The pouches were left open for use, but up to the last moment Everitt could not believe he should meet any of the enemy hand to hand. The rain fell sullenly, and he saw Higgins pour the contents of his flask into a pannikin and drink it off at a draught. ‘Come along,’ said he prosaically, and in a minute the trench was empty.

III
    It was a difficult matter to scramble up those slippery banks, and each man stooped to help his neighbour. Every section had been instructed to leave the trench in single file at a chosen point, but, once outside, the whole Company formed a rough alignment. As Everitt straightened himself from helping a friend, he saw ‘A’ Company emerging from their advanced trench two hundred yards ahead. Their line seemed curiously ragged, but as ‘C’ Company left their shelter behind them they too gathered themselves into little knots and groups. In a few minutes they were rather in parallel columns than line, and the warning against ‘bunching’ was unheeded. They had barely left the trench when there rose from the German lines a shower of variegated fireworks – Verey lights, red rockets, green rockets, clustered golden-rains. These were signals to artillery, and in less than a minute the devil’s orchestra was in full chorus. From across the valley the barrage fell behind the front line, and so far forward there was little danger from the shelling. But the sudden fierceness and clamour of the guns was awesome to hear, particularly to men primed with tales of the Allies’ immeasurable superiority in artillery. Save for intermittent shrapnel fire, no reply came from friendly batteries, and soon even this ceased. Apparently no artillery support was to be given. The ‘element of surprise’ in a sudden midday attack was thought an ample protection.
    Simultaneously with the rockets came the deafening tattoo of rapid fire from rifles and machine-guns. For some distance a fold in the ground gave cover, and, until he reached the farther slope, Everitt saw few casualties. Out there the ground showed patches of green where the winnowing of the shells had spared it. There was no attempt to charge: over such broken ground it was almost impossible to run, and tired men spared their strength. Their greatcoats were clogged with mud, and at every step their boots seized clods of earth: the weight of equipment dragged like an anchor. With slung rifles, and tin hats pressed down over their eyes, they went forward at a plodding walk. Never was there less likelihood of ‘running amok with bayonet.’
    Everitt exchanged the sickliest of smiles with his neighbours. He saw that their faces were pale and their jaws tight clenched. The advance was maddeningly slow and laborious, and the journey forward seemed interminable. The firing ahead was growing fiercer, and soon seemed to creep round to either flank. ‘Enfilade fire of machine-guns is deadly.’ A man near Everitt staggered and fell noisily into a shell-hole, curling up like a shot rabbit. There seemed no reason why he should do this, but it was not expedient to pause for questions. Men fell near and far, and sinister obstacles on the ground must be avoided. As they reached the top of the rise, the vicious rattle of the firing seemed to rise to desperation. The ‘crack, crack, crack’ of the rifles gave not an instant’s relief to the ear: in the din