“By the state of this trench,” said Larry, “you’d have thought a battalion of mice could hardly have helped being blotted8 out.”
“It licks me,” agreed Kentucky; “the whole trench seems gone to smash; but I’m afraid there must have been more casualties than came past us.”
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“Look out!” warned Billy Simson, “’ere’s another,” and the four halted and crouched9 again until the shell, which from the volume of sound of its coming they knew would fall near, burst in the usual thunder-clap of noise and flying débris of mud and earth. Then they rose again and moved on, and presently came to a dividing of the ways, and a sentry11 posted there to warn them to turn off to the left. They scrambled12 and floundered breathlessly along it, over portions that were choked almost to the top by fallen earth and rubble13, across other parts which were no more than a shallow gutter14 with deep shell craters15 blasted out of it and the ground about it. In many of these destroyed portions it was almost impossible, stoop and crouch10 and crawl as they would and as they did, to avoid coming into view of some part of the ground still held by the Germans, but either because the German guns were busy elsewhere, or because the whole ground was more or less veiled by the haze16 of smoke that drifted over it and by the thin drizzle17 of rain that continued to fall, the battalion escaped any concerted effort of the German guns to catch them in their scanty18 cover. But there were still sufficient casual shells, and more than sufficient bullets about, to make the passage100 of the broken trench an uncomfortable and dangerous one, and they did not know whether to be relieved or afraid when they came to a spot where an officer halted them in company with about a dozen other men, and bade them wait there until he gave the word, when they were to jump from the trench and run straight across the open to the right, about a hundred yards over to where they would find another trench, better than the one they were now occupying, then to “get down into it as quick as you can, and keep along to the left.” They waited there until a further batch19 of men were collected, and then the officer warned them to get ready for a quick run.
“You’ll see some broken-down houses over there,” he said; “steer for them; the trench runs across this side of them, and you can’t miss it. It’s the first trench you meet; drop into it, and, remember, turn down to the left. Now—no, wait a minute.”
They waited until another dropping shell had burst, and then at the quick command of the officer jumped out and ran hard in the direction of the broken walls they could just see. Most of the men ran straight without looking left or right, but Kentucky as he went glanced repeatedly to his101 left, towards where the German lines were. He was surprised to find that they were evidently a good way off, very much further off, in fact, than he had expected. He had thought the last communication trench up which they moved must have been bringing them very close to our forward line, but here from where he ran he could see for a clear two or three hundred yards to the first break of a trench parapet; knew that this must be in British hands, and that the German trench must lie beyond it again. He concluded that the line of captured ground must have curved forward from that part behind which they had spent the night, figured to himself that the cottages towards which they ran must be in our hands, and that the progress of the attack along there had pushed further home than they had known or expected.
He thought out all these things with a sort of secondary mind and consciousness. Certainly his first thoughts were very keenly on the path he had to pick over the wet ground past the honeycomb of old and new shell holes, over and through some fragments of rusty20 barbed wire that still clung to their broken or uptorn stakes, and his eye looked anxiously for the trench toward which they were running, and in which they would find shelter from102 the bullets that hissed22 and whisked past, or smacked23 noisily into the wet ground.
There was very little parapet to the trench, and the runners were upon it almost before they saw it. Billy Simson and Larry reached it first, with Pug and Kentucky close upon their heels. They wasted no time in leaping to cover, for just as they did so there came the rapid rush-rush, bang-bang of a couple of Pip-Squeak shells. The four tumbled into the trench on the instant the shells burst, but quick as they were, the shells were quicker. They heard the whistle and thump24 of flying fragments about them, and Billy Simson yelped25 as he fell, rolled over, and sat up with his hand reaching over and clutching at the back of his shoulder, his face contorted by pain.
“What is it, Billy?” said Larry quickly.
“Did it get you, son?” said Kentucky.
“They’ve got me,” gasped26 Billy. “My Christ, it do ’urt.”
“Lemme look,” said Pug quickly. “Let’s ’ave a field-dressin’, one o’ yer.”
Simson’s shoulder was already crimsoning28, and the blood ran and dripped fast from it. Pug slipped out a knife, and with a couple of slashes29 split the torn jacket and shirt down and across.
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“I don’t think it’s a bad ’un,” he said. “Don’t seem to go deep, and it’s well up on the shoulder anyway.”
“It’s bad enough,” said Billy, “by the way it ’urts.”
Kentucky also examined the wound closely.
“I’m sure Pug’s right,” he said. “It isn’t anyways dangerous, Billy.”
Billy looked up suddenly. “It’s a Blighty one, isn’t it?” he said anxiously.
“Oh, yes,” said Kentucky; “a Blighty one, sure.”
“Good enough,” said Billy Simson. “If it’s a Blighty one I’ve got plenty. I’m not like you, Pug; I’m not thirstin’ enough for Germ ’elmets to go lookin’ any further for ’em.”
One of the sergeants30 came pushing along the trench, urging the men to get a move on and clear out before the next lot ran across the open for the shelter.
“Man wounded,” he said, when they told him of Billy Simson. “You, Simson! Well, you must wait ’ere, and I’ll send a stretcher-bearer back, if ye’re not able to foot it on your own.”
“I don’t feel much up to footin’ it,” said Billy104 Simson. “I think I’ll stick here until somebody comes to give me a hand.”
So the matter was decided31, and the rest pushed along the narrow trench, leaving Simson squatted32 in one of the bays cut out of the wall. The others moved slowly along to where their trench opened into another running across it, turned down this, and went wandering along its twisting, curving loops until they had completely lost all sense of direction.
The guns on both sides were maintaining a constant cannonade, and the air overhead shook continually to the rumble33 and wail34 and howl of the passing shells. But although it was difficult to keep a sense of direction, there was one thing always which told them how they moved—the rattle35 of rifle fire, the rapid rat-tat-tatting of the machine guns and sharp explosions of bombs and grenades. These sounds, as they all well knew, came from the fighting front, from the most advanced line where our men still strove to push forward, and the enemy stood to stay them, or to press them back.
The sound kept growing ominously36 louder and nearer the further the Stonewalls pushed on along their narrow trench, and now they could hear, even105 above the uproar37 of the guns and of the firing lines, the sharp hiss21 and zipp of the bullets passing close above the trench, the hard smacks38 and cracks with which they struck the parapet or the ground about it. The trench in which they moved was narrow, deep, and steep-sided. It was therefore safe from everything except the direct overhead burst of high-explosive shrapnel, and of these there were, for the moment, few or none; so that when the men were halted and kept waiting for half an hour they could see nothing except the narrow strip of sky above the lips of the trench, but could at least congratulate themselves that they were out of the inferno39 in which they had spent the night and the early part of the morning. It was still raining, a thin, cold, drizzling40 rain, which collected in the trench bottom and turned the path into gluey mud, trickled41 down the walls and saturated42 them to a sticky clay which daubed the shoulders, the elbows, the hips43, and haversacks of the men as they pushed along, coated them with a layer of clinging, slimy wetness, clammy to the touch, and striking them through and through with shivering chills. When they halted most of the men squatted down in the bottom of the trench, sitting on their heels and leaning their backs106 against the walls, and waited there, listening to the near-by uproar of the conflict, speculating on how little or how long a time it would be before they were into it actively44; discussing and guessing at the progress the attack had made, and what ground had been taken, and held or lost. Here and there a man spoke45 of this point or that which the attack had reached, of some village or hill, or trench, which he heard had been taken. Usually the information had been gleaned46 from wounded men, from the stretcher-bearers and ammunition47 carriers with whom the Stonewalls had spoken, as they crossed and recrossed their trench early that morning.
In the trench they now occupied they gleaned no further news, because none of these wayfarers48 to and from the firing-line passed their way.
“Our front line can’t be getting pushed very hard,” suggested Larry; “because if they were, they’d have shoved us in support before now.”
“It looks to me,” said Kentucky, “that they have slid us off quite a piece to the right of where we were meant to go. What lot of ours do you suppose is in these trenches49 in front of us now?” But of that nobody had any definite opinion, although several made guesses, based on the107 vaguest rumors50, and knowledge of this regiment51 or that which had gone up ahead of them.
“’Ark at the Archies,” said Pug suddenly. “They’re ’avin’ a busy season on somebody. D’yer think they’re ours, or the ’Uns’?”
“I don’t know,” said Kentucky, “but I fancy I hear the ’planes they’re shooting at.”
He was right, and presently they all heard the faint but penetrating52 whirr of an aeroplane’s engines, even above the louder and deeper note of the cannonade and rifle fire.
“There she is,” said Larry. “Can you see the marks on her?”
“It’s ours,” said Kentucky. “I see the rings plain enough.”
Although the aeroplane was at a good height, there were several who could distinguish the bull’s-eye target pattern of the red, white and blue circles painted on the wings and marking the aeroplane as British. For some time it pursued a course roughly parallel to the line of the trench, so that the Stonewalls, craning their heads back, could follow its progress along the sky, and the trailing wake of puffing53 smoke from the shrapnel that followed it. They lost sight of it presently until it curved back into the range of their vision,108 and came sailing swiftly over them again. Then another ’plane shot into view above them, steering54 straight for the first, and with a buzz of excited comment the Stonewalls proclaimed it a Hun and speculated keenly on the chances of a “scrap55.”
There was a “scrap,” and in its opening phases the Stonewalls had an excellent view of the two machines circling, swooping56, soaring, and diving in graceful57, bird-like curves. The “Archies” ceased on both sides to fling their shrapnel at the airy opponents, because with their swift dartings to and fro, and still more because of their proximity58 to one another, the Archie gunners were just as liable to wing their own ’plane and bring it down, as they were to hit the enemy one. For two or three minutes the Stonewalls watched with the wildest excitement and keenest interest the maneuvering59 of the two machines. Half a dozen times a gasp27 or a groan60, or a chorus of comment “He’s hit,” and “He’s downed,” and “He’s got him,” followed some movement, some daring plunge61 or nose dive of one or other of the machines; but always before the exclamations62 had finished the supposed injured one had righted itself, swooped63 and soared upward again, and swung circling into its opponent.
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Once or twice the watchers thought they could catch the faint far-off rattle of the aeroplanes’ machine guns, although amongst the other sounds of battle it was difficult to say with any certainty that these shots were fired in the air; but just when the interest and excitement were at their highest, a sharp order was passed along the trench for every man to keep his face down, on no account to look upwards64 out of the trench, and officers and sergeants, very reluctantly setting the good example by stooping their own heads, pushed along the trench to see that the men also obeyed the order.
“Blinkin’ sell, I calls it,” exclaimed Pug disgustedly. “The fust decent scrap between two ’planes I’ve ever ’ad a chance to see, and ’ere I’m not allowed to look at it.”
“You wait until you get ’ome, and see it on the pictures,” said the Sergeant, who stood near them. “It’ll be a sight safer there. If you don’t know you ought to, that a trench full of white faces lookin’ up at a ’plane, is as good as sending a postcard to their spotter upstairs sayin’ the trench is occupied in force; and I don’t suppose,” he concluded, “you’re any more anxious than I am for110 that ’Un to be sendin’ a wireless65 to his guns, and ’avin’ this trench strafed like the last one was.”
“From what I can see of it,” said Pug, “that ’Un up there was ’avin’ ’is ’ands too full to worrit about wot was goin’ on down ’ere.”
“Well, anyhow,” said the Sergeant, “you needn’t keep yer eyes down lookin’ for sixpences any longer. Both the ’planes is out of sight.”
“Well, I’m blowed,” said Pug, “if that’s not a sickener. ’Ere we ’as a fust-class fight, and us in the front seats for seein’ it, and they goes and shifts off so we don’t even know which side won.”
And they never did. A minute later the anti-aircraft guns broke out into fire again, their peculiar66 singing reports easily distinguishable from the other gun fire, even as the distant reports of their shrapnel bursts in the air were distinguishable from the other sounds of many bursting shells near the ground. But which of the “Archibalds” were firing they did not know. They could only guess that one of the machines had been shot down, and that the anti-aircraft guns of the opposing side were endeavoring to bring down the victor—but which was the victor, and whether he escaped or not, was never known to the Stonewalls.
111
“Bloomin’ Blind-Man’s-Buff, I calls it,” grumbled67 Pug. “Gropin’ round after ’Uns you can’t see, an’ gettin’ poked68 in the ribs69 without seein’ one—like Billy was.”
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1
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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battalion
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| n.营；部队；大队(的人) | |
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trench
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| n./v.(挖)沟，(挖)战壕 | |
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joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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plodded
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| v.沉重缓慢地走（路）( plod的过去式和过去分词 )；努力从事；沉闷地苦干；缓慢进行（尤指艰难枯燥的工作） | |
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chaotic
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| adj.混沌的，一片混乱的，一团糟的 | |
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blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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crouch
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| v.蹲伏，蜷缩，低头弯腰；n.蹲伏 | |
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sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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13
rubble
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| n.（一堆）碎石，瓦砾 | |
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gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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craters
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| n.火山口( crater的名词复数 )；弹坑等 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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drizzle
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| v.下毛毛雨；n.毛毛雨，蒙蒙细雨 | |
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scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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batch
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| n.一批(组，群)；一批生产量 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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smacked
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| 拍，打，掴( smack的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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yelped
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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crimsoning
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| 变为深红色（crimson的现在分词形式） | |
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slashes
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| n.（用刀等）砍( slash的名词复数 )；（长而窄的）伤口；斜杠；撒尿v.挥砍( slash的第三人称单数 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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sergeants
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| 警官( sergeant的名词复数 )； （美国警察）警佐； （英国警察）巡佐； 陆军（或空军）中士 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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smacks
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| 掌掴（声）( smack的名词复数 )； 海洛因； （打的）一拳； 打巴掌 | |
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inferno
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| n.火海；地狱般的场所 | |
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drizzling
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| 下蒙蒙细雨，下毛毛雨( drizzle的现在分词 ) | |
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41
trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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saturated
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| a.饱和的，充满的 | |
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hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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actively
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| adv.积极地，勤奋地 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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46
gleaned
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| v.一点点地收集（资料、事实）( glean的过去式和过去分词 )；（收割后）拾穗 | |
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ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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wayfarers
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| n.旅人，（尤指）徒步旅行者( wayfarer的名词复数 ) | |
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trenches
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| 深沟，地沟( trench的名词复数 )； 战壕 | |
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rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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53
puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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steering
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| n.操舵装置 | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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swooping
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的现在分词 ) | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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58
proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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maneuvering
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| v.移动，用策略( maneuver的现在分词 )；操纵 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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61
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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63
swooped
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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wireless
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| adj.无线的；n.无线电 | |
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66
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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67
grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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68
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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69
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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