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 were actually located, but the heavy pounding of the artillery duel, which had been going on since early morning, was now beginning to weaken as the German infantry, company by company, regiment by regiment, and brigade by brigade, were calmly launched to the attack. They were themselves masking the fire of the cannon of their own comrades as, by desperate rushes, they gradually ascended the slopes before them.

The objective of the VIIth Corps seemed to be the strongpoint which has already been referred to as dominating the position a little west of Catcliffe, and the VIIIth Corps were clearly directing their energies on the salient angle of the defence which was to be found a little south of Woodhouse. From this latter point the general line of the British position from Woodhouse north to Tinsley would then be turned.

The British stood their ground with the fearless valour of Englishmen. Though effective defence seemed from the very first futile, steady and unshaken volleys rang out from every knoll, hillock, and shelter-trench in that long line manned by the sturdy Yorkshire heroes. Machine-guns rattled and spat fire, and pom-poms worked with regularity, hurling their little shells in a ceaseless stream into the invaders, but all, alas! to no purpose. Where one German fell, at least three appeared to take his place. The enemy seemed to rise from the very ground. The more stubborn the defence, the more numerous the Germans seemed to become, gaps in their fighting line being reinforced in that ruthless manner which is such a well-known principle in German tactics—namely, that the commander must not be sparing in his men, but fling forward reinforcements at whatever cost.

Thus up the storm-swept glacis reaching from the Rother struggled thousands of Germans in a tide that could not be stemmed, halting and firing as they advanced, until it became clear that an actual hand-to-hand combat was imminent.

The British had done all that men could. There