Page:War's dark frame (IA warsdarkframe00camp).pdf/186

154 while mutely we thanked the officer for preventing his drawing any unusual attention to that particular traverse.

In place of a practical demonstration, then, the sergeant pressed with both thumbs on a steel plate. The cartridges swirled through, flashed into the breach, and out through the escapement.

"As long as I keeps pressin' down on this plate," he said," she keeps spittin', and somebody don't like it. The water in the jacket boils when she's spittin' hard. You have to watch out for that."

Evidently we showed a little distaste for the brutal perfection of the thing. He was a trifle offended, I think, at our haste to leave his class. Around the next traverse we ran into another scholarly group.

A flimsy tripod stood on the trench floor. One of the Japanese, who had observed without saying much, was aroused to a question.

"It will interest you," the officer said “It's one of the things with which we make ourselves most scandalously miserable in the trenches."

Behind his banter was a wistful seriousness which you understood as he went on.

“It's for throwing rifle grenades.

He picked up a black, pear-shaped object which