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 British shrapnel cloaked the German line, and for five minutes our own machine-guns screamed over his head. Then, all at once, the tumult stopped dead, and in the stillness there came from the German salient a single flare. The raid was over.

With the end of danger MacTaggart broke down and sobbed, crying for “My men, my beautiful men,” and then turning to the German line with a scream, “You swine. I’ll give you hell for this.” A hand fell on his arm. It was his dear Major, “Father” to the whole brigade.

“What’s up, Tagg?” said the Major.

“I’m going back to give those swine hell, Major,” he yelled, and was knocked sideways by a vigorous clout on the head.

“You young fool,” said the Major, “what you want is a drink,” and led him down to H.Q., where his men were already assembled. First of all, he went to the dressing station, and found there men lying and sitting, to hear from one that he had bayoneted two Germans, from another that he had bombed such dug-outs, and to realize that the raid had really succeeded, although it was a while before they found how well.

At H.Q. was Sergeant Godstone sitting on the steps with his head in his hands—it was from his section that the dead had come. The C.O. gave them both strong whiskies, and brought in Charles MacRae for another. Then they went to Brigade