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 got down into a trench for a bit. All slipped down, while on the circling enemy above came rushing two British ’planes, driving him back to his own line. And the incident was apparently at an end. Men got out of their trench once more, and went about the business of the day. Rifles were inspected and bombs issued, for the attack would begin at six o’clock that evening, and they had to be ready to move at five. Runners crossed from Company to Company, officers moved among the burrows as they packed up. Their dinner-hour was just over, and the smoke of many pipes rose upon the air. A Subaltern came strolling across the open to his Company trench, a pipe in his mouth, and his kilt swinging jauntily.

Whee-ee-ee-errump! The air was full of dust and smoke from a little way up the trench. The Subaltern had slid into the trench at the sound, with a rapidity very unlike his former stroll; as he picked himself up—a large lump of earth had hit him in the chest—there came a rush of men away from the smoke towards him, and more crashes on his right and left. In the trees above he heard the vicious sound of bursting shrapnel.

“We’r trench is blown in on us,” gasped a man running, with wild eyes, to some shelter—he knew not quite what.