“I remember how he looked because I had to step around him and over the trunk,” said Pappineau.

Unless you did have to step around a dead or a wounded man there was no time to observe his appearance; for by noon there were as many dead and wounded in the P.P.s’ trench as there were men fit for action.

Those unhurt did not have to be steadied by their superiors.  Knocked down by a concussion they sprang up with the promptness of disgust of one thrown off a horse or tripped by a wire.  When told to move from one part of the trench to another where there was desperate need, a word was sufficient.  They understood what was wanted of them, these veterans.  They went.  They seized every lull to drop the rifle for the spade and repair the breaches.  When they were not shooting they were digging.  The officers had only to keep reminding them not to expose themselves in the breaches.  For in the thick of it, and the thicker the more so, they must try to keep some dirt between all of their bodies except the head and arm which had to be up in order to fire.

At 1.30 p.m. a cheer rose from that trench.  It was in greeting of a platoon of the King’s Royal Rifles which had come as a reinforcement.  Oh, but this band of Tommies did look good to the P.P.s!  And the little prize package that the very reliable Mr. Atkins had with him —­the machine-gun!  You can always count on Mr. Atkins to remain “among those present” to the last on such occasions.

Now Niven got word by messenger to go to the nearest point where the telephone was working and tell the brigade commander the complete details of the situation.  The brigade commander asked him if he could stick, and he said, “Yes, sir!” which is what Colonel “Fanny” Farquhar would have said.  This trip was hardly what would be called peaceful.  The orderly whom Niven had with him both going and coming was hit by high explosive shells.  Niven is so small that it is difficult to hit him.  He is about up to Major Gault’s shoulder.

He had been worrying about his supply of rifle-cartridges.  There were not enough to take care of another German infantry charge, which was surely coming.  After repelling two charges, think of failing to repel the third for want of ammunition!  Think of Corporal Christy, the bear-hunter, with the Germans thick in front of him and no bullets for his rifle!  But appeared again Mr. Thomas Atkins, another platoon of him, with twenty boxes of cartridges, which was rather a risky burden to bring through shell-fire.  The relief as these were distributed was that of having something at your throat which threatens to strangle you removed.

Making another tour of his trenches a little later in the afternoon, Niven found that there was a gap of fifty yards between his left and the right of the adjoining regiment.  Fifty yards is the inch on the end of a man’s nose in trench-warfare on such an occasion.  He was able to place eight men in the gap.  At least, they could keep a look out and tell him what was going on.