“I think you will find that in the next show we shall go forward, after intensive bombardment, quite a short distance; then consolidate; then wait till the whole line has come up to its appointed objective; then bombard again; then go forward another piece; and so on.  That will make it impossible for gaps to be created.  It will also give our gunners a chance to cover our advance continuously.  You remember at Loos they lost us for hours, and dare not fire for fear of hitting us.  In fact, I expect that in battle plans of the future, instead of the artillery trying to conform to the movements of the infantry, matters will be reversed.  The guns, after preliminary bombardment, will create a continuous Niagara of exploding shells upon a given line, marked in everybody’s map, and timed for an exact period, just beyond the objective; and the infantry will stroll up into position a comfortable distance behind, reading the time-table, and dig themselves in.  Then the barrage will lift on to the next line, and we shall toddle forward again.  That’s the new plan, Bobby!  Close artillery cooeperation, and a series of limited objectives!”

“It sounds all right,” agreed Bobby.  “We shall want a good many guns, though, shan’t we?”

“We shall.  But don’t let that worry you.  It is simply raining guns at the Base now.  In fact, my grandmother in the War Office”—­this mythical relative was frequently quoted by Major Wagstaffe, and certainly her information had several times proved surprisingly correct—­“tells me that by the beginning of next year we shall have enough guns, of various calibres, to make a continuous line, hub to hub, from one end of our front to the other.”

“Golly!” observed Captain Little, with respectful relish.

“That means,” continued Wagstaffe, “that we shall be able to blow Brother Boche’s immediate place of business to bits, and at the same time take on his artillery with counter-battery work.  Our shell-supply is practically unlimited now; so when the next push comes, we foot-sloggers ought to have a more gentlemanly time of it than we had at Loos and Wipers.  And I’ll tell you another thing, Bobby.  We shall have command of the air too.”

“That will be a pleasant change,” remarked Bobby.  “I’m getting tired of putting my fellows under arrest for rushing out of carefully concealed positions in order to gape up at Boche planes going over.  Angus M’Lachlan is as bad as any of them.  The fellow—­”

“But you have not seen many Boche planes lately?”

“No.  Certainly not so many.”

“And the number will grow beautifully less.  Our little friends in the R.F.C. are getting fairly numerous now, and their machines have been improved out of all knowledge.  They are rapidly assuming the position of top dog.  Moreover, the average Boche does not take kindly to flying.  It is too—­too individualistic a job for him.  He likes to work in a bunch with other Boches, where he can keep step,