Murky smoke clouds issued from the trees and hung above them in thin streaks.  Another sound was added to the uproar—­a long-drawn whine—­and a sepia coloured puff appeared high up in the sky.  A sharp ringing crack followed.  Then another puff appeared, and then another.  High-explosive and shrapnel shells continued to burst without intermission.

The frogs had ceased to croak, for one of our men, standing on the edge of the pond, was throwing pellets of mud at them.  All at once he dropped like some inanimate object and lay on his side.  At the same time a motor-ambulance came rushing up and stopped at the cross-roads.  Two soldiers issued from the wood, carrying a stretcher.  A wounded man was lying on it.  He did not move arms or legs, but he howled and screamed;, his voice rising and falling in a weird inhuman manner.  A little after, two more wounded were carried out on stretchers.  They were white, silent and motionless.

A small crowd had gathered round the man who had fallen by the pond.  He was laid on to a stretcher.  He seemed rather dazed but did not look pale.  A shrapnel ball had hit him in the back.

The human loads were pushed into the ambulance which disappeared in a cloud of dust.

Our anxiety had deepened.  Many of us were walking up and down in agitation.  Nevertheless, there was no hysteria and no ignominious expression of fear as there had been on the previous night.

At last the railway engine appeared, to the immense relief of everyone.  We climbed into the trucks and the return journey began.  The shelling continued unabated.  Above the belt of poplars a little black speck was moving along at great speed.  Around it and trailing behind it were numerous black puffs.  The frogs had resumed their concert.

When we reached our destination we were met by several others of our unit who had arrived during the afternoon and were quartered in the town.  Two of my friends were amongst them and together we walked over to their billet.

We entered a huge bare room and sat down on some of the kits that were arranged neatly round the floor.

“What sort of a time have you had?” I asked.

“Bloody awful....  The S.M. and the C.O. have been making our lives a misery.  We’ve had umpteen extra drills and parades and kit inspections.  There’ve been at least a dozen orderly-room cases and several court martials since you left.  You know Deacon?  He got fourteen days.  Fritz has been over a good bit lately and we have to put out our lights as soon as it gets dark, else we’d cop out for sure.  Well, one of our Sergeants had a candle burning in his tent and the flap wide open—­you could have seen it a mile off, you’ve no idea how a candle shows at night-time!  We heard the archies firing in the distance and we yelled, ‘Put out that light!’ The Sergeant didn’t take any notice though—­he was reading a book.  So Deacon, who’s got a decent bit of pluck, walked across and asked him to blow