He gave the order that had been passed to him, and on the word, this section of the trench was lined with men ready to pour a volley over the low parapet.  He was there, too, wildly excited, close to the spy-hole that now showed as a luminous disc against the blackness of the trench.  He looked out of this, and in the breaking dawn he saw nothing but the dark ground of the dip in front, and the level lines of the German trenches opposite.  Then suddenly the grey emptiness was peopled; there sprang from the earth the advance line of the surprise, who began hewing a way through the entanglements, while behind the silhouette of the trenches was broken into a huddled, heaving line of men.  Then came the order to fire, and he saw men dropping and falling out of sight, and others coming on, and yet again others.  These, again, fell, but others (and now he could see the gleam of bayonets) came nearer, bursting and cutting their way through the wires.  Then, from opposite to right and left sounded the crack of rifles, and the man next to Michael gave one grunt, and fell back into the trench, moving no more.

Just immediately opposite were the few dozen men whose part it was to cut through the entanglements.  They kept falling and passing out of sight, while others took their places.  And then, for some reason, Michael found himself singling out just one of these, much in advance of the others, who was now close to the parapet.  He was coming straight on him, and with a leap he cleared the last line of wire and towered above him.  Michael shot him with his revolver as he stood but three yards from him, and he fell right across the parapet with head and shoulders inside the trench.  And, as he dropped, Michael shouted, “Got him!” and then he looked.  It was Hermann.

Next moment he had scaled the side of the trench and, exerting all his strength, was dragging him over into safety.  The advance of this section, who were to rush the trench, had been stopped, and again from right and left the rifle-fire poured out on the heads that appeared above the parapet.  That did not seem to concern him; all he had to do that moment was to get Hermann out of fire, and just as he dragged his legs over the parapet, so that his weight fell firm and solid on to him, he felt what seemed a sharp tap on his right arm, and could not understand why it had become suddenly powerless.  It dangled loosely from somewhere above the elbow, and when he tried to move his hand he found he could not.

Then came a stab of hideous pain, which was over almost as soon as he had felt it, and he heard a man close to him say, “Are you hit, sir?”

It was evident that this surprise attack had failed, for five minutes afterwards all was quiet again.  Out of the grey of dawn it had come, and before dawn was rosy it was over, and Michael with his right arm numb but for an occasional twinge of violent agony that seemed to him more like a scream or a colour than pain, was leaning over Hermann, who lay on his back quite still, while on his tunic a splash of blood slowly grew larger.  Dawn was already rosy when he moved slightly and opened his eyes.