The work was not performed, either, without distractions other than the mud and its circumventing, and the trouble of picking the best course. An attack was in full progress, and streams of shells were screaming and howling overhead, with odd ones hurtling down and bursting on the ground they were traversing, flinging up gigantic geysers of spouting mud, clods of earth, and black smoke, erupting a whirlwind of shrieking splinters and fragments. Several times the bearers laid the stretcher down and crouched low in the mud from the warning roar of an approaching shell, waited the muffled crash of its burst, the passing of the flying fragments. From the nearer explosions a shower of dirt and clods rained down about them, splashing and thudding on the wet ground; from the farther ones an occasional piece of metal would drop whistling or droning angrily and “whutt” into the mud. Then the bearers lifted their burden and resumed their struggling advance. Fortunately the waves of attacking infantry had passed beyond them, and most of the German guns were busy flogging the front lines and trying to hold or destroy them; but there were still shells enough being flung back on the ground they had to cover to make matters unpleasantly risky. To add to the risk there was a constant whistle and whine of passing bullets, and every now and then a regular shower of them whipping and smacking into the mud about them, bullets not aimed at them, but probably just the chance showers aimed a little too high to catch the advancing attack, passing over and coming to earth a few hundred yards back. The little party was not alone, although the ground was strangely empty and deserted to what it had been when the attack went over. There were odd wounded men, walking wounded struggling back alone, others more seriously hurt toiling through the mud with the assistance of a supporting arm, others lying waiting their turn to be carried in, placed for the time being in such cover as could be found, the cover usually of a deep shell-crater with soft, wet sides, and a deep pool at the bottom. There were odd bunches of men moving up, men carrying bombs, or ammunition, or supplies of some sort for the firing line, all ploughing slowly and heavily through the sticky mud.