Jake did not wait to see the result of the dash. He was up and out of his cover and running in himself as fast as the wet ground would allow him. He was almost on the emplacement when a gun slewed round and banged a short burst at him. He felt the rush of bullets past his face, a pluck at his sleeve and shoulder strap, a blow on his shrapnel helmet, made a last desperate plunge forward, and scrambled on to the low roof. Hurriedly he pulled a bomb from his pocket and jerked the pin out, when a couple of rifles banged close behind them, a bullet whipped past overhead, and another smacked and ricochetted screaming from the concrete. Jake twisted, saw the head and shoulders of two men with rifles levelled over a hole, and quick as a flash hurled his bomb. The men ducked, and Jake drew the pin from another bomb and lobbed it carefully over just as the first bomb burst. The other followed, exploding fairly in the hole and evidently deep down since the report was low and muffled. Jake pulled another pin, and was leaning over to locate an embrasure when the gun flamed out from it. Jake released the spring, counted carefully “One and two and three and——” leaned over and slammed the bomb fairly into the slit. He had another bomb out as it burst—well inside by the sound of it—and this time leaned over and deliberately thrust it in through the opening. He had barely snatched his hand out when it went off with a muffled crash. Jake heard screams inside, and then an instant later loud calls behind him. He jerked round to see half a dozen arms waving from the hole where he had flung the first bomb. This, as he found after, was the underground stair down and up again into the emplacement, and the waving arms were in token of the garrison’s surrender. Jake stood on the roof and waved his arm, while keeping a cautious eye on the surrenderers, saw the mud-daubed khaki figures rise from their holes and come scrambling forward, and sat down suddenly, feeling unpleasantly faint and sickish. His officer’s voice recalled him. “Well done, lad, well done. This cursed thing was fairly holding us up till you scuppered it. We’ve got our objective line now.” Jake staggered to his feet. “You’re wounded,” went on the officer. “Get back out of this, and give a message to anyone that’ll take it, that we’ve got our third objective line, and want supports and ammunition quick as possible. Go on, off with you, now.” “Right, sir!” said Jake with an effort, and started off back across the shell-torn ground again. He felt a bit dizzy still—side hurt a heap—arm getting numb, too—must keep going and get that message through——