A sentry outside the barbed wire dropped his rifle and ran towards a little gateway in the entanglements. Unhooking some loose strands he dashed through, followed by Coronet, who pinned him with his bayonet in the back. About twenty more squeezed through this gap. The remainder flung their coats across the wires and floundered over into the German trenches. Then the butchery began. Half-sleeping Germans found themselves face to face with cursing, yelling scions of the Glesca Mileeshy. These old toughs from the "Model" plugged, stabbed, jabbed, hacked, and butted the life out of the defenders in the flanking trenches. Those who tried to escape by jumping out were clubbed to death. Coronet and Spud were everywhere, and, like others, quickly covered themselves with German blood. Things went well till a Maxim gun started its nonsense. A clever gunner opened a traversing fire on the daring band. "Lie down, men," roared Coronet. They obeyed, but not before twenty men had been killed or wounded. It was an anxious moment for the company commander. The check was serious, and, like a true British officer, he looked round for his sergeant. He saw Tamson at the far end of a trench coolly aiming at the German gunner. Bang! went Spud’s rifle. He missed. Muttering an oath, he quickly fired again. The man dropped back dead. Another sprang to his seat, but before he could touch the handles Spud despatched him to the Happy Land. This was good, but not altogether useful, for a host of Germans were sallying out of their dug-outs and rushing to avenge their dead. "Rapid fire!" roared the captain. Click! click! went the bolts, and next a fearful crash, but our musketry cannot always stem a wild German rush. Remembering he had a company in support, Coronet signalled them up. Recollecting, too, that he had read somewhere in Haking’s text-book on company training that an assault should be met by a counter-assault, he ordered his men to charge. "I’ll see tae the guns, sir," shouted Spud to his captain above the din. "Right, sergeant," answered Coronet, looking back. "This way for the Gallowgate, lads," was Tamson’s order to a few of his cronies. They followed at his heels, and dashed towards the first gun. A young German officer met Tamson with his sword. The Teuton made a furious swipe at his red-coloured head. "Missed it, young fellow me lad," shouted Tamson, parrying. Still the point hooked an ounce of good flesh out of the sergeant’s arm.