The bombardment seemed to increase; the German trenches were hidden by smoke, flying dirt and logs. Their dug-outs were going sky-high. Over it all, two aeroplanes glided gracefully through the air. The tanks were still going forward. A platoon on the right had started too soon and the men were half-way across. Bowdy Benners and Bubb walked abreast, chatting leisurely. Flanagan had disappeared. The air was alive with bullets, men were falling all round, groaning and screaming. In front the tanks had both stopped, one in a shell-crater, the other in a sap. The artillery lengthened its range and the shells were falling behind the first line and the High Wood. But the enemy machine guns had not been silenced, the High Wood was yet as venomous as a wasps' nest. "Forward!" The men advanced at a steady pace, their bayonets in air. One man had his entrenching tool fastened over his stomach as a bullet shield. Bowdy saw him get hit in the head.... The machine gun fire was deadly; dozens fell and lay writhing. A tall youngster with a long neck came to a dead stop, dropped his bayonet to the ground, put his hand inside the waist of his trousers and groped around as if trying to catch a flea. "I've copped a packet this time," he said and lay down. The flanks of the marching line converged on the centre despite the orders of the officers to the men. "Keep your distance!" "Spread out a bit there!" etc. But the men felt inclined to huddle together, like frightened children.... The machine guns seemed to intensify their fire, the bullets struck the earth in a steady and incessant stream. On the left a party of men advanced steadily. A shell dropped in the middle of them.... Captain Thorley, who was leading his platoon, turned round. "Under cover," he shouted. "It's no good going ahead yet. It's murder." The men disappeared into adjacent shell-holes, others brought in the wounded. The machine-guns swept the field with insistent vehemence. Bowdy and Bubb joined themselves together in a deep crater. "Couldn't 'ave a more swagger shell-'ole than this'n," said Spudhole. "We're in luck's way. Flanagan got 'it," he continued. "I saw 'im cop it. Right froo the 'ead. 'E didn't say nuffin', just fell and stiffened." He placed his back against the sloping wall of the swagger shell-hole and drawing his cigarette from his mouth with a graceful swan-like motion of the arm, he turned to Bowdy Benners. "Blimey, I don't feel 'arf a swell 'ere," he said. "Wouldn't mind stickin' it in this 'ere place for duration.... Eh, wot's that, Bowdy?" A German shell came out from the unknown humming like a gigantic beetle. Nearer it came and nearer. "It's going to fall wide," said Bowdy, although he instinctively guessed that it would fall very near.