The Colonel had been killed by a shell the first day, and before he went he passed the word to the next senior, ‘Don’t forget, Major ... simple orders ... hold on at all costs.’ The Major was not long in command before he was out of action with a shattered thigh, and following him acting C.O. after C.O. was killed or wounded, until now the command was in the hands of the only captain left in the battalion. And each C.O. in turn received or knew his simple orders—‘Hold on at all costs,’ and no C.O. of them all had any doubt as to how they were to be carried out. So it was that when the trenches on their flank went, and the immediate prospect before the battalion was of out-and-out annihilation, the Captain made his way round the trenches, splashing through muddy pools streaked and tinted with crimson, stumbling over the dead, stepping as carefully as might be over the men too sorely wounded to move aside, and repeated to his few remaining officers and senior N.C.O.’s the clear instructions, ‘Hold on at all costs.’ ‘Not much doubt, sir, of how much the cost will be,’ one very junior lieutenant answered him. ‘No,’ said the Captain gravely; ‘but we’ve done our job so far, and that’s always something. Now we’ve only to make a good finish to it.’ ‘We’ll do that all right,’ said the lieutenant confidently. ‘We’ll be cornered soon, but there’s enough of us left to make them feel our teeth. And anyhow, we’ve made them pay a pretty full price already for this patch of ground,’ and he motioned with his hand out towards where the open out in front of their trench was carpeted thick with the German dead. An orderly, stooping low, splashed along the trench to them. ‘The wire’s through again, sir,’ he said, ‘and Brigade wishes to speak to you if you can spare a minute.’ He said nothing of how the wire had been got through, or of how its repairing had cost another good half-dozen casualties—which in itself is another tale well worth the telling. The Captain went to the telephone dug-out and crawled into the shallow, wet-dripping cave and called the Brigade and spoke with them there for five minutes. The Adjutant who was at the other end was an old personal friend of the Captain’s, but chiefly because neither knew the instant the wire might be cut again they first talked strict business and left personal affairs out of it. ‘Brigadier says to ask what chance have you,’ asked the Adjutant abruptly. ‘How much longer can you hold on?’ ‘Ten minutes after they attack in force,’ said the Captain with equal brevity; ‘fifteen with luck; twenty at the outside. Trenches across the road are gone, you know, and we’re getting cut up badly with enfilade fire now. There’s nothing to stop them getting round behind us, so I expect to be attacked front, rear, and flank. We can’t stand that off long.’