We were now drawing on our last reserve. We were still standing with our spades in our hands, and throwing, with aching backs and arms, more soil on the works, when in front of us we saw figures passing up and down on the grey, twilight field. They were grubbing the soil up busily, and were putting something we could not see into holes, and covering it in again. They went about their work noiselessly--no incautious step and no unguarded movement--and when they came back again and passed us, and marched on, their faces were livid and their lips dumb. They proved themselves to be first-class moles. They had done a good bit of work. They had undermined the earth. They had stuffed the ground with explosives, and if the enemy comes to-night we shall repay the gifts they lavished upon us from the sky the other day with interest. They have arranged it all like a rat-trap. Over there, beyond the mined field even, two companies are lying in extended order. And midway between them, without a vestige of cover, stands our battery on the open field. It is planted there as if it were doomed to be delivered into the enemy's hands. And now we are lying in our long trenches, and are peering out into the field, with our eyes glued to the sharply outlined silhouettes of the guns. The sun has set some time ago. From the far distance the thin rattle of musketry reaches us clearly. Wonder if it'll last much longer? Our orders are to remain under arms. We have put on our overcoats. The night is chilly, and lowering, I gaze out over the field of death--nothing makes any difference to me now--if only it were over quickly. A scout has come in, and delivers his report in a whisper. Our instructions are not to fire before the order to fire is given, and--then to fire into the air. In the background, far on the horizon, the ground rises, and the gray skyline stands out against the cloudy sky. The musketry fire has become hotter from minute to minute, and has increased to a threatening rattle. To the right and left of us fighting is in full swing. In front of us the mined field lies silent, and the two companies too, are lying silent in their rifle-pits. I am conscious that I am terribly tired--I can no longer keep myself on my feet--my head sinks down on my rifle--my eyes close--but the overstrained nerves are still alert. And now---- The earth reverberates sullenly. That's our battery! It is firing straight into the darkness. So our turn is coming now. We hear how "ours" over there are opening fire, and how it suddenly increases, and dies down, and then again swells to a maddening rattle. That is an attack by sharpshooters in overwhelming strength ... they cannot be very far from one another now ... and yet the battery goes on bellowing, and luring the enemy to assault....