Our machine gun began yapping, but its noise was little better than that of a toy terrier against a brace of bulldogs, and we didn’t count much on it. Part of the regiment lay in the trenches firing away at the Germans for all they were worth, but we didn’t count much on that either. We knew that the good old bayonet would have to be our mainstay, and so one of the companies was ordered to get ready for the rush across the intervening space. We were out in a brace of shakes, and there was no loitering by the way, for the sooner we got there the easier would it be. Half way across they found our range with the guns, and shrapnel dropped all around. Our chaps were suffering badly, and seemed to get a bit weak in their advance. Nobody could blame them, for it was awful work. The officer in command simply called out, “Remember, men, the Black Watch never wavers. Forward!” That knocked on the head any idea of wavering, and we were off again like a party of merry trippers at the beginning of the Glasgow Fair holidays. We got there in the end, but at a terrible price, and we found the Germans ready for us. We went in without a word or a cheer. After we had driven them off, they were on to us again before we had time to make the position secure. We beat them back, but they came on over and over again. The last time I think it would have gone hard with us, indeed, but for an unexpected diversion. A French aeroplane appeared overhead and began signalling to a point in our rear. This scared the Germans, who feared a big force was moving to cut them off, and they fell back. Before they had had time to find out their mistake a brigade of infantry arrived to our assistance, and then the enemy cleared off for good. That was one of the closest things for us; and it was a miracle that we pulled through against such terrible odds as were thrown against us that night: _A Private of the Black Watch_. “Nesting” Time