“Any damage done?” asked the major. Through the silence the snoring of the motors sing-songed ominously overhead, like giant mosquitoes. “I seem to hear more,” said the major, in his drawling voice. “O yes sir, yes sir, lots,” answered an eager voice. “For God's sake tell him to close the window, Lieutenant,” muttered another voice. “How the hell can I tell him? You tell him.” “We'll all be killed, that's all there is about it.” “There are no shelters or dugouts,” drawled the major from the window. “That's Headquarters' fault.” “There's the cellar!” cried the eager voice, again. “Oh,” said the major. Three snorting explosions in quick succession drowned everything in a red glare. The street was suddenly filled with a scuttle of villagers running to shelter. “Say, Andy, they may have a roll call,” said Chrisfield. “We'd better cut for home across country,” said Andrews. They climbed cautiously out of their manure pit. Chrisfield was surprised to find that he was trembling. His hands were cold. It was with difficulty he kept his teeth from chattering. “God, we'll stink for a week.” “Let's git out,” muttered Chrisfield, “o' this goddam village.” They ran out through an orchard, broke through a hedge and climbed up the hill across the open fields. Down the main road an anti-aircraft gun had started barking and the sky sparkled with exploding shrapnel. The “put, put, put” of a machine gun had begun somewhere. Chrisfield strode up the hill in step with his friend. Behind them bomb followed bomb, and above them the air seemed full of exploding shrapnel and droning planes. The cognac still throbbed a little in their blood. They stumbled against each other now and then as they walked. From the top of the hill they turned and looked back. Chrisfield felt a tremendous elation thumping stronger than the cognac through his veins. Unconsciously he put his arm round his friend's shoulders. They seemed the only live things in a reeling world. Below in the valley a house was burning brightly. From all directions came the yelp of anti-aircraft guns, and overhead unperturbed continued the leisurely singsong of the motors. Suddenly Chrisfield burst out laughing. “By God, Ah always have fun when Ah'm out with you, Andy,” he said. They turned and hurried down the other slope of the hill towards the farms where they were quartered. II