Instantly the hoarse roll of drums rose from the advancing battalions, and everyone quickened his pace. The wood thinned out, and, bursting from the trees, the 307th Reserve Battalion flung themselves with the bayonet upon the ruined village of Biaches. There was a belfry tower still standing, and the chimney of a factory--all the rest was a heap of shattered dwelling's round which the greeny-grey wave surged with a roar. In front of them figures in blue-grey ran scurrying, and were joined by others, and the rifles began to speak. "This is all very well," thought Dennis, finding himself between two fires. "I had better lie doggo for a bit while they get on with it." And, stepping inside the ruins of a small shop, he flung himself down on a heap of bricks in the posture of a wounded man. It would have been madness to do otherwise, for the machine-guns were raining bullets everywhere; and, trembling with excitement, he lay unnoticed for a good half-hour, until a hoarse cheer in German told him that Biaches had passed into the enemy's hands. At almost the same moment the modern chateau, surrounded by its park of fine trees on the hill of La Maisonette, had been retaken by the Germans from Peronne. But Dennis smiled quietly to himself. "My chance will come when the counter-attack begins," he thought. "Those brave Frenchmen don't take this sort of thing lying down." As the firing died away cheer after cheer rent the air, followed by a babel of voices in German as every man worked hard to consolidate the position; and as the dusk drew down Dennis thrust his rifle grenades inside the broken chimney of the little shop, and ventured out into the open air. CHAPTER XXVIII The Exciting Adventures of "Carl Heft" The strain of lying there hour after hour had become unbearable. The idea had also struck him that now was his opportunity to glean some information, if possible, about the lie of the land. There would be warm work, he knew, and that before long, for the French "75's" were barking in the distance, and shells were falling about Biaches and upon the hill away to the left. Field wagons from Peronne had clattered past his hiding-place, carrying reels of barbed wire, and if he were fortunate he might be able to slip through the advanced German trench before it was hedged in by that difficult barricade. Bodies were lying thickly strewn among the brick heaps, and one little alley down which he tried to pass was piled up six deep with corpses. "I wish I could get on a listening post," he thought to himself. "That would give me a fine chance." And just then he collided with somebody, who shook him by the shoulder and swore lustily; and he recognised the voice of the good-natured sergeant. "You should look where you are going, Kamerad," said the man. "And, by the way, where _are_ you going?" "To the front trench, sergeant," replied Dennis, speaking at a venture. "I have just secured a fresh supply of racket bombs."