The new arrival squatted down in the trench. It was the Adjutant of the Westshires. He pulled out his pouch and started to fill his pipe. His hands shook so that he could hardly get the tobacco into the bowl. I shall never forget the way he breathed--hard, noisy gasps. The man was evidently at breaking-point. "How is it going?" Goyle asked. "Oh, it's hell," the Adjutant of the Westshires answered. "It is impossible to expect men to advance over such ground. We have only got about twenty yards. We have had a hundred down already--Leary and Blake are gone--Jones and Barty wounded. It is no good--they can't carry on. Look here; what I came back for was, would you send an officer with me, so that I can show him where we want your men? Our fellows are rather shaken. I think it would be a good thing if they would close up behind. One never knows what might happen." I could read the Adjutant's thoughts. He dreaded lest his men should break. He knew if they had to advance farther they would be shot down like rabbits. Poor man, he as Adjutant of the regiment was responsible for the men's lives and conduct. The regiment was in danger of being wiped out. No wonder his hand shook, and he breathed in great gasps. Never have I seen a man so cruelly strained. He grew calmer as he sat there, and presently Goyle sent me back with him. The Adjutant of the Westshires was quite calm as we returned to the firing-line. We found the Colonel of the regiment sitting on the ground behind a wall. He held a message in his hands. "Look there!" He read out the message to the Adjutant. "The --th Brigade will continue their attack on ---- at 11.30 A.M. The attack will be pressed home at all costs." Both men looked at each other. They knew they had received the regiment's death warrant. No attack could succeed over such ground. The Colonel looked at his watch. I looked at the little iron-grey man sitting there waiting for the hour when he was to send his regiment to their doom. Then the Adjutant took me quietly, and showed me the places where he wished our men to come up. He was quite calm now as we peeped round the corner of a house at the lines which had to be taken at all costs. The firing had stopped now. The Westshires were lying out in the ploughland at the point they had reached. The Germans lined their trenches waiting for them to move. But the time never came. Ten minutes later a staff officer had come up, inspected the ground, and cancelled the second order for the attack. XIX. BY THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH