I got the five of them, and some of them made awful noises, screaming
and squealing. I stalked through the trench, storming and shouting,
and, hearing the firing and the commotion, the rest of the crowd bolted
into the dug-outs. Soon they had all "gone to earth," and I was there
alone. When they got into their dug-outs I had them. It was just as if
you were in a coal-cellar and I was in the street waiting to pot you as
you came up. They were shouting and screeching, and every time I saw a
movement I let fly.
Eventually they quieted down, and seeing some of their bombs, a pile
of them, on the floor of the trench, I picked up a couple and sent
them flying down the first dug-out, and they went off all right. Did I
tell you that I was a bomber? I think they felt that the game was up
when the bombs began to drop amongst them, for out rushed three fine
specimens with their hands up and the usual cry, "Mercy, kamerad!" They
had left their equipment behind them to show there was no monkeying,
and though I felt like laughing at being there all on my own, I
demanded, in a stern voice, if any one of them could speak English.