"There's a sunken road over there, sir, behind that hedge. It runs
straight towards Primrose Hill for nearly a mile, and ends where the
gradient really begins. If you followed that you could get shelter for
a bit, and need not take open order quite so soon."
"That's good advice," I said. "I will have a look at it. Is there much
going on in the air at present?"
"They set one of our sausage-balloons on fire early this morning. The
observer got down all right in his parachute; but I fancy the heavies
behind us are a bit in the dark about things, in consequence."
"How are the gas-works?"
"They put mustard down with their last barrage."
"Any aeroplanes been over?"
"One Boche machine came over at dawn, but our Archies hunted him back.
This battery hasn't been spotted so far; but I expect we shall have to
limber up and do another Hindenburg act presently; we have been doing
nothing else for a week. A fortnight ago we were in rest billets about
here, running about and playing football and going to the pictures!
It's a bit thick!" he grunted ruefully, through his mask of dirt.
"We are to go in and stiffen the line ahead of us," I said. "You stay
where you are, and back us! Here's my leading company coming up now.
Good-morning!"
"Good-morning, sir, and good luck!"
The gunner hurried back to his camouflaged emplacements, and I turned to
find Roy at my elbow.
"A message came through from brigade, sir," he said, "just after you
left, to say that the enemy were massing heavily opposite Primrose Hill,
and that we were to get up as soon as possible."
"Right! Let us have a look at a covered approach I have just heard
about."
We crossed a meadow and looked over a hedge. Sure enough, at our very
feet lay a deep cutting, following the line of the hedge towards
Primrose Hill.
"Bring your company over here," I said, "and start them up this
thoroughfare for all they're worth. Have the signallers arrived?"
"Yes, sir; they came with me."
"Tell the signal sergeant to establish telephone communication with
Brigade Headquarters as quickly as he can." I turned to that faithful
shadow, my adjutant. "Notify the other companies as they arrive--to
this effect." I scribbled an order. "Explain to Major Wylie"--Major
Wylie was my second in command--"that I have gone ahead with A Company.
He will take charge of affairs here and maintain communication as far as
possible from front to rear. Is that quite clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good! Ah! here is Captain Birnie, with A Company. Now, Roy, young
fellow-my-lad, what about it?"
Five minutes later Roy and I were heading up the sunken lane, followed
by A Company, with steel helmets adjusted and gas-masks at the ready.
"By rights," I grunted, "I suppose I ought to be sitting in Michelin
Forge maintaining touch with Brigade Headquarters. But I think this is
going to be one of those occasions upon which a C.O. is justified in
leading his regiment from the front. I am fed up with this Duke of
Plaza Toro business."
Roy did not reply. He struck me as a little _distrait_, which did not
altogether surprise me, considering that we were both going, in all
probability, straight to an early demise. In fact, I was feeling a
little _distrait_ myself. But this was no time for preoccupation.
Progress along the lane was not too easy. There was a good deal of
traffic coming the other way--stragglers, stretcher-cases, walking
wounded, and dispatch-riders urging their reluctant motor-cycles through
a river of mud. Phlegmatic cave-dwellers in dug-outs in the banks of
the lane, mainly signallers, looked out upon us, exchanging grisly jests
with my followers. Sappers, imperturbable as ever, were running out
wire across an open space to the right. A water-party met us, jangling
empty petrol-cans. At one point we passed a row of our dead, awaiting
removal. On nearly every sleeve I noticed one, two, or even three gold
stripes. It seemed desperately hard that The Willing Horse, healed
three times of his wounds, should have gone down for good so near the
end--as the event proved it to be--when others had never left the
stable.
Presently we overtook a slow-moving procession, advancing with that
injured bearing and gait which mark Thomas Atkins when employed upon an
uncongenial job. They were a fatigue party, carrying enormous
trench-mortar bombs.
"We can never get past this crowd," I said to Roy. "We'll climb out
here, and deploy to the left."
Roy gave the order, and soon A Company were advancing in extended
formation with their faces set towards Fountain Keep. Roy and I tramped
ahead of them: the ridge of Primrose Hill was barely a thousand yards
away now. The morning mists had cleared away, and we could see it quite
distinctly.
Suddenly Roy turned to me.
"Uncle Alan," he began--
But he got no further. There came a roar and a shock that shook the
ground. Five hundred yards ahead of us the brown face of Primrose Hill
broke into a spouting row of earth-fountains, intermingled with the
smoke of shrapnel and whizz-bangs. The evening's barrage had begun. The
line of men behind us recoiled for a moment, then pressed stolidly
forward.
"We have got to get through that," I announced--a little superfluously.
Roy replied--somewhat unexpectedly--right in my left ear, at the top of
his voice:
"Uncle Alan, I want to tell you that I am married!"
"So I have been given to understand!" I bellowed. The din was growing
louder.
"Who told you? Old Eskerley?"