Already we passed several of them, who were detailed off on the
anticipated casualty list in the morning. These wore white labels in
their buttonholes, telling of the nature of their wounds. One label
bore the words: "Shot in right shoulder; wound not dangerous." Another
read: "Leg blown off," and a third ran: "Flesh wounds in arm and leg."
These men would be taken into the care of the ambulance party when it
arrived.
When within fifteen hundred yards of the enemy, the command for
extended order advance was given, and the section spread out in one
long line, fronting the knoll, with five pace intervals between the
men. We were now under rifle-fire, and all further movements forward
were made in short sharp rushes, punctuated by halts, during which
we lay flat on the ground, our bodies deep in the soft earth, and the
rain, which again commenced to fall, wetting us to the skin.
Six hundred yards from the enemy's front we tumbled into the trenches
already in possession of Battalion B, and I found myself ankle-deep in
mire, beside a unit of another regiment who was enjoying a cigarette
and blowing rings of smoke into the air. Although no enemy was visible
we got the order to fire, and I discharged three rounds in rapid
succession.
"Don't fire, you fool!" said the man who was blowing the smoke rings.
"Them blanks dirty 'orrible, and when you've clean't the clay from
your clothes t'night you'll not want to muck about with your rifle.
There's a price for copper, and I always sell my cartridge cases.
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