We knew there was not a man in that trench who had a bullet
left. We knew that as far as we were concerned, we were done. We
metaphorically shook hands with ourselves and wished friend self a long
good-by. We looked at the sun and said "Tra-la-la" to it, and we wondered
in a flash of thought what the old world would be like without us. We
wondered where we would "light up."
All this passed in a moment of time, and then we decided that it would be
better if we paired up, two men taking one box of ammunition. This offered
a smaller target for the busy enemy, and also made for increased speed in
covering the remaining ground.
We sprang up once more and dodged and doubled as we leaped through the rain
of bullets, machine gun and rifle. How we lived I don't know. I was sharing
a box with a lad whom I heard the fellows call Bob. He was no more than a
boy, but we were much of a size and ran light. We were the only two of the
twenty-nine left on our feet. To-day I am one of five of that bunch left
alive.
About fifty yards from the trench we dropped for a last rest before the
final spurt which would decide the whole course of events in the next ten
minutes.
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