the two front men came up each with a bomb in his hand to throw, when lighted, over the top. It was at the precise moment that Gerald gave them the signal to light that he met his first German face to face. For, finding all was silent, the enemy had decided to make a little tour of inspection on his own, and just as the two bombs were lit and propelled over the traverse a stout and perspiring Bavarian bumped his head almost on to Gerald’s rifle. For a moment Gerald was as surprised as the crouching German, but only for a moment, for the Bavarian’s death-grunt, the crack of the rifle, and the roar of the two bombs were almost simultaneous. ••••• “On ’em, boys!” he shouted, jerking out his empty cartridge, and they scrambled round, over the body, into the next bit of trench. Four Germans lay stiff, and two were struggling to get round the next traverse. One did and one did not. The sergeant got him first. Up to the next traverse, and the same process over again; but “Move, move, for Heaven’s sake move!” is the motto if you want to keep ’em on the run. And if a German, wounded, tries to trip you—well,
