You could tell the difference between our machines and the Germans. Ours was a steady noise—drrrrrrrr!—but their's was heavy, drrrrrurudrrrrruru—! My word, that got on my nerves. . . . . .
"No I was never hit. The nearest thing was when I was knocked down by an exploding shell—several times that—you know. When you shout like mad for the men to come and dig you out, under all the earth. And my word, you do feel frightened then." Herbertson laughed with a twinkling motion to Lilly. But between his brows there was a tension like madness.
"And a funny thing you know—how you don't notice things. In—let me see—1916, the German guns were a lot better than ours. Ours were old, and when they're old you can't tell where they'll hit: whether they'll go beyond the mark, or whether they'll fall short. Well, this day our guns were firing short, and killing our own men. We'd had the order to charge, and were running forward, and I suddenly felt hot water spurting on my neck—" He put his hand to the back of his neck and glanced round apprehensively. "It was a chap called Innes—Oh, an awfully decent sort—people were in the Argentine. He'd been calling out to me as we were running, and I was just answering. When I felt this hot water on my neck and saw him running past me with no head—he'd got no head, and he went running past me. I don't know how far, but a long way. . . . Blood, you know—Yes—well—
"Oh, I hated Chelsea—I loathed Chelsea—Chelsea was purgatory to me. I had a corporal called Wallace—he was a fine chap—oh, he was a fine chap—six foot two—and about twenty-four years old. He was my stand-back. Oh, I hated Chelsea, and parades, and drills. You know, when it's drill, and you're giving orders, you forget what order you've just given—in front of the Palace there the crowd don't notice—but it's awful for you. And you know you daren't look round to see what the men are doing. But Wallace was splendid He was just behind me, and I'd hear him, quite
