enemy miners, alert for the first sign of activity
from the opposite trench, not many yards away.
As every one knows, it isn't simple to be brave
when one is alone. At the front you conceive
a thorough admiration for the men who assume
the strain and the solitude of such assignments.
Our guide was still inclined to hospitality. He produced a map of the enemy trenches made from air photographs. Each trench was labelled. There was, I remember, the "Boyau Unter den Linden," the "Boyau Bethmann-Hollweg," the “Boyau Bismarck," and many others according to the play of French humour. I was instructed to peer through openings in the grass and the wire at the nearby mounds of white, wet earth that marked the German trenches.
“That communication coming up is the Boyau Unter den Linden. Can you see it?”
Thoughtlessly I answered:
"I am not quite sure. No. I don't see it."
The hospitable captain made a gesture of disappointment, a peculiar clicking sound with his tongue.
“You should see," he said. "It is very interesting. What can I do? Ah, yes. There is another listening post a little nearer the Boches to which it might be possible to penetrate. You would see better there. You are not afraid?"
