He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
You know, they're not bad at potting periscopes."
At that distance they could recognise this mahogany cylinder for an officer's periscope. Just then a machine gun jibed at the heavier roar. Rat-tat-tat-tat—spraying death as a garden hose sprays water. I glanced up at the top of the periscope to see if it trembled.
"I say, that thing was a Christmas present. Move it about a bit."
He seemed relieved to have it back again. The machine gun subsided.
“Might give them some of that back," he said, pointing to a group squatting on heels about a sergeant.
“The hornets seem stirred up enough this morning," one of the others offered.
We joined the group and found in the midst of it a machine gun whose mysteries the sergeant explained with the deportment of an old-fashioned schoolmaster. He was glad to have fresh scholars. He opened and closed the breach. He inserted a belt of cartridges. He commenced to run it through. The trench officer stooped.
"Throw that safety block back! "
The sergeant obeyed with an aggrieved air,
