The Great Push

L

n and a soldier is d

he massive Twin Towers, the giant sentinels of the German stronghold. Between me and the village lurked a thousand rifles a

rner. But by day, with its broken, jerry-built houses, the village has no relieving features, it is merely a heap of broken bricks, rubble and mud. Some[104] day, when ivy and lichen grow up the walls and cover green the litter that was Loos, a quaint, historical air may be given to

sandbags on the parapet. A dozen men with loaded rifles stood in the dressing-station on guard, and watchful eyes scanned the streets, looking for the enemy who were still in hiding in the cellars or sniping from the upper stories of houses untouched by shell-f

vement, and vicious bullets kicked up showers of sparks on the cobblestones. I could not tell where they were fired from.... A voic

. "There's some doin's

hill on the right was sending its messages with shrewish

the doings

man observation balloon is going up over L

e blurry thing

ing light with several defiant chimney stacks standing in air. One of

ends pointing downwards, and it climbed slowly up the heavens. At that moment[106] ou

eather caught in a drift of air, then

on the task of looking for the snappy maxim shrew

s snuggled in the cover of a spinney. "It's in one of them big 'ouses, bet yer. If I find i

excitement. They had seen a German cross the street two hundred yards up, and a r

er. "Then 'e crawled into a

corporal of the guard. "Nobody ca

a man at two 'undred and me gettin' proficiency

1

or suddenly utt

get into the scrap. There's 'undreds of 'em up the stre

oulder and fired two rounds. Then he raced up the str

r heads, signifying in their manner that they wished to surrender. I had seen many Germans surrender that morning and always noticed

s they filed past the door of the dressing-stat

e corporal of the guard, and beckoned

ipped in several places, and[108] a mountain of Loos mud clung to his trousers. His face was an int

nco-Germaine interrogation. He shook his head; the bullet

th the bandages he brought out a little mirror, gazed for a moment at his face in the glass, and shook his head sadly.

d also gone through his chest. He was bleeding freely at the back near the spine and in front over the heart.... The man brought out his mirror again, and, standing with his back to a shattered looking-glass that still[109] remained in the building, he examined his wound after the manner of a barber who shows his customer the back

amed of the kind action. "I suppose it was my shot, too. '

" I said, hoping

gh," Ginger persisted. "I couldn't mis

mewhat similar to the pay-book we carry on acti

ook, and fixed a look of interrogat

that certain German words stated that t

1

ttle distance from his lips and moved his fingers rapidly; then he curved his lef

is a master of the mouth-organ; and now having met a brother artist in such a w

such a good sho

is comrades, who left under escort, we allowed him to go. Ten minutes l

he said, and his voice

ou found ou

the spinney. I kept my eye on that 'ere winder. Ev'ry time I seed a puff of smoke, over comes a bullet. I told th

cross the road and took up a position in the trench

a slag-heap known as "The Double Crassier" which tailed to a thin point near

ouse indicated by Bill and saw a wisp of pale smoke tr

n's there, sure

through the air and raised a cloud of b

u bounders, more to t

on the work if he were the gunner e

nearer and a shrub u

, clapping his hands. "Come, gun

t which struck the building fair in

1

ngly. "The bloomin' gun is out of action now fo

e crest of the parados, his hands doubled under h

l. "He jumped across the trench when the ma

essed his wou

and added compassionately, "Poor devil! S

ith a wounded man presently. From there letters would be forw

ill Teake took from his pocket the green envelope, which needed

, speaking with the studied indiffe

and two fags

c and four f

1

ags," I

loomin' line of communication between myself and m

man's professio

s w

tra

eputation as old Times. Yer must 'ave seen 'im in the Strand wiv 'is shiny buttons, bur

said wit

evil for 'is

e suds?"

t and Mustard Pot' boozer in W-- Road even. Yer should see the chucker-out an' my ole man c

riated," I said. "Excessive alcoholic dissipati

ot

1

er a churchgo

hat's wot 'e is. 'E works 'ard when 'e's workin', 'e can use 'is fives wiv anyone, 'e can take a drink or leave it, b

l any Germans this

m, and shoved my bayonet at 'is bread basket. Then I seed 'is foot; it was right off at the ankle. I left 'im alone. After that I 'ad a barney. I was goin'

did yo

I told them wot I seen an' they went up with me to the place. The Boche saw

seen Kore?

1

string out and this sets the fuse goin'. I coiled the string round my fingers and pulled. But I couldn't loosen the string. It was a go! I 'eld out my arm with the bomb 'angin'. 'Take it off!' I yelled to the Jocks. Yer should see them run off. There

ashed about a lot. There's 'ardly a 'ouse standin'. And that's the Tower Bridge," he adde

"'E didn't 'arf cause some trouble. Knocked out dozens

me silent.[116] For fully five mi

ave been glued on to his skull. Clambering up the parapet I reached forward and turned him round and saw his face. It was leaden-hued and dull; the wan and almost colourless eyes fixed on me in a vague and glassy stare, the jaw dropped sullenly, and the tongue hung out. Dead.... And up the street, down in the cellars, at the base of the Twin Towers, they were dying. How futile it was to tro

ou looking

1

ards the enemy's line; watching, as it seemed, for something to take place. None knew wh

persistency, but behind the parapet we were practically immune from danger. As we looked a soldier ap

e street," I called to him as he came to

over the parapet." I recognised t

know yer face.... D'ye mind the champagne at Nouex-les-Mines.... Thes

a large house on the left of the road near the Twin Towers. "I[1

ightening his belt of bombs, and, clutching his rifle, rush

his hand. Suddenly he paused, as if in thought, and his rifle went clattering across the cobbles. Then he sank slowly to the

ly the dying were being hit again. Some of them desired it, the slow process of dying on the open field of war is so dreadful.... A den of guns, somewhere near Lens, became voluble, and a monstrous fanfare of fury echoed in the heavens. The li

ot get right. Now and again he would shake his head as if trying to throw something off and address a remark to the man next him, who did not seem to hear. Probably he was asleep. In the midst

The levels where the wounded lay were raked with shrapnel that burst v

ong on all fours, looking like an ungainly lobster that has escaped from a basket. A bullet had hit the man in the bac

1

ent afterwards. "I didn't mean

put the bandage on. "You'll get carried

t to go now. I must get away. Yo

ten yards across the open," I sa

ench lead ou

nt trench which the Germans o

er the dressing-station, anyway," said the wo

stand u

g and half laughing, he got to his feet.

d to make way for a wounded man. No order meets wi

ere the bones of the dead stick out through the[121] parapet, the trenc

English soldier. Such is the irony of war. The wounded man ambled painfully behind me, grunting and groaning. Sometimes he stopped for a moment, leant against the side of the trench and swore for several seconds. Then he muttered a word of apology and followed me in silence. When we came to the places where the dead lay six deep we had to crawl across them on our hands and knees. To raise our heads over the parapet would be courting qui

owning puppies. But the man who was with me seemed unconscious of his surroundings; seldom

ng-station. When we arrived he sat on a s