trench.

'About time for the ships to get to work,' growled Roy, his big handsome
face knitted in a scowl.

'Ay, if they only knew where the guns were,' replied Ken. 'But that's the
deuce of it. They can't spot 'em without planes, and there are no planes
here yet.'

Crash! A second gun spoke, and another shell burst above the beach. From
that time on the firing was continuous. The whole beach was scourged with
shrapnel, and landing operations became perilous in the extreme.

The men in the trenches fidgeted and swore beneath their breath. There is
nothing more trying to troops than to see their comrades suffering and yet
be unable to help them.

'Can't we do something?' muttered Dave, as he saw a boat from one of the
ships smashed to matchwood by a blast of shrapnel, and her crew and
contents scattered into the sea. 'Can't we do something? It's enough to
drive one loony to watch this sort of thing.'

Almost as he spoke there was a sudden flutter of excitement, as an order
was passed from man to man down the trench.

They were to advance and take up a new position on the top of the slope.