The First Hundred Thousand by Ian Hay
page 62 of 303 (20%)
page 62 of 303 (20%)
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"All right. Now for our fold in the ground. _End of
mansion-house_--_eight o'clock_--got that?" There is an interested murmur of assent. "That gives you the direction from the house. Now for the distance! _End of mansion-house_--_eight o 'clock_--_two finger-breadths_--what does that give you, Lance-Corporal Ness?" "The corrner of a field, sirr." "Right. This is _our_ field. We have picked it correctly out of about twenty fields, you see. _Corner of field. In the middle of the field, a fold in the ground. At nine hundred--at the fold in the ground--five rounds--fire_! You see the idea now?" "Yes, sirr." "Very good. Let the platoon practise describing targets to one another, Mr. Little. Don't be too elaborate. Never employ either the clock or finger method if you can describe your target without. For instance: _Left of windmill_--_triangular cornfield. At the_ _nearest corner_--_six hundred_--_rapid fire!_ is all you want. Carry on, Mr. Little." And leaving Bobby and his infant class to practise this new and amusing pastime, Captain Wagstaffe strolls away across the square to where the painstaking Waddell is contending with another squad. They, too, have a landscape target--a different one. Before it half a |
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