grew--Indian and British infantry. Guns by the fifty were brought
forward under cover of the night and placed in line behind us.
Ranjoor Singh continued talking with the enemy, lying belly downward
in the mud, and they kept throwing printed stuff to us that we
turned in to our officers. But the Germans did not attack. And the
force behind us grew.

Then one evening, just after dusk, we were all amazed by the news
that the assault was to come from our side. And almost before that
news had reached us the guns at our rear began their overture,
making preparation beyond the compass of a man's mind to grasp or
convey. They hurled such a torrent of shells that the Germans could
neither move away the troops in front of us nor bring up others to
their aid. It did not seem possible that one German could be left
alive, and I even felt jealous because, thought I, no work would be
left for us to do! Yet men did live--as we discovered. For a night
and a day our ordnance kept up that preparation, and then word went
around.

Who shall tell of a night attack, from a trench against trenches?
Suddenly the guns ceased pounding the earth in front of us and
lifted to make a screen of fire almost a mile beyond. There was
instant pitch darkness on every hand, and out of that a hundred
trumpets sounded. Instantly, each squadron leader leaped the
earthwork, shouting to his men. Ranjoor Singh leaped up in front of
us, and we followed him, all forgetting their distrust of him in the
fierce excitement--remembering only how he had led us in the charge
on that first night. The air was thick with din, and fumes, and
flying metal--for the Germans were not forgetting to use artillery.
I ceased to think of anything but going forward. Who shall describe