wide. Queer-looking forms like mud turtles were scrambling up its
wall. One of these forms seemed to slip and then rolled to the bottom
of the trench. I leaped across this intervening space. The man to my
left seemed to pause in mid-air, then pitched head down into the
German trench. I laughed out loud in my delirium. Upon alighting on
the other side of the trench I came to with a sudden jolt. Right in
front of me loomed a giant form with a rifle which looked about ten
feet long, on the end of which seemed seven bayonets. These flashed in
the air in front of me. Then through my mind flashed the admonition of
our bayonet instructor back in Blighty. He had said, "whenever you get
in a charge and run your bayonet up to the hilt into a German, the
Fritz will fall. Perhaps your rifle will be wrenched from your grasp.
Do not waste time, if the bayonet is fouled in his equipment, by
putting your foot on his stomach and tugging at the rifle to extricate
the bayonet. Simply press the trigger and the bullet will free it." In
my present situation this was fine logic, but for the life of me I
could not remember how he had told me to get my bayonet into the
German. To me, this was the paramount issue. I closed my eyes, and
lunged forward. My rifle was torn from my hands. I must have gotten
the German because he had disappeared. About twenty feet to my left
front was a huge Prussian nearly six feet four inches in height, a
fine specimen of physical manhood. The bayonet from his rifle was
missing, but he clutched the barrel in both hands and was swinging the
butt around his head. I could almost hear the swish of the butt
passing through the air. Three little Tommies were engaged with him.
They looked like pigmies alongside of the Prussian. The Tommy on the
left was gradually circling to the rear of his opponent. It was a
funny sight to see them duck the swinging butt and try to jab him at
the same time. The Tommy nearest me received the butt of the German's
rifle in a smashing blow below the right temple. It smashed his head