[Illustration: Ex-German "Pill Box" That Is Now a British Dugout]
That night I dropped in on Scotty and casually remarked that our guns
would speak shortly and I expected we would bring the German fire upon
us, as was the usual result. Scotty's voice quavered I thought, as he
asked me when we would begin. "Oh, in an hour, maybe. Have you got a sup
of hot tea, Scotty?" "No, I hae na tea, Grant; you'll get your tea at
the proper time and not before." "Well, of all the----." I couldn't find
words, and then I remembered his old-time habit of thriftiness, and I
made up my mind to keep a sharp lookout, and if I caught him
profiteering in rations he had saved from the men, I mentally resolved I
would show him no mercy.
Exactly at 2 o'clock that morning we started sending our messages to
Fritzie, and inside of a minute--Kr-kr-kr-p! Kr-kr-kr-p! Kr-kr-kr-p!
Kr-kr-kr-p! And his shells were flying all around us. The cookhouse was
only about 20 yards off and I wondered if Scotty would now loosen up a
bit, and I stepped over leaving Lawrence in charge of the gun.
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