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It was one of our machine-guns at work a few yards away from my head,
which I ducked below the trench parapet. Splodge! went the officer in
front of me, with a yell of dismay. The water was well above his top-
boots. Splosh! went another man ahead, recovering from a side-slip in
the oozy mud and clinging desperately to some bunches of yarrow
growing up the side of the trench. Squelch! went a young gentleman
whose puttees and breeches had lost their glory and were but swabs
about his elegant legs.
"Clever fellows!" said the officer, as two of us climbed on to the
fire-stand of the trench in order to avoid a specially deep water-
hole, and with ducked heads and bodies bent double (the Germans were
only two hundred yards on the other side of the parapet) walked on dry
earth for at least ten paces. The officer's laughter was loud at the
corner of the next traverse, when there was an abrupt descent into a
slough of despond.
"And I hope they can swim!" said an ironical voice from a dugout, as
the officers passed.


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