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Their screams and moans sounding above
the guns, the frantic cries of men maddened under tons of earth, which
kept them prisoners in deep pits below the crater lips, and awful
inarticulate noises of human pain coming out of that lower darkness
beyond the light of the rockets, made up a chorus of agony more than
our men could endure, even in the heat of battle. They shouted across
to the German grenadiers:
"We will cease fire if you will, and let you get in your wounded. . .
Cease fire for the wounded!"
The shout was repeated, and our bombers held their hands, still
waiting for an answer. But the answer was a new storm of bombs, and
the fighting went on, and the moaning of the men who were helpless and
unhelped.
Working-parties followed up the assault to "consolidate" the position.
They did amazing things, toiling in the darkness under abominable
shell-fire, and by daylight had built communication trenches with
head-cover from the crater lips to our front-line trenches.


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