The roar of the guns increased in fury. From the muzzles of the nearest guns on both sides leaped great golden tongues of flame which seemed to meet in a dazzling blur of light about the battalion. The men staggered on with their heads down, terrified as children at each nearby stab of fire, pummelled by the blasting explosions, with the earth quivering beneath them like living flesh that was being beaten.

From the top of a hill they could see in the distance a sea of fire in the plain below where the British shells were falling. In the flickering white gun-flashes they glimpsed the silhouettes of tanks lumbering forward and the shadowy files of marching men moving into position.

Towards daylight the barrage slackened in intensity. As the rumble of the guns diminished they heard through it the childish, distant tapping of small arms fire. The attack was going in.

‘Our turn next,’ grunted Charlie Venable as the order came to halt and once again the men of the Fifth Battalion pulled the spades from out of their webbing and began to dig.

They were still digging when the white light of morning had filled the sky. The plain below them was a wilderness of grey mist and dark, smudgy smoke, through which explosions winked like will-o’-the-wisps and the sounds of battle filtered.

Mister Paterson came hurrying up from headquarters towards his platoon. His cherub’s cheeks were pink with delight; he was whistling.

‘Well, my lads,’ he said, as he came among his men, ‘you all want to know, don’t you?’

The men straightened up from their digging.

He went on, ‘Here’s this morning’s situation report from Division. Yesterday’s attack – that was us – went right through the top crust. This morning’s attack is aimed at getting a bridgehead across the river. It’s going fine so far. I expect we’ll move across into the bridgehead this evening or tomorrow, and carry on from there. That’s all there is so far. Everyone all right, Sergeant Shannon?’

‘They could do wi’ a drop o’ rum, in them wet clothes,’ said the Sergeant.

‘It’ll be up,’ said Mister Paterson, ‘and there’s your compo rations to be picked up from Company H. Q. That’s about three hundred yards down the road – you’ll see a gap in the hedge on the right-hand side. You can send Lance Corporal Feather with three men.’ He turned to the men again. ‘Don’t dawdle now, my lads. Get yourselves dug in. It’s for your own good, you know.’

The men bent over their spades again. They knew now how they were faring and what was happening around them; that was fine, that was all they needed. They began to talk and laugh; they threw off their weariness and dug with a will.