For a while – he could not tell how long – he lay sprawled on his back, relaxed, looking up at the sky in a strange, disembodied apathy. Then he began to move his head slightly from one side to the other, and to move his limbs about. As he did so, pain stabbed at his spine, downward from the back of his neck, and his legs began to hurt abominably; but he was able to move them; and when he drew his arms up and fought to raise himself on his elbow, his muscles and his body responded.

Slowly he forced himself up into a sitting position. Something tugged at his neck. He became aware that his machine carbine was still slung across his chest. Understanding of what had happened began to seep back into him. Dazedly he looked about him, seeing with his one good eye through a blur of tears.

The carrier was a dozen yards away, upside down, burning. Red flame crackled round it and a column of black smoke rose from it and spread into the sky. A pair of human legs protruded from under the carrier; the body was pinned down from the waist. Hawking blood up from his throat, Bender turned painfully the other way. The body of one of the riflemen was in the hedge, stuffed into the thick bush well above the ground, head downward and doubled up, like a doll.

Something moved in the smoke. Maddison came crawling towards him on all fours. The major’s face was blackened, his clothes were torn and burned. He seemed weak and dazed; otherwise, Sergeant Bender could see no sign of wounds.

Sergeant Bender became aware again of the fury rising against the blood in his throat and of the machine carbine thumping against his chest. He grasped the carbine and turned the muzzle towards Major Maddison.

The officer stopped crawling; He stared, for a moment, without comprehending; then he fumbled at his revolver holster.

Sergeant Bender spat more blood from his throat. He squeezed the trigger and felt the carbine quivering in his hands. Maddison slid forward and lay on his face in the roadway, his blood spreading darkly in the dust.

‘All right, Sergeant.’

Bender jerked with fear at the voice in his ears.

‘Take it easy, Sergeant.’ The voice was coming from the ditch. ‘We’ll get you out of this all right.’

Strong hands reached under his armpits, closed round his chest and dragged him down into the ditch. A hundred knives of pain stabbed at him as he was moved. He became aware of two faces over him; of the firm, pitiless pressure of hands pulling away cloth and skin, dabbing away dirt; of the cool dressing laid against his face; of the bandage winding, winding, winding, until his face was smothered, bound, immovable, with only his lips, his nostrils and his left eye free.