We back like awkward cattle, and restart more
heavily.
"Look out for the wire!" The telephone wire undulates above the
trench, and crosses it in places between two posts. When it is too
slack, its curve sags into the trench and catches the rifles of
passing men, and the ensnared ones struggle, and abuse the engineers
who don't know how to fix up their threads.
Then, as the drooping entanglement of precious wires increases, we
shoulder our rifles with the butt in the air, carry the shovels
under our arms, and go forward with lowered heads.
* * * * * *
Our progress now is suddenly checked, and we only advance step by
step, locked in each other. The head of the column must be in
difficult case. We reach a spot where failing ground leads to a
yawning hole--the Covered Trench. The others have disappeared
through the low doorway. "We've got to go into this blackpudding.
then?"
Every man hesitates before ingulfing himself in the narrow
underground darkness, and it is the total of these hesitations and
lingerings that is reflected in the rear sections of the column in
the form of wavering, obstruction, and sometimes abrupt shocks.
From our first steps in the Covered Trench, a heavy darkness settles
on us and divides us from each other. The damp odor of a swamped
cave steals into us. In the ceiling of the earthen corridor that
contains us, we can make out a few streaks and holes of pallor--the
chinks and rents in the overhead planks.
Pages:
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386