Nevertheless he snatched up a rifle and was firing
as fast as he could into the gray ranks. John and Carstairs were doing
the same and the trench held by the Strangers was a continuous red
blaze. There was so much fire and smoke and so much whirling snow that
John could not see clearly. He was a prey to illusions. Now the Germans
were apparently at the very edge of the trench, and then they were
further away than he had first seen them. The white gloom was shot with
a red haze, and the shouts of soldiers, the commands of officers and
groans of wounded were mingled in a terrible turmoil of sound. But John
knew that the Germans would be driven tack. Only surprise could have
enabled them to win, and the vigilance of the French scouts had put
their commanders on guard.
Captain Colton walked up and down the trench, his face ghastly white,
although it was the flare of the searchlight and not any retreat of the
blood that made it so. Now and then under the frightful crash of the
rifles and machine guns he addressed brief words of warning and
encouragement to his men:
"Don't raise your heads too high! Keep cool! Aim at something! Here they
come again! Fire low!"
All of John's pulses were throbbing hard with excitement. He wished the
Germans would go back, and his wish was prompted--less by the desire of
victory than the sickening of his soul at so much slaughter.
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