When it gets dark, the Italians direct their barrage
fire farther back, and give you a chance to climb out. To be sure, they
won't lie in peace there under the earth very long, because the shells
rip everything open right away again. I've had to have my poor ensign
buried three times over already."
"How did they get in here anyhow?" Weixler asked, pushing himself
forward. "Did you have a fight in the trench?"
The other lieutenant shook his head proudly. "I should rather say not.
The gentlemen never got as far as that. These three tried to cut the
wire entanglements night before last, but our machine gun man caught 'em
at it and his iron spatter spoiled their little game. Well, there they
lay, of course, right under our very noses and they had on the loveliest
shoes of bright yellow. My men begrudged 'em those shoes. There--" he
ended, pointing with his finger at the feet of the pale sergeant--
"there you see one pair. But we'll have to start now. March, sergeant!
My respects, Captain. The Italians'll open their eyes when they come
over to-night to finish us off comfortably and a hundred and fifty
rifles go off and two brand-new bullet squirters. Ha-ha! Sorry I can't
be here to see it! Good-by, little man! Good luck!" Humming a merry
popular song he followed his men without looking back, without even
observing that Marschner accompanied him a little on his way.
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