It is one thing to occupy a trench already made, quite another to dig one
under fire. There is no question of standing up and wielding the shovel as
if one were digging a garden. Men must lie down and scratch and scrape
until they get head cover, then gradually open up a narrow ditch into
which they sink slowly.
'I didn't enlist as a blooming navvy,' grunted Roy Horan, who had stuck by
Ken and Dave. 'Phew, but it's hot as a North Island beach on Christmas
Day!'
As he spoke came an earth-shaking thud, and Ken, who was next to Roy,
grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down flat on the ground.
Just in time, too, for next instant the earth three yards away in front
burst upwards in a fountain of stones and pieces of broken steel. Ken felt
a blast of heat and stinging sand across the back of his neck, while the
concussion made his head ring.
'What the blazes?' muttered Roy, as he lifted his head and looked round
dazedly.
'It was blazes all right,' answered Ken dryly. 'A high explosive shell, my
lad.
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