'Jove, I never was gladder to see daylight,' said Ken hoarsely, as a pale
yellow light began to dim the stars. His eyes stung with powder smoke, his
mouth was sour with fatigue, and every muscle in his body ached.
'Well, lad, we've made good, anyway,' said O'Brien with a smile on his
blackened face. 'Just take a peep over, and see what ye can see.'
Ken raised his head cautiously and peered through the embrasure in front.
The sight that met his eyes was a terrible one. The scrub for nearly a
hundred yards in front of the trench had almost vanished. It had been
literally mown down by the storm of bullets which had raged across it all
night long. And all the open space was paved with the bodies of dead and
wounded men. There were hundreds of them, some on their faces, some on
their backs, most of them still enough, a few trying to crawl away, and
others moaning feebly.
It was a horrible sight, and for the moment Ken felt almost sick.
'They'll not thry it again just yet,' said O'Brien quietly.
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