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In the reserve trenches they halt, and take up their position in a concrete dugout, listening respectfully to the conversation between their colonel and the Regimental Commander of that sector of the lineHe too has come up for the attackAn hour before dark the artillery begins a creeping barrage which moves closer and closer to the enemy trenches, finally centers on them for a bombardment which lasts fifteen minutesGerman artillery is answering, and every few minutes a misdirected shell swooshes down tiffany heart tag near their observation postThe trench mortars have begun to fire and the volume of sound increases, floods everything, until they are shouting at each other
It's time, there they go, someone bellows
Cummings puts up his field glasses, looks out the slit in the concrete wallIn the twilight, covered with mud, the men look like silver shadows on a wan silver plainIt is raining again, and they waver forward between a walk and a run, falling on their faces, tottering backward, sliding on their bellies in chanel white bag the leaden-colored muckThe German lines are aroused and furious, return the fire cruellyLight and sound erupt from them viciously, become so immense that his senses are overwhelmed, finally perceive them only as a background for the advance of the infantry across the plain
The men move slowly now, leaning forward as if striding into the windHe is fascinated by the sluggishness of it all, the lethargy with which they advance and fallThere seems no pattern to the attack, no volition to the men; they cheap gucci advance in every direction like floating leaves in a pool disturbed by a stone, and yet there is a cumulative movement forwardThe ants in the final sense all go in one direction
Through the field glasses he watches one soldier run forward, plunge his head toward the mud, stand up and run againIt is like watching a crowd from a high window or separating a puppy from the rest of the wriggling brood in a pet-store windowThere is an oddness, an unreality, in realizing that the group is made up of units
The pasha cartier soldier falls, quivers in the mud, and he switches his glasses to another
They're at the German trenches, someone shouts
He looks up hastily, sees a few men jumping over the parapet, their bayonets forward like pole vaulters approaching the barThey seem to move so leisurely, so few men follow them that he is puzzledWhere are the rest he is about to say when there is a shout from the Regimental CommanderThey took it, they're good boys, they took itHe is holding the phone in his hand, shouting orders rolex watches women quick