Instantly, each squadron leader leaped the earthwork, shouting to his men.

Ranjoor Singh leaped up in front of us, and we followed him, all forgetting their distrust of him in the fierce excitement--remembering only how he had led us in the charge on that first night.

The air was thick with din, and fumes, and flying metal--for the Germans were not forgetting to use artillery.
I ceased to think of anything but going forward.

Who shall describe it?
Once in Bombay I heard a Christian preacher tell of the Judgment Day to come, when graves shall give up their dead.

That is not our Sikh idea of judgment, but his words brought before my mind a picture riot so much unlike a night attack in Flanders.