Young Scott, stooping in order to keep his head covered well, started down the trench.

The artillery fire was at its height.

The waves of air followed one another with great violence, and the fumes of picric acid and of other acids that he did not know became very strong.
But he scarcely noticed it.

The bombardment was all in the day's work, and when the Germans ceased, the French, after a decent interval, would begin their own cannonade, carried on at equal length.
John thought little of the fire of the guns, now almost a regular affair like the striking of a clock, but force of habit kept his head down and no German sharpshooter watching in the trench opposite had a chance at him.

He advanced through a vast burrow.