He knew now what annihilation meant.
The heavy French field guns behind them were firing over their heads, but there was still nothing in front, merely the low green hills and not even a flash of flame nor a puff of smoke.

The whistling death came out of space.
The French went on, a wide shallow valley opened out before them, and they descended by the easy slope into it.

Here the German shells and shrapnel ceased to fall among them, but, as the heavy thunder continued, John knew the guns had merely turned aside their fire for other points on the French line.

Carstairs by his side gave an immense sigh of relief.
"I can never get used to the horrible roaring and groaning of those shells," he said.

"If I get killed I'd like it to be done without the thing that does it shrieking and gloating over me." They were well in the valley now, and John noticed that along its right ran a dense wood, fresh and green despite the lateness of the season.
But as he looked he heard the shrill snarling of many trumpets, and, for a moment or two, his heart stood still, as a vast body of German cavalry burst from the screen of the wood and rushed down upon them.
It was not often in this war that cavalry had a great chance, but here it had come.