Page 87 - A Hero of Liége

Round the hedge came swiftly two men in blue coats with the red cross on
their sleeves, carrying an ambulance. A groan rose from it.

"I can't stand this," said Pariset.

He dashed along the hedge and into the open. Kenneth instinctively
followed him, not doubting for a moment what it was that Pariset could not

stand. Pariset, with Kenneth close at his heels, made straight for the nearest
trench, heedless of the shot and shell whistling, singing, crashing around

them. They flung themselves into the trench, and Kenneth, without
understanding how it had happened, found himself leaning forward, rifle in
hand, listening to a droning monotone from Pariset a yard to the left of him.

"Mark your man.... Don't be in a hurry.... Keep your head as low as

possible.... You'll soon get used to the noise."

It was a minute or two before Kenneth realised that the rifle had been thrust

into his hand for use. Looking over the parapet of the trench he was still
confused and bewildered. Pariset expected him to fire, but where was the

enemy? He saw the long grass waving in the breeze, a few scattered trees in
the field beyond, wisps and cloudlets of smoke--and then, as the range of
his vision increased, in the far distance a bluish-grey mass rolling like a

billow towards him.

At last he understood. That bluish-grey mass was the enemy. It represented
brute force, broken faith, merciless tyranny. It was the devastating flood
which these brave soldiers about him were giving their lives to check.

Presently he distinguished individuals in the mass.

"Mark your man!"

The words, coolly spoken by Pariset on his left, set his imagination on fire.
It was his privilege to have a share in their fight for freedom. He laid the

rifle to his shoulder, marked his man along the sight, and a touch of his
finger sped a bullet on its way.