"
The men were then told off by companies, some to the battery, some to
the trenches, some were kept on each side Death's Alley, ready for a
rush.
They were not all of them in position, when those behind the parapet
saw, as it were, something deepen the gloom of night, some fourscore
yards to the front: it was like a line of black ink suddenly drawn upon
a sheet covered with Indian ink.
It seems quite stationary. The novices wondered what it was. The
veterans muttered--"Three deep."
Though it looked stationary, it got blacker and blacker. The soldiers of
the 24th brigade griped their muskets hard, and set their teeth, and the
sergeants had much ado to keep them quiet.
All of a sudden, a loud yell on the right of the brigade, two or three
single shots from the trenches in that direction, followed by a volley,
the cries of wounded men, and the fierce hurrahs of an attacking party.
Our colonel knew too well those sounds: the next parallel had been
surprised, and the Prussian bayonet was now silently at work.
Disguise was now impossible. At the first shot, a guttural voice in
front of Dujardin's men was heard to give a word of command.
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