The Seed of Empire by Fred M. White

The day was beginning to draw on, and there were thousands there who had had enough of it. It was not that there was anything the matter with their pluck, or that fear was gnawing at their hearts, for even the youngest of them had long since got over that numbed feeling which comes to every soldier, however stout his nerves may be, when for the first time he finds himself under fire. It had become a sheer case of physical endurance now, and the battle would go to those that were the best equipped to meet it. And that was where the British outdoor life, the hours in the playing fields, and sport which is second nature, were telling against the foe.

There were points here and there, of course, where the attack hung fire. In so big an engagement this was inevitable. On so wide a field, trenched to the last inch, and fortified with barbed wire entanglements, it was inevitable that even the intensity of our artillery fire must miss some part of these defences. This happened more than once, holding the attack up awkwardly, and causing unnecessary loss of life. For instance, there was a place near the centre of the line where our troops seemed to linger much to the uneasiness of those directing the attack, for it was vital that there should be no gap in the line, and that no trench should remain untaken.