All we had to do was to keep our bodies below Grim's kite affair, out of the probable line of fire.
Nevertheless, that dark hole was untempting.

A dank smell came out of it, like the breath of those old Egyptian tombs in which the bones of horses, buried with their masters, lie all about on shelves.

You couldn't see into it more than a yard or two, for the only light came through the doorway of the windowless room, and the tunnel led into the womb of rock where, perhaps, no light had been since Solomon's day.
But the leading Sikhs went in without hesitation and got down on their bellies.

They might have been swallowed whole for all that I heard or saw of them from that minute.

You could guess why the Turks and Germans had not really craved to meet those fellows out in No-man's-land.
Grim went in on all-fours like a weird animal, with my shirt dancing on its frame above his back.