We are no longer in the trench.
"Get your heads down--kneel!" We stop and go on our knees.

A star-shell pierces us with its intolerable gaze.
By its light we see, a few steps in front of us, a gaping trench.

We were going to fall into it.

It is motionless and empty--no, it is occupied--yes, it is empty.

It is full of a file of slain watchers.
The row of men was no doubt starting out of the earth when the shell burst in their faces; and by the poised white rays we see that the blast has staved them in, has taken away the flesh; and above the level of the monstrous battlefield there is left of them only some fearfully distorted heads.