Then those English and Irish and Scottish troops, grievously weak because of all the dead and wounded behind them, struggled through to the second German line, from which there came a still fiercer rattle of machine-gun and rifle-fire. Some of them broke through that line, too, and went ahead in isolated parties across the wild crater land, over chasms and ditches and fallen trees, toward the highest ground, which had been their goal. Nothing was seen of them. They disappeared into clouds of smoke and flame. Gunner observers saw rockets go up in far places⁠—our rockets⁠—showing that outposts had penetrated into the German lines. Runners came back⁠—survivors of many predecessors who had fallen on the way⁠—with scribbled messages from company officers. One came from the Essex and King’s Own of the 4th Division, at a place called Pendant Copse, southeast of Serre. “For God’s sake send us bombs.” It was impossible to send them bombs. No men could get to them through the deep barrage of shellfire which was between them and our supporting troops. Many tried and died.