Full details of the issue here.
Nicholas Semper knew he was damned whatever he did.
Shells thumped into the mud of the Somme around him. Miles to the south the German gunners were working hard to find their range, pick out the thin line of the British trenches amid shattered acres of mud. They were getting closer. The last shuddering boom had been near enough to make the ground skip beneath his feet.
It had also made Major Featherstone's ridiculous china tea cup rattle in its ridiculous china saucer. Semper stood in the Major’s dugout, maintaining his best estimate of standing to attention. He had to suppress the impulse to flee, an impulse which seemed to him entirely sensible. He didn't want to die and not standing in a trench in the Somme seemed a good way to go about that...