H. Hesketh-Prichard

“ As he watched, Red remembered the words of the Corps Commander : " There is no No Man's Land. It must be our land right up to the enemy trenches." That was an ideal to live up to. But stare now as he would, and as he continued to do for an hour, he saw nothing, could see nothing of Wilibald. Broken wire, shell holes, sandbags, pulverized bricks and mortar, men lying in queer positions, men whose ragged tunics the evening wind stirred strangely, men who would never move again. ”

“ He stood watching them for a little, his thoughts roving from the horrible way in which a pointed bullet, fired from a rifle with a muzzle-velocity of 3,000 feet a second, will at times keyhole, to the deeds and too-haunting personality of Wilibald the Hun. British troops have throughout the war given names to any German sniper whose deeds lent him a personality. Fritz is generic ; but once let a Hun impress himself by skill, and he is christened. ”

“ Red laughed.
"Wilibald's not a dasher," said he. "He's a regular Hun. Probably has some rule about not firing unless he can see half the head he's aiming at. ' Shoot to kill' is his motto. Useful man, Wilibald. I wonder if his company commander appreciates him."
After passing along the trench and warning its garrison not to give unnecessary targets, Red went a round of his observers. They were stationed at loopholes and in O.P.s.
" Keep a good look-out, and try to spot Wilibald if he fires again. The light will be pretty good when the sun works round behind us." ”