d a village that was farther south, but on
the same map-contour. Judge of my relief when I encountered Fentiman,
who told me that D and A would be along in ten minutes. I emphasised
the need for despatch, and he told me that the previous night his
battery's waggon lines had been taken back farther than they should
have been; the horses being thoroughly done, they had had a proper halt
at midnight. "We'll be firing in twenty minutes," he added
optimistically. "I'll dash along and work out the targets with Major
Bartlett."

A couple of Horse Artillery batteries had come into action a quarter of
a mile behind ours, and shells began to fly in the direction of the
enemy in business-like fashion. From the ridge we looked into a village
that sloped up again to a thick belt of trees three thousand yards in
front of us and to blue distances away on the right. Down the slopes
tiny blue figures could be seen feverishly throwing up earth; parties
of twenty and thirty men, khaki-clad, every now and then emerged from
the wood, and in single file dipped down to the valley and came towards
the village I had just left. The problem would undoubtedly be how far
the retirement would proceed before French reinforcements made the line
massive enough for a proper stand. The colonel was now with the
batteries, checking their lines of fire, and encouraging battery
commanders to do their damnedest until the French artillery came along.
My groom told me that the colonel had had a very narrow escape as he
passed through Commenchon. A shell dropped thirty yards from him, and a
splinter had wounded his mare.

8.30 A.M.: The eternal machine-guns were spluttering devilishly in the
wood opposite. Our infantry were coming back in larger numbers now, and
I thought glumly of what the brigade-major had said the previous
evening, "We are going to fight for this line." The colonel had
conferred with the colonel of the Horse Artillery, who said that his
orders were to pull out at 9.15, come what may. "The Corps are
particularly anxious that no more guns should be lost." The veterinary
sergeant of a Horse Artillery battery had dressed the colonel's mare,
although she was too excited for him to get the splinter out. "I think
she deserves to have a wound stripe up," smiled the colonel, who was
exceedingly fond of her.

9 A.M.: No signs yet of the French artillery. There seemed to be a
curious lull in the fighting. Only the Boche long-range guns were
firing,