ctly as you do, sir," I responded in the same spirit.

The colonel was right as usual. The next round went well over the road
again, and we walked along comfortably. At the entrance to the village
lay two horses, freshly killed. The harness had not been removed. The
colonel called to two R.A.M.C. men standing near. "Remove those saddles
and the harness," he said, "and place them where they can be salvaged.
It will mean cutting the girths when the horses commence to swell."

At 4.30 next morning the batteries were roused to answer an S.O.S.
call. The rumble of guns along the whole of our Divisional front lasted
for two hours. By lunch-time we learned that strong Hun forces had got
into our trenches and penetrated as far as the quarry where the colonel
and myself had seen the sappers at work. Twenty sappers and their
officer had been caught below ground, in what had been destined to
become General ----'s headquarters. Our counter-attack had won back
only part of the lost ground.

"I'm afraid they'll spot all that ammunition. They are almost certain
now to know that something's afoot," said the colonel thoughtfully.

"Something like this always does happen when we arrange anything,"
broke in the adjutant gloomily.

There were blank faces that day. We waited to hear whether there would
be a change of plan. But after dark the ammunition waggons again poured
ceaselessly along the roads that led to the front.

VI. THE BATTLE OF AUGUST 8

On the afternoon of August 7 the colonel left us to assume command of
the Divisional Artillery, the C.R.A. having fallen ill and the senior
colonel being on leave. Major Veasey, a Territorial officer, who was
senior to our two regular battery commanders, a sound soldier and a
well-liked man, had come over from D Battery to command the Brigade. A
determined counter-attack, carried out by one of our Divisional
infantry brigades, had won back most of the ground lost to the Boche
the day before. Operation orders for the big attack on the morning of
the 8th had been circulated to the batteries, and between 9 P.M. and 10
P.M. the guns were to move up to the battle positions. The old wheeler
was looking ruefully at the ninety-two steps leading from the quarry up
to our mess. Made of wooden pegs and sides of ammunition boxes, the
steps had taken him three days to complete. "My gosh! that does seem a
waste of labour," commented the American doctor, with a slow smile.

"Doctor, those ste