Major Veasey,
descending the dug-out with a signalling watch in his hand. "I'm afraid
I shall have to ask you to take the time round to the batteries and to
the --th Brigade, who aren't in communication yet with Divisional
Artillery. Sorry to fire you out in the dark--but secrecy, you know."

Zero hour was timed for 4.20 A.M.; it was now 11.30 P.M.; so I donned
steel helmet and box-respirator, and was moving off when a loud clear
voice called from the road, "Is this --nd Brigade Headquarters?" It was
Major Simpson of B Battery, buoyant and debonair. "Hallo!" he burst
forth, noticing me. "Where are you bound for?... Um--yes!... I think I
can save you part of the journey.... I'm here, and Lamswell is coming
along.... We're both going to the new positions."

Captain Lamswell of C Battery suddenly appearing, accompanied by young
Beale of A Battery, we made our way to the mess, where Major Veasey and
the adjutant were sorting out alterations in the operation orders just
brought by a D.A. despatch-rider. Beale and Major Simpson slaughtered a
few dozen flies, and accepted whiskies-and-sodas. Then I synchronised
watches with representatives of the three batteries present, and young
Beale said that he would check the time with D Battery, who were only
two minutes' walk from A. That left me to call upon the --th Brigade,
who lay on the far side of the village three parts of a mile out.

We set out, talking and jesting. There was a high expectancy in the air
that affected all of us. Major Simpson broke off humming "We are the
Robbers of the Wood" to say, "Well, if this show comes off to-morrow,
leave ought to start again." "I should shay sho," put in Lamswell in
his best Robey-cum-Billy Merson manner. "Doesn't interest me much,"
said I. "I'm such a long way down the list that it will be Christmas
before I can hope to go. The colonel told me to put in for a few days
in Paris while we were out at rest last month, but I've heard nothing
more about it."

When Major Simpson, Lamswell, and Beale, with cheery "Good-night," made
for the sunken road that led past the dressing station, and then over
the crest to their new positions, I kept on my way, leaving a
red-brick, barn-like factory on my left, and farther along a tiny
cemetery. Now that I was in open country and alone, I became more
keenly sensitive to the damp mournfulness of the night. What if
to-morrow should result in failure? It was only four months since the
Hun was swampi