ght. Zero hour for the battle was 5.15 A.M. The mess cart could come
along afterwards. The proposition was favourably received, the major's
only revision referring to his white wine.

Headquarter waggons had remained the other side of Guillemont, and I
volunteered to walk back and bring the servants up. The major thought
that Wilde ought to accompany me; it was not too pleasant a pilgrimage
with the Boche maintaining his shelling.

But as we climbed the stairs of the dug-out the major made a further
decision. "I think you might as well bring the mess cart," he called
out. I paused. "Not very easy to bring it round here in the dark, sir,"
I said, and Wilde raised his eyebrows deprecatingly.

"Yes, I think you had better bring it," continued the major. "There are
two officers, and besides, the drivers have to learn the way to come
here.... Don't forget my bottle of white wine, old fellow," was his
parting reminder as Wilde and I set off.

The nature of the shelling caused us to direct our steps through the
Boche depot towards the railway again. "Pity we didn't have something
to eat before we came up here," growled Wilde. "What road are we going
to bring the cart along when we come back? There's no proper track when
we get off the main road."

I looked back towards the hut in which we had left the major and the
adjutant. There was little to distinguish it from several other huts.
"There's the Red Cross station and that big wooden building at the
corner; I think we shall recognise them again," I said.

"Do you see that signalling pole on the roadside? That's a pole
crossing, and I know there's a track leading off the road there," added
Wilde shrewdly. "That's the way we'd better bring the cart."

It was nearly dark when we reached the Guillemont cross-roads. Small
parties of infantrymen were coming along, and ammunition and ration
waggons. As we turned up the road leading south-west, a
square-shouldered man with a stiff big-peaked cap saluted with the
crisp correctness of the regular soldier. I recognised the
sergeant-major of A Battery.

"Were you much shelled when you took your waggon lines up there this
evening?" I asked him.

"Yes, sir. It got too hot, and Major Bullivant sent us down again half
an hour ago. All the batteries have shifted their waggon lines back
behind Guillemont, sir."

"All the more exciting for us," muttered Wilde. By the aid of my
electric torch we picked our way along a rough track that