took us to
our waggons. The drivers and spare signallers were waiting orders to
settle down for the night. When I told the cook that we only wanted
bare necessities in the mess cart, he answered, "That'll mean emptying
the cart first. We've got everything aboard now." Such things as the
stove, the spare crockery and cutlery, several tins of biscuits, and
the officers' kit were quickly dumped upon the ground, and I told off
one of the servants to act as guard over it until the morning. "What
about this, sir?" inquired the cook, opening a large cardboard box.
"The interpreter sent it up this evening." I noted twenty eggs and a
cake. "Yes, put that in," I replied quickly.

Wilde detailed a signaller to accompany the driver of the cart, and,
with Meddings and two of the servants walking behind, the journey
commenced. A ten-minutes' hold-up occurred when Captain Denny of B
Battery, a string of waggons behind him, shouted my name through the
darkness. He wanted the loan of my torch for a brief study of the
shell-holes, as he intended establishing the battery waggon lines in
the vicinity.

The Boche had started his night-firing in earnest by the time the mess
cart and party passed the cross-roads at Guillemont. A pungent smell of
gas led to much coughing and sneezing. The air cleared as the road
ascended, but shells continued to fly about us, and no one looked
particularly happy. There were nervy, irritating moments when waggons
in front halted unaccountably; and, just before the railway crossing,
Wilde had to go forward and coax a pair of R.E. mules, who refused to
pass the four dead horses lying in the road. The railway crossing
passed, we began to look for the black-and-white signalling pole.

"Here it is," called Wilde with relief, as a 5.9 sped over us towards
the railway line. "Come along, Miller," he shouted to the mess-cart
driver, fifty yards behind us. The cart creaked and wobbled in the
bumpy ditch-crossing that led past the pole. "There's the big
building," said I, going on ahead, "and here's the Red Cross place.
We're getting on fine. We'll tell M'Klown and Tommy Tucker that we'll
apply for a job with the 980 company" (the A.S.C. company that supplied
the Brigade with forage and rations).

"We want to go half-right from here," I continued, lighting up my torch
for four or five seconds. The track led, however, to the left, and we
slowed our pace. Another two hundred yards and we came to a junction;
one track