s likely to hold very stoutly to the high
ground at Epehy. Our A Battery was under orders to follow close on the
heels of the infantry, to assist in wiping out machine-gun nests.

The camp in which we had settled overnight possessed at least three
empty Nissen huts in good condition. The place had been captured from
the British during the March retreat, and retaken not more than three
days ago. Our guard-room sleeping quarters were not roomy enough for
four simultaneous morning toilets; so I had my tin bowl and shaving
articles taken over to one of the Nissen huts, and I stripped and
managed a "bowl-bath" before breakfast. The dog, who had quite taken
possession of me, stretched himself on the floor and kept an eye upon
me.

The wily Boche had improved our Nissen huts. Trap-doors in the wooden
floors and "funk-holes" down below showed how he feared our
night-bombers. Jagged holes in the semicircular iron roofing proved the
wisdom of his precautions.

By half-past eight a German 5.9 was planking shells over the camp, near
enough for flying fragments to rattle against the roof and walls of the
huts. Fifty rounds were fired in twenty minutes. The Boche gunners
varied neither range nor direction; and no one was hurt. The shelling
brought to light, however, a peculiarity of the dog. He chased away in
the direction of each exploding shell, and tried also to pursue the
pieces of metal that whizzed through the air. Nothing would hold him.
When he returned, panting, it was to search for water; but after a
short rest the shells lured him out again in vain excited quest.

Round his neck was a leather collar with a brass plate. The plate bore
the name of a brigadier-general commanding an infantry brigade of a
Division that had gone north. "No wonder he follows you," grinned
Wilde. "He thinks you are a General.... It must be your voice, or the
way you walk."

"More likely that I use the same polish for my leggings as the
General," I retorted.

Major Veasey called me, and we started forth to see how the battle was
progressing. The village of Lieramont had fallen very quickly, and
Major Bullivant had already reported by mounted orderly that his
battery had moved through the village, and come into action near the
sugar factory.

"Oh, the leetle dawg!" said Major Veasey in wheedling tones, fondling
the dog who frisked about him. Then he got his pipe going, and we
strode through desolated Nurlu and made across rolling prairie la