nd,
broken by earthworks and shell-holes. A couple of heavy hows. were
dropping shells on the grassy ridge that rose on our left--wasted
shots, because no batteries were anywhere near. We stuck to the valley,
and, passing a dressing station where a batch of walking cases were
receiving attention, drew near to the conglomeration of tin huts,
broken walls, and tumbled red roofs that stood for Lieramont. We
stopped to talk to two wounded infantry officers on their way to a
casualty clearing station. The advance had gone well, they said,
except at Saulcourt, which was not yet cleared. They were young and
fresh-coloured, imperturbable in manner, clear in their way of
expressing themselves. One of them, jacketless, had his left forearm
bandaged. Through a tear in his shirt sleeve I noticed the ugly purple
scar of an old wound above the elbow. Odd parties of infantry and
engineers stood about the streets. Plenty of wounded were coming
through. I ran in to examine a house that looked like a possible
headquarters of the future, and looked casually at a well that the
Boche had blown in. The dog was still at my heels.

"Now we want to find the sugar factory to see how Bullivant is getting
on," said the major, refilling his pipe. We pulled out maps and saw the
factory plainly marked; and then followed a hard good-conditioned road
that led over a hill.

We were getting now to a region where shells fell more freely. A mile
to the north-east machine-gun duels were in progress. When we saw the
wrecked factory with its queer-looking machinery--something like giant
canisters--we pressed forward. No sign whatever of A Battery! I looked
inside some tin huts: one had been used as a German mess, another as an
officers' bath-house; flies swarmed upon old jam and meat tins; filth
and empty bottles and stumps of candles, a discarded German uniform,
torn Boche prints, and scattered picture periodicals. "There's no one
here," mused Major Veasey. "I suppose the battery has moved forward
again."

Beyond a tangled heap of broken machinery, that included a huge
fly-wheel, bent and cracked, stood a big water-tank, raised aloft on
massive iron standards. "We might be able to see something from up
there," said the major. There was a certain amount of swarming to be
done, and the major, giving up the contest, aided me to clamber up. Out
of breath I stood up in the dusty waterless tank, and got out my
binoculars. Towards where the crackle of machine-g