rom the Divisional commander.... And don't
rely too much on battalion commanders. Very few battalion commanders
know anything about artillery. It's a pity, but it's a fact." He
responded with dignity to our salutes, and rode off, followed by his
attendant staff officers and the grooms.

The major got more and more tired of the walking. It was half-past two
now, and we were both pretty hungry. The dog seemed as frisky and
energetic as when he chased the shells at breakfast-time. We passed a
big dressing station; a wheeled stretcher stood outside. "As we didn't
take a train ride, should I push you back in that, major?" I inquired
with due seriousness. Major Veasey smiled, and we started on the last
mile and a half.

There were prospects, we learned when we got back to Nurlu and read the
reports received by the adjutant, of another move forward for the
batteries.

"This looks like bringing the waggon lines over the canal," said the
adjutant, showing the major the following wire from the staff
captain:--

"Good spring at V 201 b 2.7. Water-cart filling-point being
arranged. Approaches good for water-carts. Troughs now in order
at V 202 c 8.5."

Another message of the same tenor, having to do with gun repairs, ran--

"No. 347 light shop moves to Moislains to-morrow. Will undertake
quick repairs. Longer jobs will be sent back to Nos. 124 B----
and 192 F----."

A third telegram supplied a reminder that the spiteful Boche still
had time to leave devilish traps for the unwary--

"Advanced guard --th Division found small demolition charges in
Nissen hut at W 123 b 8.9, and mined dug-out W 129 d 3.2."

"Yes," remarked Major Veasey, "we are certain to move again to-night.
The wise man will take a lie down until tea-time." And he hied him to
the wire bed in the guard-room.

* * * * *

At 8.15 that night Wilde and I, the Headquarters party, and the dog,
having waited an hour and a half for the orderly that Major Veasey had
promised to send back to guide us to a new headquarters, settled in
some old German gun-pits, scooped out of a lofty chalk bank. Our march
had brought us through Lieramont and beyond the shell-mauled cemetery
where the Boche in his quest of safety had transformed the very vaults
into dug-outs.

The horses were sent back to the waggon line and the drivers told to
bring them up again at 6 A.M.; and I was arranging the relief of the
orderl