hove in
sight they raced out to the wagon line. Many and eager were the
inquiries fired at me as to what was happening up the line. They knew
the parson had gone up and they were burning to know what was doing. I
told them as well as I could.

"Stand to!" from the Q.M. and they came running from their tents, not
waiting to take even a blanket, throwing in their equipment as fast as
they could, trotting their horses over to the ammunition trucks and
hitching them up.

"Stand to your horses! Prepare to mount! Mount!" came the three distinct
orders roared out by the Quartermaster, with scarcely a second's time
between each and its fulfillment. With a gunner in each wagon we
started in less than eight minutes from the time the order was given,
trotting as hard as horses could trot over the cobblestones.

It was not long before we came in contact with the fire, but luck was
with us and we escaped until we got to the ammunition dump, where we
loaded up with ammunition as fast as men ever worked; it was a joy
forever to see those boys work. We had to load up in chain fashion, as
it was impossible for the wagons to get to a dump more than four at a
time, and the loading was done by the men passing the shells from hand
to hand until each wagon was loaded. Then not a second was lost in
starting. The crossroads were reached, but the traffic was so congested
we could not pass for a while.

Shells were raining down when we finally started, one of them blowing
the body off one of our wagons, leaving the limber, but no further
damage beyond the driver, Luther, breaking his leg. A gunner took his
place and Luther was laid in the gutter until such time as he could be
picked up. We galloped past the Empire battery, got to the Belgian
Garden at last, taking cover under a clump of trees until the firing had
cooled somewhat, and then we took the chance--it was one in ten--to get
by. Starting on a dead gallop, shells commenced to chase us all the way
up the road. Keeping as well under cover of the hedge as we could, we
crossed the railroad bridge, and as we neared the entrance to Ypres
square the fire again cooled down; but on getting into the square 25
shells, exploding one after the other as quickly as so many seconds,
followed by thunderclaps of brain-splitting noise, ripped up the paving
stones, flinging them in all directions, and taking chunks out of the
eight wagons and wheels. Trotting sharply through the square, we got to
Rampa