so started some ammunition going that was lying about and it was
under the greatest difficulty that the men, whose lives were not lost in
the first explosion, managed to get away. The men were trying to
manhandle the remainder of the guns of the battery and we jumped off our
horses, fastened them to an old wagon lying in the ditch, and headed
over to lend a hand. With much tugging and perspiring we saved three of
the guns.

Explosions of these tremendous projectiles were deafening in the
extreme, and here there were two or three of them exploding at once in
our immediate neighborhood.

Again we mounted on our way to Pozieres and, when reaching our journey's
end, Fritzie began pumping in his crying shells; these are the kind
that draw copious tears, inflame the eyes and make things generally
disagreeable. We had not brought our goggles and suffered from a
temporary spell of blindness; we had not had any trouble from this
particular kind of visitor for some time and had not bothered to keep
our glasses with us. Groping along, blinking my eyes to get a little
gleam of light, I stumbled across four or five dead horses and was
nearly thrown from my horse.

I warned Downey, who was behind me, and he avoided the trouble, but we
had to keep a tight rein on our thoroughly frightened animals. It was
impossible to get them past the dead horses until some others went by
and then, leading them by the bridle, we got by.

Traffic was now fearfully congested on account of some tanks that were
taking cover in the sunken road for their attack in the morning, and a
shower of shells dropping here and there along the road did not add to
our comfort. We passed through Courcelette Valley and came to a small
bridge crossing a trench; this particular bridge was the subject of hot
shellfire, as it was the only point where traffic could cross for about
a mile to the right or left, and Fritz was well aware of the fact. When
half-way across, a shell exploded, killing my horse, and the animal
rolled over with me on its back, twisting my leg. For a while I thought
my number was up; in a few moments I was able to get up behind Downey.

We had reached the end of our journey, got to the gun, delivered the
piston rod and reported to the Captain. He instructed us to stay there
for the night and told Downey to tie up his horse in one of the German
gun pits; then Downey was ordered to go on S.O.S. sentry duty. He had
our sincere sympathy, for the rest