Pushed and the Return Push | Page 7

who had had a piece of his ear chipped
off by a splinter, and had gone to a dressing station. The news from B
Battery aroused much more interest. An 8-inch shell had landed right
on top of their dug-out mess. No one was inside at the time, but three
officers, who were wont to sleep there, had had every article of kit
destroyed. One subaltern who, in spite of the PREPARE FOR
ATTACK notification, had put on pyjamas, was left with exactly what
he stood up in--viz., pyjamas, British warm, and gum-boots.

11 A.M.: The colonel had spoken more than once about the latest
situation to the brigade-major of the Infantry Brigade we were covering,
and to our own brigade-major. The staff captain had rung me up about
the return of dirty underclothing of men visiting the Divisional Baths;
there was a base paymaster's query regarding the Imprest Account
which I had answered; a batch of Corps and Divisional routine orders
had come in, notifying the next visits of the field cashier, emphasising
the need for saving dripping, and demanding information as to the
alleged damage done to the bark of certain trees by our more
frolicsome horses. Another official envelope I opened showed that
Records were worrying whether a particular regimental sergeant-major
was an acting or a temporary sergeant-major.
The doctor and the signalling officer had gone forward to visit the
batteries. Hostile shelling seemed to have died out. The mist was
denser than ever--a weather phenomenon that continued to puzzle.
The telephone bell tinkled again; the colonel turned from the big
map-board on the wall and took up the receiver. "Col. ----
speaking!--Yes!--Have they?--Sorry to hear that!--Umph!--No! no
signs of an attack on our front. Let me know any further
developments--Good-bye!"
He looked towards me and said briefly, "The Boche infantry have got
over on our left! Came through the mist! I'm afraid the --rd (our
companion Field Artillery Brigade) have caught it badly. Two of their
batteries have lost all their guns. Get me the brigade-major of the ----
Brigade"--turning to the telephone again.
He told the brigade-major of the Infantry we were covering the news of
the break on the left. No, our infantry had not yet been attacked; but up
in the front it was difficult to see anything in the mist.
The colonel studied his wall-map with intentness, and put a forefinger
on the --rd Brigade gun positions. "If he's through there we can expect
him in ---- (naming a village of great strategical importance) in a
couple of hours."

A runner came in from C Battery, with whom we had had no
communication for nearly two hours. The Huns seemed to know their
position, and had put over a regular fusilade of 4·2's and 5·9's and
gas-shells. The duck-board running outside the dug-outs behind the
guns had had six direct hits, and two of the dug-outs were blown in,
also No. 2 gun had had its off-wheel smashed by a splinter; two men
rather badly wounded.
For an hour there was no further news, and, assisted by my two clerks, I
proceeded peacefully with the ordinary routine work of the adjutant's
department. The doctor came back and said that A Battery were all
right, but could not get communication with their F.O.O., not even by
lamp. The 8-inch shell had made very short work of B Battery's mess.
"Poor old Drake," went on the doctor, "he'd got a new pair of cavalry
twill breeches, cost him £5, 10s., and he'd never even worn them. They
came by parcel yesterday, and the fools at the waggon line sent them up
last night." Bliss, he added, had stayed with B Battery, and was trying
to get the line through between A and B, so that Headquarters could
speak to A.
I strolled over to the other side of the quarry where the colonel's, the
doctor's, and my horses were under cover, and found they had not been
troubled by the gas. The men were at dinner; we were to lunch at 1.15
P.M.
12.40 P.M.: The colonel was again speaking to the Infantry
brigade-major. Still no signs of the German infantry in our front line.
Then in one swift moment the whole situation changed. A sweating,
staggering gunner blundered into the doorway. He made no pretence at
saluting, but called out with all his strength: "The Boche is through."
"Who is that man?" demanded the colonel, whipping round like
lightning, and frowning. "Bring him here! Who do you belong to?"
The man had calmed; but before he could reply there was another
interruption. A strained voice outside shouted, "Is the colonel there? Is
the adjutant there?" Hurrying through the doorway, I saw a tall,

perspiring, hatless young subaltern, cursing because he had got
entangled in the guy-ropes