The message of death has gone forth. Over beyond the field and that
narrow line of trees, what has happened? A great noise, the furious
recoiling of the guns, an upcurling of smoke--that is the firing of a
battery. But over there, perhaps, one man, or twenty, or fifty men,
lying still.
So I required assurance that this battery was not being fired for me.
I had no morbid curiosity as to batteries. One of the officers assured
me that I need have no concern. Though they were firing earlier than
had been intended, a German battery had been located and it was their
instructions to disable it.
The battery had been well concealed.
"No German aeroplane has as yet discovered it," explained the officer
in charge.
To tell the truth, I had not yet discovered it myself. We had alighted
from the machine in a sea of mud. There was mud everywhere.
A farmhouse to the left stood inaccessible in it. Down the road a few
feet a tree with an observation platform rose out of it. A few
chickens waded about in it. A crowd of soldiers stood at a respectful
distance and watched us. But I saw no guns.
One of the officers stooped and picked up the cast shoe of a battery
horse, and shaking the mud off, presented it to me.
"To bring you luck," he said, "and perhaps luck to the battery!"
We left the road, and turning to the right made a floundering progress
across a field to a hedge.
Pages:
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231