Barraging on the field today is much the same as running a great ocean liner. The man who sees is not the man who does! The lookout or observer has nothing to do with the actual control of the vessel. The battery on the field is pulled up into position by horses, then lined up for action and the horses are hurried back to a safe place. The lieutenant directs the fire and the gunners do the firing, but no one sees his target or his results. Just behind them, a telephone operator receives the messages, sitting perhaps, in a shell hole or a dugout. The battery commander is the man who really bosses the whole job from his observation post. He is well named because he really commands the battery, though from a position perhaps miles in front of the battery. The lieutenant is always listening as the telephone operator is getting his instructions from the commander at the front. In the first place the lieutenant learns roughly the direction in which to shoot, but soon he gets more detailed direction before firing his first shot, which is in reality an experiment. Standing a short distance behind the battery, he plainly sees every gun. Then he shouts, "Ready!" When the command to fire comes over the telephone he issues a signal. The man at the first gun raises his hand, five seconds are counted, and as he drops his hand the gun is fired. Gun number two does the same and so on down the line. The gunner cannot see and does not know anything about the result. The man at the telephone calls out, "Battery has fired." The only man in all this operation who gives orders and sees results is the battery commander. Usually he can see the target clearly. Sometimes, however, when this is not possible the balloon and the airplane have to do it for him. The battery commander with the telephone operator in his rear knows exactly the way the guns are pointed and the distance to be covered. He can estimate quickly and figure up the necessary corrections, and this message may go back to the battery, "One hundred yards over and fifty yards to the right." The sergeants then again revolve their control wheels. The Good Book says, "A great ship is turned about by a very small helm." And so does a great gun respond very quickly to the most delicate touch of the wheel. The gauge is very fine and accurate and a hair's difference there means rods of difference where the shell falls. If the initial shot went a hundred yards over, perhaps the second goes one hundred yards too short. The direction is correct. Again in obedience to a message from the commander the little wheels move, and the elevation of the gun is corrected. The third shell, perhaps, goes over fifty yards and the fourth fifty under. Very well, the range is somewhere between those last two shots. "Give 'em hell. Salvo!" shouts the lieutenant: salvo meaning the firing of all the guns at one time.