When everything was in place and the curtain ready to be drawn up, 1400 batteries were in a position along the Lens-Arras road and valley, standing wheel to wheel, many of them brought to bear over roads that had been specially constructed for their conveyance, as regular routes were not usable for them and a road one-and-a-half-miles long, made out of three-inch thick planking, was placed ready for use in three days' time, together with a narrow-gauge railroad, for rushing up ammunition and taking back wounded men. This road and narrow-gauge railway took a short cut across the valley and proved a godsend in relieving the congestion on the regular road, and was of inestimable value in achieving our end. On the 2nd day of April, 1917, stage manager Haig ordered the curtain raised and, with its raising, vengeance was let loose. Gaps 20 to 30 feet wide were blasted in the barbed wire; some of the mine shafts about Lens were flattened and destroyed; Fritzie's supply roads were rained upon with a steady hail of hell night and day, preventing the entrance to his trenches not only of ammunition, but also of food, and prevented the withdrawal of any men from his lines; his ammunition dumps were set ablaze, the fires from them lighting up the whole country-side for miles around. In the air the efficiency of our preparatory work was equally demonstrated. A new type of flier winged his way back and forth over the sausage-fed warriors, and the ability of our birds to hold the line in the Heavens was amply demonstrated, one British airman, on the 28th of March, five days before the battle began, downing three German eagles in quick succession. Spellbound I watched the magnificent work of this flier. Far up as the eye could reach, six British planes in battle formation, the leader of the squad about three hundred yards in advance, four others in a row, the sixth three hundred yards in the rear, winged their way. Suddenly, the rear bird shot downward, volplaning and looping the loop with as much abandon as if he were in an exhibition park. I quickly discerned the object of his lightning-like descent. Hovering over our trenches were three German vultures. As he dropped, Fritz volleyed at him with his anti-aircraft mouthpieces, but failed to land. The bird kept on his downward plunge until he reached his objective, and as he dove into the vultures, our anti-aircraft guns, which had been endeavoring to wing the German birds, ceased fire and all eyes were turned heavenward. With bated breath we watched and waited the outcome.