This was the _rendezvous_ of a mass of transport immediately after dusk, bringing up munitions and rations for the offensive. Large stores of the latter were placed in specially constructed dug-outs on the river bank. The work of the Divisional Train was here most admirably organized by its commander, Colonel Bernard. So close were the big convoys to the German trenches that extraordinary precautions to avoid noise had to be taken. Wheels were bound with straw and old motor tyres, steel chains replaced by leather straps, boots, like those used in rolling a cricket ground, placed over the horses' hoofs. And it was an amusing sight to see an A.S.C. driver frantically clinging to the nose of some sociable horse that desired to greet new acquaintances with a friendly neigh. The reward of waiting came in a fine day on "Y.2" day, the 30th. Divisional Headquarters moved up to their report centre on the Englebelmer-Martinsart Road. At night the approach march took place, and assaulting battalions returned to their positions in the trenches. The assembly positions of the 107th Brigade (less 15th Rifles) were in slit trenches in Aveluy Wood. The battalions marched up by cross-country tracks, marked, one by red lanterns, the other by green. The night was fine, and the artillery on either side rather less active, though lachrymatory shell was falling in the wood. In a curious complete lull that fell before dawn, men heard with astonishment a nightingale burst into song, pouring out her bubbling notes one upon the other, as though this had been still the pleasant copse, deserted by man, but a kingdom of the birds, of two years gone. The two days' postponement had had upon the men an effect contrary to that which might have been attended. The extra strain of waiting was more than counterbalanced by the coincidence of the date. For it was upon July the 1st, the anniversary of the Boyne, that the sons of the victors in that battle, after eight generations, fought this greater fight. To them it had a very special significance. A stirring in their blood bore witness to the silent call of their ancestors. There seemed to them a predestination in the affair. They spoke of it as they waited, during the final intensive bombardment, while the German counter-barrage rained upon their trenches.