Our little Major was fuming, mutinous and twitching with impatience, when Heming rode up and saluted, bringing the news that he had the teams, wagons and limbers halted behind the orchard. In a trice the Major was on the ‘phone, pleading for permission to breeze off with us into the blue and take a chance. His request was curtly refused; our division of artillery was to stay where it was and to hold the line in depth, in case the infantry was driven back by the Huns. Major Charlie Wraith kicked the ‘phone over in his anger. He said a good many things which could quite easily have earned him a court-martial. Hold the line in depth, indeed—an old woman’s precaution! This was a fine time to be playing safe, when our infantry were out there, forging miles ahead without guns to protect them. If they got beaten back, whose fault would that be with no artillery to support them? It was the old story of the staff-people losing the battle for us. If victory were turned into defeat, the way it was at Cambrai, we should have our red-tabs to thank for it. It was about half-an-hour after this disappointment that belated word came through that the enemy’s resistance was stiffening and an attack was pending. One section from each battery had to go forward under two junior officers. Ours was ordered to report to the nth Battalion and to act under the direction of the infantry colonel. Its job was to follow within sight of the attack and to come into action in the open, if necessary, for the purpose of knocking out machine-gun nests or any other obstacles which were holding up the advance. The Major turned to me. “You will take your section, and Tubby Grain will go with you.” As he walked away his throat thickened with something very like a sob. “By God, I’d revert to a one-pip artist and I’d give the very shirt off my back to see what you lads are going to see this morning.” III WE started off at 9 A. m. feeling like a pair of generals, Tubby and I with our brace of eighteen-pounders, our ammunition-wagons and our men. We were setting out practically as free-lances, to discover our own chances of glory. The only senior officer to whom we had to report was the battalion-colonel; there was no one in the rear with whom we had to keep in touch, who would have the power to hold us back. How much fighting we would see before dusk fell depended entirely upon our own initiative. We intended to see a lot.