“There’s those that does it because they’re frightened.” That thought kept running through my head as I searched the stern and haggard faces of these boys who had been shipped from the ends of the earth to die together. They didn’t took the kind to be easily frightened. I knew they weren’t the kind, for I’d seen them fighting forward through the mud-bath of the Somme and driving their guns into action through the death-drops of Farbus. But no one can guess rightly the agony which lies hidden behind the impassive masque of the external. The sunset, lying low on the horizon, cut a brilliant line behind the shoulders of the drivers, causing their metal-work to glitter and emphasising the erectness of their soldierly bearing in the saddle. They looked a very different lot from the disorganized mob which eight hours earlier had lain scattered throughout the ditches of the countryside. We were waiting for the Major to arrive. He had gone to Brigade Headquarters with the other battery-commanders to receive final instructions from the Colonel. As we waited the pool of darkness, which had at first washed shallowly about the gun-wheels and feet of horses, began to creep higher, till only the heads of the men and horses remained distinct against the frieze of the vanishing sunset—all else was vague and lost. A nightingale in a neighboring thicket began to pour out its solitary song; far away in the intervals of silence a second bird answered. There was a heavy and yearning melancholy in what they said which played havoc with the accustomed stoicism of our hearts. Suddenly along the road came the sound of a rider approaching at a rapid trot. The sharp tapping of the horse’s hoofs changed to a dull thudding as he turned into the field. Then the thudding stepped. The Major’s voice rang out in an abrupt word of command, “Fall out the officers.” From the various sections the officers galloped out and formed up before him in a half-circle. “Take out your note-books and write down these names,” he said; “they’re the villages through which we shall pass on to-night’s march. You will not tell any of the men the names of the villages and you’ll burn your list in the morning. This information is only given to you in case some of the vehicles should break down, so that you may be able to bring them on to rejoin the main party. And remember, absolute secrecy is necessary. Here are the names.... Be careful with your flashlights as you write them down: keep them shaded. We don’t want any Hun planes to get wind of us.” When we had replaced our notebooks he nodded shortly, “That’s all. In about five minutes we move off.” As I rejoined my section the Number One of A. Sub rode up and saluted. “One of my men’s missing, sir. He’s Gunner Standish—a steady, quiet sort of lad: the chap as kept the gun in action single-handed, when all the rest of the crew was knocked out in the Willerval racket.”