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[Page 12]
Just near a point where I reckoned we would have to branch off half left we ran into our Battalion Transport Officer, who received as us with as much joy as we did him. This officer is a dapper little chappie who drops his "hs" occasionally and is known to the boys as "Fish-and-Chips", it being rumoured that the civil occupation he followed in pre-war days was the purvey of such delicacies to all and sundry. "Fish-and-Chips" knew where we were and could guide us home,- oh yes!- in fact he'd carry out our equipments for us, but – and we waited anxiously to hear the "but". He was up this way with the fore-part of a limber (each limber us like two two-wheeled carts joined together) with four horses, three men and some long ropes, and the job was – to pull out that infernal field gun: and if we were willing to go back with him and haul it out for him he would be eternally grateful and would abide by his bargain of the "equipments". As the numerous trenches crossing the road made it impossible for him to utilise his horses, no wonder he welcomed us so heartily, but we, dog-tired with worn-out nerves, and only maintained from lying down there and then where we were through fear of Hun shells, did not take at all kindly to the job, still we could'nt see him stuck, so down went equipments, such an ease to aching shoulders, and we followed in a straggly silent line up the road again after the eager little officer. I thought we'd never come to that confounded gun, and we seemed to be quite on Fritzy's line when we did land there, and then such a hurrying to tie on drag ropes and a pole to hold the tail off the ground; and each man had to get his job, on the rope, or balancing on the rear to equalize the weight. I seized a drag rope as it seemed nearer home and when all clear came, away we went, and how that bally old gun did clank down the shell-pitted road. I thought every Fritz for miles must know what we were at, and I was braced ready to duck at the first shell, but thank the Lord, none came, for if it had we with our upset condition would have scattered like chaff, and I don't think all the blandishments and promises of "Fish-and-Chips" would have got us together again. The trenches on the road gave us some trouble; first we had to heave and strain to get the gun up the parapet and then rush her down so as to hop the trench, and at the one time hold her balanced and yet stand clear of the bump. One trench we missed the run and the old gun settled down partly in the trench and partly out, and how we did have to leave and strain to lift her and get into the jog trot again. Occasional heavy shells were dropping near the road in one place but we cleared the danger zone before the "next" landed. The shell holes in the road too were a source of trouble to us, "Fish-and-Chips" went ahead to spy out the holes in the dim light and then he would stand in the hole and yell out at us "right" or "left" as the case would be; we would run the pole right at him in other cases so that the wheels would go on either side of the hole and then "Fish-and-Chips" would have to scramble out before we bore down on top of him; once he nearly left it too late, but I was too done to do more than snigger at his antics in getting clear. Once he went over backwards down a hole, but bobbed out again as eager as ever, quite undaunted he was, but then he hadn't done a hop over and two days and nights holding it against counter attacks. At last we reached the limber, and the tail was run into the limber and all was made fast. Then on went equipments, Lewis guns and panniers, rifles and souvenirs, and last of all, all piled on, God knows how. We all clung on to the load somehow, and as we topped the rise we were making for we saw shells bursting on the road we had previously come along. When we were "out" some distance our morning barrage opened up and Fritzy's reply came over, - but how thankful we were to be out of it. We rode miles still clinging to the gun in most uncomfortable positions, but no matter as long as it was a ride, and just on dawn we wearily dropped down to the road, shouldered our gear and goods,