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[Page 58]
with 6 teams for the guns. No one knew the way, but I had a fair idea. Jock turned first turning left which I knew was wrong. Rode forward at trot (I was riding in rear) to tell him so, but my horse put his foot in an old shell hole and came down. Jock not to be convinced so let him have his own way.
After some time we turned down into a valley---the stink was awful---while the rough road, strewn on either side with smashed guns and carriages and wagon wheels, while the torn earth was piled in ghastly shapes. Every score yards or so a telephone wire (low down) crossed the track.
Gradually we ascended until we reached the ridge only to find the road lined with trenches and dug-outs on the left side, and barbed wire on the other. A few paces, and the a nest of guns hidden for the moment, commenced to open fire. The din was terrible and the glare blinding. Some of the younger fellows began to lose nerve and called for me to see Jock Cameron. I had to order some of them pretty sharply.
Presently the guns ceased and we went on round a corner only to halt. Jock leaves the wagons for half an hour in a dangerous spot without saying a word to me. Descended a three storey dug-out (6th Brigade Infantry Headquarters) to find out where we were. Found out and returned to find men with gas helmets on, as warned from neighbouring Infantry supports of gas attack. Then gave order walk march just as Jock appeared.
Arrived home 3.30 a.m. While we were waiting, waiting, I could not help singing "A Perfect Day", "Somewhere a voice is calling" etc. Thank God my nerves were steady as a rock.
Monday, 31.
Two hours in morning allowed off to teams of night before. Went out with teams in afternoon.