After three days of waiting my division arrived and I was attached to
a battery. I had scarcely had time to make the acquaintance of my new
companions, when we pulled into my first attack.
We hooked in at dawn and set out through a dense white mist. The mist
was wet and miserable, but excellent for our purpose; it prevented us
from being spotted by enemy balloons and aeroplanes. We made all the
haste that was possible; but in places the roads were blocked by other
batteries moving into new positions. We passed through the town above
which the Virgin floated with the infant Jesus in her arms. One
wondered whether she was really holding him out to bless; her attitude
might equally have been that of one who was flinging him down into the
shambles, disgusted with this travesty on religion.
The other side of the town the ravages of war were far more
marked. All the way along the roadside were clumps of little crosses,
French, English, German, planted above the hurried graves of the brave
fellows who had fallen. Ambulances were picking their way warily,
returning with the last night's toll of wounded. We saw newly dead
men and horses, pulled to one side, who had been caught in the
darkness by the enemy's harassing fire. In places the country had
holes the size of quarries, where mines had exploded and shells from
large calibre guns had detonated. Bedlam was raging up front; shells
went screaming over us, seeking out victims in the back-country.
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