We had had no definite news as to our move on the previous evening and were told to be ready to move off at a moment's notice after ten a.m. Well, Suttie sent down for six wagons of ammunition while we were at breakfast and Cruikshank was dispatched in charge, being told that Siggers would meet him at the sappers' dump and direct him to the guns. It seems funny bringing ammunition up in daylight but there is too much firing at night. Going back, one of my best drivers was lifted out of the saddle by the splinter of an 8-inch, poor chap, and I think he has gone. Two of my horses were also grazed. About ten, another orderly arrived, asking for another six wagons, which I was to take up. My guide was a certain Br. Golding. He took me a long way round to begin with, going through Maricourt, on a narrow track, with guns firing over our heads and almost under the horses' bellies. He told us to reverse, and we got round, and then he lost himself again. By this time I was speechless and sent him off to find the battery, while we sat there, expecting to get shelled any moment. He returned in ten minutes and told us to reverse again – that he had found the battery – and I warned him, if he took us wrong again, I would shoot him with my revolver. Well, we found them and proceeded to unload, just finishing in time, as they started throwing over 8-inch, indiscriminately. They were dropping everywhere and it was no good trying to dodge them, so we went along hoping for the best and got through all right. It was three p.m. when I got halfway back to Duray and met the rest of the battery by the roadside waiting for Bailey to reconnoitre the position. I sent my wagons off to our new wagon line, which was quite close, to water and feed also my own mounts. Well it was only a few minutes till Bailey returned and we set out, with my section leading, intervals between wagons 20 yards - and 50 yards between sections. My section was to be attached to the 71s as there was no room for me in our own position, and that made the 71s an eight gun battery. We dropped into our new position without being molested by the Bosch. The sight coming up was wonderful – the road winds through a valley simply crammed with big howitzers (8-inch to 12-inch) and intermingled with these were crowds of infanteers' ammunition wagons and about the valley were a few dead horses. In this place, you had a chance of getting any shell from a 12 inch to a pipsqueak in the neck as they pitch shells over at any time. As soon as we got our guns in, we commenced firing and continued till late in the evening.
I forgot to add that from the place where we were bivouacked right up to within 400 yards of the guns there is a valley called Happy Valley, packed with horses with guns, howitzers and beacons dotted in amongst them. The valley just below the guns has been named by the drivers Valley of Death as there are so many casualties there, bringing up ammunition. The infantry I believe even have their horses in another valley in front of the guns. It is called Caterpillar Valley.
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