He looked along the line of guns. The detachments of each were in position, motionless—No. 1 kneeling on the left side of the trail, 2 on the seat on the right-hand side, 3 on the left, 4 kneeling behind 3, 5 and 6 kneeling in rear of the wagon by the gun. At the right-hand end of the line was the battery commander. In front of him a wagon-limber had been placed for his protection. Up the hill-side men were swiftly paying out a telephone wire. A lieutenant and a couple of look-out men were cantering up to join the party now halted at the side of the copse.
The subaltern turned to see the captain of the battery at his side. He smiled and nodded. "How do you feel?" he asked. "Shivery?" The captain was in command of the first-line wagons in reserve. He stood near the battery to watch the expenditure of ammunition.
The subaltern placed himself behind the wagon of his gun nearest the commander, and waited, stiffly erect. He felt himself tingling with eagerness, yet he could scarcely bring himself to believe that this was battle. It might have been parade. He forgot the all-swallowing roar about him, remembered only that he was in command of those two guns, was responsible that they dealt out death coolly, accurately, scientifically.
The telephone was complete. A man knelt on the ground near the battery commander, the receiver to his ear. Almost immediately there was a sharp order. "Lines of Fire!" From each gun a man ran out quickly towards the ridge with a couple of black and white posts. He planted them in line and ran back. The angle of sight was passed down the battery. The gun-barrels moved slightly, aiming at the invisible enemy. Despite the ceaseless roar with which the air trembled, a hush of expectancy seemed to lie over the line of guns. Other orders came quickly down the battery from the commander. "Angle of sight 1·25´ elevation."—"Collective."—"Corrector 154."—"4100." No. 6 of each gun called out the fuze. Five set it, passed the shell to 4 who pushed it into the breech. Two closed the breech and adjusted the range indicator. Three laid the gun and sat with his hand on the firing lever. "Ready."
"Fire!" The No. 1 of the first gun repeated the order. Three pulled the lever sharply upwards. A long tongue of flame spurted out of the muzzle with a deafening report. The gun-barrel shot violently back under its hydraulic buffer and was in place again ere the eye could well note the movement. The other two guns of the right half-battery fired successively at three seconds' interval. The men at the telephone received a message. It was transmitted as orders to the battery. "No. 1—30 degrees more right. No. 2—20 degrees more right, No. 3—30 degrees more right." "Left half—30 degrees more right.—Corrector 162.—4300." The three shells already fired had gone too far to the left. "Fire." The subaltern heard the order of the sergeant on his right. "No. 4—Fire!" Then his own sergeants, "No. 5—Fire!" "No. 6—Fire!" He thrilled at the loud explosions. He was in action! He was flattered to find how clear his mind was, how steady his nerve. He supervised the laying of the guns as the next order came down the line. "Corrector 158—4350.—One round battery fire." At five seconds' interval the six guns fired one after the other. There was a wait. Had they found the range? Yes! "Section Fire—10 seconds." He was engrossed with his two guns as they were swiftly loaded and fired at the interval ordered.
Away to his left the other two batteries of the brigade were firing likewise. The rapid, violent reports of the line of guns overlapped, merged into one long-drawn-out explosion that intensified spasmodically as two or more fired at the same instant. The clamour of the general battle was obscured, forgotten. The subaltern glanced at the bare hill in front of him, over which the shells from the brigade were streaming at the rate of one hundred and eight a minute. On what were they falling, two and a half miles away? A straggling thought in him found leisure for the question while yet the main forces of his mind were concentrated on the busy detachments and the guns they served. He had scarce noted it when an order was passed down the battery. "Stand fast." Immediately there was silence. Only a faint haze spread and thinned between the gun-muzzles and the ridge to show that they had been at work. What of the distant, invisible target? The captain, who had been standing by the battery commander, passed on his way to the wagons. The subaltern stopped him.
"What was it?" he asked.
"Battery coming into action—just caught 'em—wiped out," answered the captain laconically and hurried on.
The subaltern stared—horror-stricken involuntarily. Wiped out! He tried to imagine the wreckage of that battery overwhelmed in a few instants by a rain of shells coming from they knew not whence. He failed. In that meadow, strangely quiet now despite a terrific din that welled up from over the ridge, he could not picture it. The hill in front was a wall across his vision.