A little later I sent out the following wire to B and C Batteries:—
"2nd Lieut. J. M'Whirter will be attached to C Battery on receipt of this message. 2nd Lieut. F.E.R. Collinge of No. 1 Section D.A.C. will join B Battery to-day."
The night bristled with excitements. No. 1 Section of the D.A.C., with two hundred horses, were camped a hundred yards from us, and at 9 P.M. I was in their mess, talking books of the day, horses, and stage gossip. A lull in the conversation was broken by the low unmistakable drone of an enemy aeroplane. It sounded right overhead. "What's happened to our anti-aircraft people?" said Major Brown, starting up from the table. "How's he got through as far as this without any one shooting at him?"
We waited in silence. I wondered what had become of the dog, who had followed me, but had remained outside the trench-cover mess.
The first bomb crashed near enough to put out the candles and rattle the glasses on the table. "That fell over there," said the padre, pointing to behind the wood. "No, it was on this side, not far from my horses," put in Major Brown quickly.
Three more bombs shook the ground beneath us. Then we heard more distant explosions.
Outside we saw torch flashings in the D.A.C. horse lines, and heard hurrying to and fro. "Swiffy" also had run down to give his aid.
So serious had been the loss of horses through bombing during the summer of 1918 that after each fatal raid an official report had to be forwarded and a formal inquiry held to decide whether full precautions for the safety of the horses had been taken. At 9.30 P.M. I received this note from Major Brown:—
"The following casualties occurred to animals of this Section by hostile bombs at 7 P.M. on 16th inst.—
"Map location D 230, c. 97: killed, 7; wounded, 11."