must be remembered, though, that after our many like encounters, no one entertained any illusions concerning our outlook. After jolting through the cobbled streets of Rupt, the Regiment headed up a valley road which led perhaps a kilometer through the open. Here the wet road underfoot showed a shade lighter than the surrounding, opaque sheets of rain. At the head of this valley the road suddenly shrank to the width of one pair of carriage wheels, and disappeared entirely in the edge of a wood so heavy that the trees interlacing overhead made it necessary for the drivers to bend forward to remain in the saddle. Within the wood, the road climbed upward at an impossible angle, flanked on either side by slippery three-foot banks. The entire Regiment was confronted with the problem of climbing this muddy tunnel—all, that is, except the heavy wagons, which remained hidden in the edge of the woods. The whole Regiment waited in the rain while each battery in succession struggled with this atrocious half mile. For most of us it was a kaleidoscopic nightmare of mired horses, tangled harness, broken poles, overturned caissons, darkness, rain, cold, mud, slipping, swearing, pushing, straining, but, most of all, standing still and freezing, hour after hour, waiting for the battery ahead to pull through. One of our cannoneers slipped under a gun-carriage which ran over his ankle and crushed the bone. It was a miracle that more of us were not hurt. At last, in the early morning when it was already light, our Battery gained the top of the hill, where the trees grew thinner, and turned sharply to the right. A short hundred yards brought us to an old French posi­

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