had remained so long inactive. The park-wagon was pulling up on the left of the caissons in order to enter the field and turn around, as the road was too narrow for a turn. . . . There came a rumble from the German lines, and a heavy-calibre shell screamed its way towards us, bursting with a vivid flash in the field to our right—the very place we were to go into position. Drivers sprang to their horse's heads and waited. Another rumble, and before a man could move the inferno was on us. Horses reared, crazed by the blinding flash and noise. Men stood dazed or leapt blindly for shelter. Some struggled to reach fallen comrades under tangled harness and shattered caissons. Others vainly fought to turn the horses in the narrow road, or to cut them loose:—and always the shells beat down, killing, tearing, blasting the confusion into frenzy. It was during this action that Sgt. Peabody, tending to his duties with the utmost disregard for personal danger received a mortal wound and died shortly after on the way to the hospital. Summing up our losses, we found that besides Peabody; Knox, Rodliff, and Priebe had been wounded and evacuated.

                The attack stopped as suddenly as it had begun. With difficulty some degree of order was brought out of the chaos. Runners were dispatched for ambulances, the dead horses and debris were dragged aside, and blanket rolls were heaped around the wounded to protect them from the stray splinters which buzzed over us from the field where single shells were still landing at frequent intervals. In spite of this, the work of hauling the guns into position went on. "Death Valley" seemed to be justifying its name.

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INDEX