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Updated: June 20, 2025
"You're sure that dumbed battery's gone that shot at us last night, are you, Shorty?" he said, as he drained his cup, fastened it again to the strap of his haversack, and studied the top of the hill with a critical eye. "They say it is," said Shorty, between bites.
A twelve-inch shell also burst very close to the Battery's Mess, killing a number of Italian telephonists next door. Throughout these days, periods of very heavy firing alternated with periods of comparative quiet. On the 25th a party of nearly thirty British officers and men, a procession of two cars, three side-cars and twelve motor bicycles, went up Podgora Hill.
Next day there was a good deal of shelling and some torrential showers. We set fire to some woods on the lower slopes of San Daniele, with a high wind blowing. The Battery's good luck continued. On the 30th, while my Gun Detachment were at breakfast, a 5.9 burst in their shelter trench, at the moment unoccupied, and covered every one with showers of loose earth.
"He was still there with General when we came away. The rd relieved us last night, instead of first thing this morning; and we got down to Grandru, and had three hours' sleep before your note arrived." "Battery's pretty done, I suppose?" "Well, it was just about time we came out of action. Men and horses would have been all-in in another day."
And the Major cheered the men on to a last effort, shouting the Forward Officer's message that the attack was failing, was breaking, was being wiped out mainly by the Battery's fire. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the tornado of shell-fire about them ceased, shifted its storm-centre, and fell roaring and crashing and hammering on an empty hedge and ditch a full three hundred yards away.
It was Honor this time, "Luckily for you, the Battery's in camp; and since Captain Lenox's illness there's been an end of my tea-parties. Our own people may be looking in now he's better. But for the next two days or so I shall simply be 'dawazar bund. It needs no effort to develop a headache, or a touch of fever this weather. There's only Paul, and Frank, whom I couldn't shut out.
"Mr Brown here?" "Ye e s," sleepily, "what the devil do you want?" "Our battery's in action, sir, a few miles from here. I've got your horses ready waiting, sir." Mr Brown was thoroughly awake in a moment. He disturbed everybody collecting his kit. Then he vanished. We were late at Bailleul, and there was no one to meet us. The Cyclists as usual came to our help.
Their place of refuge was between the cabin and the wheel-house, opposite the battery's position. A sheet of wet paper would afford as much resistance to a paving-stone as the walls of a steamboat cabin to a six-pound shot. As we stood among the ladies, two shells passed through the side of the cabin, within a few inches of our heads.
One of its later effects was to give the slender correspondence which crawled after it much more historical value to the battery and the battery's beloved home city than otherwise it might have had. From Virginia it told spiritedly of men, policies, and movements; sketched cabinet officers, the president, and the great leaders and subleaders in the field Stuart, Gordon, Fitzhugh Lee.
Each of these guns required a team of eight horses and as many to a caisson. They were recaptured at Deep Bottom below Richmond in July, 1864. The battery's connection with the Stonewall Brigade was severed October 1, at the close of the memorable campaign of 1862, and under the new régime became a part of the First Regiment Virginia Artillery, commanded by Col.
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