sown. We were discussing its fate when a large German aeroplane swooped down and forced us to take cover. A British aeroplane appeared, but the German forced it to land hurriedly. And the enemy began to send over a few small shells.

We moved forward unobtrusively, Read, myself, and Puddy, my orderly, to an inconspicuous knoll. There we lay in comfort, watching the farther advance of the Australians. The country was quite open and bare, though broken with unexpected valleys. A slight breeze had swept away the mist and the morning was bright and sunny. A few hundred yards in front of us the Australians were walking forward nonchalantly, led by a soore of tanks. Occasionally a shell would fall among them and they would scatter momentarily, but it was rarely that a man was left upon the ground. From the valley beyond, which we could not see, came the rattle of Lewis guns, and once or twice bursts from the enemy machine-guns. To the left and behind us our field-guns, drawn up in the open, were firing for dear life, and away to the right along a slight dip a battery of field - guns was trotting forward. Overhead the sky was loud with the noise of our aeroplanes, some flying low above the battle and others glistening in the sun high among the clouds.

The Australians disappeared with the tanks over the skyline, and the supporting infantry in little soattered bodies

passed us, marching cheerily over the rough grass. We were already three miles within the enemy defences.

We pressed on northwards to the Cérisy Valley, which we knew had been full of German field-guns. This deep gully, with steep grassy sides, fringed with stunted trees, runs from the tiny village of CérisyGailly, on the south bank of the Somme, to Warfusée. Our gunners had done their work with terrible thoroughness. The bottom of the valley was so broken with shell-holes that it was barely possible to drive a limber between them. Four or five of the enemy guns remained desolate among wild confusion of shattered waggons and dead horses. A trembling pony, still harnessed to his dead fellow, was the only survivor.

A hundred yards down the valley tanks were elimbing the steep bank, and the flag of a tank battalion fluttered bravely on the orest.

We orossed the valley, toiled up the the farther slope, and munohed some sandwiches on the hill, where sappers were calmly marking out new trenches.

At a little distance a shabby Australian field-battery was in action. In a few minutes we saw something of the display and gallantry of war. A battery of Horse Artillery picked its way across the valley. The men were olean, inconceivably clean, and smart. Their horses' coats gleamed. The harness shone and glittered. The guns were newly painted.

Never could a battery more splendidly arrayed have entered the plebeian turmoil of a battle. A series of swift commands and the little guns, with their ridiculous bark, were firing impudently. The Australians were overshadowed their horses were unkempt and the guns dirty-but they had got there first.

We were reminded by a salvo, which burst nicely just beyond the Australian guns, that, although in this partionlar battle we had little to do, the enemy could not be expected to realise our position. So we finished our lunch, and walking along the erest for half a mile, dropped down into the valley again, and came upon Ryan's section engaged in refilling the 13th Battalion. Westbrook's tanks were coming in one by onethey had all had their mechanical troubles.

So far as we could learn from our friends in the valley, the huge surprise attack had been a cheap and complete success-south of the Somme. The thick mist at dawn had protected the tanks, while it had not been dense enough seriously to hamper the drivers. The advance had been rapid, and only in one or two villages had the enemy shown any resolute defence.

But north of the Somme it was clear that something was wrong, for the enemy were shelling mercilessly the southern bank of the river. Even the Cérisy Valley was harrassed, and we were privileged to watch a brigade of artillery

gallop, team by team, over the orest, through the smoke of the shells, down into the comparative safety of the valley. The German gunners must have rejoiced at the target, but they made poor use of their opportunities, for only one horse

was hit; the team swerved as the shell burst, and, galloping madly down into the valley, only just missed a tank. Ten minutes later an enemy aeroplane circled overhead. We held our breath-the valley was packed with artillery and tanks and listened for the whirr of the bombs or the crackle of the machine-guns: but Jerry" was for the moment harmless, although in quarter of an hour H.V. gun made frantic efforts to land her shells in the valley. She could not manage it-her shells burst on the orest or high up on the farther bank.

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Westbrook and Ryan were new under the orders of the battalions which they were refilling, and Harland had completed his job. So Read, Puddy, and I tramped back along the river wearily to Fouilloy, tak ing tea on the way from a hospitable Australian, whose name I should always have blessed if I had not forgotten it.

Later, I heard that Harland had done his work well, following the Mark V. Star tanks of the 15th Battalion to the Blue Line, the farthest limit of the attack, and forming there a dump of supplies. The 15th Battalion carried in

but without

On the day of the battle four tanks, leaded with shells, bombs, wire, shovels, and water, started from the ruins of Cachy, immediately behind our trenches, and endeavoured to keep pace with the infantry, but that day the Canadians advanced eight miles. The tanks, accompanied by the D.A.A.G. of the 1st Canadian Division, toiled along after them. It was a hot and weary trek. The D.A.A.G. was saddlesore, and Jacobs was a little chafed. But the tanks are never at a loss. A halt was made, and a tin of tank grease broached. The remedy was odorous but effective.

On the heels of the infantry the tanks arrived on the following day at Caix, ten miles from their starting-point, and disgorged. Two of them made a round of the more advanced machine-gun posts, and, despite heated protests from the enemy, supplied muchneeded ammunition, returning in triumph.

Some of the men found it difficult to remember that, strictly speaking, Carrier companies were not not "fighting troops." Wallace, for instance, a runner, finding the time heavy on his hands, disappeared for a few hours, when he was not required, and joined the Canadians in a successful little bombing raid.

The section returned by night. The enemy aeroplanes, attracted by the glow of their

After a series of marches and counter-marches, inspired by false alarms, Ritchie's seotion returned to Querrieu Wood on the 18th. I had intended to give him a week to rest his men and overhaul his tanks, which had already covered a hundred miles without respite, but I received orders to assist the 47th Division in an attack north of the Somme, and my remaining sections had already been ear-marked for the 1st Australian and 32nd Divisions.

So on the 21st Ritchie's weary old tanks trekked six miles over difficult country to Bonnay, a pleasant little village on on the Anore, a mile above the confluence of the Ancre and the Somme. Two tanks loaded up with ammunition, and about midnight came to a brickyard just behind our trenches. North of the Somme the enemy was fighting stubbornly and his guns pounded away day and night. The neighbourhood of the brickyard was shelled and gassed until the crews longed for the battle.

At dawn the two tanks under Jacobs orawled forward into the gas and smoke, and, passing through the enemy barrage, dumped their loads of machine gun ammunition among the forward posts and returned with the orews slightly gassed but otherwise unharmed.

Two of the remaining tanks went forward with infantry

when the struggle was swaying to and fro over the Happy Valley, a couple of miles south of our old camp at Méaulte. There was never a more deadly struggle, and the issue was always in doubt.

The first tank was led by Sergeant Bell. He came to the place where he should have unloaded his stores. The Germans were pressing fiercely, and the tank was in the forefront of the battle. Under bitter shell-fire and machinegun fire Bell endeavoured to unload at least his precious ammunition, but two of his crew were killed and one man was seriously wounded immediately after they had left the shelter of the tank. Bell collected another party of infantrymen, but by this time the Germans were close to the tank, and our infantry, who had lost heavily, were withdrawing. Bell could do nothing, for & Carrier tank possesses only one Hotchkiss gun to fire ahead, and, as his tank had turned to provide cover for the unloading party, that gun would not bear. He was unable to move the tank, because every man of his crew had been killed or wounded. He waited helplessly until the Germans had almost surrounded the tank, and then, firing one last burst from a Lewis gun which he had

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The second tank was led by Holt. He had just climbed inside for a moment, when a shell pierced the sponson and burst, killing instantly Holt and one of his men and wounding the remainder. We could recover nothing at the time, although Wallace made a brave attempt; the Germans had regained too much ground, and to approach the tank was certain death.

It was 8 disastrous day. The attack had failed and the failure had been costly. The Happy Valley was strewn with dereliet tanks, and the cemetery on the Méaulte road is very full.

On the 23rd Jacobs, with his two tanks, carried ammunition forward to isolated machine-gun posts, although his men were still shaken and suffering from gas. I then ordered Ritchie, who had himself been in the thick of the fight, to withdraw his battered section by easy stages to Querrieu Word.

Meanwhile Harland and Westbrook had been in action south of the Somme.