The reason of all these things—­I mean, of the over-long marches, of the counter-marches, and of the short days—­was the complexity of the only plan by which a great number of men and guns can be taken from one large place to another without confusion by the way—­living, as they must do, upon the country, and finding at the end of every march water and hay for the horses, food and some kind of shelter for the men.  And this plan, as I have said before, consists (in a European country) in dividing your force, marching by roads more or less parallel, and converging, after some days, on the object of the march.

It is evident that in a somewhat desolate region of small and distant hamlets the front will be broader and the columns smaller, but when a large town stands in the line of march, advantage will be taken of it to mass one’s men.

Such a town was Bar-le-Duc, and it was because our battery was so near to it that this fourth day was a short march of less than eight miles.

They sent the gunners in early; we drivers started later than usual, and the pace was smart at first under a happy morning sun, but still around us were the bare fields, all but treeless, and the road was part of the plain, not divided by hedges.  The bombardier trotted by my side and told me of the glories of Rheims, which was his native town.  He was a mild man, genial and good, and little apt for promotion.  He interlarded his conversation with official remarks to show a zeal he never felt, telling one man that his tracks were slack, and another that his led-horse was shirking, and after each official remark he returned up abeam of me to tell me more of the riches and splendour of Rheims.  He chose me out for this favour because I already knew the countryside of the upper Champagne, and had twice seen his city.  He promised me that when we got our first leave from camp he would show me many sights in the town; but this he said hoping that I would pay for the entertainment, as indeed I did.

We did not halt, nor did we pass the gunners that morning; but when we had gone about four miles or so the road began to descend through a wide gully, and we saw before us the secluded and fruitful valley of the Meuse.  It is here of an even width for miles, bounded by regular low hills.  We were coming down the eastern wall of that valley, and on the parallel western side a similar height, with similar ravines and gullies leading down to the river, bounded our narrow view.  I caught the distant sound of trumpets up there beyond us, and nearer was the unmistakable rumble of the guns.  The clatter of horses below in the valley road and the shouting of commands were the signs that the regiment was meeting.  The road turned.  On a kind of platform, just before it joined the main highway, a few feet above it, we halted to wait our order—­and we saw the guns go by!