On the fifth day of the second battle of Ypres, April 25, 1915, McKay, an orderly, came up the line with ammunition for the guns as our supply was exhausted.  As soon as the shells were delivered it was his duty to report at once to the Captain for further orders.  The poor fellow was starving for something to eat and he thought he would steal the time to slip up to the cookhouse and get a bite of grub.  He rode his horse across and was in the act of leaning over to get a couple of hardtacks the cook was handing him, when a splinter of a shell that had exploded at his horse’s feet, struck him in the neck, killing him instantly, slightly wounding his horse and destroying the rations and vessels in the cookhouse.  The Captain yelled, “Ammunition orderly wanted,” and I volunteered.  I jumped on the horse, galloped him as well as his limping leg would permit, and weathered the storm of shells through the fire zone, making my way to the wagon lines, where I gave the Quartermaster the order.

Then I had the pleasure of witnessing for the first time the admirable celerity and effectiveness with which an order of this kind is carried out.

“Ten loads of ammunition wanted at once, sir; ammunition pretty nearly exhausted at the guns,” was the message I delivered.  The Quartermaster blew his whistle—­“Stand to! ammunition up!” he yelled.  The Sergeant then carried on; the men were standing easy by their horses waiting for the word.  In these days, when a battle is on, the men are always ready for the word at a moment’s notice, with their horses fully harnessed, nothing being removed from the animals except the bit to enable them to take their feed from the bag, and in no case is an ammunition wagon left without its guard; at night when the guard would lie down to snatch an hour’s sleep, another one was there ready to carry on.  “Prepare to mount!  Mount!  Walk—­march!  Trot!” yelled the Sergeant in quick succession, each command being executed with clock-like exactness, and they trotted from under cover of the trees where they were concealed from the airplanes and proceeded rapidly up the road under shell fire, bumping and stumbling along.

I was guide for the party.  We passed through Breeland, but could not make the best kind of speed as the traffic was terribly congested.  On the left hand side of the road long lines of ambulances bearing wounded men were going down, stretcher bearers were carrying their suffering burdens and wounded men who were able to walk were making their way around and through the wagons as best they could, among them being men from every branch of the Imperial service, together with French and Algerians; on the other side of the road supply wagons of all descriptions were going forward.  In the course of our journey the harness of one of the horses rubbed the animal until he was lame, stopping up the wagon.  Immediately the Sergeant who was riding alongside ordered the wagon to one side, removed the horse, installed his