Fritz was not aware of our new position, for his fire was wild, and in the darkness we were safe from the airplanes, although their humming was distinctly audible as they flew here and there vainly looking for our new spot.  We worked the guns until 2 o’clock, cleaned them up and got a couple of hours’ badly-needed sleep.

At 4:45 A.M. next day another “S.O.S.” came from the trenches, and, as fast as we could do so, we let them have it,—­this time in Sanctuary Woods.  Fritz replied, but his fire was wild.  Again the planes came, in an effort to find us, and we got the “keep-firing” whistle.  The planes still hovered over us and, under the urgency of a new demand from our trenches, we again had to open up, and this time the plane found us, and the result was quickly seen by a group of visitors breaking directly over us.  To register our battery was the work of but a few minutes.  The first blast was too far to the right; the next fell short, and again the correction was made; with just three corrections they had our number; the fourth shell got its mark.  The lighter German batteries then passed the range back to the heavies, 5.09 Howitzer batteries, and inside of a minute we were the object of their earnest attention.  Their first shell smashed No. 2 gun and crew, leaving us with two guns.  We held up our end for half an hour, each moment expecting to get the dose they gave No. 2.

The efficiency of our work was disclosed during the day by the efforts Fritz made to smother us; his fire became so intense we were ordered to leave the battery and take refuge in the basement of a French schoolhouse near by, and from there we had to watch the destruction of our remaining two guns from the concentrated fire of five German batteries of all calibers poured upon them.  Our ammunition was completely destroyed, and they struck No. 2 gun repeatedly, but the two other guns were left intact.

It was now about 11 o’clock A.M. and orders were flashed for more guns and more ammunition; then the fire cooled down.  During the day two more new guns were brought up, together with one thousand shells, and everything was ready for the retaking of Sanctuary Woods the following morning.  Between three and five o’clock the next A.M. the 13th, 15th and 16th Scotch-Canadian Battalion, some of Canada’s finest regiments, along with several others, streamed up the road.  Wherever the sweep of the kiltie went, there was going to be something doing.

Daylight.  “Stand to the battery!  Targets, front-line trenches!” We opened up for thirty minutes; our telephonist reported there was such a smoke from the barrage that they could not see the infantry, but the woods were on fire.  The Empire battery, together with heavy naval guns that had been brought up, and armored trains, were all concentrating their trip-hammers on the place.  It was now evident that every living thing in the woods must be dead, as nothing could live under the hurricane of fire.