into a very small space, and staring through a slit at the German
lines. In front of us lay a vast plain, scarred and slashed, with bare
places at intervals, such as you see where gravel pits break a green
common. Not a sign of life or movement, save some wheeling crows. And
yet down there, within a mile or so, is the population of a city. Far
away a single train is puffing at the back of the German lines. We are
here on a definite errand. Away to the right, nearly three miles off,
is a small red house, dim to the eye but clear in the glasses, which is
suspected as a German post. It is to go up this afternoon. The gun is
some distance away, but I hear the telephone directions. '"Mother" will
soon do her in,' remarks the gunner boy cheerfully. 'Mother' is the
name of the gun. 'Give her five six three four,' he cries through the
'phone. 'Mother' utters a horrible bellow from somewhere on our right.
An enormous spout of smoke rises ten seconds later from near the house.
'A little short,' says our gunner. 'Two and a half minutes left,' adds
a little small voice, which represents another observer at a different
angle. 'Raise her seven five,' says our boy encouragingly. 'Mother'
roars more angrily than ever. 'How will that do?' she seems to say.
'One and a half right,' says our invisible gossip. I wonder how the
folk in the house are feeling as the shells creep ever nearer. 'Gun
laid, sir,' says the telephone. 'Fire!' I am looking through my glass.
A flash of fire on the house, a huge pillar of dust and smoke--then it
settles, and an unbroken field is there. The German post has gone up.
'It's a dear little gun,' says the officer boy. 'And her shells are
reliable,' remarked a senior behind us. 'They vary with different
calibres, but "Mother" never goes wrong.' The German line was very
quiet. 'Pourquoi ils ne repondent pas?' asked the Russian prince. 'Yes,
they are quiet to-day,' answered the senior. 'But we get it in the neck
sometimes.' We are all led off to be introduced to 'Mother,' who sits,
squat and black, amid twenty of her grimy children who wait upon and