These artillery trains were all of a pattern. There were the Homines and Chevaux for animals and men, a combination first and second class coach for officers, and a string of flats for the carriages.
At Bonncau there was a loading platform. In some places we found none, and used instead clumsy move- able ramps. Yet methods varied little. With practice we got some of the skill of circus men. The different tasks proceeded simultaneously. An incoherence seemed to prevail. Then all at once the groups would scatter, and you would see that the job had been done, that the train was either loaded or unloaded.
None of our organizations needed the three hours allowed them for entraining at Bouncan. The carriages were little trouble. Squads ran them from the platform to the flat cars across heavy planks, fitted them into the constricted space allotted, and lashed them there with cleats.
The drivers struggled with the horses. The horses never got to like the Hommes and Chevaux. They rose on their haunches, at times crying out their disapproval. The men tugged at their halters, and persuaded them from the rear.
A horse already in the narrow, shadowy car would look out and shake his head. It was often quite difficult to combat such friendly advice.
The stallions were a problem. If you put them together they gossiped about old scandals and ended by fighting jealously. If you placed them with lesser beasts they expressed their contempt with tooth and hoof.
“Get 'em in so tight they can't fight," crystallized the advice of most of the men, and it worked fairly well. We got to know after a time which horses liked to travel together, and that simplified matters.
From the moment the train was loaded until it was unloaded one lived in a racket like the beating of countless
