Having thus spoken he swallowed three whiskies in rapid succession and
rushed away to jump a lorry-ride to Germany, and I have not seen him
since, much to my regret, for I need his advice, I do.

* * * * *

We splashed into the hamlet of Sailly-le-Petit at about eight o'clock
of a pouring dark night, to find the inhabitants abed and all doors
closed upon us.

However, by dint of entreaties whispered through key-holes and
persuasions cooed under window-shutters, I charmed most of them open
again and got my troop under cover, with the exception of one section.
Its Corporal, his cape spouting like a miniature watershed, swam up.
"There's a likely-lookin' farm over yonder, Sir," said he, "but the
old gal won't let us in. She's chattin' considerable." I found a group
of numb men and shivering horses standing knee-deep in a midden, the
men exchanging repartee with a furious female voice that shrilled at
them from a dark window. "Is that the officer?" the voice demanded.
I admitted as much. "Then remove your band of brigands. Go home to
England, where you belong, and leave respectable people in peace. The
War is finished."

I replied with some fervour (my boots were full of water and my cap
dribbling pints of iced-water down the back of my neck) that I was
not playing the wandering Jew round one-horse Picard villages in late
December for the amusement I got out of it and that I could be relied
on to return to England at the earliest opportunity, but for the
present moment would she let us in out of the downpour, please? The