was still much to be seen that delighted the eyes. In one yellow
cornfield there appeared to be enormous poppies. On approaching
we discovered a detachment of Tirailleurs from Algiers, sitting in
groups, and the "poppies" were the red fezes of the men--a gorgeous
blending of crimson and gold. We threw a large box of cigarettes
to them and were greeted with shouts of joy and thanks. The Tirailleurs
are the enfants terribles of the French Army. One noble son of
Africa who was being treated in one of the hospitals once presented
me with an aluminium ring made from a piece of German shell.
I asked him to make one for one of my comrades who was working
at home, and he informed me that nothing would have given
greater pleasure, but unfortunately he had no more aluminium.
Later in the day, passing through the ward, I saw him surrounded
by five or six Parisian ladies who were showering sweets, cigarettes
and flowers on him, whilst he was responding by presenting
each of them with an aluminium ring. When they had left I went
to him and told him "Mahmud, that was not kind. I asked you for
a ring and you said you had not got any more aluminium." He
smiled and his nurse, who was passing, added, "No, he had
not got any more aluminium, but when he is better he will get
forty-eight hours' punishment; he has been into the kitchen,
stolen one of our best aluminium saucepans, and has been
making souvenirs for the ladies." He made no attempt to justify
his action beyond stating: "Moi, pas si mauvais, toi pas faux souvenir"
("I am not so bad, I did not try to give you a fake souvenir").

Another of our chocolate coloured patients found in the grounds of
the hospital an old umbrella. Its ribs stuck out and it was full of
holes, but it gave him the idea of royalty and daily he sat up in bed
in the ward with the umbrella unfurled whilst he laid down the law