All through this rearguard action there was the Mad Major. Mounted on his
airy steed, he flitted above the clouds, below the clouds. Sometimes
swallowed in the smoke of the enemy's big guns; sometimes diving to avoid a
shell; sometimes staggering as though wounded, but always righting himself.
There would be the Mad Major each day, over the rearguard troops, seeming
to shelter them. He would harry the German line; he would drop a bomb, flit
back, and with a brave "We've got them, boys," cheer the sinking spirits of
the wearied foot soldiers.

The Mad Major was a wonder. Every part of the line he visited, and was
known the length and breadth of the Allied armies.

Though for the moment the Mad Major had disappeared from our view, we were
to hear more of him later on.




CHAPTER VII

WHO STARTED THE WAR?


The wisest thing that our commanders did was to sandwich the Canadian boys
in with the British regulars. Without a doubt we of the First Division were
the greenest troops that ever landed in France.

In two short turns that we spent with the British, we learned more than we
could have otherwise in a month's training. We also became inspired with