young and fresh and ruddy. Not a word was spoken save a whispered
command carried down the rank, mouth to ear, "No smoking, no talking
"--"No smoking, no talking "--"No talking, no smoking." Mules, carrying
sections of machine-guns and packs of straw, loomed up out of the
darkness as we passed, until the last of the column was reached and the
frieze of ghostly figures was swallowed up into the night. We drew a
long breath, for we knew now from the colonel of the battalion whose men
had delivered us from that Slough of Despond that we had been within 150
yards of the German lines. We had mistaken Richebourg l'Avoué for
Richebourg St. Vaast.




VIII

IDOLS OF THE CAVE


Like the Cyclopes they dwelt in hollow caves, and each Colonel uttered
the law to his children and recked not of the others except when the
Brigadier came round. True there were two and a half battalions in their
line of 2700 yards, but all they knew was that the next battalion to
their own was the Highlanders; it was only when the five days were up
and they were marched back to billets that they were able to cultivate
that somewhat exclusive society. Their trenches were like the suburbs,
they were faintly conscious that people lived in the next street, but
they never saw them. Their neighbours were as self-contained and silent
as themselves, except when their look-outs or machine-guns became
loquacious. Then they too became eloquent, and the whole line talked