of his greatest difficulties--feeding himself. The Platoon having halted
for the usual hourly halt outside an orchard, some of the men broke into
it and began to throw apples over the hedge to the others. Seeing the
Colonel approaching, the Subaltern realised that something must be done
instantly to avert disaster. "What the deuce are you men doing? Come out
of it!" he cried. The men came, looking very dejected. The Colonel,
pacified, passed by. A second later, the glad work of refreshing the
troops was being carried on by a fresh couple of men.

It must have been a very similar situation that gave birth to a story
that has already become famous. A Tommy was caught by a "brass hat" in
the very act of strangling a chicken. Tommy looked up. Was he abashed?
Not a bit of it! He did what Mr. Thomas Atkins generally does in a tight
corner. He kept his head: he rose magnificently to the occasion. He did
not loose the chicken and endeavour to stammer an apology. On the
contrary, he continued to strangle it. He took no notice of the "brass
hat." As he gave a final twist to the bird's throat he said menacingly,
"So you'd try to bite me, would you, you little brute!"

Towards the end of the afternoon the men were so obviously exhausted,
and the number forced to fall out was so great, that a halt had to be
ordered in spite of previous plans. The men threw themselves utterly
exhausted on the ground on their backs, and lay like so many corpses
until the march was continued, in the cool of the evening.

The Subaltern, consulting a fresh map--for they had been walking across
the ground covered by one map every day--learnt to his surprise that
they were within a few miles of Paris. And so also, he thought, were the
Germans! It rather looked as if they were heading straight towards the
city, and that would mean a siege. It was no use worrying about things,