xii PROLOGUE 



vdres ; the canteens ugliness^ the odour of 

 stale beer, the rag-smeared tables and the 

 flies. Then came the village, with its ruined 

 churchy its broken crucifix, its sightless lath- 

 lined windows ; its one small shop where you 

 can buy " silk-cards" eggs, and sometimes 

 chocolate. On again up to the cross-roads, 

 where on your tight you meet a one-time 

 farm. Behind it you will find a big green 

 orchard. 



In the evening light this seemed inviting — 

 there at the further end a tent, its flops 

 flung wide to candle-light that glimmered on 

 its white spread table. Here we dined well, 

 thanks to the A.S.C. ; likewise our -good 

 host's cook, who can disguise even '^Afacono- 

 chie." . . . Below, the bugle notes rang out 

 — faint and fainter down the valley. After- 

 wards the orderlies arranged our chairs, with 

 coffee and liqueurs, under the apple-trees ; 

 while overhead the searchlights stared un- 

 ceasingly, projecting beams of silent light, 



