I reached the neighbourhood of the line at about 2 a.m. It was
snowing hard and the whole front was sugared over like a
wedding-cake, every track and landmark obliterated. For some hours I
groped about seeking Battalion H.Q., tripping over hidden wire,
toboganning down snow-masked craters into icy shell-holes, the
inimitable Eustace with me. Finally I fell head-first into a dug-out
inhabited by three ancient warriors, who were sitting round a brazier
sucking cigarettes. They were Brigade Scouts, they told me, and were
going over presently. They were also Good Samaritans, one of them,
Fred, giving me his seat by the fire and a mug of scalding cocoa,
while his colleagues, Messrs. Alf and Bert, attended to Eustace, who
needed all the attention he could get. I caught snatches of their
conversation here and there: "Shall us toast 'im over the brazier a
bit, Alf?" "Wonder if a drop o' rum would 'earten 'im?" "Tip it
into his jaws when 'e yawns, Bert."
At length Eustace's circulation was declared restored and the three
set about harnessing themselves for the war, encasing their legs in
sand-bags, winding endless mufflers round their heads and donning
innumerable odd overcoats, so that their final appearance was more
that of apple-women than scouts.
We then set out for the battle, Bert leading the way towards the
barrage which was cracking and banging away in yellow flashes over
the Boche lines.
Presently we heard a muffled hail ahead.
"Wazzermatter, Bert?" Alf shouted.
"They've quit--slung their 'ook," came the voice.
Fifty yards brought us bumping up against Bert, who was prodding
through the débris of a German post with the point of his bayonet.
"So the swines have beat it?" said Fred. "Any soovenirs?"
"Nah!" said Bert, spitting, "not a blinkin' 'am-sandwich."
"Is this really our objective?" I asked.
"It is, sir," Bert replied. "Best sit down and keep quiet; the rest
of the boys will be along in a jiffy, and they'd bomb their own
grandmothers when they're worked up."
I put my hand in the basket and dragged Eustace forth. He didn't
look up to V.C. form. Still I had explicit orders to release him
when our objective was reached, and obedience is second nature with
me.
I secured my message to his leg, wished him luck and tossed him high
in the air. A swirl of snow hid him from view.
I didn't call at H.Q. when I returned. I went straight home to bed
and stayed there. As they did not send for me and I heard no more
about it I conjectured that the infallible Eustace had got back to
his bus and all was well. Nevertheless I had a sort of uneasy
feeling about him. I heard no more of it for ten days, and then, out
walking one afternoon, I bumped into the pigeon-fancier. There was
no way of avoiding the man; the lane was only four feet wide, bounded
by nine-foot walls with glass on top. So I halted opposite him,
smiled my prettiest and asked after Eustace. "So glad he got home
all right," said I; "a great bird that."
The fancier glared at me, his sour eyes sparkling, his fists opening
and shutting. I felt that only bitter discipline stood between them
and my throat.
"Ay, sir," said he, speaking with difficulty, "he's a great bird, but
not the bird he was. He got home all right yesterday, but very stiff
in the legs from walking every step o' the way."