"I grant you," said the Brigadier, "but a fellow should be stout along
accepted lines. 'To Lieutenant Felix Marcel, Comte de Blavincourt, the
Military Cross for eating his map.' No, Sir, it can't be done."
The Horse-master, who was helping himself to old tawny, nodded
vigorously and muttered "No, by Jove, it can't."
"You speak with feeling, Coper," remarked the General.
"I do, Sir. I sat up the best part of three nights last March trying
to write for official consumption the story of a fellow who seemed to
me to qualify for the 'Stout' class. It was a wash-out, though; too
absurd."
"Well, give the port a fair wind and let's have the absurdity now,"
said the General.
The Horse-master bowed to the command.
"I was with the Fifth Army last year when the wave swept us. We were
fairly swamped for the moment and all nohow. One evening, retreating
on my own line, I came upon some little village--can't remember the
name just now, but you know the sort of thing--typical Somme hamlet, a
smear of brick-dust with a big notice-board on top, saying, 'THIS IS
LE SARS,' or 'POZIÈRES,' or whatever its name was. Anyway, in this
village I found a Divisional H.Q., four Brigade H.Q.'s, and oddities
of all sorts sitting one on top of t'other waiting for the next thing
to happen. The next thing was a single wounded lancer who happened in
about four in the morning with the glad tidings that Bosch tanks were
advancing on us". Questioned further he admitted that he had
only actually seen one and that in the dark. But it was the
great-grandfather of all tanks, according to the chap; it stood twenty
foot high; it 'roared and rumbled' in its career, and it careered by
steam.
"It wasn't any manner of use assuring him that there wasn't a steam
tank on anybody's front. He said there was, and we couldn't move him.
"'I saw steam coming from it in clouds,' be mumbled, 'and sparks and
smoke.' Then he crumpled slowly on the floor, fast asleep.
"The Divisional General was properly mystified.
"'If only I had a single field-gun or even some gelignite,' he
groaned; then turning to me, 'I must get the strength of this; it
may be some new frightfulness the Hun is springing. You're an old
horse-soldier, I believe? Well, jump on your gee and go scout the
thing, will you?'
"I scratched together a rag and bobtail patrol of grooms and pushed
off just before daybreak. Our people had the edge of the village
manned with every rifle they could collect. A subaltern lying ear to
earth hailed me as I passed. 'It's coming,' he called.
"A quarter of a mile further on I could hear the roaring and rumbling
myself without lying on the road.
"Light was breaking fast, but there were wisps and shreds of fog
blowing about which made observation exceedingly difficult. Still,
observation I was out to get, so, spreading my bobbery pack, I worked
closer and closer. Suddenly one of my patrol shrilled, 'There y'are,
Sir!' and I saw a monstrous shape loom for a moment through a thinning
of mist, and rock onwards into obscurity again.
"'It's an armoured car. I seed wheels under it,' gasped one groom.
'More like a blasted Dreadnought,' grunted another. 'Cheer-o, chaps,
the 'Un fleet 'as come out.' But nobody laughed or felt like laughing;
this mysterious monster, thundering westward wrapped in its barrage of
fog, was getting on our nerves."
The Horse-master paused and carefully removed the long ash from his
cigar.
"Then the mists rolled up and revealed what I at first took to be a
walking R.E. dump, but secondly discovered to be a common ordinary
domestic British steam-roller with 'LINCOLN URBAN DISTRICT COUNCIL'
in dirty white lettering upon its fuel box, a mountain of duck-boards
stacked on the cab roof, railway sleepers, riveting stakes and odds
and ends of lumber tied on all over it. As I rode up an elderly head,
grimy and perspiring, was thrust between a couple of duck-boards and
nodded pleasantly to me. ''Ello,' it said, 'seen anythin' o' the
lads?'
"I was too dumbfounded to say anything excepting that the lads were in
the next village waiting for him.
"'Ah'm right glad o' that,' said he; 'been feeling a bit lonesome-like
these last two days;' adding, in case I might not appreciate the
situation, 'These yer Germans 'ave been after me, you know, Sir.'
"I replied that my only wonder was that they had not captured him long
since.
"'Very nearly did once or twice,' he admitted, and wagged his elderly
head; 'but t'owd lass is a great one to travel when she's sweet, an'
ah've 'ad a lot o' luck pickin' oop these bits o' firin' along the
road;' and he jammed a bunch of riveting stakes into the furnace.
"'Oh, ah reckon we're just keepin' ahead of 'em. Well, best be gettin'
along now, s'pose. Good day to you, Sir.'
"He wrenched at a lever and 't'owd lass' rumbled off down the highway
towards Albert, rearguard of His Britannic Majesty's Armies in the
Field."