They all turned and saw a tiny figure, clad only in underclothes,
marching deliberately over the ridge towards the Germans.

"Who is it?" the Colonel repeated. "Beggin' your pardon, the Reverend,
Sir," said the Padre's batman as he strode past the group of officers.
"'E give me the slip, Sir. Gawd knows wot 'e's up to now." He lifted up
his voice and wailed after his master, "'Ere, you come back this minute,
Sir. You'll get yourself in trouble again. Do you 'ear me, Sir?" But the
Padre apparently did not hear him, for he plodded steadily on his way.
The batman gave a sob of despair and broke into a double.

The Colonel sprang to his feet, "Hey, stop him, somebody! Those swine'll
shoot him in a second--child murder!"

Two subalterns ran forward, followed by a trio of N.C.O.'s. All along
the line men lifted their weary heads from the ground and saw the tiny
figure on the ridge silhouetted against the red east.

"Oo's that blinkin' fool?"

"The Padre."

"Wot's 'e doin' of?"

"Gawd knows."

A man rose to his knees, from his knees to his feet, and stumbled
forward, mumbling, "'E give me a packet of fags when I was broke." "Me
too," growled another, and followed his chum. "They'll shoot 'im in a