pull out the rod, but the united efforts of the six of us proved
unavailing. We hailed a passing cart and tied the reins around the
motor-cycle, but immediately the horse commenced to pull the
leather of the reins snapped. Behind the cart walked a peasant.
Only one adjective can possibly describe him: he was decidedly
"beer-y." He made no attempt to help but passed from one Tommy
to the other, patting them on their backs, assuring them "that with
a little good-will all would be well." There was a dangerous glint in
the youngest Tommy's eye, but in the presence of ladies he
refrained from putting his thoughts into words. Finally, his patience
evaporating, he suddenly turned on the peasant and shouted at
him, "Ong! Ong!" It took me some time to grasp that this was
Tommy's abbreviated version of "Allez vous en" (Clear out). In any
event it proved quite useless, as he continued to pat the Tommies
affectionately and to bombard them with impracticable suggestions.

We were joined later by three villagers, two gendarmes and a
postman, and, all pulling together, we managed to extract the rod
from the tree. A large lorry was passing and on to it we heaved the
wreckage. Up clambered the Tommies, followed by their unwelcome
friend, who managed to sit on the only unbroken portion of the
side-car. This was too much for Messrs. Atkins' equanimity.
Limp with laughter, we watched them pass from sight amidst a
chorus of "Ong! Ong!" followed by flights of oratory in the English
tongue which do not bear repeating, but which were received by the
peasant as expressions of deep esteem and to which he replied
by endeavouring to kiss the Tommies and shouting, "Vive l'Angleterre!
All right! Hoorah!"

Our guiding officer began to show some signs of anxiety to have