unattractive. The people did not seem to care what happened to anybody.
Perhaps we thought that, because we were very tired. Outside Noyon I
dozed, then went off to sleep.

When I awoke it was quite dark, and the column had halted. The order
came for all except the drivers to dismount and proceed on foot. The
bridge ahead was considered unsafe, so waggons went across singly.

I walked on into the village, Pontoise. There were no lights, and the
main street was illuminated only by the lanterns of officers seeking
their billets. An A.S.C. officer gave me a lift. Our H.Q. were right the
other end of the town in the Chateau of the wee hamlet called La
Pommeraye. I found them, stumbled into a loft, and dropped down for a
sleep.

We were called fairly late.[10] George and I rode into Pontoise and
"scrounged" for eggs and bread. These we took to a small and smelly
cottage. The old woman of the cottage boiled our eggs and gave us
coffee. It was a luxurious breakfast. I was looking forward to a slack
lazy day in the sun, for we were told that we had for the moment
outdistanced the gentle Germans. But my turn came round horribly soon,
and I was sent off to Compiègne with a message for G.H.Q., and orders to
find our particularly elusive Div. Train. It was a gorgeous ride along a
magnificent road, through the great forest, and I did the twenty odd
miles in forty odd minutes.

G.H.Q. was installed in the Palace. Everybody seemed very clean and
lordly, and for a moment I was ashamed of my dirty, ragged, unshorn
self. Then I realised that I was "from the Front"--a magic phrase to
conjure with for those behind the line--and swaggered through long