"You needn't worry about the grub. Grouser—you can live on nuts."
"Plenty of hay with the transport."
"Oh," Grouser turned abruptly, "plenty of hay.... You found yer bloomin' natural fodder, eh! Aye, ye're every bit such a donkey as ye look."
"Look 'ere, wot d'you take me for?"
"Take you for? Wouldn't take you fer a bloomin' gift. We used to have one like you with our organ—'ad it on a chain."
The Ten Hundred prepared after a last night in the line to move back during the first week in April for the long rest upon which their anticipations had been longingly concentrated for weeks.
No Battalion moved more than a few miles behind the sectors owing to the uncertainty of future enemy developments. His line of attack had been lengthened from both original flanks until at the lull in his scheme of offensive a length of over seventy miles had been attained.
He was preparing for a second wild onslaught, again to the far south of Passchendaele ... of the result everyone felt a little uncertain. It was obvious that sooner or later he would attempt a headlong rush upon those lines of communication with the Home Country—Channel Ports—so vital a factor in the efficient maintenance of the B.E.F.
The Normans came out. D Company was sent on in the direction of Proven, attained within a kilo of the town and was intercepted by a despatch rider, who carried with him orders for their immediate return. A stir of apprehensive uncertainty spread through the ranks. What had happened? Surely they were not going to be rushed into the line somewhere ... they had only just come out.
They turned, encountered the Battalion at Brandhoek. A fleet of lorries was awaiting them.