The next morning the four reported to Division Headquarters for instructions. Two of the men were sent to large towns in the rear of the lines with an easy job. When it came our turn, the officer told us we were good men and had passed a very creditable examination.
My tin hat began to get too small for me, and I noted that the other man, Atwell, by name, was sticking his chest out more than usual.
The officer continued: "I think I can use you two men to great advantage in the front line. Here are your orders and instructions, also the pass which gives you full authority as special M. P. detailed on intelligence work. Report at the front line according to your instructions. It is risky work and I wish you both the best of luck."
My heart dropped to zero and Atwell's face was a study. We saluted and left.
That wishing us the "best of luck" sounded very ominous in our ears; if he had said "I wish you both a swift and painless death" it would have been more to the point.
When we had read our instructions we knew we were in for it good and plenty. What Atwell said is not fit for publication, but I strongly seconded his opinion of the War, Army, and Divisional Headquarters in general.
After a bit our spirits rose. We were full-fledged spy-catchers, because our instructions and orders said so.
We immediately reported to the nearest French estaminet and had several glasses of muddy water, which they called beer. After drinking our beer we left the estaminet and hailed an empty ambulance.
After showing the driver our passes we got in. The driver was going to the part of the line where we had to report.
The ambulance was a Ford and lived up to its reputation.