Next day we passed the Irishman tied to the wheel of a limber, the beginning of his sentence of twenty-one days, Field Punishment No. I. Never before have I seen such a woebegone expression on a man's face.
For several days, Atwell and I made ourselves scarce around Brigade Headquarters. We did not want to meet the General.
The spy was never caught.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE FIRING SQUAD
A few days later I had orders to report back to Divisional Headquarters, about thirty kilos behind the line. I reported to the A. P. M. (Assistant Provost Marshal). He told me to report to billet No. 78 for quarters and rations.
It was about eight o'clock at night and I was tired and soon fell asleep in the straw of the billet. It was a miserable night outside, cold, and a drizzly rain was falling.
About two in the morning I was awakened by someone shaking me by the shoulder. Opening my eyes I saw a Regimental Sergeant-Major bending over me. He had a lighted lantern in his right hand. I started to ask him what was the matter, when he put his finger to his lips for silence and whispered:
"Get on your equipment, and, without any noise, come with me."
This greatly mystified me but I obeyed his order.
Outside of the billet, I asked him what was up, but he shut me up with: