XVIII. A LAST DAY AT THE O.P.[ToC]
When, on October 21, I returned to France, the war had made a very big stride towards its end. Cambrai had been regained, and Le Cateau—"Lee Katoo," the men insisted on calling it—taken. Ostend was ours, Lille was ours; over Palestine we had cast our mantle. Our own Division, still hard at it, had gone forward twenty-four miles during my fortnight's leave in England. Stories of their doings trickled towards me when I broke the journey at Amiens on my way back to the lines. I met an Infantry captain bound for England.
"It's been all open fighting this last fortnight—cavalry, and forced marches, and all that—and I don't want to hear any more talk of the new Armies not being able to carry out a war of movement," he said chirpily. "The men have been magnificent. The old Boche is done now; but we're making no mistakes—we're after him all the while.
"Dam funny, you know, some of the things that are happening up there. The Boche has left a lot of coal dumps behind, and every one's after it. There's a 2000-ton pile at Le Cateau, and it was disappearing so rapidly that they put a guard on it. I was walking with my colonel the other day, and we came across an Australian shovelling coal from this dump into a G.S. waggon. A sentry, with fixed bayonet, was marching up an' down.
"The colonel stopped when we came to the sentry, and asked him what he was supposed to be doing.
"'Guarding the coal dump, sir.'
"'But what is this Australian doing? Has he any authority to draw coal? Did he show you a chit?'
"'No, sir,' replied the sentry. 'I thought, as he had a Government waggon, it would be all right.'
"'Upon my Sam!' said the colonel, astonished. Then he tackled the Australian.
"'What authority have you for taking away this coal?' he asked.