"We came back from there at about 5 P.M." There was a big discussion as to whether we should come farther back. The colonel wanted to stay, and the —rd's B Battery were in action there until four this morning. It was a Divisional decision that there should be a retirement to the next ridge. The poor old infantry were fed to the teeth. They'd sweated blood digging trenches all day on the Caillouel ridge, and then in the evening had to fall back and start digging again.
"Have you seen the colonel?" I asked.
"He was still there with General —— when we came away. The —rd relieved us last night, instead of first thing this morning; and we got down to Grandru, and had three hours' sleep before your note arrived."
"Battery's pretty done, I suppose?"
"Well, it was just about time we came out of action. Men and horses would have been all-in in another day."
We crossed the fine broad canal, watched by the French soldiers guarding the bridge. Dumble was silent for some seconds, and then muttered, "You know, I hate to be coming back like this with the French looking on."
"Yes, I know," I replied,—"but they are good soldiers, and they understand."
"Yes—when I think of poor old Harville, and the fight he put up——" he broke off; and we trudged along.
"Do you know Harville always kept that speech of Beatty's in his pocket-book, that speech where he said England would have to be chastened and turn to a new way of life before we finished the war?" said Dumble later.
"Yes, he was like that—old Harville," I said quietly.