“Then take this down please. ‘O.C. Waggon-lines, A and B batteries. On receipt of this, you will harness-up and be prepared to move forward at a minute’s notice. Acknowledge by bearer.’ Got that, Sergeant Major?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Repeat it to Mr. Murphy at the Ammunition Column.” Mr. Black stretched out the scribbled messages. Stark signed them. “Have them both sent by cyclist orderly, at once, please. Tell the orderlies they’ll be put under arrest if they’re not back in an hour and a half. Make them report to you personally, please.”
“And Headquarters, sir?”
“Same instructions, Mr. Black. The Adjutant’s horses and mine to be waiting saddled-up at the back of the Fosse; the rest, ready to move off with the batteries. Have the servants pack up everything except the Mess-box at once. Do you quite understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Rations all right?”
“Yes, sir. Two days’ supply.”
“Very good. Send Bombardier Michael to me, please. . . .”