He was disappointed several times of the leave which he was looking forward to, but he never grumbled. When it came at last in October it was spent chiefly in seeing his many friends and especially the relatives of his comrades in the Battalion. One friend has seen in this a new instance of the fact that he 'always thought first of others.'
It was in November that the unlooked for honour came to Captain Lusk:—
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 1915.
I have got a little piece of news for you to-night that will cheer you. Intimation came to us this morning that a French decoration was to be given to your first-born son. It is called 'Chevalier, 5th Class, Legion of Honour.' I don't know what it is for, but someone—I don't know who—has been so kind as to recommend me for it, and it is to be given to-morrow, Sabbath, by the Commander of the Third Army at a little village behind the lines.
I don't know what there has been in the work of each day that has seemed to those in authority to be worthy of some mark of approval.... It has come as a complete surprise to us all, and I try to say that it is an honour more to the Battalion than to me.... It is exactly one year to-day since I took up my duties as Staff Captain of the Scottish Rifle Brigade at Falkirk.
NOVEMBER 9, 1915.
Saturday night was a busy one; I think I only got a few hours' sleep altogether. We were to be relieved in trenches on Sabbath morning. It was a day sooner than we had expected, and there were many arrangements to make, besides the ordinary routine-work of messages and telephones and counter-messages. I got up before 6 to lead a working party up to the front trench, and when I had done that I lay down again for less than an hour; then got up and washed and shaved, for this was a great day for my Mother and my Sister, and through them for me! The orders for the relief reached us at 8 a.m., and I had much arranging to do in the hour that followed before I had to be off on my errand. I got something to eat, put on a pair of cleaner boots, and tried to take at least some of the mud from my clothes. My grey mare was waiting for me in the wood, and I rode about three miles back to Hamilton's billet in his little village. I met him in the middle of the street. He had just heard about it the night before, and was very kind about it and extremely pleased. He is such a keen soldier. I took off my web equipment, and borrowed his leather cross-belts, which he always keeps polished to the last degree, and dug out my new glengarry from my valise that was in his keeping what time we were in the trenches.
A motor-bus had been arranged for the rest of the journey; it was one of the old London Omnibus Company's ones, painted khaki and with its side windows boarded up. There are lots of them used here for taking troops about hurriedly. This took me back another five or six miles, and by 11 a.m. we had reached a little village where there was a charming old French Château, that was being used as the Headquarters of a certain 'Division'—a Regular Division. In front of the Château was a beautiful park with trees covered with autumn leaves. It was a perfect winter day. The sun shone, and opposite the centre of the Château at the other side of the park stood a great gateway with high pillars and a great gate. A parade ground was marked off in this park, and a certain Regiment of Regulars was drawn up to form three sides of a square. When every one was in his place the order was given 'Fix Bayonets,' and like one man they flashed in the sun-light. There was a little table at the fourth side of the square with a coloured rug laid over it. In the centre of the square nine Officers and about thirty Non-Commissioned Officers and men stood to attention in line.
General Sir E. H. H. Allenby, K.C.B., Commanding the Third Army, accompanied by his Staff and several French Officers in blue and gold, came to the little table. The Commander of the Troops gave the command 'GENERAL SALUTE, PRESENT ARMS,' and they did it well, while the Army Commander stood at the salute. One by one names were called by the Chief of his Staff, and each one in the centre row came forward and saluted. No word was spoken save this,—'Legion d'Honneur, Chevalier,—I congratulate you.' Each again saluted in silence and withdrew to the centre line, with something in his hand. Then to the other ranks was handed either 'Medaille Militaire' or 'Croix de Guerre.' Again the band in rear of the troops played 'The Marseillaise,' while all stood at the salute. That was all. The troops marched off the ground, the centre row fell out, and it was over. No speech. The Army is not given to making speeches; and in the circumstances that made the setting, it seemed entirely fitting that it should be so, for we could still hear the guns in the distance. I went back to the trenches, but why I was one of those nine I do not know or understand.