It reminded me of another reference to that tale of mine when I was among a crowd of London lads who had just been engaged in a bloody fight at a place called The Hairpin.
A young officer sent for me and I found him in the loft of a stinking barn, sitting in a tub as naked as he was born.
“I just wanted to ask you,” he said, “whether Katharine married Frank?”
The sergeant at Gommecourt was anxious to show me his own Street of Adventure.
“I belong to Toc-emmas,” he said (meaning trench—mortars), “and my officers would be very pleased if you would have a look at their latest stunt. We've got a 9.2 mortar in Pigeon Wood, away beyond the infantry. It's never been done before and we're going to blow old Fritz out of Kite Copse.”
I followed him into the blue, as it seemed to me, and we fell in with a young officer also on his way to Pigeon Wood. He was in a merry mood, in spite of harassing fire round about and the occasional howl of a 5.9. He kept stopping to look at enormous holes in the ground and laughing at something that seemed to tickle his sense of humor.
“See that?” he said. “That's old Charlie Lowndes's work.”
At another pit in upheaved earth he said: “That's Charlie Lowndes again... Old Charlie gave 'em hell. He's a topping chap. You must meet him... My God! look at that!”
He roared with laughter again, on the edge of an unusually large crater.
“Who is Charlie?” I asked. “Where can I find him?”