glasses, munched a sandwich, and
enjoyed a glass of sherry from his flask. McMahon, for whom short rushes
in artillery formation had no attractions at all, slipped through
a hedge, skirted a field of ripening oats, and settled himself very
comfortably under a beech tree on the edge of a small wood. His orderly
followed him and laid down a large package on the grass beside the
doctor. The Colonel, an enthusiastic realist, had insisted that McMahon
should bring with him a supply of surgical instruments, dressings and
other things necessary for dealing with wounds. McMahon opened the
package. He took out a novel, a tin of tobacco, a great many packages of
cigarettes, two bottles of soda water, two lemons and several parcels of
food.

"This," he said to the orderly, "is the advanced dressing station. When
the casualties begin to arrive, we shall be ready for them."

The Brigadier sent another motor cyclist to say that the battalion would
be wiped out if it stayed where it was. He suggested a move to the right
and an attempt to get into touch with B Company.

The Brigadier, though he drove in a motor-car, was feeling the heat. If
a direct advance had been made on the hill from where the battalion lay
he would have been obliged to drive out of his wood in order to keep the
battle in view. A move to the right could be watched comfortably from
where he sat The Colonel explained the situation, not the Brigadier's
feelings, to his officers, exposing himself with reckless gallantry as
he passed from company to company. He said that he himself would survey
the ground to the right and would try to discover the exact position of
B Company.

"I shall," he said to the Adjutant, "climb a tree so as to get a good
view."

The Adjutant remonstrated. He thought the Colonel was too old a man for
climbing trees. He recommended that a subaltern, a Second Lieutenant
whom nobody would miss much if he fell, should be sent up the tree. The
suggestion, as the Adjutant might have guessed, made the Colonel more
determined and slightly exasperated him.

He gave orders that the Stokes gunners should shell the enemy while he
climbed the tree. The Stokes gunners did not want to shell anyone. Their
weapons are awkward to handle and their ammunition very heavy. They were
already as hot as any men ought to be. But they were well trained and
highly disciplined. They attacked the enemy with small dummy shells,
which rose gently into the air, made a hal