een hit in the wrist over
the lines early that morning and missed the direction back to his
aerodrome. Getting very weak, he landed, not very well, outside
Amiens. He got his wrist bound up and had asked someone to telephone
to the aerodrome to tell them that they were going to the "Rhin" for
breakfast, and would they send for them there?

After I had been in Amiens for about a fortnight, going out to the
Somme battlefields early in the morning and coming back when it got
dark, I received a message one evening from the Press "Major" to go to
his chateau and ring up the "Colonel" at Rollencourt, which I did. The
following was the conversation as far as I remember:--

"Is that Orpen?"

"Yes, sir."

"What do you mean by behaving this way?"

"What way, please, sir?"

"By not reporting to me."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I do not understand." (p. 022)

"Don't you know you must report to me, and show me
what work you have been doing?"

"I've practically done nothing yet, sir."

"What have you been doing?"

"Looking round, sir."

"Are you aware you are being paid for your services?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, report to me and show me your work regularly.--Tell
the Major to speak to me."

The Major spoke, and I clearly heard him say my behaviour was
damnable.

This wonderful Colonel expected me to work all day, and apparently, in
the evening, to take what I had done and show it to him--the distance
by motor to him and back was something like 110 miles!

I saw there was nothing for it, if I wanted to do my work, but to
fight, so I decided to lay my views of people and things before those
who were above the Colonel. This I did, and had comparative peace, but
the seed of hostility was sown in the Colonel's Intelligence (F)
Section, G.H.Q., as I think it was then called, and they made me
suffer as much as was in their power.

* * * * *

"BEAUMONT-HAMEL" (p. 023)

A MEMORY OF THE SOMME (SPRING 1917)

A fair spring morning--not a living soul is near,
Far, far away there is the faint grumble of the guns;
The battle has passed long since--
All is Peace.
At times there is the faint drone of aeroplanes as
They pass overhead, amber specks, high up in the blue;
Occasionally there is the movement of a rat in the
Old battered trench on which I sit, still in the
Confusion in which it was hurriedl