n a report came through to the Division that a motor-car lay
derelict at Missy. So "the skipper" called for two volunteers who should
be expert mechanics. Divisional Signal companies were not then provided
with cars, and if the C.O. wished to go out to a brigade, which might be
up to or over eight miles away, he was compelled to ride a horse,
experiment with a motor-cycle that was probably badly missed by the
despatch riders, or borrow one of the staff cars. Huggie and the elder
Cecil volunteered.

As soon as it was dusk they rode down to Sermoise, and crossing by the
ferry--it was perilous in the dark--made their way with difficulty
across country to Missy, which was then almost in front of our lines.
They found the car, and examining it discovered that to outward
appearance it was sound,--a great moment when after a turn or two of the
handle the engine roared into the darkness, but the noise was alarming
enough because the Germans were none too far away.

They started on their journey home--by St Marguerite and Venizel. Just
after they had left the village the beam of an alien searchlight came
sweeping along the road. Before the glare had discovered their nakedness
they had pulled the car to the side of the road under the shelter of the
hedge nearest the Germans, and jumping down had taken cover. By all the
rules of the game it was impossible to drive a car that was not exactly
silent along the road from Missy to Hell's Own Corner. The searchlight
should have found them, and the fire of the German snipers should have
done the rest. But their luck was in, and they made no mistakes.
Immediately the beam had passed they leaped on to the car and tore
scathless into St Marguerite and so back to the Division.

After its capture the car was exhibited with enormous pride to all that
passed by. We should not have been better pleased if we had captured the
whole Prussian Guard. For prisoners disappear and cannot always be shown
to prove the tale. The car was an [Greek: aei ktema].

In the morning we rode down into Sermoise for the motor-cycles. Sermoise
had been shelled to pieces, but I shall never forget a brave and
obstinate inhabitant who, when a shell had gone through his roof and
demolished the interior of his house, began to patch his roof with
bully-tins and biscuit-tins that he might at least have shelter from the
rain.

Elated with our capture of the car we scented greater victories. We
heard of a motor-boat on th