ould not make out what was the matter with
them, until somebody noticed that their buttons shone. We drew up in the
square, the happiest crew imaginable, but with a dignity such as
befitted chosen N.C.O.'s and officers.

That was the first time I saw St Omer. When last I came to it I saw
little, because I arrived in a motor-ambulance and left in a
hospital-train.

The top of the bus was crowded, and we talked "shop" together. _Sixth
Division's having a pretty cushy time, what?--So you were at Mons!_ (in
a tone of respect)--_I don't mind their shells, and I don't mind their
machine-guns, but their Minenwerfer are the frozen limit!--I suppose
there's no chance of our missing the boat. Yes, it was a pretty fair
scrap--Smith? He's gone. Silly fool, wanted to have a look round--Full
of buck? Rather! Yes, heard there's a pretty good show on at the
Frivolity--Beastly cold on top of this old wheezer_.

It was, but none of us cared a scrap. We looked at the sign-posts that
showed the distance to Boulogne, and then pretended that we had not seen
them. Lurching and skidding and toiling we came to the top of the hill
above Boulogne. With screaming brakes we rattled down to the harbour.
That old sinner, Sergeant Maguire, who was in charge of us corporals,
made all arrangements efficiently. We embarked, and after a year of
Sundays cast off.

There was a certain swell on, and Mr Potter, the bravest of men, grew
greener and greener. My faith in mankind went.

We saw a dark line on the horizon.

"By Jove, there's England!" We all produced our field-glasses and looked
through them very carefully for quite a long time.

"So it is. Funny old country"--a pause--"Makes one feel quite
sentimental, just like the books. That's what we're fighting for, I
suppose. Wouldn't fight for dirty old Dover! Wonder if they still charge
you a penny for each sardine. I suppose we'll have to draw the blinds
all the way up to London. Not a safe country by any means, far rather
stop in the jolly old trenches."

"You'll get the white feather, old man."

"No pretty young thing would give it you. Why, you wouldn't look
medically fit in mufti!"

"Fancy seeing a woman who isn't dirty and can talk one's own lingo!"

So we came to Folkestone, and all the people on the pier smiled at us.
We scuttled ashore and shook ourselves for delight. There was a
policeman, a postman. Who are these fussy fellows with badges on their
arms? Special constables, of cours