come.
Twice while I was at dinner in the breakfast room, I heard an orderly
come in with despatches, but it was not until nine o'clock that the
order "sac au dos" at half past ten the next morning--that was
yesterday--was official, and it was not until nine in the morning that
they knew that they were leaving in camions--which meant that they
were really starting in the pursuit, and the American division was to
follow them.

The officers had a great breakfast just after nine--half a dozen
courses. As they did not know when, if ever, they would sit down to a
real meal at a table again they made their possibly last one a feast.
As they began just after nine and had to be on the road at half past
ten I don't need to tell you that the cook had no time to clear up after
himself. He had just time--with his mouth full of food--to throw his
apron on the floor, snatch up his gun and his knapsack and buckle
himself into shape as he sprinted up the hill to overtake his company.

As for me--I threw on a cape and went across the road to the field,
where I could see the Grande Route, and the chemin Madame
leading to it. All along the route nationale, as far as I could see with
my field-glass, stood the grey camions. On the chemin Madame the
regiment was waiting. They had stacked their guns and, in groups,
with cigarettes between their lips, they chatted quietly, as they waited.
Here and there a bicyclist was sprinting with orders.

Suddenly a whistle sounded. There was a rattle of arms as the men
unstacked their guns and fell into line, then hundreds of hobnailed
boots marked time on the hard road, and the 65th swung along to the
waiting camions, over the same route I had seen Captain Simpson
and the Yorkshire boys take, just before sundown, on that hot
September day in 1914.

As I stood watching them all the stupendousness of the times rushed
over me that you and I, who have rubbed our noses on historical
monuments so often, have chased after emotions on the scenes of
past heroism, and applauded mock heroics across the footlights,
should be living in days like these, days in which heroism is the
common act of every hour. I cannot help wondering what the future
generations are going to say of it all; how far-off times are going to
judge us; what is going to stand out in the strong limelight of history? I
know what I think, but that does not help yet.

Do you know that I had a letter from Paris this week which said: "I
was loo