gates and up the drive of what was once a splendid chateau. We presently found ourselves marching through a sea of thin mud, knee deep. Mud in excelsis with a few deep Jack Johnson holes here and there into which some few unfortunates fell.
Then came a pleasant reminder that there was a war on, in the shape of flying bullets – the plonk and hiss of one striking the mud at your side and the sharp crack of one going overhead and smashing through tree trunks. As we approached nearer, nobody hit as yet, we could hear the crack of rifles and in the close presence of the star lights we felt we were discovered and waited, with, I dare say shaking knees, for the arrival of bits of lead. But our fears were groundless for the Allemands were on the other