THE BATTLE OF FRANCE
that he used to command this battalion in the old
days—We went off together to visit a little wood
where we'd spent some pretty bad moments in 1917.
It was a beautiful day: the air was fresh and grand to
walk in, but the General, abstracted, was sniffing up
the scent of the autumn leaves uneasily. I said to
myself, "What the devil is he looking for anyway?"
And suddenly he stopped short in front of a tree
with his nose to the bark. He drew a deep breath
and his face lit up as he said:
"Wait. ... It smells of gas. It's lovely." '
There was a long silence.
'And did it really smell of gas?' Duncan said.
'I believe so. Anyway, my impression was the
same as his. Perhaps a shell had been unearthed
there recently. But after all, that's beside the point.
What struck me was the way he said: 'It's lovely/' *
I turned to the young lieutenant who had been
listening in silence:
'We must be boring you with all our stories of the
last war.'
'Sometimes,' he replied. 'But think of the revenge
I'm going to take on my children in twenty-five
years' time!'
Mules from Missouri
Last evening the Quartermaster-General of the
British Armies gave an excellent interview to the
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