A.A.
\2<)tk November^ 1939\
THE rain, whipped by a squally wind, swirled
about us. Water ran down our necks and
underneath our oilskins. Our feet slithered
in clay that was the colour of cafe-au-lait.
'Can you see the battery?' the General said.
'No, sir. All I can see is a flooded field/
'Good/ he said, 'that shows how well my guns
are camouflaged/
Without warning, he leaned over a hole which he
had discovered, miraculously, in the corner of a silo,
and called:
'Barnett!'
A young second lieutenant rose from the earth
and invited us down to his infernal realm. I
wondered how he had managed to create in the
sodden soil this warm, dry shelter. Down there a
stove purred softly: a lantern like a miner's lamp
threw its light over the walls and disclosed
silhouettes of aeroplanes and photographs of
actresses.
The useful and the agreeable/ said the General
As he went in the troglodytes that dwelt in these
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