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neat pencil drawing of the intensive preliminary
bombardment on the Somme.


A! A RESULT of my conversation with Captain
Huxtable he wrote a letter about me to the
Adjutant at the Training Depot of the Royal Flint-
shire Fusiliers, which was his old regiment. As far as
he was concerned the Flintshire Fusiliers were, as he
said, ancient history; but the Adjutant happened to
be the nephew of an old brother officer of his, and he
jovially remarked that he would perjure himself for
once in a way by giving me a good character. For
him his old "corps" ranked next below religion, and
to be thus almost actively in touch with the regiment
gave him deep satisfaction.

His room contained many objects associated with
his army life; he had seen garrison service in India;
there were mementoes of that; and his little water-
colour foreign sketches which I had often seen before.
His sword, of course, was hanging on the wall.
Everything connected with Captain Huxtable's
regimental career had suddenly become significant
and stimulating. The Flintshire Fusiliers, which I
had so often heard him speak about (and had taken
so little interest in), had become something to be
lived up to. I would be a credit to him, I resolved,
as I went home across the dark fields.

The local doctor had said I might take the splint
off my arm next day and that was a step in the right
direction. I said nothing to Aunt Evelyn about my
conspiracy with her old friend until a week later,
when I received a favourable letter from the Adjutant,