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Full text of "TheCompleteMemoirsOfGeorgeSherston"

ally when he had got back late with the ration party,
and his references to the "permanent" Quartermaster
(at Army Headquarters) were far from flattering.

Colonel Kinjack stopped one night in Morlancourt,
and on the following afternoon I guided him up to the
Line, going by the short cut across the open country
and the half-dug and feebly wired reserve trench
which, we hoped, would never be utilized. The new
C.O. had inspected the Transport in the morning
without active disapproval, but he was less pleased
when our appearance on the ridge (half a mile
behind the front line) attracted a few shells, none of
which exploded near us. This was considered quite a
good joke in the battalion, and I was often reminded
afterwards of how I'd got Kinjack welcomed with
whizz-bangs.

"The Boches saw Kinjack coming all right. The
Transport Officer made sure of that!" Barton would
say, with a chuckle.

For in spite of my easy job, it was supposed that I
could be a bit of a daredevil if I liked. Not that I
wanted to be, that afternoon; Kinjack frightened the
life out of me, and was so sceptical of my ability to
find the way that I began to feel none too sure about
it myself. ... It is, however, just conceivable that at
that time I didn't care what happened to the new
Colonel or anybody else, . . .

That same day, at about midnight,1 was awakened
by Dottrell, who told me that I was to go on leave
next morning. I drove to the station in the Maltese
cart; the train started at 9.30, crawled to Havre, and
by ten o'clock next day I was in London, I had been
in France less than four months. As regards war
experience I felt a bit of an impostor. I had noticed
that officers back from their ten days' leave were

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