Skip to main content

Full text of "TheCompleteMemoirsOfGeorgeSherston"

See other formats


I CAME back from the Army School at the end of a
hot Saturday afternoon. The bus turned off the
bumpy main road from Corbie and began to crawl
down a steep winding lane, I looked, and there was
Morlancourt in the hollow. On the whole I con-
sidered myself lucky to be returning to a place where
I knew my way about. It was no use regretting the
little room at Flixecourt where I had been able to sit
alone every night, reading a good book and calling
my soul my own. . . . Distant hills and hazy valleys
were dazzled with sun-rays, and the glaring beams
made a fiery mist in the foreground. It was jolly fine
country, I thought. I had become quite fond of it,
and the end-of-the-world along the horizon had some
obscure hold over my mind which drew my eyes to it
almost eagerly, for I could still think of trench war-
fare as an adventure. The horizon was quiet just now,
as if the dragons which lived there were dozing.

The Battalion was out of the line, and I felt almost
glad to be back as I walked up to our old Company
Mess with Flook carrying my valise on his back.
Flook and I were very good friends, and his vigilance
for my personal comfort was such that I could more
easily imagine him using his rifle in defence of my
valise than against the Germans.

Nobody was in when I got to our billets, but the