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garden by the house where the Field Cashier used to
hand us our money. I remembered going there with
Dick Tiltwood, just a year ago. Ormand was with
me this time, for he had joined the Second Battalion
soon after I did. He had still got his little gramo-
phone, and we reminded ourselves how Mansfield and
Barton used to be for ever "chipping" him about it.
"I must say I used to get jolly fed-up with them some-
times; they overdid it, especially about that record
Lots of Loving" He laughed, rolling his good-humoured
eyes round at me under the strongly marked black
eyebrows which indicated that he had a strong tem-
per when roused. The joke about Lots of Loving had
consisted in the others pretending that it contained an
unprintable epithet. On one occasion they conspired
with the Adjutant, who asked Ormand to play Lots of
Loving and then simulated astonishment at a certain
adjective which was indistinct owing to the worn con-
dition of the disc. Whereupon Ormand explained
angrily, "I ask you, is it bloody likely that 'His
Master's Voice' would send out a record with the

word------in it?"

As we trudged back from Heilly the sun was sinking
red beyond the hazy valleys, a shrewd wind blowing,
and plough teams turning a last furrow along the
ridges. We'd had quite a good afternoon, but Or-
mand's cheerfulness diminished as we neared the
Camp. He didn't fancy his chance in the Spring
Offensive and he wanted to be back with the "good
old First Battalion", though he wouldn't find many of
the good old faces when he got there. He spoke
gloomily about his longing for an ordinary civilian
career and his hatred of "this silly stunt which the
blasted Bishops call the Great Adventure". He had
been on a Court Martial the day before, and though