deserted bed, and found it very
comfortable.

Our Brigade Headquarters were at Le Touret in a large farm surrounded
by a moat. We were quite happy, but on the next day, which I spent in
censoring the letters of the 13th Battalion, I was told that the 2nd
Brigade were coming to occupy the billet and that I had to get out and
forage for myself. At half past six in the evening I saw from my window
the giant form of General Currie followed by his staff, riding across
the bridge over the moat. He looked very imposing, but I knew it meant
that the bed I had slept in was no longer mine. I called my friend (p. 081)
Murdoch MacDonald and I got him to pack my haversack. "Murdoch", I
said, "once more we have to face the big, black world alone, but--'the
Lord will provide'". The sun had set, the air was cool and scented
richly with the fermented manure spread upon the land. Many units were
scattered through the fields. We went from one place to another, but
alas there was no billet for us. It was tiring work, and both Murdoch
and I were getting very hungry and also very grumpy. The prospect of
sleeping under the stars in the chilly night was not pleasant. I am
ashamed to say my faith began to waver, and I said to Murdoch MacDonald,
"Murdoch, my friend, the Lord is a long time providing for us
tonight." We made our way back to the main road and there I saw an
Imperial Officer who was acting as a point man and directing traffic.
I told him my difficulty and implored him, as it was now getting on
towards eleven p.m., to tell me where I could get a lodging for the
night. He thought for a while and then said, "I think you may find a
bed for yourself and your man in the prison." The words had an ominous
sound, but I remembered how often people at home found refuge for the
night in the police station. He told me to go down the road to the
third farmhouse, where I should find the quarters of some Highland
officers and men. The farm was called the prison, because it was the
place in which captured Germans were to be held until they were sent
down the line. Followed by Murdoch, I made my way again down the busy
road now crowded with transports, troops and ambulances. It was hard
to dodge them in the mud and dark. I found the farmhouse, passed the
sentry, and was admitted to the presence of two young officers of the
Glasgow Highlanders. I told them who I was and how I had been bidden
by the patrol officer to seek refuge with them. They receiv