s courage those strips of bright-coloured ribbon on the
breasts of soldiers have been won. After the decorations had been
presented, the men fell back to their battalions. The band struck up
the strains of "D'ye ken John Peel?", and the whole Brigade marched
past the General, the masses of men moving with machine-like
precision. Even the rain which had begun to fall did not mar the fine
effect.

Our stay at Bruay was not to be of long duration. In the early hours
of September 5th a bomb dropped in the garden behind the administration
building where our Headquarters were, waking us from sleep with a
sudden start. It did no harm, but on the next day we were informed
that we were all to move back to our old quarters in Barlin. I always
said that I regarded a bomb dropped on Headquarters as a portent sent
from heaven, telling us we were going to move. Accordingly on
September 6th we all made our way to Barlin, where I was given a
billet in an upper room in an estaminet. The propriety of housing (p. 207)
a Senior Chaplain in an estaminet might be questioned, but this
particular one was called the estaminet of St. Joseph. An estaminet
with such a title, and carried on under such high patronage, was one
in which I could make myself at home. So on the door was hung my sign,
"Canon Scott, Senior Chaplain," which provoked many smiles and much
comment from the men of the battalions as they passed by. I was
looking out of my window in the upper storey one day when the 2nd
Battalion was marching past, and, to the breach of all good discipline,
I called out to the men and asked them if they did not envy me my
billet. A roar of laughter went up, and they asked me how I got there
and if I could take them in as well. I told them that it was the
reward of virtue, and only those who could be trusted were allowed to
be housed in estaminets.

Near me, at Barlin, the motor machine-gun brigade was encamped. It had
been there for some time, and I was glad to meet old friends and renew
acquaintance with the unit that had such a distinguished career at the
front. I had not seen them much since the old days at Poperinghe, but
wherever they went they covered themselves with glory. To spend an
evening in the hut used as the sergeants' mess was a delight. The
rollicking good humour that prevailed was most contagious, and I shall
always treasure the memory of it which has now been made sacred
through the death of so many whom I met there. I used t