it was only
that the corner presented a tempting target, for they shelled to
destruction everything within a hundred yards. The howitzers were
rapidly put out of action though not destroyed, and a small orchard just
behind them was ploughed, riven, and scarred with high explosive and
shrapnel.

The day St Marguerite was shelled one of the two brigadiers determined
to shift his headquarters to a certain farm. N'Soon and Grimers were
attached to the brigade at the time. "Headquarters" came to the corner.
N'Soon and Grimers were riding slowly in front. They heard a shell
coming. Grimers flung himself off his bicycle and dropped like a stone.
N'Soon opened his throttle and darted forward, foolishly. The shell
exploded. Grimers' bicycle was covered with branches and he with earth
and dust. N'Soon for some reason was not touched.

The General and his staff were shelled nearly the whole way to the farm,
but nobody was hit. The brigade veterinary officer had a theory that the
safest place was next the General, because generals were rarely hit, but
that day his faith was shaken, and the next day--I will tell you the
story--it tottered to destruction.

I had come through St Marguerite the night after the brigade had moved.
Of course I was riding without a light. I rounded Hell's Own Corner
carefully, very frightened of the noise my engine was making. A little
farther on I dismounted and stumbled to the postern-gate of a farm. I
opened it and went in. A sentry challenged me in a whisper and handed me
over to an orderly, who led me over the black bodies of men sleeping to
a lean-to where the General sat with a sheltered light, talking to his
staff. He was tired and anxious. I delivered my despatch, took the
receipted envelope and stumbled back to the postern-gate. Silently I
hauled my motor-cycle inside, then started on my tramp to the General
who had moved.

After Hell's Own Corner the road swings round again to the east, and
runs along the foot of the Chivres hill to Missy. A field or so away to
the left is a thick wood inhabited for the most part by German snipers.
In the preceding days N'Soon and Sadders had done fine work along this
road in broad daylight, carrying despatches to Missy.

I was walking, because no motor-cyclist goes by night to a battalion,
and the noise of a motor-cycle would have advertised the presence of
brigade headquarters somewhere on the road. It was a joyous tramp of two
miles into the village of