flags (one of the lighter efforts of the War
Office). Perforce we had to draw up while one of them went into the
_Estaminet_ (I noticed they always chose their quarters well) to bring
out the officer. His job was to examine papers and passes, and sort the
sheep from the goats, allowing the former to proceed and turning the
latter away!

The man in question was evidently new to the work and was exceedingly
fussy and officious. He scanned my pink pass for some time and then
asked, "Where are you going?" "Wimereux," I replied promptly. He looked
at the pass again--"It's got "_W_imer_oo_," here, and not what _you_
said," he answered suspiciously. "Some people pronounce it 'Vimerer,'
nevertheless," I could not refrain from replying, rather tartly.

Again he turned to the pass, and as it started to snow in stinging
gusts (and I was so obviously one of the "sheep"), I began to chafe at
the delay.

As if anyone would joy-ride in such weather without a wind screen, I
thought disgustedly. (None of the cars had them.)

"Whom have you got in behind?" was the next query.

I leant forward as if imparting a secret of great importance, and said,
in a stage whisper: "Germans!"

He jumped visibly, and the two flag-wagging Tommies grinned delightedly.
After going to the back to find out if this was so, he at last very
reluctantly returned my pass.

"Thinks we're all bloomin' spies," said one of the guards, as at last we
set off to face the blinding snow, that literally was blinding, it was
so hard to see. The only method was to shut first one eye and then the
other, so that they could rest in turns!

On the way back we passed a motor hearse stuck on the Wimereux hill with
four coffins in behind, stretcher-wise.

The guard gave a grunt. "Humph," said he, "They makes yer form fours
right up to the ruddy grave, they do!"

We were not so far from civilization in our Convoy as one might have
supposed, for among the men in the M.T. yard was a hairdresser from the
Savoy Hotel!

He made a diffident call on Boss one day and said it would give him
great pleasure to shampoo and do up the "young ladies' hair" for them in
his spare time "to keep his hand in." He was afraid if the war lasted
much longer he might forget the gentle art!

We rose to the occasion and were only too delighted, and from then
onwards he became a regular institution up at the Convoy.

News was brought to us of the torpedoing of the "Sussex," and the
terrible su