ol. His reply was: "I have a large number of serious
questions, coupled with much hard work, engrossing my attention at
present and would prefer to leave all subsidiary matters severely
alone." This letter was a sign, and not the only one, that he was
liberating himself from mundane ties.

Brother officers have told me of my son's happiness in the Tank Corps.
His youthful love of engines had returned in full measure. For his
Tank--a "male," carrying Lewis guns and two six-pounders--he had a
positive affection, and would spend hours pottering about it after his
crew had knocked off for the day. Captain Gates, M.C., who had charge
of the section to which Paul's Tank belonged and who was wounded in
the battle in which my son was killed, came to see us in London in
September. From him we had a full account of the last three months of
Paul's life. Among other things, Captain Gates spoke of his _joie de
vivre_, infectious gaiety, hearty appetite, liberal contributions to
the mess funds. Paul, he said, was the life and soul of the section.
When they were out of the battle-line he used to begin his day by a
plunge in the adjacent river. He would come into breakfast looking
radiant, and even then was ready for a frolic. "Some of us would be a
bit down at times," said Captain Gates, "but Paul never. He was
always merry. He had immense strength. In frolicsome moods he would
lift a brother officer in his arms like a child, hold him helpless,
and then drop him gently on the ground; but it took three or four of
us to get him down. To see him come down a village in his Tank was a
sight; his gaiety was so great, and he had a shout or a greeting for
every passer-by. A braver boy I have never met; he was quite calm and
unruffled under shell-fire. If anything, he was too keen. He always
wanted to be in the danger zone, and was most eager to get into
personal touch with the Boches. I told Major Haslam that whenever Paul
would be in battle it would be a case of the V.C. or death; for him
there could be no medium course. On the morning of 31st July, when he
was thrilling at the prospect of the coming attack, I said to him
before we set out: 'Now, don't be too rash; remember that the lives of
your crew are in your keeping.' Unfortunately he was killed quite
early in the fight by a sniper's bullet. His death cast a gloom over
the whole company. In our own mess we shall miss him dreadfully."

On New Year's Day, 1918, Gunner Phillips, of "C" Ba