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Immediately above, pinned to the mantelpiece and fluttering in the draught, hung Cockerell's manifesto upon the subject of non-combatants. He could recognise his own handwriting across the room. The Major saw it too. "Hallo, what's that hanging up, I wonder?" he exclaimed. "A memorandum for me, I expect; probably from my old friend 'Dados. Let us get a little more light."
Then he stripped off his British Warm coat incidentally revealing the fact that he wore upon his tunic the ribbons of both South African Medals and the Distinguished Service Order and threw it round Cockerell's shoulders. "I'm sorry, boy!" he said. "I never noticed. You are chilled to the bone. Button this round you." Cockerell made a feeble protest, but was cut short. "Nonsense!
He lined up his disreputable paladins in the darkness, and spoke "Sergeant M'Nab, how many men are present?" "Eighteen, sirr." The platoon had gone into action thirty-four strong. "How many men are deficient of an emergency ration? I can make a good guess, but you had better find out." Five minutes later the Sergeant reported. Cockerell's guess was correct.
A distant rumble came from the north, and out of the darkness loomed a British motor-lorry, lurching and swaying along the rough cobbles of the pavé. Some of Cockerell's men were lying dead asleep in the middle of the road, right at the junction. The lorry was going twenty miles an hour. "Get into the side of the road, you men!" shouted Cockerell, "or they'll run over you.
However, if you leg it you should catch them up. They can't be more than two miles ahead. So long!" But the task was hopeless. Number Nine Platoon had been bombing, hacking, and digging all day. Several of them were slightly wounded the serious cases had been taken off long ago by the stretcher-bearers and Cockerell's own head was still dizzy from the fumes of a German gas-shell.
"Where have you come from?" inquired the Major, turning a curious eye upon Cockerell's prostrate followers. Cockerell explained When he had finished, he added wistfully "I suppose you have not got an odd tin or two of bully to give away, sir? My fellows are about " For answer, the Major took the Lieutenant by the arm and led him towards the lorry.
The Quartermaster-Sergeant writes it off as "lost owing to the exigencies of military service," and indents for another. Lieutenant Cockerell's haversack contained a packet of meat-lozenges and about half a pound of chocolate. These were presented to the Sergeant. "Hand these round as far as they will go, Sergeant," said Cockerell. "They'll make a mouthful a man, anyhow.
The new officer was gripping him excitedly by the arm, and as the new officer stood six-foot-four and was brawny in proportion, Master Cockerell's appeal was uttered in a tone of unusual sincerity. "Look!" cried Angus excitedly. "The dogs, the dogs!" A small cart was passing swiftly by, towed by two sturdy hounds of unknown degree.
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