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Updated: June 15, 2025
That seasoned vessel, Lieutenant Cockerell, turned promptly to the Sergeant and Corporal of "C" Company. "Sergeant M'Nab," he said, "you and Corporal Downie will billet here." He introduced hostess and guests by an expressive wave of the hand. But shrewd Madame was not to be bluffed. "Pas de sergents, Monsieur le Capitaine!" she exclaimed. "Officiers!"
Previous to 1752 the sessions were held at the Town Court House near Westminster Hall. In 1805 the Guildhall was erected from designs by S. P. Cockerell at the spot where the present Gothic fountain is. The present building is on the site of the Sanctuary.
"No, my son," replied Wagstaffe, "I am not." "What is it for, then?" "It's called an Identity Disc. Every soldier on active service wears one." "Why should the idiots put one's religion on the thing?" inquired Master Cockerell, scornfully regarding the letters "C. of E." upon his disc. Wagstaffe regarded him curiously. "Think it over," he suggested.
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.
Waddell, who liked to get to the bottom of things, continued to ponder these matters as he marched. He mistrusted the omniscience of Struthers and the superficial infallibility of the self-satisfied Cockerell.
"Good-morning!" said the Major. He was a stout man of nearly fifty, with twinkling blue eyes and a short-clipped mustache. Cockerell judged him to be one of the few remnants of the original British Army. "I stopped," explained the older man, "to apologise for the scandalous way that fellow drove over you. It was perfectly damnable; but you know what these converted taxi-drivers are!
Signed, F.J. Cockerell, Lieut. & Asst. Adj., 7th B. & W. Highes. "That's a pretty nasty one!" he observed with relish. Then, having pinned the insulting document conspicuously to the mantelpiece, he observed to the mystified lady of the house: "Voil
Quarters were found in due course for "D" Company; after which Cockerell discovered a vacant building-site which would serve for transport lines. An empty garage was marked down for the Quartermaster's ration store, and the Quartermaster-Sergeant promptly faded into its recesses with a grateful sigh.
"How strong are you?" inquired the Town Major. Cockerell told him. The Town Major whistled. "That all? Been doing some job of work, haven't you?" Cockerell nodded, and the Town Major proceeded to examine a large-scale plan of St. Grégoire, divided up into different-coloured plots. "We are rather full up at present," he said; "but the Cemetery Area is vacant.
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.
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