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By Root 4572 0

a new direction-the pro-prietorless wave of victory exhausted by its own ebb and returned by its own concomitant flux, spent not by its own faded momen-turn but as though bogged down in the refuse of its own success; afterward, it seemed to him that he had been speeding along those back-area roads for days before he realised what he had been travelling through; he would not even recall afterward at what moment, where, what anonymous voice from a passing lorry or another motorbike or perhaps in some orderly room where he lay one dispatch down in the act of taking up another, which said: 'The French quit this morning-' merely riding on, speeding on into the full burst of sun before he realised what he had heard.

It was an hour after noon before he finally found a face: that of a corporal standing before a cafe in a village street-a face which had been in the anteroom of the old battalion when he was an officer in it: and slowed the machine in and stopped, still straddling it; it was the first time.

'Nah,' the corporal said. 'It was just one regiment. Fact is, they're putting one of the biggest shoots yet in Jerry's support and communications along the whole front right this minute. Been at it ever since dawn-'

'But one regiment quit,' the runner said. 'One did.' Now the corporal was not looking at him at all.

'Have a wet,' the corporal said.

'Besides,' the runner said gently, 'you're wrong. The whole French front quit at noon.'

'But not ours,' the corporal said.

'Not yet,' the runner said. 'That may take a little time.' The corporal was not looking at him. Now the corporal said nothing whatever. With a light, rapid gesture the runner touched one shoulder with the opposite hand. 'There's nothing up here now,' he said.

'Have a wet,' the corporal said, not looking at him.

And an hour later he was close enough to the lines to see the smoke-and-dust pall as well as hear the frantic uproar of the concentrated guns along the horizon; at three o'clock, though twelve miles away at another point, he heard the barrage ravel away into the spaced orderly harmless-seeming poppings as of salutes or signals, and it seemed to him that he could see the whole long line Tuesday Night from the sea-beaches up the long slant of France to old tired Europe's rooftree, squatted and crouched with filthy and noi-some men who had forgot four years ago how to stand erect any more, amazed and bewildered and unable to believe it either, fore-warned and filled with hope though (he knew it now) they must have been; he thought, said aloud almost: Yes, that's it. It's not that we didn't believe: it's that -we couldn't, didn't know how any more. That's the most terrible thing they have done to us. That's the most terrible.

That was all, then. For almost twenty-four hours in fact, though he didn't know it at the time. A sergeant-major was waiting for them as they returned, gathered again at Corps Headquarters that night-the nine from his Division and perhaps two dozen others from other units in the Corps. 'Who's senior here?' the sergeant-major said. But he didn't even wait on himself: he glanced rapidly about at them again and with the unerring instinct of his vocation chose a man in the middle thirties who looked exactly like what he probably was-a demoted lance corporal out of a Northwest Frontier garrison. 'You're acting sergeant,' the sergeant-major said. 'You will indent for suppers and bedding here.' He looked at them again, 'I suppose it's no use to tell you not to talk,'

'Talk about what?' one said. 'What do we know to talk about?'

Talk about that,' the sergeant-major said. 'You are relieved until reveille. Carry on.' And that was all then.

They slept on a stone floor in a corridor; they were given breakfast (a good one; this was a Corps Headquarters) before reveille went even; what bugles they-he, the runner-heard were at other Division and Corps Headquarters and parks and depots where the motorcycle took him during another day like yesterday in his minuscule walking-on (riding-on) part in bringing war to a pause, a halt, a stop; morning