Chapter 6 No Man's Land.

I found out afterwards that the Pilot had been hit in the wrist over the lines early that morning and missed the direction back to his aerodrome. Getting very weak, he landed, not very well, outside Amiens. He got his wrist bound up and had asked someone to telephone to the aerodrome to tell them that they were going to the "Rhin" for breakfast, and would they send for them there?

After I had been in Amiens for about a fortnight, going out to the Somme battlefields early in the morning and coming back when it got dark, I received a message one evening from the Press "Major" to go to his chateau and ring up the "Colonel" at Rollencourt, which I did. The following was the conversation as far as I remember:-

"Is that Orpen?"

"Yes, sir."

"What do you mean by behaving this way?"

"What way, please, sir?"

"By not reporting to me."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I do not understand."

"Don't you know you must report to me, and show me what work you have been doing?"

"I've practically done nothing yet, sir."

"What have you been doing?"

"Looking round, sir."

"Are you aware you are being paid for your services?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, report to me and show me your work regularly.-Tell the Major to speak to me."

The Major spoke, and I clearly heard him say my behaviour was damnable.

This wonderful Colonel expected me to work all day, and apparently, in the evening, to take what I had done and show it to him-the distance by motor to him and back was something like 110 miles!

I saw there was nothing for it, if I wanted to do my work, but to fight, so I decided to lay my views of people and things before those who were above the Colonel. This I did, and had comparative peace, but the seed of hostility was sown in the Colonel's Intelligence (F) Section, G.H.Q., as I think it was then called, and they made me suffer as much as was in their power.

"BEAUMONT-HAMEL"

A MEMORY OF THE SOMME (SPRING 1917)

A fair spring morning-not a living soul is near,

Far, far away there is the faint grumble of the guns;

The battle has passed long since-

All is Peace.

At times there is the faint drone of aeroplanes as

They pass overhead, amber specks, high up in the blue;

Occasionally there is the movement of a rat in the

Old battered trench on which I sit, still in the

Confusion in which it was hurriedly left.

The sun is baking hot.

Strange odours come from the door of a dug-out

With its endless steps running down into blackness.

The land is white-dazzling.

The distance is all shimmering in heat.

A few little spring flowers have forced their way

Through the chalk.

He lies a few yards in front of the trench.

We are quite alone.

He makes me feel very awed, very small, very ashamed.

He has been there a long, long time-

Hundreds of eyes have seen him,

Hundreds of bodies have felt faint and sick

Because of him.

Then this place was Hell,

But now all is Peace.

And the sun has made him Holy and Pure-

He and his garments are bleached white and clean.

A daffodil is by his head, and his curly, golden

Hair is moving in the slight breeze.

He, the man who died in "No Man's Land," doing

Some great act of bravery for his comrades and

Country-

Here he lies, Pure and Holy, his face upward turned;

No earth between him and his Maker.

I have no right to be so near.