There are two things to which he cannot quite accustom himself:  not being allowed to fraternize with the inhabitants and the realisation that his laboriously acquired knowledge of the French language is no longer of any avail.  He will never quite get over the former of these two disabilities, but he is coping courageously with the latter.  For instance, in place of the “No bon” of yesterday, “Nix goot” now explains that “Your saucepan I borrowed has a hole in it; please, I didn’t do it.”  For the rest, change of environment makes very little difference to him.  Given a cooker, a water-cart and the necessary rations, a British oasis will appear and be prepared to flourish in any old desert you like.

No, I am wrong.  There is another difficulty which as yet he has not been able entirely to overcome.  I cannot describe the consternation which came over the Company when I informed them that there was no longer any need to scrounge; in fact, I forbade it.  At first they thought it was just a Company Commander’s humour and paid it the usual compliments of the parade; but when they found I was serious they were simply appalled.  It was as if I had taken the very spice out of their existence.  Not to be able to go out and “win” a handful of fuel for the evening’s fug and for the brewing of those unwholesome messes in the tin canteen?  Bolshevism itself could not have propounded a more revolutionary principle.  Heartbroken some of the old soldiers came to me afterwards.  “What are we to do, Sir?” they said.  “We only go on guard four hours in sixteen; we must do something the rest of the time.”  Sternly I bade them think of scrounging as a thing of the past—­a thing of glorious memory only to be spoken of round the fires at home.  If they wanted anything in the meantime to add to their material comfort they were to come to me for it.

For let me tell you, all you demobilised wallahs who know only those countries where the necessities of life were matters of private enterprise—­let me tell you that in this village, if I say that I require coal, coal is here, and with it the Buergermeister inquiring politely if my needs are satisfied.  We must have beds?  The spare beds of the village are forthcoming.  If we want baths for the men, our Mr. Carfax, who speaks a language which the inhabitants pretend to understand, goes round to the householders and explains the necessity.  Should there be any difficulty he explains further that it would be much better, don’t they think, and much more convenient if the men visited the houses, rather than that baths should be carried to some central place?  It is invariably found to be preferable for all concerned.