‘But he’s a bit queer,’ and Archie shook a sage head.  ’One of the reasons why he won’t budge is because he says God has some work for him to do.  He’s quite serious about it, and ever since he got the notion he has perked up amazin’.  He’s always askin’ about Lensch, too—­not vindictive like, you understand, but quite friendly.  Seems to take a sort of proprietary interest in him.  I told him Lensch had had a far longer spell of first-class fightin’ than anybody else and was bound by the law of averages to be downed soon, and he was quite sad about it.’

I had no time to worry about Peter.  Archie and I swallowed breakfast and I had a pow-wow with my brigadiers.  By this time I had got through to Corps H.Q. and got news of the French.  It was worse than I expected.  General Peguy would arrive about ten o’clock, but his men couldn’t take over till well after midday.  The Corps gave me their whereabouts and I found it on the map.  They had a long way to cover yet, and then there would be the slow business of relieving.  I looked at my watch.  There were still six hours before us when the Boche might knock us to blazes, six hours of maddening anxiety . . .  Lefroy announced that all was quiet on the front, and that the new wiring at the Bois de la Bruyere had been completed.  Patrols had reported that during the night a fresh German division seemed to have relieved that which we had punished so stoutly yesterday.  I asked him if he could stick it out against another attack.  ‘No,’ he said without hesitation.  ’We’re too few and too shaky on our pins to stand any more.  I’ve only a man to every three yards.’  That impressed me, for Lefroy was usually the most devil-may-care optimist.

‘Curse it, there’s the sun,’ I heard Archie cry.  It was true, for the clouds were rolling back and the centre of the heavens was a patch of blue.  The storm was coming—­I could smell it in the air—­but probably it wouldn’t break till the evening.  Where, I wondered, would we be by that time?

It was now nine o’clock, and I was keeping tight hold on myself, for I saw that I was going to have hell for the next hours.  I am a pretty stolid fellow in some ways, but I have always found patience and standing still the most difficult job to tackle, and my nerves were all tattered from the long strain of the retreat.  I went up to the line and saw the battalion commanders.  Everything was unwholesomely quiet there.  Then I came back to my headquarters to study the reports that were coming in from the air patrols.  They all said the same thing—­abnormal activity in the German back areas.  Things seemed shaping for a new 21st of March, and, if our luck were out, my poor little remnant would have to take the shock.  I telephoned to the Corps and found them as nervous as me.  I gave them the details of my strength and heard an agonized whistle at the other end of the line.  I was rather glad I had companions in the same purgatory.

I found I couldn’t sit still.  If there had been any work to do I would have buried myself in it, but there was none.  Only this fearsome job of waiting.  I hardly ever feel cold, but now my blood seemed to be getting thin, and I astonished my staff by putting on a British warm and buttoning up the collar.  Round that derelict farm I ranged like a hungry wolf, cold at the feet, queasy in the stomach, and mortally edgy in the mind.