This is no easy matter. What the retreating army is fighting for is time--time to get clean away. Consequently, if the Officer commanding the advancing army deploys a larger force than is necessary, he grants his opponent the very thing that he wants--time, since the deployment of, say, a Division is a very lengthy operation, occupying at least three hours. On the other hand, if he details too small a force for the work, his attack is held in check, and more time than ever is wasted in reinforcing it in a measure sufficient to press home the attack. The Subaltern imagined the long wait while the shells shrieked over the heads of the infantry towards an enemy as yet unseen. Then the enemy shells would begin to feel their way to the thin brown line of trenches, and under cover of their fire the infantry, now deployed into fighting formations, would "advance." Then our men would begin firing, firing with cool precision. The landscape would soon be dotted with grey ants. Machine-guns would cut down whole lines of grey ants with their "plop-plop-plop." Shrapnel would burst about whole clouds of grey ants, burying them in brown clouds of dust. Finally, the directing brain would decide that it was time to cut and run. The artillery fire would be increased tenfold, and under cover of it the brown ants would scamper from the trenches and disappear into the green depths of the woods. Soon the firing would cease. The retreating party would have got safely, cleanly away, having gained many precious hours for the main body, and having incidentally inflicted severe losses on the enemy. The latter, have nothing left to do but to re-form (thus losing still more time), would then continue his pursuit weaker and further from his opponent than he had been before. At last, striking a clearing, the town of Villiers Cotterets was reached. There was nothing to distinguish it from a score of other small agricultural centres through which the Column had passed. The only thing the Subaltern remembers about this town is that he handed a French peasant woman there a couple of francs on the odd chance that she would bring back some chocolate. She did not. On the further side of the town the Brigade Transport, with steaming cookers, was massed ready to give the troops a midday meal. This was an innovation greatly appreciated. Such a thing as a meal in the middle of the day had not occurred since the days of Iron. CHAPTER XII VILLIERS-COTTERETS Twenty minutes later the Column was again on the move, but this time not for long. Having reached the edge of another forest, a fresh halt was made while the Transport was hauled past them into the wood. The Transport, known technically as "second line" of a Brigade, is a very large, cumbersome, and slow-moving affair, and it must be protected at all costs, for without it the Brigade is lost.