“The infinite variety of classes that make up our present army is astonishing. I told once of a Gordon Highlander landing in Havre with a copy of the Hebrew Psalms in the pocket of his khaki apron to read in the trenches. I saw, among our own Gordons, an Aberdeen divinity student, as a private reading in the mud the Greek Testament and the Sixth Book of Homer’s _Iliad_. Anything, from that to the _Daily Mail_, represents the reading of our men. This variety is also very noticeable among our officers. We had the lumberman from the vast forests of the West beside the accountant from San Francisco; the tea-planter from Bengal; the lawyer from the quiet Fife town beside the Forth; the artist; the architect; and the journalist. And it was this mixture that made possible episodes of irresistible comicality. GLAD TO MEET HAIG “For instance, to prevent waste of petrol in ‘joy-riding,’ a French barrier at one place near us had guards set upon it under a British officer. One day a young northern subaltern, entirely fresh to military work, was in charge; and the tale goes that he stopped Sir Douglas Haig’s car, asking him to show his permit and declare his business. When the general did tell who he was, the boy was so taken aback that he is said to have stammered, ‘So pleased to meet you!’ “Again, a young officer told me that he was leading a well-known general around some trenches in the dark. They came to a traverse. ‘We’ll go round here,’ said the general, and the young fellow led the way. But a watchful Gordon leaped up suddenly with fixed bayonet, and, ‘Who goes there?’ The youth replied, ‘General Blank.’ ‘Ay, lad,’ whimsically replied the Scot, ‘ye’d better try again. That cock ’ll no fecht wi’ the Cock o’ the North.’ “Another, a verdantly green soldier of the King, almost freshly off the ploughed haughs of home, met an officer of high rank. He was carrying his rifle, but he huddled it under his arm, and awkwardly saluted with the open hand as though he had it not. The officer said, very kindly, ‘Here, my man, is the way to salute your superior with your rifle’; and he went through the proper regulation field-officer’s salute. But Jock, after coolly watching him, as coolly replied, ‘Ay, ay; maybe that’s your way o’t; but I hae my ain way, and I’m no jist sure yet whilk’s the richt gait o’t.’