The Brigade Major was just going to say, when suddenly he remembered. That very morning he had been severely strafed for speaking of important things over the telephone when so near the enemy. "Had he not read the Divisional G 245/348/24 of the 29th inst.? What was the good of issuing orders to defeat the efficiency of the Bosch listening apparatus if they were not obeyed?" etc., etc. True, it was conceivable that even without the aid of a delicate listening apparatus the Bosch was cognisant of an explosion that made his whole front line quiver; still orders is orders. So the Brigade-Major swallowed hard. "C-can't tell you over the wires. Your G 245/348/24...." "Yes, yes, we know all about that. Don't say it _definitely_, but give us an _idea_. _Where_ is all this noise?" "Here!--Oh!" piped the B.M. as a crump shook the receiver out of his hand. "Send it in code at once. The G.O.C. is strafing horribly to know." To encode a message which may be your last words on earth is not the easiest of tasks. It has no romance about it. Who would relish an obituary such as: "He died like a hero, his last words being 'XB35/067K'"? To the ramping of the continuous crump the B.M. scraped away the dirt and stuff that had fallen from the throbbing walls of his dug-out and fished out the Code-Book. Hurriedly he turned over the pages to "Ammunition" and read down the set phrases and their code equivalents. Four times he relit the candle. There seemed nothing under this heading applicable to the situation. "Send up" was one, but that had already been done. "Am/is/are/running short of" was another, but it was doubtful if the Division would see the real meaning of it. "Ah, here we are," he muttered, relighting the candle for the fifth time. "Dumps." Alas, there was nothing to convey the situation very clearly even under this heading. Finally he picked out the nearest he could find and sent it over the wires. This is what they decoded to the expectant G.O.C. of the Division: "_Advanced ammunition depôt has moved_." The G.O.C. said something which impelled the entire Divisional Staff to the telephone, where they all grabbed for the receiver. "What the devil is this code message? We can't understand it. You've sent in something about the dump at your Brigade Headquarters." "Ah!" said the B.M. meaningly, "there is _not_ a dump at Brigade Headquarters now." "Well, I don't care. We want to know what all this noise is about." "It's the dump. It's m-moved." "Moved? Moved where? Give the map reference." "Map reference?" murmured the B.M. "Oh, my sacred aunt, what fools ... I'm sorry" (he smiled at them through his teeth) "I can't give you the _m-map_ reference, but I can give you the _area_ roughly." "Barmy!" was the word he heard spoken to a bystander at the other end.