Then comes an icy chill upon our hearts. How are we to get home? Scotland is hundreds of miles away. The fare, even on a "soldier's" ticket-- But the Captain has not quite finished. "Every man will receive a week's pay in advance; and his fare, home and back, will be paid by Government. That is all." And quite enough too! We rock upon our squelching feet. But the Captain adds, without any suspicion of his parade-ground manner-- "If I may say so, I think that if ever men deserved a good holiday, you do. Company, slope arms! Dis-_miss_!" * * * * * We do not cheer: we are not built that way. But as we stream off to our Irish stew, the dourest of us says in his heart-- "God Save the King!" X DEEDS OF DARKNESS A moonlit, wintry night. Four hundred men are clumping along the frost-bound road, under the pleasing illusion that because they are neither whistling nor talking they are making no noise. At the head of the column march Captains Mackintosh and Shand, the respective commanders of C and D Companies. Occasionally Mackintosh, the senior, interpolates a remark of a casual or professional nature. To all these his colleague replies in a low and reproachful whisper. The pair represent two schools of military thought--a fact of which their respective subalterns are well aware,--and act accordingly. "In preparing troops for active service, you must make the conditions as _real_ as possible from the very outset," postulates Shand. "Perform all your exercises just as you would in war. When you dig trenches, let every man work with his weather-eye open and his rifle handy, in case of sudden attack. If you go out on night operations don't advertise your position by stopping to give your men a recitation. No talking--no smoking--no unnecessary delay or exposure! Just go straight to your point of deployment, and do what you came out to do." To this Mackintosh replies,-- "That's all right for trained troops. But ours aren't half-trained yet; all our work just now is purely educational. It's no use expecting a gang of rivet-heaters from Clydebank to form an elaborate outpost line, just because you whispered a few sweet nothings in the dark to your leading section of fours! You simply _must_ explain every step you take, at present." But Shand shakes his head. "It's not soldierly," he sighs. Hence the present one-sided--or apparently one-sided--dialogue. To the men marching immediately behind, it sounds like something between a soliloquy and a chat over the telephone. Presently Captain Mackintosh announces,-- "We might send the scouts ahead now I think."