"It was. I asked him straight—and I could see half the fellows in the room agreed with me—if he had considered the effect of such paralysing exactitude upon _morale_? Our tradition—at least the tradition of my Regiment—was, and always had been, to seek out the enemy and destroy him. My men had not had a Staff College education; they did not understand or cotton on to this business of limited objectives, and working to a time-table. Their objective was Berlin, and their time-table was the limit of physical endurance; in other words, they were sufficiently disciplined to go until they dropped. Wasn’t it rather a pity to cramp their style, and so on? I am afraid I rather riled the Brigadier; for the moment I forgot he had been through the Staff College himself." "What did he say?" "He mumbled something to the effect that my suggestions, if adopted, would involve a radical rearrangement of the plan of operations of an entire Army Corps; and that if my men didn’t understand the tactical requirements of a modern battle it was my job to explain them to them. He said that—to _me_! Offensive old bounder! But of course, discipline is discipline, so I said no more. One cannot humiliate these old boys in the presence of long-eared subalterns; I remembered that." "It’s a pity you didn’t remember it a bit sooner, old man!" It was a rash observation, but I was thoroughly alarmed. Eric flushed a dusky red. "Look here, Alan," he said, "I can’t take criticism from any officer of mine, however old—" "Sorry!" I replied. "But do be careful, Eric! You know what these people are. For God’s sake, don’t get sent home!" Eric wheeled round upon me. "What do you mean?" he snapped. "What gossip have you been listening to?" I began to feel my own temper rising. "I am not in the habit of listening to gossip," I said stiffly—"especially about my Commanding Officer. But the Brigade Major dropped me a pretty broad hint the other day, to the effect that your independent attitude was causing alarm and despondency among the Brass Hats; and—well, I think it’s only fair to mention the fact to you." But Eric was in no mood for sage counsel that day. He smelt battle; he was "up in the cloods." "Pack of old women!" he exclaimed impatiently. "Wait till they see what we do in the show to-morrow, compared with the notebook wallahs!" Then he glanced at my troubled face, and the old boyish smile came back—the smile which had held me captive for thirty years or more. He leaned over, and clapped me on the shoulder.