We would arrive outside a village, allotted for billets, perhaps about 7.30 p.m., and, after having marched the whole of the day, we were not allowed to enter the village until eleven or twelve o'clock at night to make ourselves comfy. The reason, I believe, was that it might be shelled by the enemy. No one was allowed to touch a thing--not even fruit--or he would be punished for looting; yet we knew very well that, perhaps on the morrow, the Germans would secure it all. Various bulletins were issued during that Retirement, I suppose to cheer up the troops. One I remember contained the report of a German who had been taken prisoner, and who had upon him a diary, which--according to the bulletin--declared that the German Army was starving. Another, a very strong rumour, went the rounds, to the effect that we were doing a strategical retirement for the purpose of drawing the main body of the German Army into France, whilst the Russians came in on the East. Two days after that, a report was out that the Russians were marching on Berlin, and were within a few days' march of the capital itself. Imagine our feelings, our delight. Remember, we were absolutely cut off from all outside news. What were we to think? Most of us expected that the war would be over in a very short time. After the first five days, we were given a day's halt. The whole of the day before we had been marching until three in the morning, and were told on this day's rest that we had done so well, out-pacing the enemy and outwitting them so successfully, that we should no doubt be able to rest for the next three days. On that day they paid us out, giving each man five francs, which, however, were of no earthly use to us, as we were all brigaded in a large field, and there was not a shop for miles. Our three-days' rest, however, did not materialize: we were off again next morning, with the enemy hot on our heels, having overtaken us by motors. So we had to continue our weary task sooner than we had anticipated. We were all fairly quiet on the country roads, but as soon as we came to any large towns or villages we would always knock out the strains of "Tipperary." Another good point in Tommy's character manifested itself--no matter how many miles he had covered during the day, during which he would be grumbling the whole of the time, he would, immediately on striking camp, walk if necessary for miles looking for a hay or straw stack on which to find something soft and clean to lie upon.