In another telegram, to Sir John French, Lord Roberts also expressed his high appreciation of the “magnificent gallantry displayed by all ranks, British and Indian.” Our great Hero, the victor of many fights, never forgot his Indian comrades. God rest his soul! On November 12, Lord Roberts paid us his memorable visit. On the lawns, now deep in slush, in front of the Château of Hinges and whilst the roar of the guns shook the windows of the building, we drew up to receive the great Field-Marshal. The Indian Corps was alone represented, and that only by the Headquarters Staff and such other officers and men as were not on duty in the trenches. Facing the entrance door was drawn up a Guard of Honour of all available men, British and Indian. It was a mixed body, but it was all I could muster at short notice; amongst them, however, were two Indian officers who knew Lord Roberts personally, and there was not a man in that small gathering who did not know the name and the fame of India’s greatest “Jangi Lat” (War Lord). There are times in life, fortunately rare, when one feels as if some sad moment was approaching and you cannot assign any reason for it. This was one; the solemnity of it was in any case visible, for it was a great occasion in itself for the Indian Army to have with it in the heart of France the aged soldier who had long been its Idol; but there was some other indefinable feeling, and most of us felt it, that whatever might come this was to be the very last meeting in the Field of War of the Army of India and its beloved Chief. We all knew that it was the lion-heart of this great man which had determined him to come across the sea just once more, and by his presence encourage the troops of which he was the Chief in name and fact, and then, having done his Duty, which was his life’s watchword, to return to England and have us in his keeping. As the motor-car pulled up our Colonel-in-Chief stepped out, still with that brisk step so well remembered by all who had ever served with him, and we felt, as Tennyson has sung of another warrior: This is England’s greatest son, He that gain’d a hundred fights, Nor ever lost an English gun. It was a parade, but it was a duty every man present considered his greatest privilege and honour to have attended; and who would have missed it? After shaking hands with every officer, Lord Roberts inspected the Guard, saying a word, with that charm he possessed, to each British and Indian officer and old soldier; and finally giving a military salute entered his car, bidding me also in, and we moved off to Headquarters of the Meerut and Lahore Divisions.