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Show NO HERO THIS tw Fictio ; iy U llllilW 1 IIU By War'wjck Deeping white face seems to poke forward I out of the dusk. I salute him and ! wonder at his dead eyes, i "Afternoon, Brent. I am Just I paying you a visit I'm afraid I'm ' a alck man." "I'm really sorry, sir." i He looks at me almost liks a beaten dog to whom even a gesture : of sympathy may suggest a kick. "Yes, sciatica." i Ws stand for a moment In that dim wet lane. He givea me a i queer slanting look; his chin is a little tremulous, and suddenly the ; essential weakness of the man is i revealed to me. He is starving for sympathy and Is so shamelessly greedy for It that he can even come i to me and whimper. "Yes, they have broken me, Brent. Most unfair. Prejudice. I had a cabal against me. No account taken of abnormal conditions." I do not know what to say to him. Has the man no pride, no perceptions? percep-tions? Has he never suspected how ws cursed him for leaving ua to confront those same abnormal con-dltiona? con-dltiona? I can only suppose that Cleek ia more emotional than he appears, and since sanity is In a sense the control of emotion, Cleek is not quite sane. My last glimpse of Cleek Is of a soul-sick man huddled up beside the driver of the Ford. I salute for the last tims and he gives me a wintry little smile and a stilted jerk of the hand. Exit Colonel Cleek! e e The new A. D. M. S. has arrived. His name is Colonel Rankin and he Is a Territorial, which should be helpfuL He walks into our orderly room one morning. He is a redheaded red-headed well set up man in the early fortiee with a ruddy, vital face and brown eyes that have tawny lights In them. I like him immediately. We are all atanding. and with a amlle he telle the ataff to carry on and then suggesu that I take him round our quarters. "You are Captain Brent?" Yes, sir." He Is a man who combines authority au-thority with friendliness. Also, I feel that there will be no funking and aitting about in chairs on the part of this red-headed virile person. per-son. "By the way, I have some news for you. Rather a pleasant Introduction. Intro-duction. Brent Your M. C has corns through. Don's say that It is more than you deserve!" "I won't sir! But when one thinks of what the infantry have to suffer" "Dressing wounded under shell fire is a pretty nasty test of one's courage. No adventitious excitement." excite-ment." "Except funk, sir." Hs smilss at me. I like this man : he la human and not a creature of red tape. When I return to the orderly room after seeing off Colonel Rankin, the sergeant standi up and lays a letter on the table. He has a pawky, aly look. "Official communication for XXII Two of the 203 F. A. officers, anc fresh bearers come up to reenforci ua We officers have to crowd Inti the Bakery, and, having scroungec some spades, we make the men di themselvee rabbit scratches in thi bank. I am feeling done up. I havi been up here a night and a day. 1 have had poor Hallard'a body eenl down. Somehow I am beginning tc feel the shock of his death mon now. The reaction is upon me. 1 am all jumps and ready to shak at nothing. If there ia much more shelling. I shall break down and diagraci myself. I feel I must do something. I take Black and Finch and flounder floun-der up to the nearest aid post to see If they are getting many casualties casual-ties In. No, things are quiet. Sergeant Simpson and Block come up to me. "You ought to get some sleep, sir. Finch has managed a bed." They do not touch me, but I feel the good will and the kindneas of these two men compelling me towards to-wards that vaulted shelter. I go In. I see Finch, and a clean stretcher laid out with a blanket covering It. Finch makes me lie down. He unlaces un-laces and pulls off my muddy field boots and covers me with the blanket. blan-ket. ' "That's It You have a nap, sir." Sleeps for Hours I must haves lept for hours like a drugged creature, and I wake to find Fairfax sitting on a box beside my stretcher bed. I eit up, and he puts out a big hand and gently pushes me back. I realise that I feel giddy and rotten and that my head Is aching. "Sorry, sir. I shall be all right In a minute. What time ia It?" "To you, tomorrow morning, Stephen. I am taking you back with me. You have done more than enough." A feeling of Infinite relief descends de-scends on me. Does he understand that I am near breaking point? I know, eomehow, that he does and that my poor silly pride is saved. "Any news of Cleek?" "You've stymied him, Stephen, and given me the hole. Do you think I don't realise what I owe to you?" "O, rot elr." "It's not rot Stephen, It's just the truth." a We are out In rest. Fairfax has gone on leave and I am In command. com-mand. Authority has Its advantages. Man is a good beast but a noisy one. and must bray his soul out under one's window. I have ea arranged things that Cibbs and I are sleeping at the farm where we mesa, some 300 yards from the farm where the unit is quartered. I am in our farm Just before tea when one of the orderly room clerks brings me a message. "The A, D. M. 8. air." "Colonel Cleek?" "Yea, air, at headquarters." I put on my cap and British-warm and halfway down the lane I see Cleek coming towards me. His shoulders are down and his leas I "I'll take dinners, sergeant major." ma-jor." I go to the door of the farmhouse and find the whole of C section crowding round the doorway aa if the occasion was somehow theirs. Men of the other sections are massing mass-ing behind them. I see Finch In the front row. He waves a tin plate in the aid. "Three cheers for Captain Brent, M. C, and for good old C section." Really, this sort of thing ought not to happen. I look at these men waving their plates and cheering, and I realise that thia ahow does mean something to them and to me. I assume an air of severity and fix my gase on Ftnch. "Finch, you'll have aeven days C. B. for this." "Righto, sir. But I ain't the only one." A voice says, "seven days C B. for the whole of C section." I laugh and try not to look embarrassed. em-barrassed. "I think I'll let you all off that I might even persuade the S.-M. to issue a double rum ration. All the same, I do thank you. I'm not much good at making speeches any more than I am on a horae." There ia a roar of laughter at this, but it is friendly laughter, e e Going on Leave I am going on leave. I think no worde describe the feeling so well as Tommy's aayinc. "Mr ruck felt you, sir. I assums an air of casualness. I know that the news must be out sub rosa. I read the letter and pass It bark to him. "Quite pleasant newe." JThe men will be very pleased, Will they? Its very good of them." Dinners are about to be served and I see the men collecting with plates and mess tins in the farmyard. farm-yard. I hear someone shouting: "Come on, C section, come on, the boys." I feel suddenly shy. and wise aa to what ia brewing. Informal demonstrations dem-onstrations are not encouraged in the army. Sergeant Major Jonea comes Into the orderly room. He salutes me and tries to suppress a smirk. "Captain Carless should be inspecting dinners, air, but the orderly or-derly sergeant caa't find him." J like a balloon." Ia my head a little swollen? Perhapa Per-hapa Captain Brent M. C, with that mauve and white ribbon on his tunic, and within him a consciousness conscious-ness of mean impulses transcended and aome measure of manhood founded against fear. My passage home is serene. I find Mary amid the crowd at Victoria She looks at my face and ahe looks at my ribbon, and her eyea are very dear to me. "Oh. Stephen! I'm so terribly proud of that Stephen." She reachea acroaa and touches the ribbon rib-bon with the fingers of her left hsnd. But If there Is anything of the prig in me or the swollen-headed little hero, my small daughter'e reaction re-action to my reappearance should chasten It We go upstairs and having hav-ing stared at me with saucer-blue eyes she breaka Into angry howl-ings. howl-ings. She fights and goes red and crinkled and is full of wst rebellion, rebel-lion, and I am both amused and perhaps faintly piqued. This Is yet another thing that this damned war does to us, makes us strangers to our children. Mary has to soothe our small daughter. "There, there." And I add. "Did a nasty strange man want to kiss you? Diddums then! Mary reproves me. "Dont mock, dear." I realise that part of my 10 days' leave will be epent in making friends with my small daughter. (Continued Friday! (Copyright, 137, for The Telegram) |