"With their sausage down," the brigade officer said by way of farewell, "you ought to find
the road to division headquarters comfortable
enough."
We did, but we took it in a rush.
The general welcomed us for luncheon in his château. He drew, there's no question, in every one's memory a firm and impressive portrait. Tall, powerful, yet with an easy manner of movement and speech, it was only his iron grey hair that hinted at his real age—about sixty, some one confided. Although he had retired from active service some years before, he had enlisted this entire division, trained it, and commanded it during six months at the front.
He was sorry that a corps conference had prevented his seeing us that morning
That quiet hour, granted us by the German routine, was happily out of key with the rest of the day. Those of the staff who weren't on duty sat with us around an oval table, skilfully laid and served.
Any news about Blank?"
The general shook his head.
“His balloon fell in our lines," a captain said.
“It was riddled."
"Splendid chap," some one added softly.
