At about eleven or twelve at night a fair cover had been made, and the long-sought rest became possible at last—­not, however, the sleep that the Subaltern had been longing for all day, not complete oblivion to body and mind, for the fear of surprise was upon him even in his sleep, and he knew that if his precautions should prove insufficient, he would have to answer for sixty good lives.  In addition there was the cold of the cloudless night, and the clinging wetness of the dew.  These things would not have allowed him to sleep, even if he could.

A fresh day began very similar to the last.  There were no signs of the enemy to the immediate front, so the work of entrenching continued.  A “fatigue party” went to draw rations, which were distributed at about seven o’clock.  This was their first introduction to “bully” beef and hard biscuits.  Also, wonder of wonders, a “mail” was distributed.

He was lying in the corn just beginning to eat a biscuit and read a letter, when the voice of the Senior Subaltern called him from somewhere up the line.  Thinking that he had got another letter, or something of that sort, he did not wait to put letters and rations in his haversack, but went straight to his Senior.  “A party of Uhlans, about 100 strong, have broken through the line further up.  We have got to prevent them from taking us by surprise on this flank.  So you had better take a couple of sections to keep them off.”  Commands on the battlefield must never be didactic and narrow.  Tell a man what to do, give him his mission, and how he will carry it out, the methods he will employ, are for himself to determine.

He hurriedly collected his men and took up a position astride a road that ran behind, parallel to the lines.  In peace-time manoeuvres one had generally been told the direction from which to expect the enemy, hours before he actually came; now, when the great game was being played in real earnest, he found that he had to guess.  The Uhlans might have come unsuspecting along the road, in which case the game would be his; or they might come blundering along from somewhere in the rear and enfilade him, in which case the game would most assuredly be theirs.  Fortunately, the Uhlans did not come at all.

Meanwhile a very rare and lucky circumstance was beginning to be apparent.  The enemy were actually attacking from the direction they were expected!  But this was only to be a rear-guard action, so he never saw his rations or letters again, after all.

The Senior Subaltern was left to “hold out” in a small cottage in the firing-line until the rest had “got away.”  With characteristic forethought and presence of mind he not only got his men away without loss, but seized all luxuries in the place!