yet arrived were to be discharged ahead of us. A wordy war ensued, during which we patiently sat down and waited. For once, right conquered and the principle of "First come, first served" was adhered to.

                With wild hoots of joy, we scrambled to our feet and lined up outside the building, dancing about with impatience as the slow moving line hitched its way through the building. No one felt absolutely safe till the precious discharge paper was firmly clutched in his hand.

                The process was simple enough. We entered the building, which was partitioned off like a bank, with various windows, behind each of which lurked a stony faced acolyte of the great god Red Tape. As each soldier approached the first window, an important looking official, a sort of highpriest of the temple, bellowed his name; from the first window a mysterious hand thrust forth the discharge; clasping the magic document firmly, he pushed on to the next window, where some form of non-commissioned priest of the temple pushed out a stack of bills, all the pay due to the day of discharge. Clutching madly at this the soldier galloped joyfully out into the open air, to lean exhaustedly against the building, and try to realize that he was free. Little by little the long line edged and sidled its way through the temple of Red Tape, the last man emerged, staring unbelievingly at his discharge papers.

                "Fini la guerre!" Battery A was a thing of the past!

CONTENTS
INDEX