ABSTRACT
We stopped after an hour. The officers of our company were to go along the rail track to the Major's coach, a dilapidated first-class compartment. Officers must travel first class I remembered, though it was an age since we had known any luxury other than the snout of the tank looming above us as we lay on the boards of the tank trucks. A shaded hand torch was our illumination as we strained to catch a glimpse of the map in the circle of light. We knew it by heart anyway—except for one word clearly visible—CAMBRAI. Where the hell's that?
