"Glad to be back with us, I'm sure?" smiled Captain O'Brien, when Hartley reported back to the battalion.

"Of course, Sir. Too much of that rich living is bad for the soul," retorted Hartley.

"Much rather be over here doing my bit against the bally hun."

O'Brien guffawed and slapped the young officer on the back: "Still a sarcastic sod, I see. Well, I wonder how flippant you will be about this young fella?"

Hartley accepted the signal flimsy and read the short message in the flickering candlelight.

"Hartley, 2nd Lt. J. Award of Military Cross for Conspicuos Bravery confirmed. To be gazetted. Congratulations. Lt. Col. E. Beard."

O'Brien produced a hip flask of whiskey and offered it to the younger man.

"Well done Hartley. That show with the pill box at Langemarck was top class work, you fully deserve the award," he said shaking Hartley by the hand.

Hartley took a healthy swig of the alcohol: "The attack was being held up old boy, someone had to take the bull by the horns. Just happened to be me, that's all."

O'Brien shook his head: "No false modesty Hartley, it doesn't wash. You've won an MC and with it comes a reputation, don't get yourself killed trying to live up to it. "

Hartley grinned: "I shall be very careful from now on. No 'boys own' stuff - Scout's promise."

O'Brien had one more surprise for the returning officer.

"By the way," he added. "We've taken quite a few casualties recently. Bit of a re-shuffle in the battalion, some new boys in, some chaps moved up the ladder a little.

"You're one of them. How does Captain Hartley sound?"

"Jolly good," chortled Hartley. "I suppose that means I don't have to call you sir, anymore?"

"Don't count your chickens young man. You are now addressing Major O'Brien!" laughed the older man.

"This calls for a celebration sir," announced Hartley. "When do we go in for another tour?"

O'Brien took a gulp from his hip flask and cleared his throat.

"I think we could manage a bottle or two tonight," he laughed.