Now it can be Told by Philip Gibbs — Read

There were shrill voices one morning outside the gate of our quarters -- women's voices, excited, angry, passionate. An orderly came into the mess -- we were at breakfast -- and explained the meaning of the clamor, which by some intuition and a quick ear for French he had gathered from all this confusion of tongues.

"There's a soldier up the road, drunk or mad. He has been attacking a girl. The villagers want an officer to arrest him."