 The sight of old battlefields invariably evokes in our minds eye a vision of the men who fought on them in a former day. But all this, we insist, is merely an association of ideas. And we continue to insist, even though there is on record an authentic story which goes far, to prove us wrong. It was on Saturday night, November 5th, 1932, that Tom Horner drove with his friend Arthur Wright from Phile to Harrogate. Our wager, you aren't even aware that we're right in the middle of Marston Moor, are you, Tom? Marston Moor? Didn't some battle or other take place there? One of the greatest battles of all time. It's where Cromwell's men defeated King Charles' army in 1644, right where we're driving along this road. Though, of course, the road itself probably wasn't... oh, watch out, old boy, another car coming toward us. It's a bus of some kind. Just as the two vehicles were about to pass each other, Wright gasped... Come on, look out! Those men! Suddenly, two men had appeared, walking down the centre of the highway, just a few feet in front of the car. I say, Tom, they've got long hair. They're wearing hats with cockades in them, and cloaks, and boots. They must be going to a masquerade party of some sort. Well, whatever they're going, I wish they'd get a move on. There isn't room to pass them. The two strange figures paid no attention to Tom Horner's signal. Instead, they trudged slowly down the middle of the road, and Tom had no choice but to creep on behind them. For on one side of him, the bus was passing now. And on the other, a high hitch marked the edge of the road. When the bus had passed, Tom switched on his bright lights. Now we can see what those chaps really look like. I couldn't tell whether... Hello? What happened to them? The two figures had disappeared. Baffled and incredulous, Horner stopped the car. He and Wright climbed out and peered up and down the road. They walked back several yards in the darkness. But they couldn't have got off the road. No one could jump those hedges or even get through them. At least not in two seconds. Well, perhaps, Tom, perhaps there weren't any men. We must have imagined it. How could we both of us imagine the same thing? I don't know. It's possible, I suppose. We're both talking about Maast and Moore about this being a battle for you. By George, those men were dressed like soldiers. Like soldiers from Cromwell's Army. Come to think of it, they were, weren't they? Still, I don't see. I know, it doesn't make sense. But it's the only logical answer. This simply weren't a man. The voice came to them through the mist and darkness. Horner turned quickly and saw a man approaching. Hello? How are you? I'm the bus driver. Just passed you back there on the road. You didn't happen to see a couple of queer-looking blokes with long hair? They were walking down the middle of the road half minutes ago. And so Tom Horner and Arthur Wright knew that they had not imagined the strange figures. For now, a third witness had testified to their reality. Here on Maast and Moore, almost 300 years after the most famous battle of the Great Rebellion, two men, dressed like soldiers in the Parliamentary Army, had appeared for a moment and then vanished. If we deny that they were stragglers out of the remote past, out of the days of Cromwell and King Charles, then how shall we explain this remarkable vision? A vision incredible but true.