Part 2

On and Off

We took turns on outpost duty--twenty-four hours on and twenty-four off. We slept in the open with equipment and rifle, and had to stand to arms an hour before dawn, about two o’clock. The reconnoitring patrols got a feed at nearly every farm or house they passed. We didn’t see a sign of Germans all the time, although the Uhlans were only a few miles away. We had a decent time, and the people are the best I have met. They think no one is as good as an Englishman, especially an English soldier: _A Private of the Royal Marine Light Infantry_.

A Baby Bunting

I heard a cry from an empty house, and when I went in I found a baby, about eleven months old, lying crying in its nightgown. I brought the youngster out. It was raining in torrents at the time, and I carried it about five and a half miles. It was crying all the way, and I tried to conceal it from our sergeant, but eventually he said I should be obliged to put it down as we were going into action, so I laid it in a hedge and covered it with some straw, hoping that someone would soon find it and take care of it. It made me think of my own children: _Bombdr. Stoddard, Royal Artillery_.

Early Piety

What struck me most was the number of Boy Scouts smoking clay pipes! They were only about six or seven years old, and they came up to us and asked us if we’d like a chew of tobacco. They seemed to enjoy it too. We were absolutely covered with flowers. All the horses were decorated up. There were some lovely crops of wheat destroyed. You could tell all the men were at the war. The women were in the fields bringing in the harvest. Children seemed pleased to see us, and they would walk along and hold our hands: _Sapper Magridge_.

Quiet and Restful

We are having a very quiet, restful time in an old semi-fortified farmhouse. The enemy has a very strong position directly ahead, and until they are turned out we cannot move. Four motor-cyclists are quartered in an old hen-house, the floor of which is covered with straw; the perches come in very useful as clothes-racks. We are just going to have dinner, consisting of mutton chops (killed last night), potatoes, fried cheese, and bread and jam. We can occasionally get eggs, but otherwise we live on bread and jam and stew made of tinned meat and vegetables: _Dispatch-Rider Schofield, 5th Cavalry Brigade_.

On the Quiet!

I can tell you it is a pucker rough life, for you have to get up as soon as it begins to get light, and it is about one o’clock before we can get down to it. You had better tell dad to volunteer for the war, for it’s pucker exciting, and over here there is plenty of wine, for every village we go through the people give us bottles of wine to drink, and our regiment has been very jammy, for all the Germans do when they see you is to shell you or run away, and when the shells begin to hum it is time to gallop. Well, mum, I cannot tell you where I am, as we are on the move every day, and if we did know, it must all be kept secret, for we came out here on the quiet: _Pte. Clapinson, 3rd Hussars_.

Sweetness--and Rain!

This is a sweet place when it rains; you can’t get less than two days’ rain at a time. I am now doing mounted orderly duty to and from headquarters, four miles away. It’s a rotten ride back at night, through pitch-black country, on your own. I can’t say I dislike this country at all. The people treated us well on our way here. They brought out baskets of fruit, bottles of wine, cakes, etc., to give us, all shouting out, “Vive l’Angleterre!” and all the little children walking along the street get hold of your hands and stroke them, as if you were a prize dog or something: _Lance-Corpl. H. E. Forward, Army Service Corps_.

Comfortable!

We have had a good deal of marching--twenty to twenty-five miles per day--on very little sleep; in bed by midnight and up by a quarter to two. Last Saturday I think was the nearest to purgatory that I have ever been. We marched about fifteen miles, and when we got to ---- we were kept standing for four hours in a perfect deluge; some of us lay down in the road in about a foot of mud. When the order came to march on again we marched about another mile into a ploughed field and were told to make ourselves “comfortable.” It was better in the road: _Pte. R. Williams, Royal Army Medical Corps_.

Sucking Eggs!

The French and Belgians have been extremely hospitable, and wherever we go we have been received most generously--eggs, milk, wine, bread and butter, jam, handkerchiefs, apples, pears, plums, coffee, etc., are among the many gifts showered upon us as we ride through the various towns. Picture us riding along, the great unwashed, and often unshaven, being cheered by crowds of townspeople. I can best compare it to the crowds of long ago when a circus procession came through Wakefield. I have got quite expert at cracking eggs on the front of my saddle and sucking them: _Sergt. Seed, 3rd King’s Hussars_.

To his Mother

Well, Ma, I am, above all places, at Paris, and having a real good time, and the reason I am here is that the general had an accident four or five days ago through his horse stumbling and throwing him, and he was sent to a hospital, and naturally I had to follow on with the car to be ready to take him back to the front. Ye gods! it is good to be amongst civilized people again, and be able to have a decent bath, for I might tell you I was getting in a filthy state, having to go without a wash or a shave for sometimes three days on end: you can bet that I made up for it to-day. This morning I had an ordinary hot bath, and this afternoon, to make doubly sure that all the uninvited visitors were dead, I went to the English hospital and had a sulphur bath; after that a visit to the barber, and I felt a new man: _A Private, of Bristol_.

A Far Journey

We entrained (our destination unknown) in cattle trucks, forty men in each truck, penned in like sheep, and the only seats were the bottom of the truck. It was awful, to say the least of it, but it turned out rather a pleasant journey, as at every station we came to there were people, both gentle and simple, waiting to give us a cheer, also eatables, such as sandwiches and fruit of every description. It was remarkable to see small banners of the Union Jack in almost every hand, and shouting “Vive English,” while the troops replied with “Let the sons of France march to glory,” which they seemed to know the meaning of, as they joined in their own language. It was amusing to see rather handsome girls giving kisses to us in exchange for a badge, buttons, etc. They could not converse with us, but they conveyed their meanings by signs, and a common one was curling their moustache and drawing their hand across their throats, which meant we were to kill the Kaiser, to which we answered by showing our jack-knives. It was the same right through the five days’ journey; big and small stations alike they fed us, and it was well they did, for we received no rations; we were treated like gentlemen. I got a rosette of the French colours from a lady, which I will treasure. The kindness of these people I will never forget; they looked rather astonished at our accommodation and surprised at our good spirits under the circumstances: _Pte. P. J. Grace, 1st Northumberland Fusiliers_.

A River of Joy

The trip we have just made was tremendously exciting. Although it was night-time when we went up the river, this did not detract in the least from the reception our men got. All the villagers turned out, fired off crackers, and hung Chinese lanterns on the trees on the sides of the hills. This had a very charming effect. Towards midnight, however, a thick fog set in, and we were obliged to anchor till morning. The fog cleared away about 6 A.M., and we found ourselves lying opposite a small village which seemed to be deep in slumber. Not for long, though. Our men began to sing “It’s a long, long way to Tipperary,” “Rule, Britannia,” and “The girl I left behind me.” Window blinds went up, windows were thrown open, and people came out on to the verandahs in their “nighties” waving British flags, laughing and cheering and singing. By Jove, it sounded fine. Just imagine, if you can, high wooded slopes on each side, and this little village nestling amongst the trees; the morning mist quickly rising to reveal a bright sunny day, and you have it. One party of girls came down to the river-bank and started singing in return in French, much to everyone’s amusement, as it was easy to see they had just tumbled out of bed. The quayside was very busy that day, as a large number of ships were all discharging horses, men, guns, and all the munitions of war. The whole of the population turned out, and as our men rode away in a never-ending line one’s heart thrilled with pride, so businesslike and smart did they look in their khaki, their bronzed faces giving them the appearance of first-rate old campaigners, and inspiring everyone who saw them with the greatest confidence. I have seen many soldiers of many nationalities, but never soldiers who were a patch on those we are sending across to fight our battles. Good fortune be with them, and God bless them, is all I can say: _An Anonymous Sergeant_.

III. THE FRIENDLY FRENCH

_And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread The scatter’d foe that hopes to rise again...._

SHAKESPEARE.

_We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother...._

SHAKESPEARE.

I think I owe all my luck to a mascot I carry in my knapsack. It is a beautiful crucifix, given to me by a Frenchwoman for helping her out of danger. It is silver, enamel, and marble, and she made me take it: _A Driver of the Royal Field Artillery_.

“A Sport”

When waiting for action we smoked cigarettes and ate apples and pears from the French orchard in which we were situated, while the good old owner--he was a sport--brought us out some coffee at four o’clock in the morning: _A Private, of Cricklewood_.

“Coo Naht”

I am making progress with my French, and I am not often at fault. Every time we go out people say “Good-night,” even if it is in the daytime, as that is all the English they seem to know. Little children say “Coo Naht”--that is the nearest they can get to the right pronunciation: _Corpl. Fourneaux, Royal Engineers_.

So Hospitable!

I was sent out one day with two chaps to search a wood and some houses to see if any Germans were hiding. As soon as we approached, the people (who had been hiding in cellars and other places), when they found we were Britishers, simply hugged us. They brought out eggs, bread and butter, and if we had stopped a bit longer it would have required a horse and cart to carry the things away: _Pte. Gibson, Scottish Fusiliers_.

The “Entente”

I have never seen such enthusiasm. Old men, women, and children fight in the streets to get close enough to shake hands with us, or beg a piece of cloth or a button from our uniforms as mementoes of the “Entente,” as they call it. At one village the women clamoured for locks of hair from us, and they had to get them. Even the sick are brought to the doors to see us pass: _A Private Soldier_.

Praise Indeed

The French cavalry are wonderful, though we never will admit that they are superior to ours. They never seem to tire. They will keep in the saddle for days without trouble, and are used to foraging for themselves wherever they go. In battle their bearing is magnificent. I have seen a mere handful of them charge twenty times their own number of Germans: _Pte. H. Hill, 4th (Royal Irish) Dragoon Guards_.

“A Blooming Nuisance”

The French girls are awfully keen about our men, and you should see them when we arrive in any of the towns. They come and link arms with us until they are a blooming nuisance. It’s just goodness of heart, and we don’t like to be chivying them off, so they usually get buttons, badges, or anything they can beg off us just for a keepsake. We couldn’t be better thought of: _Trooper W. Green_.

Brave Women

The French people are very kind. They gave us everything before leaving any one place. They told us to drink as much beer and wine as we wanted and then to turn on the taps so that the Germans could not get any when they came. I think the French women are braver than the men. They brought us fruit into the firing line regardless of the shells and bullets that were flying about: _Pte. T. Lacey, Lancashire Fusiliers_.

Only Water Left

I feel sorry for the poor French. Be thankful you are living in England! We passed through village after village on the march, and there was not a living soul in the houses; doors and windows were smashed open, and everything broken. We passed one house to which the two women that lived in it had just returned after the Germans had passed. As we passed they gave us a drink of water--that was the only thing the Germans had left them: _Pte. Crombie, Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders_.

“Good Sports”

The French make a lot of us in camp, and when we pass each other in the field, no matter how busy the Frenchmen may be, they give us hearty cheers to encourage us on our way. There’s plenty of friendly rivalry between us when there’s hard fighting to be done, and when we do get there before the French they don’t grudge us our luck. They’re good sports right through to the core, and the British soldier asks nothing better from allies in the field: _Lance-Corporal E. Hood_.

“Give You Anything”

The French are so good-natured they would give anything, even to the last bit of bread in the house, to our people. To us invalids on our way through Paris they gave a good reception, bringing grapes, bananas, peaches, cigarettes, tobacco, and bouquets of flowers. They are thundering good-natured. To our mounted men the poorer classes would also bring out buckets of milk and of water, and the women would come with their aprons full of fruit. They would give you anything: _A British Gunner_.

Bearded like Pards

What strikes you most in this country is the enthusiasm of the people for their army. They have flocked to the colours by the thousand, and I fancy the biggest problem here is what to do with the men when you get them. Our own army looks small beside the French, but it is fit in every way, and we hear its praises sung in strange places. Some of our chaps look queer now that they have taken to letting their beards grow, and you would not know them: _Private G. Busby_.

“Fag” Making

We are always in the thick of it, and we are doing grand work. The whistle of the shells is not exactly Tango music, but still the troops are very cheerful. Most of the time we have had good weather, but just now the rain is a bit troublesome. The behaviour of the French people in the fighting area is wonderful. They are just splendid. It is very difficult to get a smoke here, and when anyone strikes a match it is amusing to see the rush. The British Tommies are getting quite expert at “fag” making: _Pte. Kay, Northumberland Fusiliers_.

The Little Children

The French “kiddies” all love the British Tommy, and would do anything to have a ride on one of our shoulders or hold our hands, and they stand on their heads with delight to receive a cap badge or something as a souvenir. Their bacca, which they call “tabac,” is cruel, and it costs more than English bacca in the long run, as it smokes so quickly and you have to smoke all day to get a smoke, whereas our bacca satisfies us in a minute or two. Their matches are horrible. “Allumettes” they call them, and they are a hundred a penny, and you have to wait half a minute for them to light and get asphyxiated in the bargain: _A Private, from Mons_.

In Hospital

All the other English wounded were sent to Havre, but somehow I got in with the French, and am here with them now. It is rather awkward, as I only know a few French words, but a French officer who has spent a lot of time in England comes and talks to me, and one of the nurses in another department knows our language and visits me whenever she can. The officer before-mentioned calls me “his Englishman,” and feels how strange it must be; he brings me English books and cigarettes, and looks after me like a father. These buildings are Roman Catholic schools and chapels, and stand in very nice grounds: _Lance-Corporal Eccles_.

Well Pleased

I have just had mother’s favourite potatoes and butter, French wine, fish, and rum and coffee, and apples and eggs to take home. I must say they are very nice people. They will do anything for you. It’s just like being in England. The only difference is the language. We can’t understand them, and they can’t us, but still we have done fine up to the present. You can get plenty of beer, but I would not disgrace myself with that, especially being on active service. I am very pleased with the way the French have treated us. They are good-hearted people. Don’t matter whom you see out, they all salute you, and the ladies bow to you. What more could you wish for? _Pte. A. Rogers, Royal West Kent Regiment_.

“Bonnie Fighters”

One thing, we are safely on the road to victory, without a doubt, and the gallant French army are doing great deeds. The town we are near is properly deserted, for during the day the enemy are shelling the surrounding country, and the villagers go up the hill into caves at daybreak, and go back to town at night. The French folk treat us very kindly, letting us use their wells and buckets to water our horses with, and letting us have anything we want, but the one outstanding difficulty is understanding what they say. Each regiment has an interpreter, and when we want anything in town we have to go to him and he puts us on the right road: _Corpl. Cadwell, Royal Engineers_.

“No Germany!”

They are a fine lot of people, the French. They will give the British troops anything. When we march through the streets men, women, and children run to the doors and wave their hands, throw kisses, and all that sort of thing. They are always pleased to see us, and in all cases they have aprons and baskets of fruit of all kinds, which they give us gratis. But the sight that touches the heart is to see the burning home of some poor old peasant, who can ill afford to lose a copper coin. But, believe me, the time is not far distant when there will be no Germany, and all I can say is, “God send it soon and sudden”: _Pte. J. R. Coates, Royal Fusiliers (City of London Regiment)_.

No Singing Birds

A curious feature about this place is the almost complete absence of birds. One never hears birds singing as in England. The result is that the earth teems with spiders, etc., on which birds are accustomed to feed. I was on guard at ---- during the past twenty-four hours, and it was intensely interesting to chat with French Tommies who gathered round our fire. They are frightfully “bucked” when they meet anyone English with whom they can talk. A large number of the H.A.C. speak French. For this reason, if for nothing else, the people here pay us a good deal of attention. They are deadly keen on getting souvenirs. If it is discovered that we have parted with our grenade or our shoulder letters, our leave is stopped. At the place where we landed 5 francs were offered for the letters “H.A.C.”: _A Member of the Honourable Artillery Company_.

Quite Royal!

The nearest approach to our reception in France is like what the King got when he came to Notts. There are hundreds of chaps in England who would give twenty years of their lives to get such a reception as we get wherever we go. I should advise any chaps coming to France to bring a corkscrew with them, because they will get loads of wine given them by the French peasants--they can’t do enough for us. And the girls! By Jove, there are some beauties--it’s Nottingham beauty over again. Our greatest needs at the present time are English cigs., blankets, and soap. I have only got thirty cigarettes left, and the chaps here will give anything from 1d. to 6d. for a cigarette. They are far more valuable than money. Another thing which is valuable is water. Water is more scarce than petrol. We have to walk about half a mile for water, and then it’s not very good. We’re not afraid of washing after one another in the same water. I’ve seen about a dozen wash in one bucket of water.... The French soldiers do look funny in red trousers and blue coats, compared with our khaki suits. Half our chaps are minus badges and buttons, which the French girls have taken as souvenirs--I got a little doll off one girl when we were at Rouen. I might mention that hardly any of the chaps have any money--I’ve got the large sum of 2½d.: _Pte. F. Smith, Army Service Corps_.

IV. THE ENEMY GERMAN

_Smite, England, to the tramp of marching men-- The rhythmic heart-heat of a world in pain-- Smite, hip and thigh, with flashing steel, and then Unfurl thy peaceful banners once again._

HORACE ANNESLEY VACHELL.

_Oh, Polly love, oh, Polly, the rout has now begun, And we must march along by the beating of the drum; Go dress yourself in your best and come along with me: I’ll take you to the war that’s in High Germany._

OLD ENGLISH SONG.

I have spoken to several prisoners who could speak English, and with no exception they all thought or were told that the British troops were no good at fighting--that it was only niggers we could face. They have got a different view by now: _Sergt. Dickson, Coldstream Guards_.

“Mister Bull!”

The Germans seem to have gone mad entirely, and are running about like bulls in a china-shop, playing havoc with everything that comes their way. Our business is to wait around until Mister Bull gets properly tired, and then we will lead him off by the nose in proper style: _Lance-Corporal E. Twomey_.

Not Suited to It

The Germans aren’t really cut out for this sort of work. They are proper bullies, who get on finely when everybody’s lying bleeding at their feet, but they can’t manage at all when they have to stand up to men who can give them more than they bargain for: _Corporal J. Hammersley_.

Christian

Not all Germans are cruel. On the Aisne I was lying for hours wounded. A German came along and bound up my wound under heavy fire. When he had made me ship-shape he was going to clear off, but a stray bullet caught him, and he fell dead close beside me: _A Private of the Black Watch_.

A Doubting Doctor

A big German surgeon came to me and said, “You don’t like to fight against us, do you?” I replied we did not care whom we fought so long as it was for the good of our country. “But you would rather not fight with us?” he said. “No fear,” I replied, and then he left me saying “Bravo”: _A Captured Corporal_.

X-Rayed

The Germans are bad fighters. They rely on their big guns to do their work. They won’t come out to fight you with their rifles.... I have seen three big battles, and got hit in the fourth one. Hard lines, isn’t it? I have the bullet in my foot yet, but I must wait for my turn, as there are a lot waiting to be X-rayed: _Lance-Corporal G. Percy_.

Took the “Bully”

We got caught in a wood, where I was wounded. When the fire stopped the Germans came to us and pinched everything we had. We drew five francs the day before, the only pay-day we had had out here, and the beggars stole the lot. They even sat down in front of us and tucked into the “bully” they had done us down for: _Pte. Blissenden, Grenadier Guards_.

“Roll on, London!”

One German prisoner says, “I don’t want to fight. Roll on, London.” I suppose he was a waiter in some of the London hotels. Some of them look pitiful sights. They are starved, and when they come here they are all well looked after. They say they are glad it is the British who have taken them. They know the French would not give them much. They have good reason too: _An Aberdeen Reservist of the Royal Field Artillery_.

Captured Uhlans