Chapter I: Marching to War

_Fair stood the wind for France
When we our sails advance._

MICHAEL DRAYTON.

_Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife,
To all the sensual world proclaim,
One crowded hour of glorious life
Is worth an age without a name._

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

One pretty French girl had learned only one English phrase, “Kiss me quick.” I don’t know who taught her, but when she walked up the lines repeating it she soon found out its significance: _Truthful Thomas Atkins_.

Keepsakes

The French girls are going mad on getting our cap-badges and the numerals on our shoulders. We have been served with jack-knives, and they want to buy them of us, but we will not part with them: _A Private of the Worcesters_.

Want Nothing

France is a lovely country, but the sun has been very hot and trying--almost as bad as India. The roads are lined with apple and pear trees, which are now laden with fruit, and the troops are not in want of anything in that line: _Quartermaster-Sergeant R. Hodge_.

“Cheer, Boys, Cheer”

It’s enough to give you fits to hear the Frenchmen trying to pick up the words of “Cheer, Boys, Cheer,” which we sing with a great go on the march. They haven’t any notion of what the words mean, but they can tell from our manner that they mean we’re in great heart, and that’s infectious here: _Sergt. W. Holmes, Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders_.

Couldn’t Understand!

We never see a paper here; only a French one, and you should see the sport when our fellows try to read one. Everyone has his own way of reading it. The French people are very nice, also very generous. The only drawback is we can’t understand them--only just a few words now and again: _Sergt. D. O’Donnell, 2nd Royal Irish_.

Those Highlanders

The French people could not do enough for us when we landed at Boulogne. They were principally struck with the Highlanders. They had been told we were the most daring of the British forces, and one woman shouted out in admiration as we marched past, “There go the women from hell.” She thought that was the biggest compliment she could pay us: _A Seaforth Highlander_.

Her “Soldat”

The French people run out with bread and wine and fruit, and press them on the soldiers as they march through the villages. To-day we are camped by a field of lucerne, which is fortunate, as no hay is available. The tinned meat is very good, and we get French bread at times, which is excellent. Yesterday, passing through a village early, I went into a small buvette, and got coffee and some chocolate. The good woman refused all payment, saying she had a son who was “soldat,” and I could not get her to take any money at all: _Anonymous_.

Delightfully Hungry

I have never felt so well in my life, and, my word, I can eat--any time and all times. We get plenty of real good food, and tea or coffee. You will be rather surprised to hear we are served with roast beef, lamb, boiled beef, bully beef, cheese, bacon, jam, marmalade, large and small biscuits, onions, carrots, spuds, celery; in fact, we are living like lords. But we can’t get any London shag (that is the worst rub), nor any fag-papers, at least not with gum on them: _Pte. C. A. Porter, Army Service Corps_.

Dandy Lads

It rained a bit the first day we landed in France, but after that there were sunny days, and grand country to march through, the roads being particularly good. We did our thirty and thirty-five miles a day, and finished up fresh, bar a number who had bad feet and had to be left at the base.... These are the men, I said to myself, who have made Old England the real stuff which never allows confidence to flag in a great national trouble such as that through which we are now passing: _A Private of the Royal Scots Fusiliers_.

Flowers and Favours

The British troops met with an overwhelming reception immediately they landed on French soil. People went mad almost, so overjoyed were they to see us, and they begged us to give them pieces of biscuit and small articles as souvenirs. We never wanted for food or anything else among the French. The girls threw us flowers and people gave us wine, and anything, in fact, we wanted. They all wanted to shake hands with us, and we had great difficulty in marching, so surrounded were we with them. When we met the French soldiers--well, that did it. They commenced shouting and singing, and were properly excited at seeing us: _A Private of the Royal Sussex Regiment_.

Tramp, Tramp, Tramp!

It would do your heart good to see our fellows leaving for the front. Regiment after regiment, thousands of men, march past here every night: Tramp, tramp, tramp! All splendidly fit; sometimes with a band, sometimes singing. A great favourite is “Here we are, here we are, here we are again,” also “Tipperary.” As I am writing a train is leaving, packed, and the Tommies are singing, “Hold your hand out, naughty boy,” all happy. There is nothing on earth to touch our chaps for spirits: _Sapper C. R. J. Green, Royal Engineers_.

Pat’s Mishap

I was unlucky. I fell from a train at full speed. I was picked up for dead. French soldiers came and carried me away for burial. There were some women about. It was, I think, a woman who came up and looked at me and noticed something which made her think I was not a corpse--not yet. It’ll take a lot to kill me! So I was resurrected. I’m a good bit broken--something in my back, something in my head. Oh, yes; it’s a bad pain when I move. But that’ll be all right soon. I don’t look bad, do I? _An Irish Private_.

A Comparison

As regards France in general, they are a long way behind England in so far as trams, buses, etc., are concerned, but the country is simply handsome. There is not a bit of idle land anywhere, for all you can see for miles is nothing but wheat and fruit trees. The houses and villages, I should think, were built years ago. They put you in mind of the old-fashioned pictures of villages you see at home. The people are the most cordial I have seen, and at the present moment they would give you their hearts if they could: _Pte. Talbot, Army Service Corps_.

Church Bells

Just got into a big town. Resting here for a few hours, so snatched the opportunity to scribble this. Can hear all the church bells ringing. This is a very nice country indeed. Every bit of land is cultivated and there are tons of fruit of all kinds everywhere. The people here are about the cleanest I have seen. They are all wild with joy to think we are here helping them, and every single one tries to give us something. We get more food, drinks, tobacco, smokes, and fruit than we hardly know what to do with. It seems a bit funny to see the boys going fighting with cigars on, but it’s a fact. Have a pocketful myself at present: _Corpl. Tupper, 4th Hussars_.

Invited Out!

I put on a clean shirt, washed, shaved, and regular brush-up. We arrived at the house, or rather mansion, and were quite out of place, as we thought, walking on polished tiles in the passage with our big, heavy boots. It was a perfect slide. We took a seat by a big, round table, had wine, cakes, tea, cigars and cigarettes. To our surprise, this lady’s father was mayor of ----. The lady, whose husband was with his regiment about eleven miles away, sang us two songs in English--“The Holy City” and “Killarney.” It was a perfect treat to have one’s legs under a table and drink from cups and saucers. Next day we thought it was a dream: _Pte. Pakeman, Army Service Corps_.

Triumphant

Since we landed here our march has been a triumphal one. Everywhere the people received us with demonstrations of joy. When off duty we are taken possession of by the townspeople and the French soldiers, and fêted as though we had been lifelong friends. It is not uncommon to see British and French soldiers walking about the streets arm-in-arm, and the shopkeepers refuse to take money from our men. We are free to take what we want in the way of fruit or wine, and some of the traders are indignant even if you hint at payment. “Pay us in German coin when you come back from Berlin,” is a favourite injunction. We have no difficulty in making ourselves understood, for a surprising number of the people know enough English to go on with, and men of the French army are always ready to act as interpreters for us. The French troops are delighted at the prospect of having British “comrades-in-arms.” I was surprised to find that the average French “Tommy” is familiar with the names of most of our regiments and our officers: _Lance-Corporal T. Kelly_.

Thinking of Home

You needn’t worry about us. We are more concerned about you at home, and only hope that you are being well looked after in our absence. If we find that our loved ones are not being cared for, we will never forgive those responsible. That’s my little “grouse,” done with now, and I can tell of the happy times we’re having here: _Anonymous_.