HEAT AND DUST
The Subaltern did not get to sleep until twelve, and the Regiment made
another start as early as half-past two. It seemed to him that when
necessity drives there is no limit to the nerve force that we have in
us! They marched some miles in a westerly direction before they rejoined
the main road southwards.
To describe in detail the sufferings of that day would be to repeat
almost word for word some of the preceding paragraphs. It was just as
hot as usual, just as dusty as usual. An order had come from somewhere
that there was to be no looting. Men were to be forbidden to snatch an
apple from a fruit-strewn orchard, or an egg from a deserted barn! The
owners had already fled from their homes, and here Mr. Thomas Atkins was
solemnly asked to go hungry and thirsty and to relieve the enemy of one
of his greatest difficulties--feeding himself. The Platoon having halted
for the usual hourly halt outside an orchard, some of the men broke into
it and began to throw apples over the hedge to the others. Seeing the
Colonel approaching, the Subaltern realised that something must be done
instantly to avert disaster. "What the deuce are you men doing? Come out
of it!" he cried. The men came, looking very dejected. The Colonel,
pacified, passed by. A second later, the glad work of refreshing the
troops was being carried on by a fresh couple of men.
It must have been a very similar situation that gave birth to a story
that has already become famous. A Tommy was caught by a "brass hat" in
the very act of strangling a chicken. Tommy looked up. Was he abashed?
Not a bit of it! He did what Mr. Thomas Atkins generally does in a tight
corner. He kept his head: he rose magnificently to the occasion. He did
not loose the chicken and endeavour to stammer an apology. On the
contrary, he continued to strangle it. He took no notice of the "brass
hat." As he gave a final twist to the bird's throat he said menacingly,
"So you'd try to bite me, would you, you little brute!"
Towards the end of the afternoon the men were so obviously exhausted,
and the number forced to fall out was so great, that a halt had to be
ordered in spite of previous plans. The men threw themselves utterly
exhausted on the ground on their backs, and lay like so many corpses
until the march was continued, in the cool of the evening.
The Subaltern, consulting a fresh map--for they had been walking across
the ground covered by one map every day--learnt to his surprise that
they were within a few miles of Paris. And so also, he thought, were the
Germans! It rather looked as if they were heading straight towards the
city, and that would mean a siege. It was no use worrying about things,
but that depressing idea was in the minds of most of the Officers that
evening. Not that the Subaltern cared much at the time--it would mean a
stop to this everlasting marching, and perhaps the forts of Paris could
stand it; anyhow the German Fleet had been rounded up. (That wicked
rumour spread by the sensational section of the Press had not yet been
denied.)
While he was thinking of these things, they were moving through a
country far more thickly populated. Villages began to crowd upon each
other's heels, and all the villages--cheering sight--were full of
British soldiers settling down to their billets for the night. This was
the first they had seen of any other Division except their own, and the
sight rather dispelled the illusion that, for all these days, they had
been alone and unaided in a land of "frightfulness."
More marching in the darkness!
At last, at about nine o'clock, they reached their billets, but the word
scarcely conveys a correct impression of the palatial château in which
they were quartered. There was considerable delay in settling the men
(which must, of course, be done before an officer thinks of his own
comfort) and in detailing the quarters. At length the officers of the
company found themselves in a little bedroom overlooking a river which
they supposed to be the Seine. The Captain, who had been sent on in
front of the Battalion to allot billets, produced with pride some
chocolate, sardines, and bottled mushrooms.
The Second Lieutenants went in search of the "Company Cookers" to "draw"
their tea (in a washing jug), while the Senior Subaltern effected a
felonious entry into the room allotted to the General, and purloined all
the drinking glasses he could lay hands on, making his departure just as
that worthy Officer was coming up the stairs.
The house was evidently of the "nouveau riche" type. If there was in it
nothing that could actually offend the eye, there was certainly nothing
to satisfy it. There was a profusion of gilt mirrors, and an aching lack
of pictures: the lighting was too new and glaring: the upholstery too
flimsy. But there were baths and soap! It was too late for the baths,
but the soap quickly disappeared.
Just when they were settling themselves drowsily to enjoy a real sleep,
free from the fear of a morning attack, protected from the damp of dawn,
and with quilts of down to cover them, who should come in but the
Colonel!