When Tommy indulges in the use of the French language he
abbreviates it as much as possible.
One hot summer's day driving from Boulogne to Fort Mahon, half
way down a steep hill we came upon two Tommies endeavouring
to extract a motor cycle and a side-car from a somewhat difficult
position. They had side-slipped and run into a small tree. The cycle
was on one side and the side-car on the other, and a steel rod
between had been rammed right into the wood through the force
of the collision.
My three companions and myself endeavoured to help the men to
pull out the rod, but the united efforts of the six of us proved
unavailing. We hailed a passing cart and tied the reins around the
motor-cycle, but immediately the horse commenced to pull the
leather of the reins snapped. Behind the cart walked a peasant.
Only one adjective can possibly describe him: he was decidedly
"beer-y." He made no attempt to help but passed from one Tommy
to the other, patting them on their backs, assuring them "that with
a little good-will all would be well." There was a dangerous glint in
the youngest Tommy's eye, but in the presence of ladies he
refrained from putting his thoughts into words. Finally, his patience
evaporating, he suddenly turned on the peasant and shouted at
him, "Ong! Ong!" It took me some time to grasp that this was
Tommy's abbreviated version of "Allez vous en" (Clear out). In any
event it proved quite useless, as he continued to pat the Tommies
affectionately and to bombard them with impracticable suggestions.
We were joined later by three villagers, two gendarmes and a
postman, and, all pulling together, we managed to extract the rod
from the tree. A large lorry was passing and on to it we heaved the
wreckage. Up clambered the Tommies, followed by their unwelcome
friend, who managed to sit on the only unbroken portion of the
side-car. This was too much for Messrs. Atkins' equanimity.
Limp with laughter, we watched them pass from sight amidst a
chorus of "Ong! Ong!" followed by flights of oratory in the English
tongue which do not bear repeating, but which were received by the
peasant as expressions of deep esteem and to which he replied
by endeavouring to kiss the Tommies and shouting, "Vive l'Angleterre!
All right! Hoorah!"
Our guiding officer began to show some signs of anxiety to have
us leave before ten o'clock, but the good-byes took some time.
Presents were showered upon us, German dragees (shell heads
and pieces of shrapnel), and the real French dragees, the famous
sweet of Verdun.
We crept out of the city, but unfortunately at one of the dangerous
crossroads our chauffeur mistook the route. A heavy bombardment
was taking place and the French were replying. We were lucky enough
to get on to the route and into safety before any shell fell near us.
It appears that the Germans systematically bombard the roads
at night, hoping to destroy the camions bringing up the food for
the city, fresh munitions and men.
We slept that night at Bar-le-Duc, and next morning saw the
various ambulances and hospitals which the Service de Sante had
particularly requested me to visit. I was impressed by the splendid
organisation of the Red Cross even quite close to the firing line.