What the French and Belgians Think
After studying our soldiers for a considerable time a special
correspondent of _L'Independance_ wrote: "'Tommy' ... loves to laugh;
he has clear eyes and smokes almost continually a cigarette or a pipe.
He is a sportsman, who views war as a continuation of the sports he
practises in peace times. No one could be more placid than he. He does
not know what it is to be nervous. Two 'Tommies' at the beginning of
the war were driving a motor-wagon from Rheims to Amiens. They missed
the way, and arrived at Rouen. 'This is not the way,' someone told
them, 'towards Amiens; you will perhaps meet Germans.' 'That doesn't
matter. If we meet them we will shoot them,' was the reply. That is the
state of 'Tommy's' soul. He is convinced that everything will be right.
He never loses an opportunity of taking 'un tub' as thoroughly as
decency permits in the circumstances. And for nothing in the world will
he neglect to shave with care. Recently there arrived at an hotel,
over which flew the Red Cross flag, a wounded English soldier. He had a
piece of shell in the right hand, two bullets in his left shoulder, and
one in his stomach. He went, first of all, to the barber's shop on the
ground floor of the hotel. They pointed out to him that the ambulance
entrance was at the side. 'I see,' he said, 'but I must be shaved
first'!"
A French officer was also surprised at the extensive toilet of our
soldiers: "At Ypres I had the pleasure of making the acquaintance
of Tommy Atkins, whose smart appearance and jovial manner I greatly
admired. He's a perfect soldier. I saw him one morning making his
toilet when Taubes were flying over our heads and dropping bombs
not far away. He shaved first, and then, with a bucket of hot water
standing on the step of a railway carriage, washed himself, much soap
and rubbing with a large towel. I lost sight of him just when he was
putting his tooth-brush into a pot of paste to clean his teeth."
The correspondent of the _Petit Parisien_ wrote that he was impressed
by the excellent spirits and devotion to duty of the British troops,
and the fraternal solicitude of the officers for their men.
"Ah, those British soldiers!" exclaimed a French officer. "In my
regiment you only hear such expressions as '_Quel soldats!_', '_Ils
sont superb._' How splendidly they behave! In their discipline and
their respect for their officers they are magnificent."
The French people were delighted with the size of the Highlanders, and
with the kilts they wore. A woman shouted out in admiration as they
marched past: "There go the women from hell." She thought that was the
biggest compliment she could pay.
The French were surprised to see our men going into battle singing
songs and playing mouth-organs. They liked their gaiety and sporting
spirit. If they had understood the words they would have relished in
the following marching song the allusion to the Kaiser's order for the
extermination of General French's "contemptible little army:"
"What! Wad ye stop the pipers?
Nay, 'tis ower soon!
Dance, since ye're dancing, William,
Dance, ye puir loon!
Dance till ye're dizzy, William,
Dance till ye swoon!
Dance till ye're deid, my laddie!
We play the tune!"
The French must have been astonished at the pipes of the Highlanders
when they heard them first at Boulogne and at the marching song of the
Irish:
"It's a long way to Tipperary,
It's a long way to go.
It's a long way to Tipperary,
And the sweetest girl I know.
Good-bye, Piccadilly!
Farewell, Leicester-square!
It's a long, long way to Tipperary,
But my heart's just there."
For some time about twenty men of the London Scottish Highlanders did
military police duty in Paris, and patrolled the streets every day
looking after British soldiers who might be in the city for any reason.
To the people on the boulevards this patrol was a popular institution,
and they gave loud "Heep--heeps" and cheers for old England when they
saw them coming. The kilt of the Highlanders no doubt had something to
do with this admiration, and the curiosity of the fair sex must have
been at times embarrassing. But the dignified bearing of the men, their
genial courtesy, and their strict attention to the business in hand
sufficiently explained their popularity.
The French soldiers said that the charges of the British cavalry at
Lille were marvellous. They also admired the way the British artillery
was served, and on one occasion at least they had good reason for
doing so. Their 205th regiment of infantry was almost surrounded by
German infantry with machine guns. One by one the officers fell, and
the regiment was led by sergeants. On the point of being forced to
surrender they saw, to their immeasurable relief, several batteries
of the Royal Field Artillery dashing up behind across the shell-swept
field towards them. So terrific was the German fire that it seemed
almost impossible that the guns could come into action. The traces of
the horses struck were instantly cut; men jumped to seize the reins
when comrades fell. They swept out into more extended order, wheeled
round, unlimbered, and in a few seconds were shelling the German
positions. In ten minutes the Germans retreated and the French regiment
was saved.
The following extract from a letter from the front lets us see one
reason why British soldiers were popular in Belgium and France: "The
last place we were reserve, and occupied a village. Our company was
at an inn. The innkeeper used to get very nervous when he heard the
firing of big guns, and often asked me confidentially to tell him when
I thought it was necessary for safety to depart. His wife and family
and many of the women of the village had already gone. One day we got
a little shrapnel over us, and you should have seen the excitement
everywhere. People began to push off, and one saw huge carts full of
women and children going to safety. It was too much for Monsieur when
the shells began to burst over the village. He solemnly dressed himself
in his best, and almost with tears in his eyes entrusted his house to
us to be at our disposal, and pushed off some miles back. The soldiers
had the run of everything in the inn; not a thing was locked. Next
day, as things were quieter, Monsieur turned up with a beaming face,
expecting to find half his things gone! He couldn't make it out as he
went up and down and found not a thing touched, and yet the soldiers
had been there all the time! Finally he came to us and expressed his
entire admiration for the British Army and the excellent discipline
which prevailed."
Trooper W. Green wrote: "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."
How well our wounded soldiers were tended in France is shown by the
following letter from a French nurse, who received her training in this
country:
"Last Sunday I went to see some wounded English soldiers at Versailles.
They are nursed in one of the largest and newest hotels there. You
should see how happy and jolly they are, and how petted by the French
people who go to see them and take them tea, grapes, cigarettes, etc.
Your soldiers are great favourites here. They are so glad when they
meet with somebody who speaks English. I spoke to them about England
and English people, and we sang English songs--'Dolly Gray' and 'Tommy
Atkins.' They made some tea and gave some to all the ladies present."
A French woman who could speak English said laughingly to a Highlander,
"If you kill the Kaiser you may marry my daughter." The soldier replied
that he would do that all right and that she could have a hair of
William's moustache.
Of a French lady, at whose house four British soldiers were billeted,
one of them wrote: "She was wondrous kind, and when we left for the
front Madame and her mother sobbed as if we had been their own sons."
Here is another little tribute: "I am very pleased with the way the
French have treated us. They are good-hearted people. Don't matter who
you see out they all salute you, and the ladies bow to you. What more
could you wish for?"
This man went on to say that he was always addressed as _Monsieur_ (Why
not?) and that he began to think that he was an officer.
And the Belgians also think of the British soldier as a kind-hearted
rescuer.
A little girl, an orphan refugee from Flanders, was taken and cared
for by a family in a London suburb. In spite of the kindness that
encompassed her, she was unhappy and full of terror. She remembered
the strange people with a strange tongue who had swept down upon her
home in Flanders, and the brutality and horror that followed their
incursion. The English people with whom she stayed were kind, but they
were strange, and their tongue was strange, and they terrified her. One
day the son of the house came home. He was in the New Army, and he wore
khaki. At the sight of the khaki the little girl flung herself at the
boy, clung about his legs, and called out "Anglais! Anglais!" She knew
now she was safe.
A wounded Seaforth Highlander heard that a woman with a newborn baby
was in a cottage in a village that was being shelled by the Germans. He
left the Red Cross van, rushed in and saved both mother and child as a
shell crashed through the roof. As he left another shell demolished the
cottage.
"I have often seen the British soldier," says a French correspondent,
"sharing his breakfast with starving Belgian refugees. In a corner
of the big courtyard where the British troops are quartered, I saw a
little girl of ten fast asleep on the straw. Two English troopers, men
with grey hair and moustaches, had tenderly covered her up in a thick
brown rug, and were watching over her as she slept. I went up and asked
them how the child had come there. They told me as they were returning
from the front after hard fighting they came upon the child. Her
parents had been shot, and she was alone in the world. At that moment
the child woke up, and, seeing a stranger talking to her friends, asked
anxiously if he had come to take her away. 'I don't want to be taken
away,' she cried; 'I want to stay here.' The stranger reassured her,
and the little one, pacified, was soon fast asleep again."
No wonder that a British officer was able to write:
"The Belgians are delighted to see us. As we entered one town all
the population turned out and cheered, and gave the men cigars and
cigarettes. It was almost embarrassing riding in at the head of the
column; it was almost like a Royal progress. It is very extraordinary
the faith the Belgians have in the British Army. Directly they see any
British troops they seem to think that all will go well."
_Wyman & Sons Ltd., Printers, London and Reading_