WE MEET THE GREY-COATS
My first sight of the German Army was just one, man.
He was a motor cyclist dressed in grey, with his weapons slung across
his back, and he flashed past us like lightning.
Everyone in the carriage uttered a deep "Oh!"
It seemed to me an incredible thing that one German should be all alone
like that among enemies. I said so to my companions.
"The others are coming!" they said with an air of certainty that turned
me cold all over.
But it was at least two miles further on before we met the rest of his
corps.
Then we discovered fifty German motor cyclists, in grey uniforms, and
flat caps, flying smoothly along the side path in one long grey line.
Their accoutrements looked perfect and trim, their general appearance
was strikingly smart, natty, and workmanlike in the extreme.
Just before they reached us Jean got down and walked on foot along the
road at the edge of the side path where they were riding.
And as they passed quite near him Jean turned his glance towards me and
gave me an enormous wink.
I don't know whether that was Jean's sense of humour.
I always forgot afterwards to ask him what it meant.
I only know that it had a peculiarly cheering effect on me to see that
great black eye winking and then turning itself with a quiet, careless
gaze on the faces of the fifty German cyclists.
They passed without doing more than casting a look at us, and were lost
to sight in a moment flashing onwards with tremendous speed towards
Enghien.
We were now on the brow of a hill, and as we reached it, and began to
descend, we were confronted with a spectacle that fairly took away my
breath.
The long white road before us was literally lined with Germans.