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_.