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Page 7
At one stopping place a large leathern hose was depending from a water
main for giving the engine water, and somebody turning this on, we all
took shower baths under it, or plunged into the huge tub alongside, some
being so keen on not missing their chance that they took their baths in
their clothes, tunics and all. Try to imagine our feelings after being
cooped up in the train for just on three days and nights and then
getting a wash or prehistoric bath!
We had a two hours' wait here, and the "dixies" (about a dozen in all)
were filled with water, and a huge fire was lighted, and soon a "long
felt want" was satisfied in the form of tea. Though it was like Indian
ink, it went down with a rare relish (I think my little lot was the best
drink of tea I ever enjoyed); but unfortunately there was no second
edition.
[Illustration: A WASH AND A WAIT.]
After our "tub" we made a line for the station, the train being so long
that only a portion of it was in it. We received a pleasant surprise
in the form of a stall, where there were cakes, buns, bottles of red
wine, fruit and many other luxuries.
After we had cleared out the whole lot, the French people living in the
town came to the railings at the side of the station and bombarded us
with all kinds of food and dainties. Just as we were all thoroughly
stretching our legs and enjoying ourselves, the order was given to board
train, so, with much cheering, singing and shouting, we resumed our
seats--or rather our "standing room only."
"DOOMSDAY BOOK."
[Illustration: "DOOMSDAY BOOK": A FRENCH LESSON IN A CATTLE TRUCK.]
Our corporal (behold him with an open book of Family Bible dimensions)
often busied himself with expounding his views on the French language,
in which he was labouring to become proficient. His linguistic ambitions
did not end at self-proficiency, for he was solicitous to instruct his
fellows, and we had quite a number of French lessons from him, although
it must be admitted that they suffered many interruptions in good old
plain English from the Tommies, provoked by the jolting of the train.
They nicknamed this huge French dictionary the "Doomsday Book," because
it was their doom to have its contents thrown at them every day.
THE LAST STAGE.
The weather set in very cold and snowy, and as the cracks in the bottom
of the truck measured three inches in width, it can be guessed what a
draught there was. But in spite of everything and the general discomfort
of things, jam and biscuits were "lowered" in plenty. I amused the boys
by making sketches on biscuits and throwing them out of the window at
the various stations we passed through to the crowds of French
civilians, soldiers, and Red Cross nurses. Perhaps some of my comrades
will find some of these biscuit souvenirs at their homes--if they ever
get there--for not a few were kept to the end of the journey and posted
to friends in England.
We passed over several bridges which the Germans had destroyed, but
which had been made temporarily good again by the French engineers. Over
these our train had to travel gingerly. As we neared the fighting zone
the booming of the guns could be heard, and a little further on things
became more warlike. We noticed the devastated stations, villages, and
large shell holes in the embankment of the line.
All this seemed to bring to the surface our fighting spirits, and we
only wanted to be out and at the Huns.
On arrival at Etaples, after a rest of two hours or so in the station
yard and street adjoining same, we marched in full pack and kit,
including blankets and our waterproof sheets, to a fishing village,
where we struck a camp and turned in for the night. We were under canvas
for four days--the only four days under canvas during the whole time I
was in France. The Colonel gave orders that all the men's heads were to
be shaved, as we were proceeding to the trenches.
LADY ANGELA FORBES'S SOLDIERS' HOME AT ETAPLES.
[Illustration: LADY ANGELA FORBES'S SOLDIERS' HOME AT ETAPLES.]
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