During our stay at Fouqtiereuil, which was not, however, of long duration, we saw and heard things that to most of us, at any rate, were quite new. In the distance artillery was continually booming away, and at night the brilliant flashes of the star-shells over the trenches beyond us lit up the sky. It was not uncommon any day to see an aeroplane in the distance, followed in its passage across the sky by little puffs of white smoke, the phenomenon caused by shrapnel shells loosed off by our anti-aircraft guns on land at a hostile Taube, bursting all around it.
Our next move was to Lillers, where we remained only for a short time also. Of our journeys and convoys from this railhead I give some account in a following chapter. A few days before the end of December, railhead was again moved, this time to Berguette, and here we spent our first Christmas Day. Our mess was a room in a small empty house, which certainly looked cheerless enough when we first saw it, but the O.C. Workshops very soon, with the assistance of his able artificers, produced a table and forms, rigged up a thoroughly efficient acetylene lighting plant and also a fire-grate; this latter was really a masterpiece of blacksmiths' art.
With these and many luxuries in the form of Christmas puddings and cakes sent by fond relatives at home, not forgetting a turkey locally acquired by the C.O., and some champagne of doubtful vintage, we managed to do ourselves proud. In all the different places in which we have been stationed, whether our mess has been a brickyard, a deserted house, a barn or a tent, the ingenuity of O.C. Workshops and his contrivances to produce light, heat, and such-like cardinal comforts have never failed us. A man who has spent years in the wilds of Africa and is accustomed to making himself always comfortable and thoroughly at home amid the most unpromising surroundings—even amongst the haunts of the man-eating lions of Tsavo or the snowy summits of the Klondyke—and who is also an engineer and an inventive genius, is a distinct acquisition to any unit on active service.
The artistic touch also we do not usually omit, for whenever possible we decorate the faded wall-paper of the messroom with a selection of Raphael Kirchner's fair "Parisiennes"—those charming vivandiêres of the trenches, dressed with that economy which is so very French!
A day or two before the end of the year railhead was again moved. This time to Aire-sur-la-Lys, where we were destined to stay for some months. Aire is one of those quaint, old-fashioned little towns of which there are so many in the Northern departments of France, with its large pavé Grande Place or open market square bordered by shops, and squared off at one end by an imposing Hôtel de Ville. I must not forget that here also is the Café du Commerce, which in due course became a recognized rendezvous for officers between the hours of six and eight every evening, and where Madame and Mdlle Chermeux dispensed many delectable apéritifs.
Aire contains one or two good examples of sixteenth-century Spanish architecture, and a large, square-towered and massive cathedral, which has been restored and added to until it seems to embody many types of architecture, and incidentally contains some very fine and beautifully coloured stained-glass windows, the interior effect of these in the long, dark nave being somewhat nullified by the amount of cheap and gaudy decoration, gilt paint and such-like, on walls and pillars, alas! so noticeable in many cathedrals and big churches in France.
Not very far from this cathedral a number of our motor-lorries were parked. The town boasted of many good billets, as is usual in small towns of this sort. The rank and file sleep usually in their lorries. These can, by a man with a little ingenuity, be made quite comfortable resting-places, by rigging up inside the vehicle a hammock or other similar contrivance. With the tail-board up the cold is more or less kept out, and the tarpaulin cover, which is stretched over the top of long oval-shaped, channel iron supports, roofs in the vehicle and protects the sleeper from rain and other indiscretions of the weather. Other accommodation in the shape of empty warehouses is usually available, or billets in private houses—if the men care to go to the expense of paying for them—are not disallowed. In the smaller villages matters become somewhat different, the only opportunity for additional cover consisting usually in the inevitable farmhouse mud-walled barns. These are seldom weather-proof, and frequently their hospitality must be shared with many rats which also make them their dwelling-place.
French farms are curiously arranged places. In the North of France, at any rate, they are invariably one-storied buildings of rectangular shape surrounding a farmyard with a dung-heap. Near the dung-heap is frequently a pump, so it is not to be wondered at that the greatest care has to be taken in treating water before it is used for drinking purposes by the troops. This is accomplished by large movable chemically charged filters, mounted on wheels and towed by wagon or motor-lorry from place to place as necessity may require. In any place where troops are billeted it becomes necessary to immediately construct incinerators, either of brick or metal, where all rubbish in the shape of empty jam-tins, garbage, etc., can be destroyed and, after being thus burnt, is buried. The result is that ground in France, after being occupied by British troops, is generally left by them in a better state of sanitation than they found it, owing to the measures taken to drain any stagnant water and the free use of chemical disinfectants over any doubtful soil or drainage. The French peasants sometimes express surprise at the precautions taken by the British Army to avoid insanitation, and at the fact that all refuse is buried after being burnt. Owing to the latter we have sometimes been described as les chats, the peasants apparently assuming that we have learnt this idea from the habits of the amiable members of the feline tribe.
All such undertakings are carried out by that most necessary and efficient party of men known as the Sanitary Squad.
But to leave the subject of billeting areas in general and return to the town of Aire and the attractions it offered. I shall not forget the first Sunday—the first of the New Year, 1915—which we spent there. Besides ourselves there were considerable numbers of troops stationed in the vicinity at the time, and in honour of this fact, and also presumably by way of further cementing the Entente Cordiale, it was announced that in the afternoon there would be a special service in the cathedral to invoke the Divine aid for the success of the Allied arms. All British soldiers were invited to be present, and long before the advertised time of the service the cathedral was packed, and, looking down its long nave, presented in appearance a solid mass of khaki. The service opened by the singing of "God Save the King," in which the whole congregation were asked to join. The National Anthem was accompanied by the organ and conducted by an aged priest, who stood at the chancel steps beneath a life-size statue of Joan of Arc, and never, I thought, had there been such an assembly under such strange circumstances. Here were a thousand or so English soldiers of all ranks, from General Officers to privates, and a sprinkling of French soldiers, singing the National Anthem while facing a statue of Joan of Arc, her arms outstretched as if in the act of pleading. And all this in a Catholic cathedral in France, which still held protruding from its outer walls cannon-balls accurately placed there by a piece of Marlborough's artillery in a former and somewhat different campaign. Incidentally, several similar cannon-balls were dug up in a field adjoining the railhead, in the course of excavations made in connection with the Native abattoir, which I have referred to in a previous chapter. That priest was nothing if not thorough, for he conducted the congregation through all the verses of the National Anthem, and it must be admitted to our national shame that the majority present knew no more than the words of the first verse, and I think these words did duty for all the remaining ones! The Bishop, who preached, again and again addressed himself to "Messieurs les Anglais," reminding his hearers that the great armies of France and Great Britain were fighting side by side in brotherhood for the liberties of Europe. He also laid frequent emphasis on the help which Great Britain had extended to France in her hour of need, and paid a glowing tribute to "Sa Majesté le Roi George de Grande-Bretagne."