ACKNOWLEDGMENT
The author desires to thank the Editors of The English Review,
The Evening Standard, and The Westminster Gazette for kind
permission to reproduce in this volume, articles which appeared in
their various columns.
CONTENTS
| CHAP. | PAGE | |
| INTRODUCTION | [1] | |
| I. | TAKING OUT A DRAFT | [8] |
| II. | RAILHEAD AND BEYOND | [25] |
| III. | EARLY DAYS ON THE AISNE | [40] |
| IV. | IN BILLETS | [58] |
| V. | THE MOVE UP (1) | [71] |
| VI. | THE MOVE UP (2) | [83] |
| VII. | NEARING THE FIRING-LINE | [93] |
| VIII. | GETTING INTO ACTION | [101] |
| IX. | AN ATTACK AT DAWN | [111] |
| X. | THE RESERVE COMPANY | [120] |
| XI. | A NIGHT ATTACK | [129] |
| XII. | THE FARM IN THE FIRING-LINE | [138] |
| XIII. | PUSHING FORWARD | [146] |
| XIV. | IN FRONT OF LA BASSÉE | [156] |
| XV. | A NIGHT PATROL | [166] |
| XVI. | WITH THE SUPPORTS | [176] |
| XVII. | BETWEEN ACTIONS | [187] |
| XVIII. | "THE ——TH BRIGADE WILL ATTACK ——" | [197] |
| XIX. | BY THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH | [206] |
| XX. | "AND THENCE TO BED" | [220] |
INTRODUCTION
"Report yourself to O.C. 1st Battalion at —— immediately.—Group."
So the time had come. Of course I guessed what was going to be in the wire before I opened it, but somehow the pink telegraph envelope, and that little word Group at the end of the message, shook me out of an exciting day-dream into reality. For years we had been brought up on the word "Group," which was to come at the end of the order for mobilization. Now it was being flashed over wires all over the country. Our training was to bear fruit. The happy, careless—some people say, rather useless—life of the army officer in peace time was over. The country had gone to war.
I was staying at the time in a large house by the banks of the Thames. My hostess was a mother of soldiers. She took the news calmly, as a mother of soldiers should; said good-bye to her eldest boy, who was to go with the first troops that left England, arranged for the outfit of her two second sons, and sent for her baby from Eton, whom she saw dispatched to the Royal Military College. It was a great house to be in on the outbreak of war—a house whose sons to the third and fourth generation had built up the British Empire, and which, now, when the Empire was called upon to fight for its life, stood firm and undismayed.
I went up to London to my rooms to collect a few things. My landlady was breathless with helping me pack, aghast at the National crisis, and rather shocked at my levity. Levity—yes, I suppose I was flippant. What else could one be when suddenly told one was going to war with Germany? I was rather enjoying the packing and everything up to a point, but as I ransacked drawers I came on a bundle of letters with some absurd comic postcards. The letters had a faint scent of violet about them. They had to be sealed up and left behind, with directions for their disposal if I didn't come back. And there was a photograph to be taken from the mantelpiece and put in a pocket-book, a photograph which had been in many places with me. Well, now it must go on its travels again. I got an aching in the back of my throat and hurried to my club for a drink.
From the club I went to the station. There was a big crowd on the platform of the boat-train. Many women had come to see their menfolk off, and some to travel with them as far as they could. There were also a great many people who were crossing over to Ireland under the impression that it would be the last night of the Channel service for civilian traffic. There were business men, and people whose homes were in Ireland, and officials. All looked a little anxious, as much as to say, "Well, it has begun!"