CHAPTER XI
LANDING IN FRANCE
The battle song of the British Army, "Tipperary," which was made imperishable by the men who died at Mons and the Marne, was the first sound that rang in our ears as our ship drew up to the landing. It was a beautiful day, for spring had already begun to blossom in that part of the country, although when we hit the firing line it was still dead winter, and the scenery in France was disclosed to perfection that day.
The song was being sung by French children in excellent English who congregated in hundreds on the quay to see the Canadian soldiers disembark, and I don't think a finer set of boys ever set foot in France than Canada's first contingent.
Little did we think that in two short months more than half of us would be dead, dying and shot to pieces.
A storm of cheering rent the air as our ship was moored to the dock. Oranges, bananas, grapes and fruit of every description were thrown to us, to which we replied by sending over buttons, badges, etc., these "Souvenirs Canadian" being literally fought for by the crowd.
One stalwart Frenchman earned our undying gratitude by catching our company commander squarely on the side of the face with a nice plump orange. It landed with a lovely stinging smack and spread itself most luxuriantly over his capacious mug. Those who had been recipients of the numerous punishments dealt out for our misdeeds chuckled quietly and nudged each other in unholy glee.
We were no sooner safely docked than—to work. Winches groaned as if in protest, as they hauled guns, ammunition and other impedimenta of a division on active service. Fatigue parties sweated and cursed as they stumbled backwards and forwards on and off the ship. Every man had his work to do, and long before daylight everything was ready for our departure north.
At five o'clock in the morning we were issued goatskin coats, mittens and gloves, and inspected by the O.C. The order came to march, and in heavy marching order, we trudged to the depot. This marching order consists of rifle and bayonet attached to braces, which in turn are attached by self-locking buckles to the belt, the knapsack or valise which usually contains a shaving kit, towel, soap, change of underwear, socks, one pair of boots, mess tin, and any other little convenience you may wish to carry. Later on we learned by bitter experience to dispense with everything except absolute necessities.
The aforesaid goatskin coats were a gift from the then Czar of Russia and were supposed to have come from China. When we had donned our gift coats there was a perceptible murmur of comment running from end to end of the ranks, caused by the odor from the presents of the Czar not unlike the presence of a skunk. Examination disclosed that the bloody (literally) coats were dotted in many places with the actual flesh of the deceased animals still sticking to them. In spite of stern orders from the O.C's. of the various companies to maintain silence during inspection, it was plainly discernible that the smell had penetrated even the seasoned nostrils of the officers themselves, from the Colonel down. I am certain that the Germans would have been badly frightened that we had a poison gas of our own if we had had a chance to tackle them with our coats on when the stink was fresh and full in its pristine glory, as it was when we first got them.
As fate would have it, and as usual, I got a garment that would have covered the hairy legs of Goliath of Gath; I almost tramped on the hairy fringe every time I stepped, and I can't think of anything that would more aptly describe my appearance than my chum Morgan's exclamation: "For God's sake, fellows, take a look at this little runt of a centipede. Shorty, for the love of Mike have you any idea what you look like?"