We entrained (our destination unknown) in cattle trucks, forty men in each truck, penned in like sheep, and the only seats were the bottom of the truck. It was awful, to say the least of it, but it turned out rather a pleasant journey, as at every station we came to there were people, both gentle and simple, waiting to give us a cheer, also eatables, such as sandwiches and fruit of every description. It was remarkable to see small banners of the Union Jack in almost every hand, and shouting “Vive English,” while the troops replied with “Let the sons of France march to glory,” which they seemed to know the meaning of, as they joined in their own language. It was amusing to see rather handsome girls giving kisses to us in exchange for a badge, buttons, etc. They could not converse with us, but they conveyed their meanings by signs, and a common one was curling their moustache and drawing their hand across their throats, which meant we were to kill the Kaiser, to which we answered by showing our jack-knives. It was the same right through the five days’ journey; big and small stations alike they fed us, and it was well they did, for we received no rations; we were treated like gentlemen. I got a rosette of the French colours from a lady, which I will treasure. The kindness of these people I will never forget; they looked rather astonished at our accommodation and surprised at our good spirits under the circumstances: Pte. P. J. Grace, 1st Northumberland Fusiliers.
A River of Joy
The trip we have just made was tremendously exciting. Although it was night-time when we went up the river, this did not detract in the least from the reception our men got. All the villagers turned out, fired off crackers, and hung Chinese lanterns on the trees on the sides of the hills. This had a very charming effect. Towards midnight, however, a thick fog set in, and we were obliged to anchor till morning. The fog cleared away about 6 A.M., and we found ourselves lying opposite a small village which seemed to be deep in slumber. Not for long, though. Our men began to sing “It’s a long, long way to Tipperary,” “Rule, Britannia,” and “The girl I left behind me.” Window blinds went up, windows were thrown open, and people came out on to the verandahs in their “nighties” waving British flags, laughing and cheering and singing. By Jove, it sounded fine. Just imagine, if you can, high wooded slopes on each side, and this little village nestling amongst the trees; the morning mist quickly rising to reveal a bright sunny day, and you have it. One party of girls came down to the river-bank and started singing in return in French, much to everyone’s amusement, as it was easy to see they had just tumbled out of bed. The quayside was very busy that day, as a large number of ships were all discharging horses, men, guns, and all the munitions of war. The whole of the population turned out, and as our men rode away in a never-ending line one’s heart thrilled with pride, so businesslike and smart did they look in their khaki, their bronzed faces giving them the appearance of first-rate old campaigners, and inspiring everyone who saw them with the greatest confidence. I have seen many soldiers of many nationalities, but never soldiers who were a patch on those we are sending across to fight our battles. Good fortune be with them, and God bless them, is all I can say: An Anonymous Sergeant.
[III. THE FRIENDLY FRENCH]
And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread
The scatter’d foe that hopes to rise again....
Shakespeare.
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;