That night was an agony of misery to him. He could not sleep. Just cried and whimpered in his bunk, because on the morrow the draft was to sail for France, where he would see death on all sides, and perhaps be killed himself. On the steamer, crossing the Channel, he would have jumped overboard to escape, but was afraid of drowning.
Arriving in France, he and the rest were huddled into cattle cars. On the side of each appeared in white letters, “Chevaux 8, Hommes 40.” After hours of bumping over the uneven French roadbeds they arrived at the training base of Rouen.
At this place they were put through a week’s rigid training in trench warfare. On the morning of the eighth day, they paraded at ten o’clock, and were inspected and passed by General H——, then were marched to the Quartermaster’s, to draw their gas helmets and trench equipment.
At four in the afternoon, they were again hustled into cattle cars. This time, the journey lasted two days. They disembarked at the town of Frévent, and could hear a distant dull booming. With knees shaking, Lloyd asked the Sergeant what the noise was, and nearly dropped when the Sergeant replied in a somewhat bored tone:
“Oh, them’s the guns up the line. We’ll be up there in a couple o’ days or so. Don’t worry, my laddie, you’ll see more of ’em than you want before you get ’ome to Blighty again, that is, if you’re lucky enough to get back. Now lend a hand there unloadin’ them cars, and quit that everlastin’ shakin’. I believe yer scared.” The last with a contemptuous sneer.
They marched ten kilos, full pack, to a little dilapidated village, and the sound of the guns grew louder, constantly louder.
The village was full of soldiers who turned out to inspect the new draft, the men who were shortly to be their mates in the trenches, for they were going “up the line” on the morrow, to “take over” their certain sector of trenches.
The draft was paraded in front of Battalion Headquarters, and the men were assigned to companies.
Lloyd was the only man assigned to “D” Company. Perhaps the officer in charge of the draft had something to do with it, for he called Lloyd aside, and said:
“Lloyd, you are going to a new company. No one knows you. Your bed will be as you make it, so for God’s sake, brace up and be a man. I think you have the stuff in you, my boy, so good-bye, and the best of luck to you.”