A Soldiers Sketches Under Fire | Page 5

was an old soldier of many campaigns, of iron physique and a
perfect Goliath, and the life and soul of our party, was so tired when he
got aboard the train, after strenuous efforts, that he fell dead asleep on
the floor, and there was so little available space, and his massive form
took up so much of what there was, that no fewer than nine men, as
they became tired and dropped down from the walls of the truck, fell on
him and went to sleep on the top of him. However, that corporal slept
the sleep of the just for four or five hours, and even then did not
awaken until, the train halting and somebody mentioning wine, there
was a scuffle, and another man stepped on his head, whereupon he
flung him off and made a good first out of the train.
[Illustration: FORTY PASSENGERS IN EACH CATTLE TRUCK.]

We were regaled at each station by the populace, who brought us cakes
and wine, small flags, toys, tin trumpets, oranges, and other fruits, and
we parted with nearly all our buttons as souvenirs.
TUB, TEA AND A HALT.
At one stopping place a large leathern hose was depending from a
water main for giving the engine water, and somebody turning this on,
we all took shower baths under it, or plunged into the huge tub
alongside, some being so keen on not missing their chance that they
took their baths in their clothes, tunics and all. Try to imagine our
feelings after being cooped up in the train for just on three days and
nights and then getting a wash or prehistoric bath!
We had a two hours' wait here, and the "dixies" (about a dozen in all)
were filled with water, and a huge fire was lighted, and soon a "long
felt want" was satisfied in the form of tea. Though it was like Indian
ink, it went down with a rare relish (I think my little lot was the best
drink of tea I ever enjoyed); but unfortunately there was no second
edition.
[Illustration: A WASH AND A WAIT.]
After our "tub" we made a line for the station, the train being so long
that only a portion of it was in it. We received a pleasant surprise in the
form of a stall, where there were cakes, buns, bottles of red wine, fruit
and many other luxuries.
After we had cleared out the whole lot, the French people living in the
town came to the railings at the side of the station and bombarded us
with all kinds of food and dainties. Just as we were all thoroughly
stretching our legs and enjoying ourselves, the order was given to board
train, so, with much cheering, singing and shouting, we resumed our
seats--or rather our "standing room only."
"DOOMSDAY BOOK."
[Illustration: "DOOMSDAY BOOK": A FRENCH LESSON IN A

CATTLE TRUCK.]
Our corporal (behold him with an open book of Family Bible
dimensions) often busied himself with expounding his views on the
French language, in which he was labouring to become proficient. His
linguistic ambitions did not end at self-proficiency, for he was
solicitous to instruct his fellows, and we had quite a number of French
lessons from him, although it must be admitted that they suffered many
interruptions in good old plain English from the Tommies, provoked by
the jolting of the train. They nicknamed this huge French dictionary the
"Doomsday Book," because it was their doom to have its contents
thrown at them every day.
THE LAST STAGE.
The weather set in very cold and snowy, and as the cracks in the bottom
of the truck measured three inches in width, it can be guessed what a
draught there was. But in spite of everything and the general discomfort
of things, jam and biscuits were "lowered" in plenty. I amused the boys
by making sketches on biscuits and throwing them out of the window at
the various stations we passed through to the crowds of French
civilians, soldiers, and Red Cross nurses. Perhaps some of my
comrades will find some of these biscuit souvenirs at their homes--if
they ever get there--for not a few were kept to the end of the journey
and posted to friends in England.
We passed over several bridges which the Germans had destroyed, but
which had been made temporarily good again by the French engineers.
Over these our train had to travel gingerly. As we neared the fighting
zone the booming of the guns could be heard, and a little further on
things became more warlike. We noticed the devastated stations,
villages, and large shell holes in the embankment of the line.
All this seemed to bring to the surface our fighting spirits, and we only
wanted to be out and