An Onlooker in France 1917-1919 | Page 2

The Earl of Derby, E.G., etc. 117
LI. Signing the Peace Treaty. 119
LII. The End of a Hero and a Tank, Courcelette. At the end
LIII. General Birdwood returning to his Headquarters, Grévillers. "
LIV. A Skeleton in a Trench. "

LV. Flight-Sergeant, R.F.C. "
LVI. N.C.O., Grenadier Guards. "
LVII. Stretcher-bearers. "
LVIII. Man Resting, near Arras. "
LIX. Going Home to be Married. "
LX. Household Brigade passing to the Ypres Salient. Cassel. "
LXI. Ready to Start. "
LXII. A German Prisoner with the Iron Cross. "
LXIII. A Big Gun and its Guardian. "
LXIV. Good-bye-ee. "
LXV. The Château, Thiepval. "
LXVI. German Wire, Thiepval. "
LXVII. Thiepval. "
LXVIII. Highlander passing a Grave. "
LXIX. M. R. D. de Maratray. "
LXX. A Man, Thinking, on the Butte de Warlencourt. "
LXXI. Major-General Sir Henry Burstall, K.C.B., etc. "
LXXII. Major-General L. J. Lipsett, C.M.G., etc. "
LXXIII. A Village, Evening (Monchy). "
LXXIV. Christmas Night, Cassel. "

LXXV. Blown Up: Mad. "
LXXVI. A Support Trench. "
LXXVII. Major-General Sir H. J. Elles, K.C.M.G., etc. "
LXXVIII. Dead Germans in a Trench. "
LXXIX. A German Prisoner. "
LXXX. A Highlander Resting. "
LXXXI. Man with a Cigarette. "
LXXXII. Mr. Lloyd George, President Wilson, M. Clemenceau. "
LXXXIII. A Meeting of the Peace Conference. "
LXXXIV. Admiral of the Fleet Lord Wester Wemyss, G.C.B., etc. "
LXXXV. Colonel Edward M. House. "
LXXXVI. Mr. Robert Lansing. "
LXXXVII. The Emir Feisul. "
LXXXVIII. M. Eleutherios Venezelos. "
LXXXIX. Admiral of the Fleet Sir David Beatty, Viscount Borodale of
Wexford, O.M., G.C.B., etc. "
XC. The Right Hon. W. F. Massey, P.C. "
XCI. General The Right Hon. J. C. Smuts, P.C., C.H. "
XCII. The Right Hon. G. N. Barnes, P.C. "
XCIII. The Right Hon. W. M. Hughes, P.C., K.C. "
XCIV. Brigadier-General A. Carton de Wiart, K.C., C.B., etc. "

XCV. M. Paul Hymans. "
XCVI. The Right Hon. Sir Robert Borden, G.C.M.G., etc. "

AN ONLOOKER IN FRANCE (p. 011)
CHAPTER I
TO FRANCE (APRIL 1917)
The boat was crowded. Khaki, everywhere khaki; lifebelts, rain and
storm, everything soaked. Destroyers, churning through the waves,
played strange games all round us. Some old-time Tommies, taking
everything for granted, smoked and laughed and told funny stories.
Others had the look of dumb animals in pain, going to what they knew
only too well. The new hands for France asked many questions,
pretended to laugh, pretended not to care, but for the most part were in
terror of the unknown.
It was strange to watch this huddled heap of humanity, study their faces
and realise that perhaps half of them would meet a bloody end before a
new moon was over, and wonder how they could do it, why they did
it--Patriotism? Yes, and perhaps it was the chance of getting home
again when the war was over. Think of the life they would have! The
old song:--
"We don't want to lose you, But we think you ought to go, For your
King and your Country Both need you so.
"We shall-want you and miss you, (p. 012) But with all our might and
main We shall cheer you, thank you, kiss you, When you come back
again."
Did they think of that, and all the joys it seemed to promise them? I
pray not.
What a change had come over the world for me since the day before!

On that evening I had dined with friends who had laughed and talked
small scandal about their friends. One, also, was rather upset because
he had an appointment at 10.30 the next day--and there was I, a few
hours later, being tossed about and soaked in company with men who
knew they would run a big chance of never seeing England again, and
were certainly going to suffer terrible hardships from cold, filth,
discomfort and fatigue. There they stood, sat and lay--a mass of
humanity which would be shortly bundled off the boat at Boulogne like
so many animals, to wait in the rain, perhaps for hours, before being
sent off again to whatever spot the unknown at G.H.Q. had allotted for
them, to kill or to be killed; and there was I among them, going quietly
to G.H.Q., everything arranged by the War Office, all in comfort. Yet
my stomach was twitching about with nerves. What would I have been
like had I been one of them?
At Boulogne we lunched at the "Mony" (my companion, Aikman, had
been to France before during the war and knew a few things). It was an
excellent lunch, and, as we were not to report at G.H.Q. till the next day,
we walked about looking at lorries and trains, all going off to the
unknown, filled