Bullets Billets | Page 2

another was about as
difficult as trying to get round to see a friend at the other side of the
ground at a Crystal Palace Cup final.
I stood in a queue of Gordons, Seaforths, Worcesters, etc., slowly
moving up one, until, finally arriving at the companion (nearly said
staircase), I tobogganed down into the hold, and spent what was left of

the night dealing out those rations. Having finished at last, I came to
the surface again, and now, as the transport glided along through the
dirty waters of the river, and as I gazed at the motley collection of
Frenchmen on the various wharves, and saw a variety of soldiery, and a
host of other warlike "props," I felt acutely that now I was in the war at
last--the real thing! For some time I had been rehearsing in England;
but that was over now, and here I was--in the common or garden
vernacular--"in the soup."
At last we were alongside, and in due course I had collected that
hundred men of mine, and found that the number was still a hundred,
after which I landed with the rest, received instructions and a guide,
then started off for the Base Camps.
[Illustration: "Rations"]
These Camps were about three miles out of Havre, and thither the
whole contents of the ship marched in one long column, accompanied
on either side by a crowd of ragged little boys shouting for souvenirs
and biscuits. I and my hundred men were near the rear of the
procession, and in about an hour's time arrived at the Base Camps.
I don't know that it is possible to construct anything more atrociously
hideous or uninteresting than a Base Camp. It consists, in military
parlance, of nothing more than:--
Fields, grassless 1 Tents, bell 500
In fact, a huge space, once a field, now a bog, on which are perched
rows and rows of squalid tents.
I stumbled along over the mud with my troupe, and having found the
Adjutant, after a considerable search, thought that my task was over,
and that I could slink off into some odd tent or other and get a sleep and
a rest. Oh no!--the Adjutant had only expected fifty men, and here was
I with a hundred.
Consternation! Two hours' telephoning and intricate back-chat with the

Adjutant eventually led to my being ordered to leave the expected fifty
and take the others to another Base Camp hard by, and see if they
would like to have them there.
The rival Base Camp expressed a willingness to have this other fifty, so
at last I had finished, and having found an empty tent, lay down on the
ground, with my greatcoat for a pillow and went to sleep.
I awoke at about three in the afternoon, got hold of a bucket of water
and proceeded to have a wash. Having shaved, washed, brushed my
hair, and had a look at the general effect in the polished back of my
cigarette case (all my kit was still at the docks), I emerged from my
canvas cave and started off to have a look round.
I soon discovered a small café down the road, and found it was a place
used by several of the officers who, like myself, were temporarily
dumped at the Camps. I went in and got something to eat. Quite a good
little place upstairs there was, where one could get breakfast each
morning: just coffee, eggs, and bread sort of thing. By great luck I met
a pal of mine here; he had come over in a boat previous to mine, and
after we had had a bit of a refresher and a smoke we decided to go off
down to Havre and see the sights.
A tram passed along in front of this café, and this we boarded. It took
about half an hour getting down to Havre from Bléville where the
Camps were, but it was worth it.
Tortoni's Café, a place that we looked upon as the last link with
civilization: Tortoni's, with its blaze of light, looking-glass and gold
paint--its popping corks and hurrying waiters--made a deep and
pleasant indent on one's mind, for "to-morrow" meant "the Front" for
most of those who sat there.
As we sat in the midst of that kaleidoscopic picture, formed of French,
Belgian and English uniforms, intermingled with the varied and gaudy
robes of the local nymphs; as we mused in the midst of dense clouds of
tobacco smoke, we could not help reflecting that this might be the last
time we should look on such scenes of revelry, and came to the

conclusion that the only thing to do was to make the most of it while
we had the chance. And, by Gad, we did....
A little