Fanny Goes to War | Page 9

hear the constant boom-boom of the guns like a
continuous thunderstorm. We began to feel fearfully hungry, and
stopped beside a high bank flanking a canal and not far from a small
café. Bunny and I went to get some hot water. It was a tumble-down
place enough, and as we pushed the door open (on which, by the way,
was the notice in French, "During the bombardment one enters by the
side door") we found the room full of men drinking coffee and smoking.
I bashfully made my way towards one of the oldest women I have ever
seen and asked her in a low voice for some hot water. As luck would
have it she was deaf as a post, and the whole room listened in interested
silence as with scarlet face I yelled out my demands in my best French.
We returned triumphantly to the waiting ambulance and had a very
jolly lunch to the now louder accompaniment of the guns. The passing
soldiers took a great interest in us and called out whatever English
words they knew, the most popular being "Good night."
We soon started on our way again, and at this point there was actually a
bend in the road. Just before we came to it there was a whistling,
sobbing sound in the air and then an explosion somewhere ahead of us.
We all shrank instinctively, and I glanced sideways at my companion,
hoping she hadn't noticed, to find that she was looking at me, and we
both laughed without explaining.
As we turned the corner, the usual flat expanse of country greeted our

eyes, and a solitary red tiled farmhouse on the right attracted our
attention, in front of which was a group of soldiers. On drawing near
we saw that this was the spot where the shell had landed and that there
were casualties. We drew up and got down hastily, taking dressings
with us. The sight that met my eyes is one I shall never forget, and, in
fact, cannot describe. Four men had just been blown to pieces--I leave
the details to your imagination, but it gave me a sudden shock to realize
that a few minutes earlier those remains had been living men walking
along the road laughing and talking.
The soldiers, French, standing looking on, seemed more or less dazed.
While they assured us we could do nothing, the body of a fifth soldier
who had been hit on the head by a piece of the same shell, and
instantaneously killed, was being borne on a stretcher into the farm. It
all seemed curiously unreal.
One of the men silently handed me a bit of the shell, which was still
warm. It was just a chance that we had not stopped opposite that farm
for lunch, as we assuredly would have done had it not been hidden
beyond the bend in the road. The noise of firing was now very loud,
and though the sun was shining brightly on the farm, the road we were
destined to follow was sombre looking with a lowering sky overhead.
Another shell came over and burst in front of us to the right. For an
instant I felt in an awful funk, and my one idea was to flee from that
sinister spot as fast as I could. We seemed to be going right for it,
"looking for trouble," in fact, as the Tommies would say, and it gave
one rather a funny sinking feeling in one's tummy! A shell might come
whizzing along so easily just as the last one had done.[2] Someone at
that moment said "Let's go back," and with that all my fears vanished in
a moment as if by magic. "Rather not, this is what we've come for,"
said a F.A.N.Y., "hurry up and get in, it's no use staying here," and
soon we were whizzing along that road again and making straight for
the steady boom-boom, and from then onwards a spirit of subdued
excitement filled us all. Stray shells burst at intervals, and it seemed not
unlikely they were potting at us from Dixmude.
We passed houses looking more and more dilapidated and the road got

muddier and muddier. Finally we arrived at the village of Ramscapelle.
It was like passing through a village of the dead--not a house left whole,
few walls standing, and furniture lying about haphazard. We proceeded
along the one main street of the village until we came to a house with
green shutters which had been previously described to us as the Belgian
headquarters. It was in a better state than the others, and a small flag
indicated we had arrived at our destination.
CHAPTER IV
BEHIND THE TRENCHES
We got out and leaped the mud from the _pavé_ to the