The Doings of the Fifteenth Infantry Brigade | Page 3

could disregard it, as they knew what it was about,
and it was of no particular importance by this time; so we pursued our
way in peace.
The billeting had already been done for us by our (5th) Divisional Staff,
and we found no difficulty in shaking down.
I was billeted on a small elderly lady of the name of Madame W----,
who was kindness itself, and placed herself and her house at our
disposal; but I regret to say that when our men, in search of firewood,
picked up some old bits of plank lying about in the garden, she at first
made a shocking fuss, tried to make out that it was a whole timber
stack of new wood, and demanded fifty francs compensation. She
eventually took two francs and was quite content.
Here it was that Saint André joined us, having been cast off by the 5th

Divisional Staff at Landrecies as a superfluous interpreter. Looking like
an ordinary French subaltern with a pince-nez, he was in fact a
Protestant pastor from Tours, son of the Vicomte de Saint André, very
intelligent and "cultured," with a great sense of humour and extremely
keen. I really cannot speak too highly of him, for he was a most useful
addition to the Staff. In billeting and requisitioning, and in all matters
requiring tact in connection with the inhabitants or the French Army, he
was invaluable. I used him later as A.D.C. in action, and as Officier de
liaison with the French troops. I don't know what his knowledge of
divinity may have been, but if it was anything like equal to his military
knowledge it must have been considerable. He had studied theology at
Edinburgh, and his English was very fluent, luckily untouched by a
Scottish accent. He was always bubbling over with vitality and go, and
plunged into English with the recklessness of his race; when he couldn't
express himself clearly he invented words which were the joy of the
Mess,--"pilliate," "whizzle," "contemporative," and dozens of others
that I can't remember; and what used to charm us particularly was that
he so often went out of his way to put the accent on the wrong syllable,
such as in bilyétting, brígade, áttack, ambassádor, &c. He was, indeed,
a great acquisition to the Brigade.[6]
[Footnote 6: He was subsequently awarded the D.S.O. and Croix de
Guerre (aux Palmes) for excellent and gallant work achieved under
fire.]
Aug. 19th.
Next morning I rode across to have a look at the other battalions. The
transport horses of the Cheshires were perhaps not all they might have
been, but it was the particular stamp of Derry horse that was at fault,
and not the battalion arrangements. Otherwise we were ready for the
fray.
Aug. 20th.
We had arrived on the Tuesday (18th), and on the Thursday Sir C.
Fergusson (commanding 5th Division) paraded the Brigade by
battalions and made them a short speech, telling us we were to move on

the morrow, and giving us a few technical tips about the Germans and
how to meet their various wiles, largely about machine-guns and their
methods of attack in large numbers. The Bedfords were the most
interested audience, and interrupted him every now and then with "'Ear,
'ear," and a little handclapping at important points. I think the General
was a little nonplussed at this attention: I know I was. Whether it was
due or not to the audience being accustomed to attending political
meetings at home, or to the air of Bedfordshire being extremely
vitalising I don't know, but once or twice afterwards when the battalion
was addressed by General Smith Dorrien,[7] and even by Sir J. French,
they showed their approbation in the manner above set forth--somewhat
to my confusion.
[Footnote 7: Commanding of course the 2nd Corps (composed of the
3rd and 5th Divisions).]
Aug. 21st.
Next day we moved off early. I already found myself overburdened
with kit--although I had not even as much as the regulation 150 lb.--and
I left a camp-bed and a thick waistcoat and various odds and ends
behind in Madame W----'s cupboard, under the firm belief that I might
at some future period send for it if I wanted it. Alas! the Germans have
now been at Ors for close on three years.
A hot march of about fifteen miles brought us to Gommignies.
Stragglers, I regret to say, were already many--all of them reservists,
who had not carried a pack for years. They had every intention of
keeping up, of course, but simply could not. I talked to several of them
and urged them along, but the answer was always the same--"Oh, I'll
get along all right, sir, after a bit of rest; but I ain't accustomed to
carrying a big weight like this on