The Doings of the Fifteenth Infantry Brigade | Page 5

not be allowed on the march, as it would
have led to men falling out without permission, and also to drinking
more than was good for them whilst marching. Except, therefore,
occasionally, and then only during the ten minutes' halt that we had in
each hour, I did not allow these luxuries to be accepted.
Gommignies was a nice shady little town, and the Notaire gave me an
excellent bedroom in his big house; whilst I remember that I made
acquaintance there with the excellent penny cigar of the country.
Aug. 22nd.
Off at cock-crow next day, the country got uglier, blacker, more

industrial, and more thickly populated as we pushed on through the
heat, and by the time we crossed the Belgian frontier we felt indeed that
we were in another land.
The beastly paved road with cobbles, just broad enough for one vehicle
and extremely painful to the feet, whilst the remainder of the road on
both sides was deep in dust or caked mud, was a most offensive feature;
the people staring and crowding round the troops were quite a different
type from the courteous French peasants; and whilst in France not a
single able-bodied civilian had been visible--all having joined the
Army--in Belgium the streets were crowded with men who, we felt
most strongly, ought to have been fighting in the ranks.
There was a great block in Dour, which we reached after a
fourteen-mile march, and in spite of all attempts at keeping the streets
clear it was some time before we could get through. Part of the
Division was halting there for the night, and the municipal authorities
were extremely slow in allotting billets and keeping their civilian
waggons in order.
From Dour onwards it was a big straggling sort of suburban
town--tramways down the side, dirty little houses lining the street, great
chimneys belching (I believe that is the correct term) volumes of black
smoke, huge mountains of slag in all directions, rusty brickfields
littered with empty tins, old paper, and bits of iron, and other similarly
unlovely views. The only thing to be said in favour of this industrial
scrap-heap was that the smoke was not quite so sooty as it looked, and
things one touched did not "come off" quite so black as might have
been expected. Otherwise there was no attraction.
Half a mile on or more was Bois de Boussu, and here we were halted to
allow of a cavalry brigade moving down the street. We waited some
time, and eventually it arrived, not coming down the street but across it
from east to west. I am ashamed to say that I have forgotten which it
was, but the 4th Dragoon Guards, I think, were in it. They crossed at a
trot, men and horses both looking very fit and workmanlike, and
disappeared westwards through the haze of the factories; any more
impossible country for cavalry--except perhaps the London Docks--I

have never seen.
We shortly afterwards got orders to billet in Bois de Boussu and Dour,
the real Boussu being another half mile on. But where the whole
countryside was one vast straggling town, it was impossible to say
where one town ended and the other began. Even the inhabitants didn't
know.
Moulton-Barrett and Saint André had already got to work on the
billeting, and the Norfolks and Cheshires were shortly accommodated
in some factories up the road, whilst the Bedfords and Dorsets were
moved back nearly into Dour, into a brewery and some mine-offices
respectively, if I remember rightly. Brigade Headquarters was installed
in an ultra-modern Belgian house and garden belonging to one M.
Durez, a very civil little man, head of some local mining concern.
There was a Madame Durez too, plump and good-natured, and a girl
and a boy, and they were profuse in their hospitality. The only
drawback about the meals, excellent as they were, was the appalling
length of time occupied in their preparation and consumption; it was
almost impossible to get away from them, even though there was so
much to do.
So much was there to be done that I feel now as though we had been
there a week, or at least three days; but on looking at my diary I find we
arrived there at midday on Saturday the 22nd, and left at midnight on
Sunday the 23rd.
On the Saturday afternoon there were rumours of the Germans being on
the other side of the Mons-Condé Canal, not far off. The 13th and 14th
Brigades were in front of us, strung out and holding the Canal line,
ourselves being in Divisional Reserve. Where the exact left of the 5th
Division was I cannot remember at this moment, but I am sure that it
was not farther west than Pommeroeul bridge, with, I