The Fifth Leicestershire | Page 8

who, with other English
ladies, served out an unlimited supply of tea and buns to all. Eventually
at 5 p.m. our train was ready, and we entrained--all except two platoons,
for whom there was no room. The transport was loaded on to flats
which were hooked on behind our wagons, and we finally started up
country at about 7 o'clock. The train moved slowly northwards all night,
stopping for a few minutes at Rouen, and reaching Abbeville just as
dawn broke at 7 a.m. Here, amidst a desolation of railway lines and tin
sheds, we stayed for half an hour and stretched our cramped limbs,
while six large cauldrons provided enough hot tea for all. From this
point our progress became slower, and the waits between stations
proportionally longer, until at last we reached a small village, where,
according to our train orders, we should stop long enough to water
horses. This we began to do, when suddenly, without any whistling or
other warning, the train moved on, and Major Martin and Captain
Burnett, who were with the horses, only just managed to catch the train,
and had to travel the next stage on a flat with a limber. At St. Omer we
were told where we should detrain, a fact hitherto concealed from us,
and eventually at 2-35 p.m. in a blizzard and snow storm we reached
Arneke, detrained at once, and marched about five miles to the little
village of Hardifort, where we arrived in the dark.
We were, of course, entirely inexperienced at this time, and in the light
of subsequent events, this, our first attempt at billeting, was a most
ludicrous performance. The Battalion halted on the road in fours
outside the village, at the entrance to which stood a group headed by

the C.O. with a note-book; behind him was the Mayor--small,
intoxicated and supremely happy, the Brigade Interpreter, M. Löst,
with a list of billets, and the Adjutant, angry at having caught a
corporal in the act of taking a sly drink. Around them was a group of
some dozen small boys who were to act as guides. The Interpreter read
out a name followed by a number of officers and men; the C.O. made a
note of it and called up the next platoon; the Mayor shouted the name at
the top of his voice, waved his arms, staggered, smacked a small boy,
and again shouted, at which from three to five small boys would step
out and offer to guide the platoon, each choosing a different direction.
How we ever found our homes is still a mystery, and yet by 10 p.m. we
were all comfortably settled in quarters. We were joined the next
morning by the two remaining platoons, 2nd Lieuts. Mould and Farrer.
The billets were slightly re-arranged as soon as daylight enabled us to
see where we were, and we soon settled down and made ourselves
comfortable, being told that we should remain at Hardifort until the 4th
March, when we should go into trenches for a week's instruction with
some Regular Division. We had nothing much to do except recover
from the effects of our journey, and this, with good billets and not too
bad weather, we soon did. The remainder of our Brigade had not yet
arrived, so we were attached temporarily to the Sherwood Foresters,
whose 8th Battalion was also absent, and with them on the 4th moved
off Eastwards, having the previous day received some preliminary
instructions in trench warfare from General Montagu-Stuart-Wortley,
who spoke to all the officers.
Preceded by our billeting party, which left at 5 a.m., we marched from
Hardifort at 9 a.m., and, passing through Terdeghen, reached the main
road at St. Sylvestre Capel, and went along it to Caestre. On the way
we met General Smith-Dorrien, our Army Commander, and while the
Battalion halted he talked to all the officers, gave us some very
valuable hints, and then watched the Battalion march past, having
impressed us all with his wonderful kindness and charm of manner. At
Caestre we found motor buses waiting for us, and we were glad to see
them, for though no one had fallen out, we were somewhat tired after
marching nine miles, carrying, in addition to full marching order,

blankets, sheepskin coats and some extra warm clothing. The buses
took us through Bailleul and Nieppe to Armentières, at that time a town
infested with the most appalling stinks and very full of inhabitants,
although the front line trenches ran through the eastern suburbs. Having
"debussed," we marched to le Bizet, a little village a mile north of the
town, and stayed there in billets for the night. During the evening we
stood outside our billets, gazed at the continuous line of flares and
listened to the rifle fire,