The Red Horizon | Page 4

men. Bayonet-charges were
discussed.
"I've been in three of 'em," remarked a quiet, inoffensive-looking youth
who was sweeping the floor of the room. "They were a bit 'ot, but
nothin' much to write 'ome about. Not like a picture in the papers, none
of them wasn't. Not much stickin' of men. You just ops out of your
trench and rush and roar, like 'ell. The Germans fire and then run off,
and it's all over."
After breakfast feet were inspected by the medical officer. We sat down
on our packs in the parade ground, took off our boots, and shivered
with cold. The day was raw, the wind sharp and penetrating; we forgot
that our sheepskins smelt vilely, and snuggled into them, glad of their
warmth. The M.O. asked questions: "Do your boots pinch?" "Any

blisters?" "Do you wear two pairs of socks?" &c., &c. Two thousand
feet passed muster, and boots were put on again.
The quartermaster's stores claimed our attention afterwards, and (p. 023)
the attendants there were almost uncannily kind. "Are you sure you've
got everything you want?" they asked us. "There mayn't be a chance to
get fitted up after this." Socks, pull-throughs, overcoats, regimental
buttons, badges, hats, tunics, oil-bottles, gloves, puttees, and laces
littered the floor and were piled on the benches. We took what we
required; no one superintended our selection.
At St. Albans, where we had been turned into soldiers, we often stood
for hours waiting until the quartermaster chose to give us a few inches
of rifle-rag; here a full uniform could be obtained by picking it up. And
our men were wise in selecting only necessities; they still remembered
the march of the day before. All took sparingly and chose wisely.
Fancy socks were passed by in silence, the homely woollen article,
however, was in great demand. Bond Street was forgotten. The "nut"
was a being of a past age, or, if he still existed, he was undergoing a
complete transformation. Also he knew what socks were best for the
trenches.
At noon we were again ready to set out on our journey. A tin of
bully-beef and six biscuits, hard as rocks, were given to each man (p.
024) prior to departure. Sheepskins were rolled into shape and fastened
on the tops of our packs, and with this additional burden on the
shoulder we set out from the rest-camp and took our course down the
hill. On the way we met another regiment coming up to fill our place,
to sleep in our bell-tents, pick from the socks which we had left behind,
and to meet for once, the first and last time perhaps, a quartermaster
who is really kind in the discharge of his professional duties. We
marched off, and sang our way into the town and station. Our trucks
were already waiting, an endless number they seemed lined up in the
siding with an engine in front and rear, and the notice "Hommes 40
chevaux 20" in white letters on every door. The night before I had slept
in a bell-tent where a man's head pointed to each seam in the canvas,
to-night it seemed as if I should sleep, if that were possible, in a still

more crowded place, where we had now barely standing room, and
where it was difficult to move about. But a much-desired relief came
before the train started, spare waggons were shunted on, and a number
of men were taken from each compartment and given room elsewhere.
(p. 025) In fact, when we moved off we had only twenty-two soldiers in
our place, quite enough though when our equipment, pack, rifle,
bayonet, haversack, overcoat, and sheepskin tunic were taken into
account.
A bale of hay bound with wire was given to us for bedding, and
bully-beef, slightly flavoured, and biscuits were doled out for rations.
Some of us bought oranges, which were very dear, and paid three
halfpence apiece for them; chocolate was also obtained, and one or two
adventurous spirits stole out to the street, contrary to orders, and bought
café au lait and pain et beurre, drank the first in the estaminet, and
came back to their trucks munching the latter.
At noon we started out on the journey to the trenches, a gay party that
found expression for its young vitality in song. The sliding-doors and
the windows were open; those of us who were not looking out of the
one were looking out of the other. To most it was a new country, a
place far away in peace and a favourite resort of the wealthy; but now a
country that called for any man, no matter how poor, if he were strong
in person and willing to give his life away when called upon to do so.
In fact,