warehouses were full of wool and the wool was full of fleas. I feared the fleas, and spread a waterproof sheet on the bare stones outside. I thought I should not get a wink of sleep on such a Jacobean resting-place, but, as a matter of fact, I slept like a top, and woke in the morning without even an ache. But those who had risked the wool . . . !
Driver Charles Keller, RHA
The horses had been packed below deck, side by side and so close that they couldn’t move. It was probably the only way that so many could be transported. They suffered terribly. Those that could staggered down the gangplank, but many had to be lifted off with slings. It was a relief to see them on the dock where they had a chance to move around. Lines were strung out on the dock for them to be tied while being watered and fed, and after that had been attended to we got something to eat ourselves. We spent the night behind the horses with our saddles for a pillow and during the next four years most of our nights were spent in this manner.
When the brigade was ready to move, the horses were loaded on to box cars: eight to a car, four at each end with their heads to the centre and the centre space was filled with hay, oats, harness and four drivers’ equipment and blankets. This left hardly any room for the drivers who had to sit in the door openings. We sat there the whole journey.
The infantry had disembarked with far less theatre and had marched into camp and under canvas. From there, battalions left by train towards the border with Belgium where they detrained and were introduced to the stone pavé roads that were to prove so hard on men’s feet. Rest, at the end of the day, was most welcome though not always easy.
L/Cpl Alfred Vivian, 4th Middlesex Rgt
Our journey eventually finished up in front of a rickety barn, adjoining a promising looking building. This barn was minus a door, and quite a good portion of its ceiling. On the wall outside was chalked ‘10 Hommes’.
‘Where does the 10 homes come in?’ inquired one of the men. ‘There ain’t enough of this to make one; all I can say is, the other ten families must be damned thankful we have turned them out.’
‘You take another look around, my friend, and you will discover that the eviction of the former inhabitants has still to be proceeded with,’ I pointed out.
Indeed a veritable riot was in progress in the darkness of the barn now we had entered, our appearance being greeted by a lively chorus of animal sounds, registering distinct anger and annoyance. A herd of little pigs gambolling about two old sows, some cows and dozens of farmyard fowl, and a various assortment of other animals, strenuously contested our right of admittance, and they were only got rid of after a hot and lengthy engagement.
Cpl William Watson, RE, 5th Div.
The people crowded into the streets and cheered us. The girls, with tears in their eyes, handed us flowers. Three of us went to the Mairie. The Maire, a courtly little fellow in top-hat and frock-coat, welcomed us in charming terms. Two fat old women rushed up to us and besought us to allow them to do something for us. We set one to make us tea, and the other to bring us hot water and soap. A small girl of about eight brought me her kitten and wanted to give it me. I explained to her that it would not be very comfortable tied with pink ribbons to my carrier. She gravely assented, sat on my knee, told me I was very dirty, and commanded me to kill heaps and heaps of Germans.
The French nation may have welcomed the British soldiers but their animals were of a different mindset altogether. After a visit to the local town in search of tobacco, Alfred Vivian and his comrades returned to discover they had been evicted.
L/Cpl Alfred Vivian, 4th Middlesex Rgt
Taking advantage of our absence, the animals had carried out a raid which had successfully restored them to their original habitation. What chaos they had produced in the quarters that we had
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