Read War Classics for Free Online

crowding and strap-hanging as we had in England! Normandy looked fair and peaceful – the farms well-tilled, the orchards rosy in the crisp, clear air.
    All too soon we were at Rouen and in some trepidation, I descended.
    My own countrymen, in masses, banked up the platform, and in smiling, welcoming masses too. I spoke to an air corporal near me. ‘Your train will be that one over there, miss,’ pointing to an engine steaming and puffing on one of the side lines outside the station. ‘Better jump in before it comes to the platform.’
    I stared at it aghast. A whole vista of railway lines lay between me and it. Trains were entering and leaving everywhere. ‘But I can’t cross these lines,’ I stammered, thinking of our orthodox English Railways and their views on the matter.
    â€˜You’d better,’ he returned inflexibly.
    I had an inspiration. ‘You come with me,’ I suggested, though how that would make the proceeding safer, I did not reason out. It certainly took him by surprise, but in a moment he was down on the rails and I was with him. I thought of nothing but him as we crossed miles of rails. ‘You get in here,’ he commanded. It was impossibly high, but he was not to be baffled now. With one hand he opened the door and with the other he swung me up and in – head foremost – amidst a group of respectable English ladies en route for Dieppe. Collecting myself, I waved a farewell to him from the window, and turned to survey my companions. They had levelled a frozen stare at me of some moments’ duration, but the stare, I found, was not caused by the manner of my entrance – which apparently was quite an ordinary one in France – but was due rather to my now dishevelled appearance. I was left to think mournfully of the Sergeant’s parting advice always to appear neat and tidily dressed, as the train gradually approached Dieppe. I was very excited at the arrival. Beyond the stare, the English ladies had betrayed no sort of interest in me. Who would meet me? Nobody did, but the passport official took charge of me. He commandeered the English ladies to their surprise and told them where to set me down. The sea was breaking in clear, green waves – the clearest green you ever saw – as we drew up facing it, at the door of the Headquarters. I turned to look at it – the only thing I knew – before I went in to my work.

5
Life at a base – who wants to learn?
    M y first thought was – how pretty the Base is! – my second, how far away from the line, where I longed to be. Headquarters made me feel as if I had plunged into the ocean itself off the deep end, as the Army brother would say. A babel of tongues went on all around me – Australian loudest of all, and most of the speakers greeted one another by their Christian names – across the whole distance of the room. ‘Nobody expected you by this train,’ my guide said in a temporary lull. ‘I don’t know how you could have caught the connection at Rouen. Nobody has ever done it before.’ They had not met my Corporal then, I reflected. ‘You don’t really belong here,’ she confided again presently. ‘This,’ – with an air of dramatic importance – ‘is the Headquarters for France. You go to the local Headquarters. Somebody will take you there directly after lunch.’
    I felt remarkably cheered. College-bred as I was, I did not quite see how I could ever fit in with this menagerie. However, it’s a habit one easily acquired in the Army.
    â€˜I’m going to Paris this afternoon,’ said my other neighbour, helping himself loudly to coffee, ‘looks like peace in the Daily Mail . I’m for Place de la Concorde on Peace night.’
    â€˜Take me! Me too!’ came in chorus from all quarters of the room.
    â€˜I should love to go to Paris,’ I said quickly.
    My guide looked coldly at me.