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Contemptible""

Contemptible""

Author: Casualty""
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Chapter 1 LEAVING ENGLAND

Word Count: 2011    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

's battles. Parade was at midnight. Except for the lighted windows of the barracks, and the rush of hurrying feet, all was dark and qui

otion in their voices. One might have thought that husbands and fathers went away to risk their lives in war every day of the week. And if the men were at all moved at leaving what had served for their home, they hid it remarkably well. Songs were soon breaking out from all parts of the co

ere to go to each train, twelve men to a third-class compartment, N.C.O.s second class, Officers first. As soon as the men were in their seats, the Subaltern made his way to the seat he had "bagged," and prepared to go to sl

sleep, and the train pulled

poignant feeling of annoyance and resentment that this war should be forced upon them. England looked so good in the morning sunshine, and

clusters, streets sprang up, an

or no delay. The Battalion fell straight into "massed formation," and began immediately to move on to one of the ships. The Colonel stood

while the horses of the regimental tran

on in every line of their bodies, took up a firm stand, and had to be pushed into the hold with the combined weight of many men. Several of the transport section narrowly escaped death and mutilation at the hands, or rather hoofs, of the Officers' Chargers. Meanwhile a sentry, with fixed bayonet, was obser

n of the Army. It was like a huge, slow-moving machine; there was a hint of the inexorable in its ex

lotilla. Some said Boulogne, others Calais; but the general opinion was Havre, though nobody knew for certain, for the Captain of the ship had not yet opened his seale

e day grew older. For at dawn the cheeriest optimist is a pessimist, while at midday pessimists become optimists. In the early m

d by the inability to rest during the rush of mobilisation, did not spend a very happy night. The men fared even worse, for the smell of hot, cramped horses, steam

uge negro working on the docks. He was greeted with roars of laughter, and cries of, "Hallo, Jack Johnson!" The red trousers of the French sentries, to

h basins full of wine and what they were pleased to call beer. Men were literally carried from the ranks, under the eyes of their Officers, and borne in triumph into houses and inns. What with the heat of the day and the heaviness of the equipment and the after-effects of the noisome deck, the men could scarcely be blamed for availing themselves of such hospi

ents, were resting in the shade of the tents. A caterer from Havre had come up to supply the Mess, and the Subaltern was able to procure from him a bottle of rather heady c

d everything that filled so amply the present and future, and to lose himself in pleasant talk of pleasant things at home.... The dinner provided by the French caterer was very French, and altogether the last s

to a sort of shed, called by the French authorities a troop station. Here as usual the train was waiting, and the men had but to be put in. The carriages could not be called luxurious; to be

e. This so amused Tommy that he roared with laughter. The people who rushed to give the train a send-off,

paused at numerous villages on its way, and in every case there had been violent demonstrations of enthusiasm. In one case a young lady of prepossessing appearance had thrust her face through the wi

e Colonel say the magic word "Liège." Pictures of battles to

ositive feeling of desolation. A Staff Officer, rubbing sleep from his eyes, emerged from a little "estaminet" and gave the Colonel the necessary orders. During the march that ensued the Batt

a huge water-mill; its Officers being

e and a meal w

nd the Battalion found itself at l

mposed the First Expeditionary Force had been spread in small groups over the whole length and breadth of Britain. They had been mobilised, embarked, piloted across th

When the time comes for the inner history of the war to be written, no doubt proper pra

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