Part 2 (1/2)
The second time I was there, just after lunch, the Chief had gone to his room, and several Generals, Colonel Fletcher, Sa.s.soon and myself were standing in the hall, when suddenly a most violent explosion went off, all the windows came tumbling in, and there was great excitement, as they thought the Boche had spotted the Chiefs whereabouts. The explosions went on, and out came the Chief. He walked straight up to me, laid his hand on my shoulder and said: ”That's the worst of having a fellow like you here, Major. I thought the Huns would spot it,” and, having had his joke, went back to his work. He was a great man. It turned out to be a munition dump which had exploded near by, and the noise was deafening for about eight hours.
This was the time of the great fight round the chemical works at Roeux, and I was drawing the men as they came out for rest. They were mostly in a bad state, but some were quite calm. One, I remember, was quite happy. He had ten days' leave and was going back to some village near Manchester to be married. He showed me her photograph, (p. 029) a pretty girl. Perhaps he was killed afterwards.
[Ill.u.s.tration: IX. _Air-Marshal Sir H. M. Trenchard, Bart., K.C.B., etc._]
The view from Mont St. Eloy was fine, with the guns belching out flame on the plain in the midday sun.
One day I was painting the C.-in-C., and at lunch-time the news came in that General Trenchard was there. The C.-in-C. said: ”Orpen must see 'Boom,' he's great,” so I was taken off and we met him in the garden. A huge man with a little head and a great personality, proud of one thing only, that is, that he is a descendant of Jack Sheppard.
With him, to my delight, was Maurice Baring (his A.D.C.). The General was told that I wanted to see the aerodromes, and Maurice shyly said: ”May I take Orpen round, sir? I know him.” Gee! How happy I was when the General said: ”All right, you see to it, Baring.”
I painted ”Boom” a few days later in a beautiful chateau with the most wonderful old stables. They have all been burnt down since. ”Boom”
worked hard all the time I painted. A few days later Baring told me that he had spoken to ”Boom” and told him how much I admired his head.
”Boom” replied: ”d.a.m.ned if he showed it in his painting.” And yet he was wors.h.i.+pped by all the flying boys.
About this time I had sent from England Maurice Baring's ”In Memoriam”
to Lord Lucas. It made a tremendous impression on me then, and still does. I think it is one of the greatest poems ever written, and by far the greatest work of art the war has produced.
Baring took me out for a great day round the aerodromes. We visited several and lunched with a Wing-Commander, Colonel Freeman, who was most kind, a great lover of books, a lot of which Maurice used to supply him with. After this, we visited a squadron where there was to (p. 030) be a test fight between a German Albatross, which had been captured intact, and one of our machines. The fight was a failure, however, as just after they got up something went wrong with the radiator of the Albatross; but later Captain Little did some wonderful stunts on a triplane. I also saw Robert Gregory there, but had no chance to speak to him. But I learnt that he was doing very well and was most popular in the squadron, and that he had painted some fine scenery for their theatre.
St. Pol possessed an open-air swimming-bath, a strange thing for St.
Pol, but there it was--a fine large swimming-bath, full of warm water which came from some chemical works. I used to swim there every evening when I got back from work. The one thing that struck me at that time was the difference between nudity and uniform--while bathing one could look at and study all these fine lads, and I would think of one, ”Gee! there's an aristocrat. What a figure! What refinement!” and of another, ”What a badly-bred, vulgar, common brute!” Later they would both come out of their bathing-boxes, and the ”brute” would be a smartly dressed officer carrying himself with ease and distinction, and the ”aristocrat” would be an untidy, uncouth ”Tommy” shambling along. Truly on sight one should never judge a man with his clothes on.
[Ill.u.s.tration: X. _Howitzer in Action._]
CHAPTER IV (p. 031)
THE YPRES SALIENT (JUNE-JULY 1917)
It was about this time we moved to Ca.s.sel. Nothing very interesting in the journey till one comes to Arques and St. Omer (at one time Lord French's G.H.Q.). The road from Arques to the station at the foot of Ca.s.sel Hill was always lined on each side by lorries, guns, pontoons and all manner of war material. A gloomy road, thick with mud for the most part, if not dust. It was always a pleasure to start climbing Ca.s.sel Hill, past the seven windmills and up to the little town perched on the summit.
Ca.s.sel is a picturesque little spot, with its glazed tiles and sprinkling of Spanish buildings, and the view from it is marvellous.
On a clear day one could see practically the whole line from Nieuport to Armentieres and the coast from Nieuport to Boulogne. At that time, the 2nd Army H.Q. were in the one-time casino, which was the summit of the town, and from its roof one got a clear view all round. Ca.s.sel was to the Ypres Salient what Amiens was to the Somme, and the little ”Hotel Sauvage” stood for the ”G.o.dbert,” the ”Cathedral” and ”Charlie's Bar” all in one. The dining-room, with its long row of windows showing the wonderful view, like the Rubens landscape in the National Gallery, was packed every night for the most part with fighting boys from the Salient, who had come in for a couple of hours to eat, drink, play the piano and sing, forgetting their misery and (p. 032) discomfort for the moment. It was enormously interesting to watch and study what happened in that room. One saw gaiety, misery, fear, thoughtfulness and unthoughtfulness all mixed up like a kaleidoscope.
It was a well-run, romantic little hotel, built round a small courtyard, which was always noisy with the tramp of cavalry horses and the rattle of harness. The hotel was managed by Madame Loorius and her two daughters, Suzanne and Blanche, who were known as ”The Peaches.”
Suzanne was undoubtedly the Queen of the Ypres Salient, as sure as Marguerite was that of the Somme. One look from the eyes of Suzanne, one smile, and these wonderful lads would go back to their gun-pits--or who knows where?--proud.
Suzanne wore an R.F.C. badge on her breast. She was engaged to be married to an R.F.C. officer at that time. Whether the marriage ever came off I know not. Certainly not before the end of the war, and now Madame is dead, and they have given up the ”Sauvage,” and are, as far as I am concerned, lost.
Here the Press used to come when any particular operation was going on in the North. In my mind now I can look clearly from my room across the courtyard and can see Beach Thomas by his open window, in his s.h.i.+rt-sleeves, writing like fury at some terrific tale for the _Daily Mail_. It seemed strange his writing this stuff, this mild-eyed, country-loving dreamer; but he knew his job.
Philip Gibbs was also there--despondent, gloomy, nervy, realising to the full the horror of the whole business; his face drawn very fine, and intense sadness in his very kind eyes; also Percival Phillips--that deep thinker on war, who probably knew more about it (p. 033) than all the rest of the correspondents put together.
[Ill.u.s.tration: XI. _German 'Planes visiting Ca.s.sel._]
The people of Ca.s.sel loved the Tommy, so the latter had a good time there.