Part 10 (1/2)
”Yes,” they heard one man say, ”that chap was right; I know I'm making a fool of myself, but I'm going to have another drink. My G.o.d! What would my mother say if she knew I wur off tomorrow morning!”
A lad with a pale, refined face, standing by his side, had a gla.s.s in his hand ready to lift to his lips. ”Ay, and what would my mother say!” he said. ”I know she would be praying for me.”
At this some one uttered a coa.r.s.e oath, but the lad threw the drink from him and left the canteen.
”Ay, he's richt,” said the Scotchman as he watched him go. ”Tom Pollard, man, I hinna prayed for years, but I am praying to-nicht. I ought to be a different man, for I ken the fundamentals of releegion, but I'm giving my heart to G.o.d to-nicht; I am for sure.”
Tom followed the Scotchman out of the canteen towards one of the numerous sleeping-huts.
”I am giving my heart to G.o.d, Pollard,” he said hoa.r.s.ely, ”and I'm writing to tell my mither about it this very nicht. Ay, man, something has come into my life stronger than the power of whisky!”
When Tom found his way to his own sleeping-hut that night, he was in a chastened frame of mind. ”I'm noan going to turn religious,” he said almost sullenly, ”but I believe he's got the reight on't.”
The next morning they were at Folkestone, where the big troops.h.i.+p lay in the harbour. Before mid-day the s.h.i.+p was crowded with soldiers.
How many men were there Tom had not the slightest idea; but they filled every part of it. Generals, colonels, majors, non-commissioned officers, and privates were all huddled together. All over the s.h.i.+p officers and men were alike; they were going to the field of battle to die if need be for honour, duty, and the liberty of the world.
There were scarcely a score of civilians on board, and even they were in some way attached to the Army. Nurses wearing the Red Cross, religious workers with a look of wonder in their eyes, a few sent by the Government on some particular mission, but all were taking part in the great War which was staggering the world.
Perhaps a mile or more out at sea a great Destroyer proudly spurned the waves; she was to guard the troops.h.i.+p along her perilous pa.s.sage.
Presently they landed at Boulogne.
”Where are we going?” said one of the soldiers in Tom's company as they entered a waiting train.
”I don't know,” said Tom, ”but what does it matter? We have nowt to do with that, we have just got to do our job.”
They spent all the night in the troop-train, which was crowded almost to suffocation. Where they were going they didn't know, scarcely cared. Sometimes they were drawn up to a siding where they would stay for hours, then the train crawled on again. Presently the morning broke and Tom saw a flat and what seemed to him, after Surrey, an uninteresting piece of country. Everything was strange to him, even the trees looked different from those he had seen in Surrey. On and on the train crawled, until presently they had orders to alight.
It was now early morning, and after breakfast they were formed in marching order. Tom took but little notice of the country through which they marched, except that they were on a straight road, which was paved in the middle. As the day advanced the sun grew hot and scorching, but the men marched on uncomplainingly; there was little merriment, but much thought. Presently noon came, and again they stopped for food, after which there was another march. By this time Tom realised that he was indeed in the zone of war. He saw what looked to him miles of motor waggons filled with food and munitions, numbers of ambulance waggons marked with the Red Cross. More than one body of horse soldiers pa.s.sed him, and again he saw numbers of men bivouacked near him; but everywhere there were soldiers, soldiers. Tom could not understand it, it was all so different from what he expected, neither could he see any order or purpose in that which was taking place around him. There was activity and movement everywhere, but he could co-ordinate nothing, he was simply bewildered.
Towards evening there was another resting-time, and each man gladly threw himself full length on the gra.s.s. For a moment there was a silence, then Tom heard a sound which gave him a sickening sensation; he felt a sinking, too, at the pit of his stomach: it was the boom, boom, boom of guns.
”Look at yon' airs.h.i.+p in the sky!” cried one of the men. Each eye was turned towards it, then they heard the boom of guns again, after which there were sheets of fire around the aeroplane, and afterwards little clouds of smoke formed themselves.
”I am getting near at last,” thought Tom. ”I wonder now--I wonder----”
CHAPTER V
Tom discovered presently that his destination was the Ypres salient, one of the most ”unhealthy” places, to use the term in favour among the soldiers, in the whole of the English battle line. Here the most tremendous battle ever fought in our British Army took place--indeed one of the most tremendous battles in the history of the world. A sergeant who was in a garrulous mood described it to Tom with a great deal of spirit.
”Yes,” he said, ”you have come to an unhealthy spot; still it may be good for you. The blessed Huns thought they were going to break through here about last September when the battle of Wipers was fought.
They had six hundred thousand men to our hundred and fifty thousand.
Then that blooming Kaiser made up his mind that he would break through our lines, and get to Calais. Yes, it was a touch and go with us.
Fancy four to one, and they had all the advantage in big guns and ammunition. You think _those_ big guns? Wait till you have heard Jack Johnson and Black Maria. Talk about h.e.l.l! h.e.l.l was never as bad as the battle of Wipers. I thought we were licked once. I was in the part where our line was the thinnest, and we saw 'em coming towards us in crowds; there seemed to be millions of 'em; we had to rake out every cook and bottle-washer on the show. Lots of our men were fresh to the job, too, and had never smelt powder, or felt the touch of steel. But, by gosh, we let 'em know! Four to one, my boy, and we licked 'em, in spite of their big guns and their boasting. Aren't you proud of being a British Tommy?”
Tom listened with wide, staring eyes and compressed lips. There within a mile or two of the battle line he could picture all of which the sergeant spoke. As he looked he could see the brown line of earth away in the distance, and could discern too, here and there, dotted along this brown line, clouds of black smoke. All around him our guns were booming, while the distant sounds of the German guns reached him.
”Ay, it's a bit unhealthy,” went on the sergeant, ”but you will get used to it after a bit. There, hear that?”
Tom listened and heard the screaming of a sh.e.l.l in the air; the note it made was at first low, but it rose higher and higher and then dropped again.