Read Online And We Go On by Will R. Bird - Free Book Online Page A

they make it so rotten purposely, and then a chap’s glad to go to the trenches.”
    A little party of us had stuck together, Tommy and I, the group I had mentally dubbed the “Fatal Six,” Earle, a big-shouldered farm lad, Baxter another, and Laurie, my cousin. The train moved slowly and as it went we heaved from the window the body belts that had been issued, odd tins ofbully, and enough ammunition to reduce our loads to a reasonable weight. That track from Le Havre must have been surrounded by such material, as each soldier dumped at least one quarter of his belongings.
    We arrived at Rouen, and Tommy grew eager. “This place is noted for something, isn’t it?” he asked. I reminded him of Joan of Arc, and we found the place where she was burned, and where William the Conqueror had died, and walked about admiring many buildings. When we got back to the train we were threatened for being away so long.
    All the time we had been at Le Havre we had had no mail, and now as we came in sight of Mount St. Eloi a sergeant brought us a cartload of parcels. There were no letters, but all our Christmas parcels had arrived at one time, earlier than we expected, and while we were at a miserable overnight stand.
    All day we had had little but tea and bully and we gorged on fruit cake and fudge and other good things.
    In the morning a dull thudding, thumping noise woke us, and it continued. We sat up and looked at each other. It was very cold and we were shivering and shaking as we got dressed, while deep inside us there was a queer tightening, a funny feeling. Part of it was caused by too much fruit cake, but the rest was caused by the thunder of the guns. We wondered and wondered, and our parcels lost their importance. We drank the tea a surly army cook served us, and then went to the French house – we had slept in a barn – with all the things left over, chocolate and cakes and candy. Three skinny women and a swarm of kids almost fought over us as we gave them the lot.
    As we passed Mount St. Eloi and its twin towers I dug up a little more history for Tommy. “The hill itself is over 400 feet above the sea level,” I said, “and that is a seventh-century church occupying the site of an abbey built ages ago by the bishop of Noyon, whose name was St. Eloi.”
    He looked at me. “Where did you get all that dope?” he asked.
    â€œIn a little French guide book I bought in London,” I said. “I’ve got it with me. What’s the use of coming over here on a trip if you don’t know what you’re looking at?”
    He grinned. “Tell that to Howard,” he advised. Howard was a big-boned man who had been a sergeant in the brigade, and had reverted to ranks to come to France. He was one of the few men that the Bull Ring had not changed; he seethed with the fervor of platform patriots.
    At Le Havre he had heard Tommy raving about the methods of those in authority, and how he intended dodging everything he could. “Be British,” roared Howard. “What did you come over here for?”
    Tommy looked at him in an odd way. “Damned if I know,” he said. “Adventure, mostly. How did your ticket read?”
    â€œAdventure!” blared old Howard. “I come to fight for my country, for the flag, and for the right.”
    â€œGood boy,” soothed Tommy, “but how in heck do you know you’re in the right?”
    We had to get between them then, for Howard was ready to represent the British bulldog in realistic manner. He went to the trenches, and shortly after made close acquaintance with a five-nine shell. He was not seriously damaged, but his patriotism received a blow. He got back to England and held forth there on the glorious crusade on which we were embarked. It was much safer across the Channel.
    At the transport lines we were lined up for an inspection. We had marched and trudged through mud and water, in a drizzle,