For myself I tried not to think too clearly of what I might see
to-morrow or the day after. The hour was now past midnight and a new
day had come. What did it hold for us all? Nobody knew--I fell asleep.
CHAPTER II (p. 019)
SOMEWHERE IN FRANCE
When I come back to England,
And times of Peace come round,
I'll surely have a shilling,
And may be have a pound;
I'll walk the whole town over,
And who shall say me nay,
For I'm a British soldier
With a British soldier's pay.
The Rest Camp a city of innumerable bell-tents, stood on the summit of
a hill overlooking the town and the sea beyond. We marched up from the
quay in the early morning, followed the winding road paved with
treacherous cobbles that glory in tripping unwary feet, and sweated to
the summit of the hill. Here a new world opened to our eyes: a canvas
city, the mushroom growth of our warring times lay before us; tent
after tent, large and small, bell-tent and marquee in accurate
alignment.
It took us two hours to march to our places; we grounded arms at the
word of command and sank on our packs wearily happy. True, a few (p. 020)
had fallen out; they came in as we rested and awkwardly fell into
position. They were men who had been sea-sick the night before. We
were too excited to rest for long; like dogs in a new locality we were
presently nosing round looking for food.
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