At noon we started out on the journey to the trenches, a gay party
that found expression for its young vitality in song. The
sliding-doors and the windows were open; those of us who were not
looking out of the one were looking out of the other. To most it was a
new country, a place far away in peace and a favourite resort of the
wealthy; but now a country that called for any man, no matter how
poor, if he were strong in person and willing to give his life away
when called upon to do so. In fact, the poor man was having his first
holiday on the Continent, and alas!--perhaps his last; and like (p. 026)
cattle new to the pasture fields in Spring, we were surging full of
life and animal gaiety.
We were out on a great adventure, full of thrill and excitement; the
curtain which surrounded our private life was being lifted; we stood
on the threshold of momentous events. The cottagers who laboured by
their humble homes stood for a moment and watched our train go by; now
and again a woman shouted out a blessing on our mission, and ancient
men seated by their doorsteps pointed in the direction our train was
going, and drew lean, skinny hands across their throats, and yelled
advice and imprecations in hoarse voices. We understood. The ancient
warriors ordered us to cut the Kaiser's throat and envied us the job.
The day wore on, the evening fell dark and stormy. A cold wind from
somewhere swept in through chinks in windows and door, and chilled the
compartment.
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