And we soon were--though to cross the Marne meant that we had at one time to fight waist deep in its waters.
The Battle of the Marne was hard, long work, following a long and terrible retreat; but it was a glorious victory. We had many privations, but also many compensations, and we were always cheerful, and very often singing. “Tipperary” was an easy first.
We often saw Sir John French and General Joffre, and I can tell you that when our own great field-marshal appeared it was as good as a victory for us, for we fairly worship him. Sir John is a thorough gentleman, and the friend of every soldier. He used to come into the trenches with his hands in his pockets and take no more notice of the German shells and bullets which were bursting and flying about than if they were peas shot by little boys.
One morning Sir John came round the trenches, and said, as usual, “Is everything all right, men?”
“Well, sir,” he was told, “we want a drop of water, please.” And we did want it, badly, because the weather was so fearfully hot, and we were almost boiled in our uniforms and heavy kits.
“Certainly; I’ll see to that at once,” replied the field-marshal. He immediately turned round, called to some men of the transport who were at hand, and told them to bring us some water at once.
General Joffre, too, was a great favourite. He speaks English well. Once when he came into the
“CAVALRY AND GUARDS GOT IN AMONGST THE GERMANS AND FAIRLY SCATTERED THEM” (p. 246).]
trenches he asked if there was anything we should like. Well, we wanted some cigarettes badly, and told him so, and he promptly took a box of about a hundred from his pocket, and handed them round. They went almost as fast as the Germans.
I am now well enough to be back at the front, and I’m keen to get into the firing line again, and rush along in some more bayonet charges--for those are the swoops that roll the Germans up as much as anything we do.
I have been a Coldstreamer for more than a dozen years, and have always been proud of it; but I never felt prouder than I do now, after reading what our great chief has said about us in despatches.
We have sometimes been called feather-bed soldiers; but we’re known as “Coldsteelers” now, and try to live up to the reputation of our motto--“Second to none.”