Since he spoke in German, a young French lieutenant translated
the warning for the benefit of the Frenchmen and the Belgians, and a
British noncom. did the same for his fellow countrymen, speaking with a
strong Scottish burr. He wound up with an improvisation of his own,
which I thought was typically British. "Now, then, boys," he sang out,
"buck up, all of you! It might be worse, you know, and some of these
German chaps don't seem a bad lot at all."
So, with that, Lieutenant Mittendorfer blew out his big chest and barked
an order into the night, and away we all swung off at a double quick,
with our feet slipping and sliding upon the travel-worn granite boulders
underfoot. In addition to being rounded and unevenly laid, the stones
were now coated with a layer of slimy mud. It was a hard job to stay
upright on them.
I don't think I shall ever forget that march. I know I shall never
forget that smell, or the sound of all our feet clumping over those
slick cobbles. Nor shall I forget, either, the appealing calls of
Gerbeaux' black chauffeur, who was being left behind in the now empty
guardhouse, and who, to judge from his tones, did not expect ever to see
any of us again.
Pages:
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173