It is all very well to advance towards the fighting lines when the
enemy is opposed by allied forces in a known position, but it is a quite
different thing to wander about a countryside with only the vaguest
idea of the direction in which the enemy may appear, and with the
disagreeable thought that he may turn up suddenly round the corner
after cutting off one's line of retreat. That was my experience on more
than one day of adventure when I went wandering with those two
friends of mine, whom I have alluded to as the Strategist and the
Philosopher. Not all the strategy of the one or the philosophy of the
other could save us from unpleasant moments when we blundered
close to the lines of an unexpected enemy.
That was our experience on an early day in October, when we
decided to go to Bethune, which seemed an interesting place in the
war-zone.
It may seem strange in England that railway trains should still be
running in the ordinary way, according to the time-tables of peace, in
these directions, and that civilians should have been allowed to take
their tickets without any hint as to the danger at the journey's end. But
in spite of the horror of invasion, French railway officials showed an
extraordinary sang-froid and maintained their service, even when
they knew that their lines might be cut, and their stations captured,
within an hour or two.
Pages:
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218