A Hilltop on the Marne: Being Letters Written June 3-September 8, 1914Aldrich, Mildred
History
A Hilltop on the Marne: Being Letters Written June 3-September 8, 1914
Aldrich, Mildred
Marne, 1st Battle of the, France, 1914; World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives
I had no idea how many men I was going to feed. I had only seen three.
To this day I don't know how many I did feed. They came and came and
came. It reminded me of hens running toward a place where another hen
has found something good. It did not take me many minutes to discover
that these men needed something more substantial than tea. Luckily I
had brought back from Paris an emergency stock of things like biscuit,
dry cakes, jam, etc., for even before our shops were closed there was
mighty little in them. For an hour and a half I brewed pot after pot of
tea, opened jar after jar of jam and jelly, and tin after tin of biscuit
and cakes, and although it was hardly hearty fodder for men, they put it
down with a relish. I have seen hungry men, but never anything as
hungry as these boys.
I knew little about military discipline--less about the rules of active
service; so I had no idea that I was letting these hungry men--and
evidently hunger laughs at laws--break all the regulations of the army.
Their guns were lying about in any old place; their kits were on the
ground; their belts were unbuckled. Suddenly the captain rode up the
road and looked over the hedge at the scene. The men were sitting on
the benches, on the ground, anywhere, and were all smoking my best
Egyptian cigarettes, and I was running round as happy as a queen, seeing
them so contented and comfortable.
It was a rude awakening when the captain rode up the street.
There was a sudden jumping up, a hurried buckling up of belts, a grab
for kits and guns, and an unceremonious cut for the gate. I heard a
volley from the officer. I marked a serious effort on the part of the
men to keep the smiles off their faces as they hurriedly got their kits
on their backs and their guns on their shoulders, and, rigidly saluting,
dispersed up the hill, leaving two very straight men marching before the
gate as if they never in their lives had thought of anything but picket
duty.
The captain never even looked at me, but rode up the hill after his men.
A few minutes later he returned, dismounted at the gate, tied his horse,
and came in. I was a bit confused. But he smiled one of those smiles
of his, and I got right over it.
"Dear little lady," he said, "I wonder if there is any tea left for me?"
Was there! I should think so; and I thought to myself, as I led the way
into the dining-room, that he was probably just as hungry as his men.
While I was making a fresh brew he said to me:--
"You must forgive my giving my men Hades right before you, but they
deserved it, and know it, and under the circumstances I imagine they did
not mind taking it. I did not mean you to give them a party, you know.
Why, if the major had ridden up that hill--and he might have--and seen
that party inside your garden, I should have lost my commission and
those boys got the guardhouse. These men are on active service."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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