World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, English
It is a heartbreaking sight to see them trudging through the rain—old
men, women, and the tiniest of children.
Sometimes they wheel a barrow containing a few of their goods, but most
of them are without anything except the miserable rags they stand in.
_Oct. 17._ Had the company out all day doing road drainage. The tedium
of the work was relieved by a ghastly incident, showing how low these
poor refugees have sunk. A party of them were trudging listlessly along
the road when the leaders noticed a dead horse lying in the ditch. In a
few seconds the men and women had taken their knives and were fighting
like animals on the distended carcass, chattering and shrieking like a
crowd of hungry jackals. As they worked they threw the chunks of
bleeding meat into the road, where the children fought for them and
stowed them in the barrows. In a few minutes the horse was stripped to
his bones, the noise subsided, and the ghouls trudged on their way.
_Oct. 18._ Working on the road all day in heavy rain, but were called
out again at night to form a bridgehead across the river in front of us.
We are in possession of half the town on the near side of the river, but
the Germans have destroyed all the bridges and hold the eastern half of
the town.
The main road bridge in the centre of the town lay across the bed of the
river in a maze of twisted steel-work—we were required to make a foot
bridge across these ruins for the infantry to get across. Day climbed
across with three men and a Lewis gun on the ruins of the old bridge and
cleared a German machine-gun party out of the farther bank. After this
we started work and made fair progress considering the vile conditions.
With the river sucking and swirling below them and the cold rain numbing
their fingers, it was anything but an easy task for the men to keep
their foothold on the slippery, twisted girders. In addition we were
shelled persistently through the night, and seven men were down when the
first infantry went across about 4 a.m.
_Oct. 19._ An hour after our return to billets orders came through for
us to move forward again. The other companies got two pontoon bridges
across the river during the day and we billeted near at hand, to provide
maintenance parties. I was very tired and turned into bed early, looking
forward to a long night’s sleep.
Just as I was dozing off the orderly corporal came in with a message
from the bridge patrol asking me to go out as numerous things were going
wrong. There is no worse torture for a really tired man than to allow
him to get into a warm, comfortable bed for a few minutes and then turn
him out into a stormy night. And I had been living all day on the
strength of the night’s sleep that I was going to get!
Arrived at the bridges I had no time for regrets—the river was rising,
the traffic was absolutely continuous, and everything that could go
wrong was doing so.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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