Notes of a Camp-Follower on the Western FrontHornung, E. W. (Ernest William)
History
Notes of a Camp-Follower on the Western Front
Hornung, E. W. (Ernest William)
World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives; World War, 1914-1918 -- War work -- Young Men's Christian Associations
I do not know what happened in other parts of the town. It seems
unlikely that they opened fire on our part in particular, but as I stood
talking in a glass passage there came a whirlwind whizz over the low
roofs, a crack and a cloud in the adjoining courtyard, and, as I turned
back under the arch, another whizz and another bang in the street I had
just quitted. So I would have sworn in perfect faith; and for several
minutes the street was full of acrid smoke, to bear me out. But it seems
the second burst was _in_ the next house, or in the next but one. All I
can say is that both occurred within about fifteen paces of the spot
where I stood as safe as the house that covered me. And yet the soldiers
tell you they prefer shell-fire in the open! With great respect, I shall
stick up for the devil I know.
But what has interested me ever since is the hopelessness of expecting
two persons to give anything like the same account of a violent
experience which has taken them both equally by surprise. Nor is it
necessary to go gadding about the front in order to test this particular
proposition; try any couple who have been in the same motor accident. It
must be done at once, before they have time to compare notes; indeed,
they should be kept apart like suspect witnesses in a court. Suspicion
will be amply vindicated in nine cases out of ten; for the impression of
any accident upon any mind depends on the state of that mind at the
time, on the impressions already there, and on its imaginative quality
at any time. Hence the totally different versions of the same event
from three or four equally truthful persons. A boy I had known all his
life was killed just before I went out: three honest witnesses gave
three contradictory descriptions of the tragedy. Two of the three were
all but eye-witnesses, and C. of E. chaplains at that! No wonder we
argued about our beggarly brace of shells. The chief mate (last to leave
the ship, by the way) heard three, and a fourth as we drove away in the
Ford. My powers of registration were only equal to the two described.
It was good to be high and dry in the little 'bus, though it would have
been better with as much as the horn to blow to keep one's mind out of
mischief. Our driver was a fine man wearing the South African and 1914
ribbons. Invalided out, he had wormed his way back to France in the
Y.M.C.A.; but it was a soldier's job he did again that night, and for
days and nights to follow. Once a shell burst in his path and smashed
the radiator; he plugged it up with wood and kept her going. It is
provoking to be obliged to add that I was not in the car at the time.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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