World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, English
At the wagon lines we persuaded the Q-M to loan us horses for the
balance of the journey, which he cheerfully consented to do. But the
horses, unfortunately, were mules, practically ready for the bone-yard;
the Quartermaster had put them to one side, as they were useless for any
further work, and they were awaiting the arrival of the veterinary
officer to receive capital punishment. Every time I dug my spurs in my
mount, in a mad endeavor to make it go, the only result was a kick in
the air with its hind feet.
There was another transportation service in vogue there,--a large
number of donkeys, and each time a donkey passed my charger, it would
stop dead and wag its ears much after the fashion of a Hebrew
gesticulating with his hands in selling a suit of clothes. This was
repeated every time we met one of the little donkeys, and each time I
had to get off and back the brute for some distance, until it again took
the notion to go forward; it was a case of one step forward and two back
before I reached my destination.
The most ridiculously funny instance connected with the meeting of the
mule and the donkey was the manner in which each indulged in its muleism
and donkeyism; the little donkey would shoot its head straight forward,
stick its ears out sidewise, at right angles, and commence its song of
greeting, which sounded exactly like a man sawing wood, and the mule
would warble its well-known lyric of sweetness,--"Hee-Haw! Hee-Haw!
Hee-Haw!" keeping time with the flapping of its long lugs.
When I got to Poperinghe Square the mule and myself were all in; save
for the ride on the Parson's charger to the wagon lines, I had not been
riding for the space of a month, and my legs were so chafed I was
compelled to walk like an aged rheumatic for three or four days; but I
had company,--the other fellows were similarly affected.
We made our way to the bath in a rush, as every man wanted to be in
first. The bath contained 200 men at a time, and 200 tubs; there was no
pool in which to bathe; every man had to do his swimming and slopping
and washing in a tub; and the sight of the women and girl attendants was
a welcome one, as it had been a couple of months before anything
feminine had come within the range of our vision. We had to take our
turn in going through the routine of the bath.
When I was next, the woman attendant handed me a shirt; a little further
along I got a pair of socks, then drawers. Thus equipped, I entered the
bathroom; there were about 100 men in there, splashing each other like
mad in their wild joy. In stepping along the water-soaked boards, I
happened to slip and fall in the wet, and my dry garments were soaked
with the water slopped on the boards, assisted by the splashing showers
the men were throwing around.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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