And off the trains would steam, every compartment labelled "Berlin." It's rather pathetic how history repeats itself. This time the French were silent. They _knew_. So, forward into the unknown! CHAPTER IV UP COUNTRY _So be there 'twixt your kingdoms such a spousal, That never may ill office, or fell jealousy, * * * * * Thrust in between the paction of these kingdoms, To make divorce of their incorporate league: That English may as French, French Englishmen, Receive each other!_ Patience, still a little patience! The stage is not yet set. The actors have not yet reached the theatre. Very soon now shall you see unfolded the opening scenes of the Great Drama, and hear the first clash of the armies. Soon shall you have your fill of the horror and splendour of modern warfare. We have seen the Force into the French troop trains, horse, guns and foot. But not all journeyed thus to the frontier. Some of the units, the most mobile, went by road. Units which were intended to take their places in the reserve lines, and especially the A.S.C. motor transport, ammunition or supplies. Let us move forward with one of these and see a little of the France through which so soon the armies will come rolling back. Out from Rouen and across the lovely Normandy country. You picture the excitement and amusement of the country folk as a great procession of those motor lorries, which we have seen coming into Avonmouth, pants heavily through the towns and villages. Here is a part of a letter, from an officer in one of those units, which appeared in the _Times_ towards the end of August. It seems to give a very happy picture of the French reception of our men. ROSES, ROSES, ALL THE WAY I can, of course, tell you nothing of our movements, nor where we are. I can, however, say something of the reception we have met with moving across country. It has been simply wonderful and most affecting. We travel entirely by motor transport (if the censor will allow that), and it has been flowers all the way. One long procession of acclamation. By the wayside and through the villages men, women, and children cheer us on with the greatest enthusiasm, and everyone wants to give us something. Even the babies in arms have been taught to wave their little hands. They strip their flower gardens, and the cars look like carnival carriages. They pelt us with fruit, cigarettes, chocolate, bread, anything, and everything. It is simply impossible to convey an impression of it all. One village had stretched across the road a big banner, "Honour to the British Army." Always cries of "Vivent les anglais, vive l'Angleterre," etc., and often they would make the sign of hanging, and cutting the throat (the Kaiser), pointing forward along the road. This always struck me as so curious.