Tiadatha and his brothers Found themselves another horse-box, Got a little straw and spread it, Wrapped themselves up in their great-coats, Fell asleep with straw for mattress, Someone else’s boots for pillow. Tiadatha often shuddered Thinking of the days that followed, Of the days and nights that followed, As that God-forsaken troop train Rocked upon its journey southward. All his life will he remember Turning out for tea at midnight In some dimly-lighted station, Shaving in acute discomfort, Washing when he got a chance to, Hotting up his ration bacon On a wobbly Tommy’s cooker, Passing by the weary hours Playing little games of vingty, Losing one by one his chattels In the straw about the horse-box, In the straw that buried all things, In the straw that clung to all things. At Marseilles at last they halted, And straightway my Tiadatha, Having stretched his legs a little, Found himself and all the Dudshires Packed aboard a British cruiser; Not a chance to see the beauties Of that very ancient seaport, Not a chance to stop to dinner, Not a chance to try his hand at Crime-committing after dinner. Soon, however, Tiadatha Loathed the very thought of dinner At Marseilles or in the Ward Room, As that cruiser started rolling Through the heaving Gulf of Lyons. But there followed days of sunshine, Sea and sky as blue as Reckitt’s, When he wished he’d joined the Navy, Wished he’d gone and been a sailor, When his only care was wondering If he’d have another sherry. What a periscope would look like, Where on earth he’d left his life-belt, Wondering still where they were bound for, Egypt, Serbia, or Mespot: Till at last all bets were settled, All the speculations answered, As one day my Tiadatha Came on deck and saw before him Salonica, white and lovely, Gleaming in the morning sunlight. CHAPTER VII TIADATHA AT SALONICA On the day the Royal Dudshires Set their foot in Salonica, Nobody seemed pleased to see them, No one worried much about them. M.L.O.s were apathetic, Not a bit enthusiastic, Like a hostess at a party When an uninvited guest comes. And the folk of Salonica Did not come to bid them welcome, Did not hang out flags of welcome, Did not cry, “’Tis well, O brothers, That ye come so far to see us.” (After all there was no reason Why on earth they should have done so.) But they stood and watched the Dudshires Marching through their ancient city, Slipping on their cobbled roadway, Giving “Eyes Left” to a Greek guard; Stood and watched them from their doorways, Watched them through their grimy windows, Not a bit enthusiastic.