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Since 8 Platoon has practically ceased to exist owing to gas casualties, 7 and 8 are again combined under Giffin, and I am second-in-command. Baldwin remains platoon sergeant. If and when we get sufficient reinforcements the two platoons will separate again. "The Germans have been bombarding Poperinghe with very big shells to-day. The shops, I hear, are all shut.
I reported to the R.T.O. in the square at Hazebrouck, and he gave me instructions to go by the next train to Poperinghe. It was a sultry day and I was glad of a drink. I managed to get one on the station. I could occasionally hear the rumble of the guns in the distance now, but very faint. The train left Hazebrouck at 3.30 p.m. The country looked as calm and peaceful as anything.
Lilacs were abloom in every garden, and buttercups made the fields look yellow. The air was misty one could hardly have gone to Poperinghe except in a mist, as it was being so constantly shelled but in the mist the trees had a queer light on them which made the early green look a deeper and stronger colour than I have ever seen it.
The ambulances were now arriving fast from the field dressing-stations close to the line, and we hurried away, and were soon driving through Poperinghe. Here and there there was a house wrecked with shell-fire. The little town indeed with its picturesque place is constantly shelled. But, all the same, life seems to go on as usual.
At that time the cars, Argylls, Napiers, Siddeley-Deaseys, and a Crossley, inscribed "Frank Crossley, the Pet of Poperinghe," were just parked haphazard in the open square, some with their bonnets one way and some another it just depended which of the two drives up to camp had been chosen.
After this we went along Track 1 and back to the main road. Here we got a motor-lorry which took us through Poperinghe and right back to St. Janster Biexen. We walked back to Valley Camp from there. I really feel done up; and I have a headache in addition to my bad cold something like influenza. All symptoms of gas! When we got back the rain had ceased and it was quite nice.
Just outside Poperinghe we met company after company of men, armed with towels, waiting by the roadside for baths in the brewery, and, as we passed, one old fellow, who declared that his "rheumatics was that bad he couldn't wash," was trying to sell a brand-new cake of soap for the promise of a drink.
They looked miserably cold as the wind flapped their loose garments, but about these men in the muddy field there was a sombre dignity which took one's imagination back to the day when the Saracens held European soil. It was dark when we reached Poperinghe and halted our cars in the square outside the Town Hall, among a crowd of other motor-cars, naval lorries, mitrailleuses, and wagons.
It was started early in March. It is full of bad blue china and inordinately expensive. Of the tea-shop at Poperinghe I cannot speak too highly. There is a vast variety of the most delicious cakes. The proprietress is pleasant and her maids are obliging. It is also cheap. I have only one fault to find with it the room is small.
But at last the order was given to start, and the procession of motor-cars started out for Poperinghe, twenty-five kilometres to the south. Little by little the sound of the guns died away, and the cars passed through quiet fields where French troops bivouacked round their camp fires.
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