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Updated: June 13, 2025
I despatched a polite note to Bishop Luscombe, and made every arrangement for the approaching ceremony, took a quartier in the Rue Helder, near the Estaminet, and looked forward with anxiety for the day which was to make my happy; for our marriage in Lyons was only a kind of betrothal.
"Tell three orderlies to follow me." We went into the roadway, and twenty women crowded round us with a story of attempted violence against an innocent girl. The man had been drinking last night at the estaminet up there. Then he had followed the girl, trying to make love to her. She had barricaded herself in the room, when he tried to climb through the window.
From the small stucco station, embowered in luxuriant trees, we crossed a wide grass grown square, faring towards the turrets of the town, which appeared above the small red and black tiled roofs of some mean looking peasant houses, and an estaminet, of stucco evidently brand new, and bearing a gilt lion over its door.
And, above all, was Monica herself at the Castle? I had noticed a little estaminet place on the road, about a hundred yards before we reached the Schloss. I might, at least, be able to pick up something there. Accordingly, I stole across the garden, scaled the wall again and reached the road in safety.
I and my machine-gun section had still to carry on, for we lived apart, a bit further on, at the Transport Farm. So we continued on our own for another mile and a half, past the estaminet at Romerin, out on towards Neuve Eglise to our Transport Farm. This was the usual red-tiled Belgian farm, with a rectangular smell in the middle.
After we had sent a batch of their wounded by hospital train from Adinkerke, the two sailors, who had helped us, invited my American friend and me into the estaminet across the road from the station, and bought us drinks for an hour. We had been good to their mates, so they wanted to be good to us.
Once, when a man drove his pick through the crisp, inflated side, a gas spurted out that was positively asphyxiating and intolerable. However much transport the Germans abandoned, however severe the losses they sustained, they always found time to break open every estaminet they passed, and drain it dry.
Now, our right flank is not safe yet. We can improve the position very much if we can secure that estaminet, standing up like an island among those ruined houses on our right front. You see the sign, Aux Bons Fermiers, over the door. The trouble is that a German machine-gun is sweeping the intervening space and we cannot see the gun! There it goes again. See the brick-dust fly! Keep down!
We marched to the quarry and when we got there we found there was nothing to do, because the train hadn't turned up. So we waited in the wind and snow, just walking up and down, stamping with our feet and trying to get warm. Lieutenant Rowlatt was in charge of us. He wouldn't let us leave the quarry or go into an estaminet. And he only gave us half an hour for dinner.
That heap of splintered wardrobes and legless tables was once a furniture warehouse. That snug little corner house, with the tottering zinc counter and the twisted beer engine, is an obvious estaminet. You may observe the sign, "Aux Deux Amis," in dingy lettering over the doorway. Here is an oil-and-colour shop: you can still see the red ochre and white lead splashed about among the ruins.
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