Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 19, 2025
A waggonette, driven by an orderly, stood in the station yard, one of the Customs officials, hat in hand, at the door. We drove rapidly through very spick-and-span streets to a little square where the sentry at an iron gate denoted the Officers' Club. In the anteroom four or five officers in field-grey uniform were lounging.
After the desolation of the State apartments, this comfortable corridor had at least the appearance of leading to the habitation of man. A giant trooper in field-grey with a curious silver gorget suspended round his neck by a chain paced up and down the passage, his jackboots making no sound upon the soft, thick carpet with which the floor was covered. The man in green stopped at the door.
Thus is it, writes Nicolai, with war. Along the boundless field-grey battle lines, thrills the warning of the coming Twilight of the Gods. Everything beautiful and characteristic in the war of ancient days has vanished. Gone is the gay camp life, gone are the motley uniforms, gone is single combat gone, in a word, are the show features.
We went straight to the village headquarters, where there were several officers spotlessly dressed in blue or field-grey, against which my tramp-like appearance formed a strange contrast. They were quite decent, with one exception, a sour-looking captain, and were rather amused than otherwise, even allowing a Frenchwoman to make me some coffee.
On these occasions he would appear in the Reichstag in the dull field-grey of an ordinary private the only member so clad in a House of 397 Deputies, among whom are dozens of officers in uniform up to the rank of generals. I was particularly fortunate to be able to secure a card of admission to the Strangers' Gallery of the Reichstag on January 17, the day set for discussion of military matters.
But there was nothing to see on the German side but half a dozen sentries in the field-grey I had hunted at Loos. An under-officer, with the black-and-gold button of the Landsturm, hoicked us out of the train, and we were all shepherded into a big bare waiting-room where a large stove burned. They took us two at a time into an inner room for examination.
The news from Rumania, though good, would bring them no cheer until it was followed by plenty of food. In the vicinity of the Schlesischer Bahnhof occurred a trifling incident which gave me an opportunity to see the inside of a poor German home that day. A soldier in faded field-grey, home on leave, asked me for a match.
An outpost in Italian field-grey uniform, not men of the Italian type, but stocky, fair-haired and square-jawed, their collars decorated with red and white tabs.
The first one I saw made me lie flat in the covert ... For he was a German soldier, field-grey, forage cap, red band and all, and he had a pick on his shoulder. A second's reflection showed me that this was not final proof. He might be one of our prisoners. But it was no place to take chances. I went back to Archie, and the pair of us crossed the ploughed field and struck the road farther on.
"Strange!" thought Henri. "What on earth can the fellow be doing? And Christopher! He's not a Frenchman!" That indeed was a peculiar thing; and, still in the same dazed sort of way, Henri watched and wondered. "Not a Frenchman," he was telling himself, "then a German, and I don't know yes, I do believe I know the figure. Small, eh? Dressed in field-grey, yet not the usual sort of uniform.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking