The Memoirs of Ellie Warburton by Joyce Marlow

Author:Joyce Marlow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Women in the Great War, Historical Romance, Salonica, The forgotten front, Artists, Suffragettes, Suffragists, Inspectors, Refugees, War
ISBN: 9781783335855
Publisher: Andrews UK Limited 2014
Published: 2014-05-01T00:00:00+00:00

30.

A few days later Harry, Lindemann and I left Calais with me at Sheba’s wheel. Did I feel excited? Nervous? Determined not to let the side down? Yes, yes, and yes! For once it wasn’t snowing, raining or blowing a gale - the weather in northern France made Lancashire’s seem almost tropical - and apart from having to stop to show our passes at innumerable check-points I made good speed. Once we’d crossed the Belgian border the devastation of war became more apparent. To stem the German advance in 1914 the marshy land had been flooded and it looked as if a giant had marched over it, flattening everything beneath his feet, pressing the mud from the very bowels of the earth. Darkness had fallen before we reached our destination, the Belgian HQ at Ramscapelle, and I wasn’t sorry that Harry had taken the wheel for the last lap because it was a moonless night and the only illumination came from Sheba’s tiny magneto lamps, the star-shells bursting over the trenches ahead and the Very lights floating like parachutes. As I climbed down Harry said cheerfully, ‘At least we don’t have to cook tonight.’ Perhaps she saw my weary face because she added, ‘Well done!’

After a good night’s sleep in the farmhouse Lindemann had found for our billet, refreshed if not firing on all cylinders, I accompanied Harry to the shell-splattered HQ where the Belgian flag hung limply. A friendly young Major named de Witt informed us we were to be attached to their 7 th Mounted Artillery Regiment which was going up the lines to form part of the British 5 th Division. Harry took the news that we would be serving three meals a day for a 140 strong Belgian battery in her usual stride. My alarm was slightly tempered by the information that the food would be supplied and prepared by the battery’s fourrier. Lindemann never stopped grumbling - his release valve? - but on our behalf he had frequent rows with the less than diligent fourrier, always found us a decent billet and expertly marshalled the hungry hordes. Harry and I shared the various chores but cooking was not her metier so I took charge in the kitchen - those hours watching Mrs Howarth at Grangefell paid dividends - and as a driver she was beyond compare. A shout of “Tally ho!” meant “Hold tight, Sheba’s about to jump a shell-crater” and I was happy to let her take the wheel.

The battery supposedly marched at the rate of twenty kilometres a day but with incessant stops for no apparent reason it never achieved that pace. On the fourth day of our slow march in dismal weather, an orderly collected our laisser-passer to have them changed for a British one which meant we were about to leave the Belgian sector. In the evening, as usual, a despatch rider arrived with further orders. News travels fast among soldiers - rumours faster - and several of ours were soon racing up to Sheba.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.