Contemptible

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''Contemptible''

The Project Gutenberg EBook of "Contemptible", by "Casualty" This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: "Contemptible"
Author: "Casualty"
Release Date: April 2, 2006 [EBook #18103]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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"CONTEMPTIBLE"

SOLDIERS' TALES OF THE GREAT WAR
Each volume cr. 8vo, cloth.
I. WITH MY REGIMENT. By "Platoon Commander."
II. DIXMUDE. The Epic of the French Marines. Oct.-Nov. 1914. By Charles le Goffic. Illustrated
III. IN THE FIELD (1914-15). The Impressions of an Officer of Light Cavalry.
IV. UNCENSORED LETTERS FROM THE DARDANELLES. Notes of a French Army Doctor. Illustrated
V. PRISONER OF WAR. By André Warnod. Illustrated
VI. "CONTEMPTIBLE." By "Casualty."
VII. ON THE ANZAC TRAIL. By "Anzac."
Philadelphia J.B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY London: WILLIAM HEINEMANN

"CONTEMPTIBLE"
BY
"CASUALTY"
Philadelphia: J.B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
London: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
MCMXVI

Printed in Great Britain.

CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I LEAVING ENGLAND 1
II CALM BEFORE THE STORM 10
III THE ADVANCE TO MONS 14
IV MONS 21
V THE BEGINNING OF THE RETREAT 27
VI DARKNESS 34
VII VENéROLLES 39
VIII ST. QUENTIN AND LA FèRE 44
IX SIR JOHN FRENCH 51
X A PAUSE, AND MORE MARCHING 55
XI A REAR-GUARD ACTION 62
XII VILLIERS-COTTERETS 66
XIII HEAT AND DUST 74
XIV THE OCCUPATION OF VILLIERS 78
XV THE LAST LAP 86
XVI THE TURN OF THE TIDE 95
XVII THE ADVANCE BEGINS 98
XVIII THE CROSSING OF THE MARNE 104
XIX AN ADVANCED-GUARD ACTION 109
XX DEFENCE 117
XXI THE DEFENCE OF THE BRANDY 122
XXII STRATEGY AS YOU LIKE IT 126
XXIII THE LAST ADVANCE 133
XXIV SATURDAY NIGHT 141
XXV THE CROSSING OF THE AISNE 151
XXVI THE CELLARS OF POUSSEY 161
XXVII THE FIRST TRENCHES 168
XXVIII IN RESERVE AT SOUVIR 177
XXIX TO STRAIGHTEN THE LINE 186
XXX THE JAWS OF DEATH 193
XXXI THE FIELD HOSPITAL 204
XXXII OPERATION 213
XXXIII ST. NAZAIRE 219
XXXIV SOMEWHERE IN MAYFAIR 221

CHAPTER I
LEAVING ENGLAND
No cheers, no handkerchiefs, no bands. Nothing that even suggested the time-honoured scene of soldiers leaving home to fight the Empire's battles. Parade was at midnight. Except for the lighted windows of the barracks, and the rush of hurrying feet, all was dark and quiet. It was more like ordinary night operations than the dramatic departure of a Unit of the First British Expeditionary Force to France.
As the Battalion swung into the road, the Subaltern could not help thinking that this was indeed a queer send-off. A few sergeants' wives, standing at the corner of the Parade ground, were saying good-bye to their friends as they passed. "Good-bye, Bill;" "Good luck, Sam!" Not a hint of emotion in their voices. One might have thought that husbands and fathers went away to risk their lives in war every day of the week. And if the men were at all moved at leaving what had served for their home, they hid it remarkably well. Songs were soon breaking out from all parts of the column of route. As the Club House, and then the Golf Club, stole silently up and disappeared behind him, the Subaltern wondered whether he would ever see them again. But he refused to let his thoughts drift in this channel. Meanwhile, the weight of the mobilisation kit was almost intolerable.
In an hour the station was reached. An engine was shunting up and down, piecing the troop trains together, and in twenty minutes the Battalion was shuffling down the platform, the empty trains on either side. Two companies were to go to each train, twelve men to a third-class compartment, N.C.O.s second class, Officers first. As soon as the men were in their seats, the Subaltern made his way to the seat he had "bagged," and prepared to go to sleep. Another fellow pushed his head through the window and wondered what had become of the regimental transport. Somebody else said he didn't know or care; his valise was always lost, he said; they always made a point of it.
Soon after, they were all asleep, and the train pulled slowly out of the station.
When the Subaltern awoke it was early morning, and they were moving through Hampshire fields at a rather sober pace. He was assailed with a poignant feeling of annoyance and resentment that this war should be forced upon them. England looked so good in the morning sunshine, and the comforts of English civilisation were so hard to leave. The sinister uncertainty of the Future brooded over them like a thunder cloud.
Isolated houses thickened into clusters, streets sprang up, and soon they were in Southampton.
The train pulled up at the Embarkation Station, quite close to the wharf to which some half-dozen steamers were moored. There was little or no delay. The Battalion fell straight into "massed formation," and began immediately to move on to one of the ships. The Colonel stood