BRITISH TOMMIES ON THE MOVE

Manawatu Times, Volume 64, Issue 308, 30 December 1939, Page 2

BRITISH TOMMIES ON THE MOVE

A Pen Picture from France

Every day iron-grey troop transports slip inconspicuously into the harhour, bringing fresh instalments of British soldiers for service in France. One particular convoy, like all its predecessors, successfully outwitted the enemy U boats and mines, and reached its destination with the punctuality of a cross-channel steamer, writes one Tommy “from a French port.’*

we sailed from our home port, spirits were high. There had been no affecting leave-takings at the dock, and embarkation had already provided its jokes. For instance, a lifebelt was reported to have fallen overboard and promptly sunk. As we slipped put of harbour two of the transports were sailing neck and neck, and the Tommies immediately turned it into a race. They crowded to the side and yelled jokes and goodhumoured insults across to one another. One ship struck up “Tipperary” and the other promptly replied with “Mademoiselle from Armentieres.” On board a family atmosphere was created immediately. The decks and saloons, where peacetime passengers had whiled away the voyage, were now crammed to capacity with 1,500 soldiers in a holiday mood. Here, fortunes in halfpennies were being lost and won on cards. There, a musician was entertaining his friends with a mouth-organ. Many were reading the last English newspapers they would see for days. Tea Out of a Shaving Mug. There was a babel of accents and dialects—a cross-section of England. An eloquent cockney ordered a group 3f soft-voiced Midlanders out of the way as he staggered by with a bucket full of very strong sweet tea.* Soon everybody was drinking. Vessels of every description were produced and a padre filled his shaving nug and offered it to a pretty hospital nurse. People began to sort themselves out and settle down for the voyage. Orders were issued that lifebelts must be worn throughout the voyage, and soon everyone was exchanging notes about the banner in which they were able to be adjusted. “When you jump into the water, aold your belt with your hands, or you will break your neck,” said those who knew. Resting-places were found in gangways, saloons, staircases and odd comers of the decks. Rations were produced, more tea was brewed, and everyone settled down for a meal. In the dining-room saloon the officers had eggs and bacon. Among officers and men the conversation ran on much the same lines: Where are we going? What are we going to do? What is Hitler going to do? What is Russia up to? ana so on. There was a rusn for paper and pencils when a notice went up saying that letters might be posted in a box on board. In the washplaces a steady stream of men bared themselves to the waist and maintained the British reputation for cleanliness. Here and there about the ship spontaneous bursts of song broke forth, rather tentatively, for the war songs of this war have not yet been decided on. The songs of 25 years ago are still the favourites. We picked up our escort, and all

the way across the destroyers hovered around US shepherding us among the dangers of the channel. Sightseeing and Shopping. The officers gathered in the smokingroom to hear orders issued. In the middle of it the loudspeaker in the room suddenly began to play Chopin It was some time before anyone coul contrive to put it out pf action. Many pf the men who had never been to sea before were surprised and proud that they were not seasick. “We ought to have joined the navy.” they said. When the French coast became clearly visible the troops crowded to the side to catch what was fort many of them, the first glimpse of a foreign land. One by one the four transports slipped into the French harbour. The destroyers turned round and set off home to collect the next batch. The voyage was over. Another convoy had arrived safely. Before going on to their bases, the British Tommies in France are managing to put in some shopping at the port where they arrive. Every day fresh ship loads of them swarm through the streets, enjoying their new experiences. Shopping consists of pointing to what you want, tendering your largest banknote, and receiving the change the shopkeeper gives you. Or, alternatively you can hold out a handful of coins and let the shopkeeper take what he wants. The inhabitants regard their British customers with indulgent smiles, for business is good. Many have hastened to put up signs saying “English spoken,” though this is often overstating the case. One shop adds, "Same prices for English and French people.” In particular, the old women who sell chipped potatoes at stalls in the streets are doing a roaring trade. Groups of Tommies fraternising with French sailors are a common sight in the streets. Every now and then a troop train departs with cheering soldiers at the windows. They have no idea where they are going. But this does not dampen their spirits in the least. On the outskirts of the town there is a transit camp, at present largely occupied by a famous infantry regiment. When the British took it over the accomadation was not ideal. One of the previous occupants was asked where the douches were and replied, "I don’t know. I’ve only been here six months.” But now there is a home-like atmosphere. Outside, on the grass, the inevitable strong tea is constantly being brewed. On every bush freshly washed socks and underwear are hung out to dry. Men roam here and there seeking blackberries, which are just about ripe. The men have adopted a homeless dog, which now has the free run of the camp.