could produce. Never again, I suppose, will there be such a many-sided array of experts at the disposal of the troops. It is only right that I, who had dossiers of the qualifications of each of them, as no other had, should make this fact known. And the troops got all their instruction gratis. This too, they one and all appreciated. Many a time they said and wrote to me, ‘We’ll never get the like of this again, for nothing.’ And they never will. A guinea an hour is what they would have had to pay in England.
But now that the Army of Occupation was more or less settling down, we were told that the Army there would teach itself – we were to restrict ourselves to the Army in France. Many a regretful note I had to send and receive from the Army of Occupation. And the Army in France was being demobilised – and quickly too. Our work was petering out. Only the local work with the Base Troops was really important now – as they would be the longest in France. We were a Demobilisation Port, and troops en route for England usually remained only three days – of that more again.
One fine morning, however, my old Chief sent round for me. ‘I have some work for you,’ he said, ‘if you can take it on. Do you know who have arrived?’ I shook my head. ‘The Glasgow Highlanders,’ he told me, ‘at Arques-la-Chapelle, six kilos from here. They’ve marched all the way from Mons and will be here for a month. Their Instructor has gone sick and they’ve sent Transport down for another this morning. Will you go?’ Would I go! There was a twinkle in the Chief’s eye as he spoke. ‘I daren’t send them an English Instructor, you know,’ he went on, ‘Circe wanted to go.’ She would, I reflected – new troops. ‘But I said they’d like you best. Run away, the car’s waiting.’
I needed no second bidding. In the hall I met the Philosopher. ‘Where are you going to now?’ he enquired. ‘You’ve just come.’
‘So have the Scotch troops,’ I told him breathlessly. ‘From Mons. And they’ve asked for Education before they’ve taken off their boots. Scotland for ever!’ and I dashed off, leaving him perhaps a bit amazed. But once in the car, I began to reflect. I did not even know what instruction they had asked for. And if there was a whole battalion of them – in the open air! I had never taught Scotch troops before. All I knew was they would be different from English.
At length the car pulled up at the Camp and I went down the duckboard path. Short, squat figures in kilts looked at me cautiously as I passed, but no one said, ‘Good morning.’ English troops would have. At length I met the Adjutant, calm and cool. He produced some books – a very difficult and rather stodgy English grammar and a French conversation book. The men were in there – did I think I could keep order? They had never been taught by a woman before. Would I like him to be present – like a policeman, I said to myself. ‘Oh no, thank you,’ I laughed, ‘I’m Scotch myself – I think I can keep order,’ and I went in.
The men were sitting pretty well all over the Hut – many of them had replicas of the dull grammar, but most had illustrated papers, which they were hoping to read. At my entrance, the Sergeant called them to attention, numbered them off smartly, and presented two Companies for my instruction. He departed – I bade the men sit down, which they did in stiff rows. They stared at me in amused curiosity and their reluctant fingers played with their grammars. ‘Come and sit nearer,’ I invited. ‘I can’t see you over there. No – round this way’ – as a man sat bolt in front of me. ‘Now put away your grammars. We are not going to have any books today. Anybody here from Glasgow?’ Three or four sat up. ‘Well, I’ve sailed down the Broomielaw myself. But I don’t come from Glasgow. Anybody from further North?’ There were a few from Argyllshire, but most were from Lanark or Dumbarton. ‘Oh!’ I
But now that the Army of Occupation was more or less settling down, we were told that the Army there would teach itself – we were to restrict ourselves to the Army in France. Many a regretful note I had to send and receive from the Army of Occupation. And the Army in France was being demobilised – and quickly too. Our work was petering out. Only the local work with the Base Troops was really important now – as they would be the longest in France. We were a Demobilisation Port, and troops en route for England usually remained only three days – of that more again.
One fine morning, however, my old Chief sent round for me. ‘I have some work for you,’ he said, ‘if you can take it on. Do you know who have arrived?’ I shook my head. ‘The Glasgow Highlanders,’ he told me, ‘at Arques-la-Chapelle, six kilos from here. They’ve marched all the way from Mons and will be here for a month. Their Instructor has gone sick and they’ve sent Transport down for another this morning. Will you go?’ Would I go! There was a twinkle in the Chief’s eye as he spoke. ‘I daren’t send them an English Instructor, you know,’ he went on, ‘Circe wanted to go.’ She would, I reflected – new troops. ‘But I said they’d like you best. Run away, the car’s waiting.’
I needed no second bidding. In the hall I met the Philosopher. ‘Where are you going to now?’ he enquired. ‘You’ve just come.’
‘So have the Scotch troops,’ I told him breathlessly. ‘From Mons. And they’ve asked for Education before they’ve taken off their boots. Scotland for ever!’ and I dashed off, leaving him perhaps a bit amazed. But once in the car, I began to reflect. I did not even know what instruction they had asked for. And if there was a whole battalion of them – in the open air! I had never taught Scotch troops before. All I knew was they would be different from English.
At length the car pulled up at the Camp and I went down the duckboard path. Short, squat figures in kilts looked at me cautiously as I passed, but no one said, ‘Good morning.’ English troops would have. At length I met the Adjutant, calm and cool. He produced some books – a very difficult and rather stodgy English grammar and a French conversation book. The men were in there – did I think I could keep order? They had never been taught by a woman before. Would I like him to be present – like a policeman, I said to myself. ‘Oh no, thank you,’ I laughed, ‘I’m Scotch myself – I think I can keep order,’ and I went in.
The men were sitting pretty well all over the Hut – many of them had replicas of the dull grammar, but most had illustrated papers, which they were hoping to read. At my entrance, the Sergeant called them to attention, numbered them off smartly, and presented two Companies for my instruction. He departed – I bade the men sit down, which they did in stiff rows. They stared at me in amused curiosity and their reluctant fingers played with their grammars. ‘Come and sit nearer,’ I invited. ‘I can’t see you over there. No – round this way’ – as a man sat bolt in front of me. ‘Now put away your grammars. We are not going to have any books today. Anybody here from Glasgow?’ Three or four sat up. ‘Well, I’ve sailed down the Broomielaw myself. But I don’t come from Glasgow. Anybody from further North?’ There were a few from Argyllshire, but most were from Lanark or Dumbarton. ‘Oh!’ I
Similar Books
