me pay for a
single thing--and there was lunch and drinks as well. The further we go
the more enthusiastic is the greeting. What it will be like at the end
of the war one cannot attempt to guess."

Similar tributes to the kindness of the French and Belgians are given by
the men. A private in the Yorkshire Light Infantry--the first British
regiment to go into action in this war--tells of the joy of the French
people. "You ought to have seen them," he writes. "They were overcome
with delight, and didn't half cheer us! The worst of it was we could not
understand their talking. When we crossed the Franco-Belgian frontier,
there was a vast crowd of Belgians waiting for us. Our first greeting
was the big Union Jack, and on the other side was a huge canvas with the
words 'Welcome to our British Comrades.' The Belgians would have given
us anything; they even tore the sheets off their beds for us to wipe our
faces with." Another Tommy tells of the eager crowds turning out to give
our troops "cigars, cigarettes, sweets, fruits, wines, anything we
want," and the girls "linking their arms in ours, and stripping us of
our badges and buttons as souvenirs."

Then there is the other side of the picture, when the first battles had
been fought and the strategic retreat had begun. No praise could be too
high for the chivalry and humanity of our soldiers in these dark days.
They were almost worshiped by the people wherever they went.

Some of the earliest letters from the soldiers present distressing
pictures of the poor, driven refugees, fleeing from their homes at the
approach of the Germans, who carry ruin and desolation wherever they go.
"It is pitiful, pitiful," says one writer; "you simply can't hold back
your tears." Others disclose our sympathetic soldier-men sharing their
rations with the starving fugitives and carrying the children on their
shoulders so that the weary mothers may not fall by the way. "Be
invariably courteous, considerate, and kind" were Lord Kitchener's words
to the Army, and these qualities no less than valor will always be
linked with Tommy Atkins' name in the memories of the French and Belgian
people.

They will never forget the happy spick-and-span soldiers who sang as
they stepped ashore from the troopships at Boulogne and Havre, eager to
reach the fighting line. These men have fought valiantly, desperately,
since then, but their spirits are as high as ever, and their songs still
ring down the depleted