"Yes," she insisted, "they are already taking the
horses out of the ploughs and carts." I said: "We had better go back to
town as quick as we can," and my friend assented with a troubled look:
"Yes, you had better." As we passed through villages on our way back we
saw mobs of horses assembled on the commons with soldiers guarding them,
and groups of villagers looking on silently at the officers with their
note-books checking deliveries and writing out receipts. Some old
peasant women were already weeping aloud.
When our car drew up at the door of the hotel, the manager himself came
to help my wife out. In the first moment I did not quite recognise him.
His luxuriant black locks were gone, his head was closely cropped, and as
I glanced at it he smiled and said: "I shall sleep at the barracks to-
night."
I cannot reproduce the atmosphere of that night, the first night after
mobilisation. The shops and the gateways of the houses were of course
closed, but all through the dark hours the town hummed with voices; the
echoes of distant shouts entered the open windows of our bedroom. Groups
of men talking noisily walked in the middle of the roadway escorted by
distressed women: men of all callings and of all classes going to report
themselves at the fortress.
Pages:
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257