How we Met the late Lord Roberts at
the Front.
The Ypres Times.
133
By A LATE MEMBER OF THE 13TH COUNTY LONDON (T.F.) A.E.P.S.A.
Bonnie France at last boys! After having a lovely moonlight voyage across the
Channel we awoke at early dawn on the 2nd November, 1914, to see the welcome shores
of Le Havre stretching back in the distance. Chug, chug, went the screws of our steamer,
churning up a white foam around her as she prepared to swing in to harbour.
"Qui va la! shouts our captain through a megaphone as a small fishing vessel sails
under our bows, and her answering hail is drowned by the British hurrahs and the strains
of several concertinas playing various melodies, between which could be distinctly heard
the rousing chorus of Tipperary from a huge Red Cross liner that is sailing back to-
Old England. We crowd to the sides of our boat to cheer ourselves hoarse at the brave
fellows who have already partaken in the Great Adventure.
After being three days and nights in a troop train we were for two weeks constantly
marching by day, and billeting by night, till at last we received the information that
we were only ten miles from the firing line and, incidently, our last billet. I remember a
subdued cheer rose to the heavens when this was announced, which was instantly sup
pressed by the order "shun! And "quick march "was the order of the day as we wended
our way out of the town of St. Omer.
The chimney stacks of the last house were gradually disappearing from our view
when the order halt! suddenly rang out, and at that instant a long black varnished
motor car came panting by. I noticed our colonel's hand flash to the salute as he sprang
to attention with a look of admiring recognition at one of the occupants of the car.
The jarring purr of brakes being applied was the result of the colonel's action, and
the car had hardly come to a standstill when out stepped one of England's most illus
trious heroesthat noblest of Earls, Field-Marshal Roberts, V.C.
One thousand throats burned to cheer the Grand Old Man but no order came to.
do so, and mutely we stood at attention whilst he passed through our lines and unofficially-
inspected us.
Officers and men afterwards remarked how ill and worn the hero looked, for certainly
the notice of any casual observer must have been drawn to this fact.
The slight figure of him, now bent with sickness, was determinedly straightened as
he turned to address us.
His words were inaudible to me from where I stood, for an occasional cough would
check their flow. I could see his eyes light up as he spoke, and then I began to under
stand what had made him such a great old man. I gathered from a comrade, who was
quite near to him, how proud he was to learn that London Territorials had volunteered
to keep the old flag flying.
Turning to his car, Lord Roberts stood at attention as we marched past him at the
salute, then entering it, he smilingly looked through the window of the automobile as,
with a warning hoot, it dashed by us to its destination quite close to the firing line.
Two weeks passed by. Many adventures had we experienced during that time
our baptism of fire we had received with a vengeance, and on turning into our billet at
the end of those two weeks we observed a notice to the effect that the noble Lord Roberts
was no more.
He had, I learned, actually passed away the day after we had so unexpectedly met
him.
