Finally, his patience evaporating, he suddenly turned on the peasant and
shouted at him, "Ong, ong." It took me some time to grasp that this was
Tommy's abbreviated version of "Allez-vous en" ("Clear out"). In any
event it proved quite useless, as he continued to pat the Tommies
affectionately and to bombard them with impracticable suggestions.
We were joined later by three villagers, two gendarmes and a postman,
and all pulling together we managed to extract the rod from the tree. A
large lorry was passing, and on to it we heaved the wreckage. Up
clambered the Tommies followed by their unwelcome friend, who managed to
sit on the only unbroken portion of the side-car. This was too much for
Messrs. Atkins' equanimity. Limp with laughter, we watched them pass
from sight amidst a chorus of "Ong, ong," followed by flights of oratory
in the English tongue which do not bear repeating, but which were
received by the peasant as expressions of deep esteem and to which he
replied by endeavouring to kiss the Tommies and shouting, "Vive
l'Angleterre! Allright! Hoorah!"
Our guiding officer began to show some signs of anxiety to have us leave
before ten o'clock, but the good-byes took some time. Presents were
showered upon us--German _dragees_ (shell heads and pieces of shrapnel)
and the real French _dragees_, the famous sweet of Verdun.
We crept out of the city, but unfortunately at one of the dangerous
cross-roads our chauffeur mistook the route.
Pages:
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55