We went up the road around 8.30, for the Germans had a
habit of shelling at 9 o'clock. Sometimes they broke their rule, and
began lopping them in at half-past eight. Then we had to wait till ten.
We kept water hot for sterilizing instruments. We sat around, reading,
thinking, chatting, letter-writing, waiting for something to happen.
There would be long days of waiting. There were days when there was no
shelling. Besides the wounded, we had visits from important
personages--the Mayor of Paris, the Queen of the Belgians, officers from
headquarters, Maxine Elliott. For a very special supper, we would jug a
Belgian hare or cook curry and rice, and add beer, jam, and black army
bread. An officer gave us an order for one hundred kilos of meat, and we
could send daily for it. On Christmas Day, 1914, for eight of us, we had
plum puddings, a bottle of port, a bottle of champagne, a tiny pheasant
and a small chicken, and a box of candies. We had a steady stream of
shells, and a few wounded. It was a day of sunshine on a light fall of
snow.
I learned in the Pervyse work that an up-to-date skirt is no good for a
man's work. With rain five days out of seven, rubber boots, breeches,
raincoat, two pairs of stockings, and three jerseys are the correct
costume. We were criticized for going to Dunkirk in breeches. So I put
on a skirt one time when I went there for supplies.
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