Page:War's dark frame (IA warsdarkframe00camp).pdf/143

Rh feet, about to reach for two sandwiches I had stuffed in my raincoat before leaving Paris. They ceased to interest. Officers stood in the corridor, gazing tensely from the window. Those who boast they can identify war 'planes are in- variably uncertain at such a moment.

"Is it a Boche?"

“If it is, he's sure to drop his card on us."

“This train isn't such an easy hit. Hello!"

Conversation became general in the carriages. Some one laughed. Without warning the machine had swooped downwards and had disappeared behind the trees. Those dry sandwiches drew glances of envy.

Before they were eaten the line swung towards the sea, and with the first sparkling of water came the sheen of innumerable tents. This coast, remembered as a mecca of holiday makers, had become a vast encampment for Kitchener's volunteers—the men destined soon to be brought up for the great squeeze.

To the right in a field which rolled broadly towards green and treeless hills several companies of infantry seemed at some incomprehensible game. A hundred yards in front of them stood a series of posts between which cumbersome sacks depended at approximately the height of a man. The arrangement suggested the tackling dummies