The journey was very
slow, and when we reached Calais it was just twelve hours
since we had had a breakfast cup of tea. A few of us decided
to run up to the engine and get some hot water and make some
tea on our own, but the majority hadn't got any tea tablets
or cocoa, and we hadn't enough to go round at a sip each.
The cookers were tightly packed on a truck at the rear, and
there was no hope from that quarter. And then once again,
just as on other occasions where a chance of a hot mug of
tea seemed hopeless, and where we were apparently doomed to
a comfortless time, the Y.M. was at hand. There, as we
glided into Calais station, we espied a long covered-in
counter displaying the familiar sign of the red triangle.
The order quickly came down, and was more quickly put into
execution, that men could get out and go to the canteen. I
have never seen such a rush. We were like a disturbed nest
of ants. I wondered how on earth those ladies would cope
with us, but I under-estimated their resources. As we came
up we were formed into a column of four deep, and only a few
were admitted at a time. At the entrance was a pay box. Here
we had our franc and 5-franc notes turned into pennies, that
the exact money might be given over the counter to save any
delay.
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