Читать книгу An American Crusader at Verdun - Philip Sidney Rice - Страница 8
ОглавлениеQualifying as a Driver
The following morning Norton and I, not having been assigned to cars, were set to work changing a tire. Down on our hands and knees we began to struggle—a few of the men were standing about. Norton laughed softly and whispered to me:
“Have you ever changed a tire before?”
“No,” I said; “have you?”
“No,” chuckled Norton, but we quickly finished the job and felt very proud of our first effort.
A little later I was taken out for a trial ride to prove whether or not I could really drive a Ford car. William Pearl, our volunteer mechanician, went with me on the run. Pearl had been a Rhodes scholar and had joined the Section some time before. A couple of months after that trial drive he and I were destined to have a thrilling and trying experience, in which he was the principal actor.
Cars Waiting for a Run
The trial ride took us along a road for about seven miles, where we came to the brow of a hill. Here we stopped the car and walked out into an open field and there I obtained my first glimpse of the war, spread out before us in a panorama. In the distance, to the left, I could see the city of Rheims, the towers of its desecrated cathedral looming up distinctly. I could see the shells falling and bursting in the city. Pearl informed me, as we stood there, that an average of two thousand shells a day were being dropped on the city. In front of us I could see the hills laid barren by shell fire and scarred by the lines of trenches. Overhead a German aeroplane had crossed the French lines—the anti-aircraft guns had opened fire—little puffs of cloudlike smoke appeared in the sky underneath the plane as it rose to higher altitudes. French planes arose in pursuit and finally the German plane disappeared from sight over its own lines. Directly overhead a bird was singing in a tree just as cheerfully as if there was no such thing as trouble in the world. Looking back in the opposite direction I could see women and young girls working in the vineyards.
As we started to leave the spot Pearl pointed to a town nearby on our left.
“That is the town of Ludes,” he said. “Notice where it is, because you will have to go there when on duty.”
I looked in the direction that he pointed, little realizing that the town of Ludes would be forever associated in my mind with the most tragic incident of my service in France.
Then we turned and drove back to Louvois. That was the full extent of my training for front line work. I was informed that I had qualified as an ambulance driver.
