It is true that
the bulk of the German forces are massed against the British lines, and
that in some parts of the centre and the east, owing to the nature of
the ground, they are but thinly strung along the French front, which
accounts partly for the disproportion in the number of kilometres
covered by each Ally. But, also, we had to make our Army; the French,
God be thanked, had theirs ready, and gloriously have they stood the
brunt, as the defenders of civilisation, till we could take our
full share.
And now we, who began with 45 kilometres of the battle-line, have
gradually become responsible for 185, so that "at last," says a French
friend to me in Paris, "our men can have a rest, some of them for the
first time! And, by Heaven, they've earned it!"
Yet, in this "taking over" there are many feelings concerned. For the
French _poilu_ and our Tommy it is mostly the occasion for as much
fraternisation as their fragmentary knowledge of each other's speech
allows; the Frenchman is proud to show his line, the Britisher is proud
to take it over; there are laughter and eager good will; on the whole,
it is a red-letter day.
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