Life is hard for everyone, even behind the lines. One Pvt. A.J. Abraham, looking back to his arrival in France in 1918, recalls the somewhat bewildering difficulties faced by the good-natured Tommy as he made his way to the front:
The natives took no notice of us until we moved off, then a number of children, carrying trays of chocolate, emerged from doorways and alleys, and bore down on us. A bright pretty little girl of about ten or eleven came prancing up to me with her tray. . . She quoted me one franc for a slab of a make unknown to me . . . and I was able to produce the correct amount. A man in front of me called to the same girl as she turned away from me and said that he would like a similar bar. She handed him one and he proffered half a crown which she snatched and immediately skipped away without offering him any change. As a franc of that time was equivalent to ten pence she had got herself a dissatisfied customer and he called out to her, “Here, what about my change?” This sweet little girl replied, “Garn you fuckin long barstid” and galloped off to another part of the column.
Oh dear.
