Explore "A Surgeon in Khaki" by Arthur Anderson Martin on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
FROM THE BAY OF BISCAY TO EAST OF PARIS.
After having received these definite orders I got my kit again conveyed to the _Cestrian_ transport and slept that night in my old corner of the smoking-room. At 2.45 a.m. the surgeons detailed to join the army were up. A hasty cup of coffee and an apology for a wash-and we were down the ship-side, and on the way to the _gare_. The railway station at St. Nazaire at this time looked quite picturesque in the early morning. Its platforms were covered with straw, and rows of sleeping French soldiers lay comfortably around, while a stolid Grenadier sentry stood propped against the wall. There is no hurry at a French military station. The train was timed to start at 4 a.m., but that did not matter. At 5 a.m. it was quite ready. "C'est la guerre."