No returning hero from the scene of his glory ever received such a
greeting as did the crews of the mighty monsters when they stepped out
of the sheltering internals of their huge bowels. Clad in pants and
boots, littered with grease, dirt and oil, scarred with bruises incurred
as they were thrown from side to side of their armored shelter by the
swaying of the thing, when they stepped from the door to the ground, the
shouts and roaring cheers of ten thousand times ten thousand men
thrilled them with such a thrill, that they felt fully repaid for
everything that they had done that day.
The Tommies grabbed them in their arms, hugged them, slapped them on the
backs and chests until the wind was fairly knocked out of them, and if
we had been Frenchmen instead of Britishers, our mouths would have been
covered with black grease from kisses imprinted on their cheeks.
All night long, long lines of men in gray were passing through our
sector, in some places as many as 50 of them being escorted by one
soldier; German Red Cross men were carrying out our wounded, eagerly
volunteering for this work in the thought that they would find favor by
so doing.
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