"God Save the King" and “The Marseillaise". Sitting on my pack after finishing breakfast, I noticed movement in the chateau. The shutters being flung open, and at one of the windows appeared a lady. She opened the window and spoke in French to the Colonel in the courtyard below. I smiled at "Old Ted's" efforts to grasp her meaning. An interpreter explained to him what was meant. Immediately after the "Fall In" sounded, and struggling into our packs, we soon lined up in the customary formation of two were. Beyond a guess that he was complying with a request made by the French lady, we got no further. He formed the battalion in three sides of a square, with the band inside, facing the house. The lady, grey haired, stately, not haughty but charming, stood in view of the troops watching our movements with interest. That this was all for her benefit was obvious, and when the last unit, or section was in place, the Colonel told us that the French madam, would be pleased if we would sing "God Save the King" for her. "Old Ted" was very nervous. He always was in the presence of ladies; he seemed to always find courage when he looked at his boys, as he called us. "haw-drum -major, will-hum-er-your band play "God Save the King"? "Sorry sir, as this is a bugle band it is not possible to do so" replied our battalion musician. Disappointment showed on our C.O's face and he turned to the troops saying, "The Battalion will hae-er-sing "The King". Someone with great courage started it, happily in the right key, and with everyone strict to attention, and the Colonel and his officer's "at the salute" the thousand voices took up the patriotic air, with gusto, and in unison. Even Bill Foster sang. The last note died away on the clear winter air. To me it was inspiring. Our French hostess standing there mute and smiling, pleased at our courtesy, and obviously delighted. Our vocal abilities as a battalion were below par, but with such a well-known tune we got by alright. the next command brought horror and consternation to us. "The Battalion will haw-er-now sing "The Marseillaise". Hardly a man knew it. Some of our French scholars, No.1 section - mentioned before as well-bred and scholarly, hopelessly let us down and instead of a lusty party of a thousand voices doing justice to that wonderfully patriotic air, about 20 voices manfully struggled along, accompanied by a murmur like unto the distance break of surf, as the remainder of the battalion hummed the tune, in various keys. I perspired. I thought the whole French Army would annihilate us for murdering their pet theme, and the grey haired French lady did not flinch she was still there when the massacre was finished. She clapped her hands and hurled bombs of thanks in French. Travers of section 1, said it was thanks, and Foster received a baleful stare upon saying, "What for?" << less