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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Yankee in the Trenches, by R. Derby Holmes
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Yankee in the Trenches
+
+Author: R. Derby Holmes
+
+Release Date: August 25, 2004 [EBook #13279]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A YANKEE IN THE TRENCHES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Janet Kegg and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ [Illustration: CORPORAL HOLMES IN THE UNIFORM OF THE 22ND LONDON
+ BATTALION, QUEEN'S ROYAL WEST SURREY REGIMENT, H.M. IMPERIAL ARMY.
+ _Frontispiece_.]
+
+
+A YANKEE IN THE TRENCHES
+
+By
+
+R. DERBY HOLMES
+
+CORPORAL OF THE 22D LONDON BATTALION OF THE
+QUEEN'S ROYAL WEST SURREY REGIMENT
+
+
+_ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS_
+
+
+BOSTON
+LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
+1918
+
+
+
+  Dedication
+
+  TO MARION A. PUTTEE, SOUTHALL, MIDDLESEX,
+  ENGLAND, I DEDICATE THIS BOOK AS A
+  TOKEN OF APPRECIATION FOR ALL THE LOVING
+  THOUGHTS AND DEEDS BESTOWED UPON ME
+  WHEN I WAS A STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND
+
+
+
+
+FOREWORD
+
+
+I have tried as an American in writing this book to give the public
+a complete view of the trenches and life on the Western Front as it
+appeared to me, and also my impression of conditions and men as I
+found them. It has been a pleasure to write it, and now that I have
+finished I am genuinely sorry that I cannot go further. On the
+lecture tour I find that people ask me questions, and I have tried
+in this book to give in detail many things about the quieter side
+of war that to an audience would seem too tame. I feel that the
+public want to know how the soldiers live when not in the trenches,
+for all the time out there is not spent in killing and carnage. As
+in the case of all men in the trenches, I heard things and stories
+that especially impressed me, so I have written them as hearsay,
+not taking to myself credit as their originator. I trust that the
+reader will find as much joy in the cockney character as I did and
+which I have tried to show the public; let me say now that no finer
+body of men than those Bermondsey boys of my battalion could be
+found.
+
+I think it fair to say that in compiling the trench terms at the
+end of this book I have not copied any war book, but I have given
+in each case my own version of the words, though I will confess
+that the idea and necessity of having such a list sprang from
+reading Sergeant Empey's "Over the Top." It would be impossible to
+write a book that the people would understand without the aid of
+such a glossary.
+
+It is my sincere wish that after reading this book the reader may
+have a clearer conception of what this great world war means and
+what our soldiers are contending with, and that it may awaken the
+American people to the danger of Prussianism so that when in the
+future there is a call for funds for Liberty Loans, Red Cross work,
+or Y.M.C.A., there will be no slacking, for they form the real
+triangular sign to a successful termination of this terrible
+conflict.
+
+R. DERBY HOLMES.
+
+
+
+
+       CONTENTS
+
+
+       FOREWORD
+     I JOINING THE BRITISH ARMY
+    II GOING IN
+   III A TRENCH RAID
+    IV A FEW DAYS' REST IN BILLETS
+     V FEEDING THE TOMMIES
+    VI HIKING TO VIMY RIDGE
+   VII FASCINATION OF PATROL WORK
+  VIII ON THE GO
+    IX FIRST SIGHT OF THE TANKS
+     X FOLLOWING THE TANKS INTO BATTLE
+    XI PRISONERS
+   XII I BECOME A BOMBER
+  XIII BACK ON THE SOMME AGAIN
+   XIV THE LAST TIME OVER THE TOP
+    XV BITS OF BLIGHTY
+   XVI SUGGESTIONS FOR "SAMMY"
+       GLOSSARY OF ARMY SLANG
+
+
+
+
+  LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+  Corporal Holmes in the Uniform of the 22nd London
+    Battalion, Queen's Royal West Surrey Regiment, H.M.
+    Imperial Army  _Frontispiece_
+
+  Reduced Facsimile of Discharge Certificate of Character
+
+  A Heavy Howitzer, Under Camouflage
+
+  Over the Top on a Raid
+
+  Cooking Under Difficulties
+
+  Head-on View of a British Tank
+
+  Corporal Holmes with Staff Nurse and Another Patient, at
+    Fulham Military Hospital, London, S.W.
+
+  Corporal Holmes with Company Office Force, at Winchester,
+    England, a Week Prior to Discharge
+
+
+
+
+
+A YANKEE IN THE TRENCHES
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+JOINING THE BRITISH ARMY
+
+
+Once, on the Somme in the fall of 1916, when I had been over the
+top and was being carried back somewhat disfigured but still in the
+ring, a cockney stretcher bearer shot this question at me:
+
+"Hi sye, Yank. Wot th' bloody 'ell are you in this bloomin' row
+for? Ayen't there no trouble t' 'ome?"
+
+And for the life of me I couldn't answer. After more than a year in
+the British service I could not, on the spur of the moment, say
+exactly why I was there.
+
+To be perfectly frank with myself and with the reader I had no very
+lofty motives when I took the King's shilling. When the great war
+broke out, I was mildly sympathetic with England, and mighty sorry
+in an indefinite way for France and Belgium; but my sympathies were
+not strong enough in any direction to get me into uniform with a
+chance of being killed. Nor, at first, was I able to work up any
+compelling hate for Germany. The abstract idea of democracy did not
+figure in my calculations at all.
+
+However, as the war went on, it became apparent to me, as I suppose
+it must have to everybody, that the world was going through one of
+its epochal upheavals; and I figured that with so much history in
+the making, any unattached young man would be missing it if he did
+not take a part in the big game.
+
+I had the fondness for adventure usual in young men. I liked to see
+the wheels go round. And so it happened that, when the war was
+about a year and a half old, I decided to get in before it was too
+late.
+
+On second thought I won't say that it was purely love for adventure
+that took me across. There may have been in the back of my head a
+sneaking extra fondness for France, perhaps instinctive, for I was
+born in Paris, although my parents were American and I was brought
+to Boston as a baby and have lived here since.
+
+Whatever my motives for joining the British army, they didn't have
+time to crystallize until I had been wounded and sent to Blighty,
+which is trench slang for England. While recuperating in one of the
+pleasant places of the English country-side, I had time to acquire
+a perspective and to discover that I had been fighting for
+democracy and the future safety of the world. I think that my
+experience in this respect is like that of most of the young
+Americans who have volunteered for service under a foreign flag.
+
+I decided to get into the big war game early in 1916. My first
+thought was to go into the ambulance service, as I knew several men
+in that work. One of them described the driver's life about as
+follows. He said:
+
+"The _blessés_ curse you because you jolt them. The doctors curse
+you because you don't get the _blessés_ in fast enough. The
+Transport Service curse you because you get in the way. You eat
+standing up and don't sleep at all. You're as likely as anybody to
+get killed, and all the glory you get is the War Cross, if you're
+lucky, and you don't get a single chance to kill a Hun."
+
+That settled the ambulance for me. I hadn't wanted particularly to
+kill a Hun until it was suggested that I mightn't. Then I wanted to
+slaughter a whole division.
+
+So I decided on something where there would be fighting. And having
+decided, I thought I would "go the whole hog" and work my way
+across to England on a horse transport.
+
+One day in the first part of February I went, at what seemed an
+early hour, to an office on Commercial Street, Boston, where they
+were advertising for horse tenders for England. About three hundred
+men were earlier than I. It seemed as though every beach-comber and
+patriot in New England was trying to get across. I didn't get the
+job, but filed my application and was lucky enough to be signed on
+for a sailing on February 22 on the steam-ship _Cambrian_, bound
+for London.
+
+ [Illustration: REDUCED FACSIMILE OF DISCHARGE CERTIFICATE OF
+ CHARACTER.]
+
+We spent the morning of Washington's Birthday loading the horses.
+These government animals were selected stock and full of ginger.
+They seemed to know that they were going to France and resented it
+keenly. Those in my care seemed to regard my attentions as a
+personal affront.
+
+We had a strenuous forenoon getting the horses aboard, and sailed
+at noon. After we had herded in the livestock, some of the officers
+herded up the herders. I drew a pink slip with two numbers on it,
+one showing the compartment where I was supposed to sleep, the
+other indicating my bunk.
+
+That compartment certainly was a glory-hole. Most of the men had
+been drunk the night before, and the place had the rich, balmy
+fragrance of a water-front saloon. Incidentally there was a good
+deal of unauthorized and undomesticated livestock. I made a limited
+acquaintance with that pretty, playful little creature, the
+"cootie," who was to become so familiar in the trenches later on.
+He wasn't called a cootie aboard ship, but he was the same bird.
+
+Perhaps the less said about that trip across the better. It lasted
+twenty-one days. We fed the animals three times a day and cleaned
+the stalls once on the trip. I got chewed up some and stepped on a
+few times. Altogether the experience was good intensive training
+for the trench life to come; especially the bunks. Those sleeping
+quarters sure were close and crawly.
+
+We landed in London on Saturday night about nine-thirty. The
+immigration inspectors gave us a quick examination and we were
+turned back to the shipping people, who paid us off,--two pounds,
+equal to about ten dollars real change.
+
+After that we rode on the train half an hour and then marched
+through the streets, darkened to fool the Zeps. Around one o'clock
+we brought up at Thrawl Street, at the lodgings where we were
+supposed to stop until we were started for home.
+
+The place where we were quartered was a typical London doss house.
+There were forty beds in the room with mine, all of them occupied.
+All hands were snoring, and the fellow in the next cot was going
+it with the cut-out wide open, breaking all records. Most of the
+beds sagged like a hammock. Mine humped up in the middle like a
+pile of bricks.
+
+I was up early and was directed to the place across the way where
+we were to eat. It was labeled "Mother Wolf's. The Universal
+Provider." She provided just one meal of weak tea, moldy bread, and
+rancid bacon for me. After that I went to a hotel. I may remark in
+passing that horse tenders, going or coming or in between whiles,
+do not live on the fat of the land.
+
+I spent the day--it was Sunday--seeing the sights of Whitechapel,
+Middlesex Street or Petticoat Lane, and some of the slums. Next
+morning it was pretty clear to me that two pounds don't go far in
+the big town. I promptly boarded the first bus for Trafalgar
+Square. The recruiting office was just down the road in Whitehall
+at the old Scotland Yard office.
+
+I had an idea when I entered that recruiting office that the
+sergeant would receive me with open arms. He didn't. Instead he
+looked me over with unqualified scorn and spat out, "Yank, ayen't
+ye?"
+
+And I in my innocence briefly answered, "Yep."
+
+"We ayen't tykin' no nootrals," he said, with a sneer. And then:
+"Better go back to Hamerika and 'elp Wilson write 'is blinkin'
+notes."
+
+Well, I was mad enough to poke that sergeant in the eye. But I
+didn't. I retired gracefully and with dignity.
+
+At the door another sergeant hailed me, whispering behind his hand,
+"Hi sye, mytie. Come around in the mornin'. Hi'll get ye in." And
+so it happened.
+
+Next day my man was waiting and marched me boldly up to the same
+chap who had refused me the day before.
+
+"'Ere's a recroot for ye, Jim," says my friend.
+
+Jim never batted an eye. He began to "awsk" questions and to fill
+out a blank. When he got to the birthplace, my guide cut in and
+said, "Canada."
+
+The only place I knew in Canada was Campobello Island, a place
+where we camped one summer, and I gave that. I don't think that
+anything but rabbits was ever born on Campobello, but it went. For
+that matter anything went. I discovered afterward that the sergeant
+who had captured me on the street got five bob (shillings) for me.
+
+The physical examination upstairs was elaborate. They told me to
+strip, weighed me, and said I was fit. After that I was taken in to
+an officer--a real officer this time--who made me put my hand on a
+Bible and say yes to an oath he rattled off. Then he told me I was
+a member of the Royal Fusiliers, gave me two shillings, sixpence
+and ordered me to report at the Horse Guards Parade next day. I was
+in the British army,--just like that!
+
+I spent the balance of the day seeing the sights of London, and
+incidentally spending my coin. When I went around to the Horse
+Guards next morning, two hundred others, new rookies like myself,
+were waiting. An officer gave me another two shillings, sixpence. I
+began to think that if the money kept coming along at that rate the
+British army might turn out a good investment. It didn't.
+
+That morning I was sent out to Hounslow Barracks, and three days
+later was transferred to Dover with twenty others. I was at Dover a
+little more than two months and completed my training there.
+
+Our barracks at Dover was on the heights of the cliffs, and on
+clear days we could look across the Channel and see the dim
+outlines of France. It was a fascination for all of us to look away
+over there and to wonder what fortunes were to come to us on the
+battle fields of Europe. It was perhaps as well that none of us had
+imagination enough to visualize the things that were ahead.
+
+I found the rookies at Dover a jolly, companionable lot, and I
+never found the routine irksome. We were up at five-thirty, had
+cocoa and biscuits, and then an hour of physical drill or bayonet
+practice. At eight came breakfast of tea, bacon, and bread, and
+then we drilled until twelve. Dinner. Out again on the parade
+ground until three thirty. After that we were free.
+
+Nights we would go into Dover and sit around the "pubs" drinking
+ale, or "ayle" as the cockney says it.
+
+After a few weeks, when we were hardened somewhat, they began to
+inflict us with the torture known as "night ops." That means going
+out at ten o'clock under full pack, hiking several miles, and then
+"manning" the trenches around the town and returning to barracks at
+three A.M.
+
+This wouldn't have been so bad if we had been excused parades the
+following day. But no. We had the same old drills except the early
+one, but were allowed to "kip" until seven.
+
+In the two months I completed the musketry course, was a good
+bayonet man, and was well grounded in bombing practice. Besides
+that I was as hard as nails and had learned thoroughly the system
+of British discipline.
+
+I had supposed that it took at least six months to make a
+soldier,--in fact had been told that one could not be turned out
+who would be ten per cent efficient in less than that time. That
+old theory is all wrong. Modern warfare changes so fast that the
+only thing that can be taught a man is the basic principles of
+discipline, bombing, trench warfare, and musketry. Give him those
+things, a well-conditioned body, and a baptism of fire, and he will
+be right there with the veterans, doing his bit.
+
+Two months was all our crowd got at any rate, and they were as good
+as the best, if I do say it.
+
+My training ended abruptly with a furlough of five days for
+Embarkation Leave, that is, leave before going to France. This is a
+sort of good-by vacation. Most fellows realize fully that it may be
+their last look at Blighty, and they take it rather solemnly. To a
+stranger without friends in England I can imagine that this
+Embarkation Leave would be either a mighty lonesome, dismal affair,
+or a stretch of desperate, homesick dissipation. A chap does want
+to say good-by to some one before he goes away, perhaps to die. He
+wants to be loved and to have some one sorry that he is going.
+
+I was invited by one of my chums to spend the leave with him at his
+home in Southall, Middlesex. His father, mother and sister welcomed
+me in a way that made me know it was my home from the minute I
+entered the door. They took me into their hearts with a simple
+hospitality and whole-souled kindness that I can never forget. I
+was a stranger in a strange land and they made me one of their own.
+I shall never be able to repay all the loving thoughts and deeds of
+that family and shall remember them while I live. My chum's mother
+I call Mother too. It is to her that I have dedicated this book.
+
+After my delightful few days of leave, things moved fast. I was
+back in Dover just two days when I, with two hundred other men, was
+sent to Winchester. Here we were notified that we were transferred
+to the Queen's Royal West Surrey Regiment.
+
+This news brought a wild howl from the men. They wanted to stop
+with the Fusiliers. It is part of the British system that every man
+is taught the traditions and history of his regiment and to _know_
+that his is absolutely the best in the whole army. In a
+surprisingly short time they get so they swear by their own
+regiment and by their officers, and they protest bitterly at a
+transfer.
+
+Personally I didn't care a rap. I had early made up my mind that I
+was a very small pebble on the beach and that it was up to me to
+obey orders and keep my mouth shut.
+
+On June 17, some eighteen hundred of us were moved down to
+Southampton and put aboard the transport for Havre. The next day we
+were in France, at Harfleur, the central training camp outside
+Havre.
+
+We were supposed to undergo an intensive training at Harfleur in
+the various forms of gas and protection from it, barbed wire and
+methods of construction of entanglements, musketry, bombing, and
+bayonet fighting.
+
+Harfleur was a miserable place. They refused to let us go in town
+after drill. Also I managed to let myself in for something that
+would have kept me in camp if town leave had been allowed.
+
+The first day there was a call for a volunteer for musketry
+instructor. I had qualified and jumped at it. When I reported, an
+old Scotch sergeant told me to go to the quartermaster for
+equipment. I said I already had full equipment. Whereupon the
+sergeant laughed a rumbling Scotch laugh and told me I had to go
+into kilts, as I was assigned to a Highland contingent.
+
+I protested with violence and enthusiasm, but it didn't do any
+good. They gave me a dinky little pleated petticoat, and when I
+demanded breeks to wear underneath, I got the merry ha ha. Breeks
+on a Scotchman? Never!
+
+Well, I got into the fool things, and I felt as though I was naked
+from ankle to wishbone. I couldn't get used to the outfit. I am
+naturally a modest man. Besides, my architecture was never intended
+for bare-leg effects. I have no dimples in my knees.
+
+So I began an immediate campaign for transfer back to the Surreys.
+I got it at the end of ten days, and with it came a hurry call from
+somewhere at the front for more troops.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+GOING IN
+
+
+The excitement of getting away from camp and the knowledge that we
+were soon to get into the thick of the big game pleased most of us.
+We were glad to go. At least we thought so.
+
+Two hundred of us were loaded into side-door Pullmans, forty to the
+car. It was a kind of sardine or Boston Elevated effect, and by the
+time we reached Rouen, twenty-four hours later, we had kinks in our
+legs and corns on our elbows. Also we were hungry, having had
+nothing but bully beef and biscuits. We made "char", which is
+trench slang for tea, in the station, and after two hours moved up
+the line again, this time in real coaches.
+
+Next night we were billeted at Barlin--don't get that mixed up with
+Berlin, it's not the same--in an abandoned convent within range of
+the German guns. The roar of artillery was continuous and sounded
+pretty close.
+
+Now and again a shell would burst near by with a kind of hollow
+"spung", but for some reason we didn't seem to mind. I had expected
+to get the shivers at the first sound of the guns and was surprised
+when I woke up in the morning after a solid night's sleep.
+
+A message came down from the front trenches at daybreak that we
+were wanted and wanted quick. We slung together a dixie of char and
+some bacon and bread for breakfast, and marched around to the
+"quarters", where they issued "tin hats", extra "ammo", and a
+second gas helmet. A good many of the men had been out before, and
+they did the customary "grousing" over the added load.
+
+The British Tommy growls or grouses over anything and everything.
+He's never happy unless he's unhappy. He resents especially having
+anything officially added to his pack, and you can't blame him, for
+in full equipment he certainly is all dressed up like a pack horse.
+
+After the issue we were split up into four lots for the four
+companies of the battalion, and after some "wangling" I got into
+Company C, where I stopped all the time I was in France. I was
+glad, because most of my chums were in that unit.
+
+We got into our packs and started up the line immediately. As we
+neared the lines we were extended into artillery formation, that
+is, spread out so that a shell bursting in the road would inflict
+fewer casualties.
+
+At Bully-Grenay, the point where we entered the communication
+trenches, guides met us and looked us over, commenting most frankly
+and freely on our appearance. They didn't seem to think we would
+amount to much, and said so. They agreed that the "bloomin' Yank"
+must be a "bloody fool" to come out there. There were times later
+when I agreed with them.
+
+It began to rain as we entered the communication trench, and I had
+my first taste of mud. That is literal, for with mud knee-deep in a
+trench just wide enough for two men to pass you get smeared from
+head to foot.
+
+Incidentally, as we approached nearer the front, I got my first
+smell of the dead. It is something you never get away from in the
+trenches. So many dead have been buried so hastily and so lightly
+that they are constantly being uncovered by shell bursts. The acrid
+stench pervades everything, and is so thick you can fairly taste
+it. It makes nearly everybody deathly sick at first, but one
+becomes used to it as to anything else.
+
+This communication trench was over two miles long, and it seemed
+like twenty. We finally landed in a support trench called
+"Mechanics" (every trench has a name, like a street), and from
+there into the first-line trench.
+
+I have to admit a feeling of disappointment in that first trench. I
+don't know what I expected to see, but what I did see was just a
+long, crooked ditch with a low step running along one side, and
+with sandbags on top. Here and there was a muddy, bedraggled Tommy
+half asleep, nursing a dirty and muddy rifle on "sentry go."
+Everything was very quiet at the moment--no rifles popping, as I
+had expected, no bullets flying, and, as it happened, absolutely no
+shelling in the whole sector.
+
+I forgot to say that we had come up by daylight. Ordinarily troops
+are moved at night, but the communication trench from Bully-Grenay
+was very deep and was protected at points by little hills, and it
+was possible to move men in the daytime.
+
+Arrived in the front trench, the sergeant-major appeared, crawling
+out of his dug-out--the usual place for a sergeant-major--and
+greeted us with,
+
+"Keep your nappers down, you rooks. Don't look over the top. It
+ayen't 'ealthy."
+
+It is the regular warning to new men. For some reason the first
+emotion of the rookie is an overpowering curiosity. He wants to
+take a peep into No Man's Land. It feels safe enough when things
+are quiet. But there's always a Fritzie over yonder with a
+telescope-sighted rifle, and it's about ten to one he'll get you if
+you stick the old "napper" up in daylight.
+
+The Germans, by the way, have had the "edge" on the Allies in the
+matter of sniping, as in almost all lines of artillery and musketry
+practice. The Boche sniper is nearly always armed with a
+periscope-telescope rifle. This is a specially built super-accurate
+rifle mounted on a periscope frame. It is thrust up over the
+parapet and the image of the opposing parapet is cast on a little
+ground-glass screen on which are two crossed lines. At one hundred
+fifty yards or less the image is brought up to touching distance
+seemingly. Fritz simply trains his piece on some low place or
+anywhere that a head may be expected. When one appears on the
+screen, he pulls the trigger,--and you "click it" if you happen to
+be on the other or receiving end. The shooter never shows himself.
+
+I remember the first time I looked through a periscope I had no
+sooner thrust the thing up than a bullet crashed into the upper
+mirror, splintering it. Many times I have stuck up a cap on a stick
+and had it pierced.
+
+The British sniper, on the other hand--at least in my time--had a
+plain telescope rifle and had to hide himself behind old masonry,
+tree trunks, or anything convenient, and camouflaged himself in
+all sorts of ways. At that he was constantly in danger.
+
+I was assigned to Platoon 10 and found they were a good live bunch.
+Corporal Wells was the best of the lot, and we became fast friends.
+He helped me learn a lot of my new duties and the trench "lingo",
+which is like a new language, especially to a Yank.
+
+Wells started right in to make me feel at home and took me along
+with two others of the new men down to our "apartments", a dug-out
+built for about four, and housing ten.
+
+My previous idea of a dug-out had been a fairly roomy sort of cave,
+somewhat damp, but comparatively comfortable. Well, this hole was
+about four and a half feet high--you had to get in doubled up on
+your hands and knees--about five by six feet on the sides, and
+there was no floor, just muck. There was some sodden, dirty straw
+and a lot of old moldy sandbags. Seven men and their equipment were
+packed in here, and we made ten.
+
+There was a charcoal brazier going in the middle with two or three
+mess tins of char boiling away. Everybody was smoking, and the
+place stunk to high heaven, or it would have if there hadn't been a
+bit of burlap over the door.
+
+I crowded up into a corner with my back against the mud wall and my
+knees under my chin. The men didn't seem overglad to see us, and
+groused a good deal about the extra crowding. They regarded me with
+extra disfavor because I was a lance corporal, and they disapproved
+of any young whipper-snapper just out from Blighty with no trench
+experience pitchforked in with even a slight superior rank. I had
+thought up to then that a lance corporal was pretty near as
+important as a brigadier.
+
+"We'll soon tyke that stripe off ye, me bold lad," said one big
+cockney.
+
+They were a decent lot after all. Since we were just out from
+Blighty, they showered us with questions as to how things looked
+"t' 'ome." And then somebody asked what was the latest song. Right
+here was where I made my hit and got in right. I sing a bit, and I
+piped up with the newest thing from the music halls, "Tyke Me Back
+to Blighty." Here it is:
+
+        Tyke me back to dear old Blighty,
+        Put me on the tryne for London town,
+        Just tyke me over there
+        And drop me anywhere,
+        Manchester, Leeds, or Birmingham,
+        I don't care.
+
+        I want to go see me best gal;
+        Cuddlin' up soon we'll be,
+        Hytey iddle de eyety.
+        Tyke me back to Blighty,
+        That's the plyce for me.
+
+It doesn't look like much and I'm afraid my rendition of cockney
+dialect into print isn't quite up to Kipling's. But the song had a
+pretty little lilting melody, and it went big. They made me sing it
+about a dozen times and were all joining in at the end.
+
+Then they got sentimental--and gloomy.
+
+"Gawd lumme!" says the big fellow who had threatened my beloved
+stripes. "Wot a life. Squattin' 'ere in the bloody mud like a
+blinkin' frog. Fightin' fer wot? Wot, I arsks yer? Gawd lumme! I'd
+give me bloomin' napper to stroll down the Strand agyne wif me
+swagger stick an' drop in a private bar an' 'ave me go of 'Aig an'
+'Aig."
+
+"Garn," cuts in another Tommy. "Yer blinkin' 'igh wif yer wants,
+ayen't ye? An' yer 'Aig an' 'Aig. Drop me down in Great Lime Street
+(Liverpool) an' it's me fer the Golden Sheaf, and a pint of bitter,
+an' me a 'oldin' 'Arriet's 'and over th' bar. I'm a courtin' 'er
+when," etc., etc.
+
+And then a fresh-faced lad chirps up: "T' 'ell wif yer Lonnon an'
+yer whuskey. Gimme a jug o' cider on the sunny side of a 'ay rick
+in old Surrey. Gimme a happle tart to go wif it. Gawd, I'm fed up
+on bully beef."
+
+And so it went. All about pubs and bar-maids and the things they'd
+eat and drink, and all of it Blighty.
+
+They were in the midst of a discussion of what part of the body was
+most desirable to part with for a permanent Blighty wound when a
+young officer pushed aside the burlap and wedged in. He was a
+lieutenant and was in command of our platoon. His name was Blofeld.
+
+Blofeld was most democratic. He shook hands with the new men and
+said he hoped we'd be live wires, and then he told us what he
+wanted. There was to be a raid the next night and he was looking
+for volunteers.
+
+Nobody spoke for a long minute, and then I offered.
+
+I think I spoke more to break the embarrassing silence than
+anything else. I think, too, that I was led a little by a kind of
+youthful curiosity, and it may be that I wanted to appear brave in
+the eyes of these men who so evidently held me more or less in
+contempt as a newcomer.
+
+Blofeld accepted me, and one of the other new men offered. He was
+taken too.
+
+It turned out that all the older men were married and that they
+were not expected to volunteer. At least there was no disgrace
+attaching to a refusal.
+
+After Blofeld left, Sergeant Page told us we'd better get down to
+"kip" while we could. "Kip" in this case meant closing our eyes and
+dozing. I sat humped up in my original position through the night.
+There wasn't room to stretch out.
+
+Along toward morning I began to itch, and found I had made the
+acquaintance of that gay and festive little soldier's enemy, the
+"cootie." The cootie, or the "chat" as he is called by the
+officers, is the common body louse. Common is right. I never got
+rid of mine until I left the service. Sometimes when I get to
+thinking about it, I believe I haven't yet.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+A TRENCH RAID
+
+
+In the morning the members of the raiding party were taken back a
+mile or so to the rear and were given instruction and rehearsal.
+This was the first raid that "Batt" had ever tried, and the staff
+was anxious to have it a success. There were fifty in the party,
+and Blofeld, who had organized the raid, beat our instructions into
+us until we knew them by heart.
+
+The object of a raid is to get into the enemy's trenches by stealth
+if possible, kill as many as possible, take prisoners if
+practicable, do a lot of damage, and get away with a whole hide.
+
+We got back to the front trenches just before dark. I noticed a lot
+of metal cylinders arranged along the parapet. They were about as
+big as a stovepipe and four feet long, painted brown. They were the
+gas containers. They were arranged about four or five to a
+traverse, and were connected up by tubes and were covered with
+sandbags. This was the poison gas ready for release over the top
+through tubes.
+
+ [Illustration: A HEAVY HOWITZER, UNDER CAMOUFLAGE. Copyright, by
+ Underwood & Underwood, N.Y.]
+
+The time set for our stunt was eleven P.M. Eleven o'clock was
+"zero." The system on the Western Front, and, in fact, all fronts,
+is to indicate the time fixed for any event as zero. Anything
+before or after is spoken of as plus or minus zero.
+
+Around five o'clock we were taken back to Mechanics trench and
+fed--a regular meal with plenty of everything, and all good. It
+looked rather like giving a condemned man a hearty meal, but grub
+is always acceptable to a soldier.
+
+After that we blacked our faces. This is always done to prevent the
+whiteness of the skin from showing under the flare lights. Also to
+distinguish your own men when you get to the Boche trench.
+
+Then we wrote letters and gave up our identification discs and were
+served with persuader sticks or knuckle knives, and with "Mills"
+bombs.
+
+The persuader is a short, heavy bludgeon with a nail-studded head.
+You thump Fritz on the head with it. Very handy at close quarters.
+The knuckle knife is a short dagger with a heavy brass hilt that
+covers the hand. Also very good for close work, as you can either
+strike or stab with it.
+
+We moved up to the front trenches at about half-past ten. At zero
+minus ten, that is, ten minutes of eleven, our artillery opened up.
+It was the first bombardment I had ever been under, and it seemed
+as though all the guns in the world were banging away. Afterwards I
+found that it was comparatively light, but it didn't seem so then.
+
+The guns were hardly started when there was a sound like escaping
+steam. Jerry leaned over and shouted in my ear: "There goes the
+gas. May it finish the blighters."
+
+Blofeld came dashing up just then, very much excited because he
+found we had not put on our masks, through some slip-up in the
+orders. We got into them quick. But as it turned out there was no
+need. There was a fifteen-mile wind blowing, which carried the gas
+away from us very rapidly. In fact it blew it across the Boche
+trenches so fast that it didn't bother them either.
+
+The barrage fire kept up right up to zero, as per schedule. At
+thirty seconds of eleven I looked at my watch and the din was at
+its height. At exactly eleven it stopped short. Fritz was still
+sending some over, but comparatively there was silence. After the
+ear-splitting racket it was almost still enough to hurt.
+
+And in that silence over the top we went.
+
+Lanes had been cut through our wire, and we got through them
+quickly. The trenches were about one hundred twenty yards apart and
+we still had nearly one hundred to go. We dropped and started to
+crawl. I skinned both my knees on something, probably old wire, and
+both hands. I could feel the blood running into my puttees, and my
+rifle bothered me as I was afraid of jabbing Jerry, who was just
+ahead of me as first bayonet man.
+
+They say a drowning man or a man in great danger reviews his past.
+I didn't. I spent those few minutes wondering when the machine-gun
+fire would come.
+
+I had the same "gone" feeling in the pit of the stomach that you
+have when you drop fast in an elevator. The skin on my face felt
+tight, and I remember that I wanted to pucker my nose and pull my
+upper lip down over my teeth.
+
+We got clean up to their wire before they spotted us. Their
+entanglements had been flattened by our barrage fire, but we had to
+get up to pick our way through, and they saw us.
+
+Instantly the "Very" lights began to go up in scores, and hell
+broke loose. They must have turned twenty machine guns on us, or at
+us, but their aim evidently was high, for they only "clicked" two
+out of our immediate party. We had started with ten men, the other
+fifty being divided into three more parties farther down the line.
+
+When the machine guns started, we charged. Jerry and I were ahead
+as bayonet men, with the rest of the party following with buckets
+of "Mills" bombs and "Stokeses."
+
+It was pretty light, there were so many flares going up from both
+sides. When I jumped on the parapet, there was a whaling big Boche
+looking up at me with his rifle resting on the sandbags. I was
+almost on the point of his bayonet.
+
+For an instant I stood with a kind of paralyzed sensation, and
+there flashed through my mind the instructions of the manual for
+such a situation, only I didn't apply those instructions to this
+emergency.
+
+Instead I thought--if such a flash could be called thinking--how I,
+as an instructor, would have told a rookie to act, working on a
+dummy. I had a sort of detached feeling as though this was a silly
+dream.
+
+Probably this hesitation didn't last more than a second.
+
+Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jerry lunge, and I lunged
+too. Why that Boche did not fire I don't know. Perhaps he did and
+missed. Anyhow I went down and in on him, and the bayonet went
+through his throat.
+
+Jerry had done his man in and all hands piled into the trench.
+
+Then we started to race along the traverses. We found a machine
+gun and put an eleven-pound high-explosive "Stokes" under it. Three
+or four Germans appeared, running down communication trenches, and
+the bombers sent a few Millses after them. Then we came to a
+dug-out door--in fact, several, as Fritz, like a woodchuck, always
+has more than one entrance to his burrow. We broke these in in jig
+time and looked down a thirty-foot hole on a dug-out full of
+graybacks. There must have been a lot of them. I could plainly see
+four or five faces looking up with surprised expressions.
+
+Blofeld chucked in two or three Millses and away we went.
+
+A little farther along we came to the entrance of a mine shaft, a
+kind of incline running toward our lines. Blofeld went in it a
+little way and flashed his light. He thought it was about forty
+yards long. We put several of our remaining Stokeses in that and
+wrecked it.
+
+Turning the corner of the next traverse, I saw Jerry drop his rifle
+and unlimber his persuader on a huge German who had just rounded
+the corner of the "bay." He made a good job of it, getting him in
+the face, and must have simply caved him in, but not before he had
+thrown a bomb. I had broken my bayonet prying the dug-out door off
+and had my gun up-ended--clubbed.
+
+ [Illustration: OVER THE TOP ON A RAID. Photograph from Underwood &
+ Underwood, N.Y.]
+
+When I saw that bomb coming, I bunted at it like Ty Cobb trying to
+sacrifice. It was the only thing to do. I choked my bat and poked
+at the bomb instinctively, and by sheer good luck fouled the thing
+over the parapet. It exploded on the other side.
+
+"Blimme eyes," says Jerry, "that's cool work. You saved us the
+wooden cross that time."
+
+We had found two more machine guns and were planting Stokeses under
+them when we heard the Lewises giving the recall signal. A good
+gunner gets so he can play a tune on a Lewis, and the device is
+frequently used for signals. This time he thumped out the old
+one--"All policemen have big feet." Rat-a-tat-tat--tat, tat.
+
+It didn't come any too soon.
+
+As we scrambled over the parapet we saw a big party of Germans
+coming up from the second trenches. They were out of the
+communication trenches and were coming across lots. There must have
+been fifty of them, outnumbering us five or six to one.
+
+We were out of bombs, Jerry had lost his rifle, and mine had no
+"ammo." Blofeld fired the last shot from his revolver and, believe
+me, we hooked it for home.
+
+We had been in their trenches just three and a half minutes.
+
+Just as we were going through their wire a bomb exploded near and
+got Jerry in the head. We dragged him in and also the two men that
+had been clicked on the first fire. Jerry got Blighty on his wound,
+but was back in two months. The second time he wasn't so lucky. He
+lies now somewhere in France with a wooden cross over his head.
+
+Did that muddy old trench look good when we tumbled in? Oh, Boy!
+The staff was tickled to pieces and complimented us all. We were
+sent out of the lines that night and in billets got hot food,
+high-grade "fags", a real bath, a good stiff rum ration, and
+letters from home.
+
+Next morning we heard the results of the raid. One party of twelve
+never returned. Besides that we lost seven men killed. The German
+loss was estimated at about one hundred casualties, six machine
+guns and several dug-outs destroyed, and one mine shaft put out of
+business. We also brought back documents of value found by one
+party in an officer's dug-out.
+
+Blofeld got the military cross for the night's work, and several of
+the enlisted men got the D.C.M.
+
+Altogether it was a successful raid. The best part of it was
+getting back.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+A FEW DAYS' REST IN BILLETS
+
+
+After the strafing we had given Fritz on the raid, he behaved
+himself reasonably well for quite a while. It was the first raid
+that had been made on that sector for a long time, and we had no
+doubt caught the Germans off their guard.
+
+Anyhow for quite a spell afterwards they were very "windy" and
+would send up the "Very" lights on the slightest provocation and
+start the "typewriters" a-rattling. Fritz was right on the job with
+his eye peeled all the time.
+
+In fact he was so keen that another raid that was attempted ten
+days later failed completely because of a rapidly concentrated and
+heavy machine-gun fire, and in another, a day or two later, our men
+never got beyond our own wire and had thirty-eight casualties out
+of fifty men engaged.
+
+But so far as anything but defensive work was concerned, Fritz was
+very meek. He sent over very few "minnies" or rifle grenades, and
+there was hardly any shelling of the sector.
+
+Directly after the raid, we who were in the party had a couple of
+days "on our own" at the little village of Bully-Grenay, less than
+three miles behind the lines. This is directly opposite Lens, the
+better known town which figures so often in the dispatches.
+
+Bully-Grenay had been a place of perhaps one thousand people. It
+had been fought over and through and around early in the war, and
+was pretty well battered up. There were a few houses left unhit and
+the town hall and several shops. The rest of the place was ruins,
+but about two hundred of the inhabitants still stuck to their old
+homes. For some reason the Germans did not shell Bully-Grenay, that
+is, not often. Once in a while they would lob one in just to let
+the people know they were not forgotten.
+
+There was a suspicion that there were spies in the town and that
+that accounted for the Germans laying off, but whatever was the
+cause the place was safer than most villages so near the lines.
+
+Those two days in repose at Bully-Grenay were a good deal of a
+farce. We were entirely "on our own", it is true, no parade, no
+duty of any kind--but the quarters--oof! We were billeted in the
+cellars of the battered-down houses. They weren't shell-proof. That
+didn't matter much, as there wasn't any shelling, but there might
+have been. The cellars were dangerous enough without, what with
+tottering walls and overhanging chunks of masonry.
+
+Moreover they were a long way from waterproof. Imagine trying to
+find a place to sleep in an old ruin half full of rainwater. The
+dry places were piled up with brick and mortar, but we managed to
+clean up some half-sheltered spots for "kip" and we lived through
+it.
+
+The worst feature of these billets was the rats. They were the
+biggest I ever saw, great, filthy, evil-smelling, grayish-red
+fellows, as big as a good-sized cat. They would hop out of the
+walls and scuttle across your face with their wet, cold feet, and
+it was enough to drive you insane. One chap in our party had a
+natural horror of rats, and he nearly went crazy. We had to "kip"
+with our greatcoats pulled up over our heads, and then the beggars
+would go down and nibble at our boots.
+
+The first day somebody found a fox terrier, evidently lost and
+probably the pet of some officer. We weren't allowed to carry
+mascots, although we had a kitten that we smuggled along for a long
+time. This terrier was a well-bred little fellow, and we grabbed
+him. We spent a good part of both mornings digging out rats for him
+and staged some of the grandest fights ever.
+
+Most of the day we spent at a little _estaminet_ across the way
+from our so-called billets. There was a pretty mademoiselle there
+who served the rotten French beer and _vin blanc_, and the Tommies
+tried their French on her. They might as well have talked Choctaw.
+I speak the language a little and tried to monopolize the lady, and
+did, which didn't increase my popularity any.
+
+"I say, Yank," some one would call, "don't be a blinkin' 'og. Give
+somebody else a chawnce."
+
+Whereupon I would pursue my conquest all the more ardently. I was
+making a large hit, as I thought, when in came an officer. After
+that I was ignored, to the huge delight of the Tommies, who joshed
+me unmercifully. They discovered that my middle name was Derby, and
+they christened me "Darby the Yank." Darby I remained as long as I
+was with them.
+
+Some of the questions the men asked about the States were certainly
+funny. One chap asked what language we spoke over here. I thought
+he was spoofing, but he actually meant it. He thought we spoke
+something like Italian, he said. I couldn't resist the temptation,
+and filled him up with a line of ghost stories about wild Indians
+just outside Boston. I told him I left because of a raid in which
+the redskins scalped people on Boston Common. After that he used to
+pester the life out of me for Wild West yarns with the scenes laid
+in New England.
+
+One chap was amazed and, I think, a little incredulous because I
+didn't know a man named Fisk in Des Moines.
+
+We went back to the trenches again and were there five days. I was
+out one night on barbed wire work, which is dangerous at any time,
+and was especially so with Fritz in his condition of jumpy nerves.
+You have to do most of the work lying on your back in the mud, and
+if you jingle the wire, Fritz traverses No Man's Land with his
+rapid-firers with a fair chance of bagging something.
+
+I also had one night on patrol, which later became my favorite
+game. I will tell more about it in another chapter.
+
+At the end of the five days the whole battalion was pulled out for
+rest. We marched a few miles to the rear and came to the village of
+Petite-Saens. This town had been fought through, but for some
+reason had suffered little. Few of the houses had been damaged, and
+we had real billets.
+
+My section, ten men besides myself, drew a big attic in a clean
+house. There was loads of room and the roof was tight and there
+were no rats. It was oriental luxury after Bully-Grenay and the
+trenches, and for a wonder nobody had a word of "grousing" over
+"kipping" on the bare floor.
+
+The house was occupied by a very old peasant woman and a very
+little girl, three years old, and as pretty as a picture. The old
+woman looked ill and sad and very lonesome. One night as we sat in
+her kitchen drinking black coffee and cognac, I persuaded her to
+tell her story. It was, on the whole, rather a cruel thing to ask,
+I am afraid. It is only one of many such that I heard over there.
+France has, indeed, suffered. I set down here, as nearly as I can
+translate, what the old woman said:
+
+"Monsieur, I am very, very old now, almost eighty, but I am a
+patriot and I love my France. I do not complain that I have lost
+everything in this war. I do not care now, for I am old and it is
+for my country; but there is much sadness for me to remember, and
+it is with great bitterness that I think of the pig Allemand--beast
+that he is.
+
+"Two years ago I lived in this house, happy with my daughter and
+her husband and the little baby, and my husband, who worked in the
+mines. He was too old to fight, but when the great war came he
+tried to enlist, but they would not listen to him, and he returned
+to work, that the country should not be without coal.
+
+"The beau-fils (son-in-law), he enlisted and said good-by and went
+to the service.
+
+"By and by the Boche come and in a great battle not far from this
+very house the beau-fils is wounded very badly and is brought to
+the house by comrades to die.
+
+"The Boche come into the village, but the beau-fils is too weak
+to go. The Boche come into the house, seize my daughter, and
+there--they--oh, monsieur--the things one may not say--and we so
+helpless.
+
+"Her father tries to protect her, but he is knocked down. I try,
+but they hold my feet over the fire until the very flesh cooks. See
+for yourselves the burns on my feet still.
+
+"My husband dies from the blow he gets, for he is very old, over
+ninety. Just then mon beau-fils sees a revolver that hangs by the
+side of the German officer, and putting all his strength together
+he leaps forward and grabs the revolver. And there he shoots the
+officer--and my poor little daughter--and then he says good-by and
+through the head sends a bullet.
+
+"The Germans did not touch me but once after that, and then they
+knocked me to the floor when they came after the pig officer. By
+and by come you English, and all is well for dear France once more;
+but I am very desolate now. I am alone but for the petite-fille
+(granddaughter), but I love the English, for they save my home and
+my dear country."
+
+I heard a good many stories of this kind off and on, but this
+particular one, I think, brought home, to me at least, the general
+beastliness of the Hun closer than ever before. We all loved our
+little kiddie very much, and when we saw the evidence of the
+terrible cruelties the poor old woman had suffered we saw red. Most
+of us cried a little. I think that that one story made each of us
+that heard it a mean, vicious fighter for the rest of our service.
+I know it did me.
+
+One of the first things a British soldier learns is to keep
+himself clean. He can't do it, and he's as filthy as a pig all the
+time he is in the trenches, but he tries. He is always shaving,
+even under fire, and show him running water and he goes to it like
+a duck.
+
+More than once I have shaved in a periscope mirror pegged into the
+side of a trench, with the bullets snapping overhead, and rubbed my
+face with wet tea leaves afterward to freshen up.
+
+Back in billets the very first thing that comes off is the big
+clean-up. Uniforms are brushed up, and equipment put in order. Then
+comes the bath, the most thorough possible under the conditions.
+After that comes the "cootie carnival", better known as the "shirt
+hunt." The cootie is the soldier's worst enemy. He's worse than the
+Hun. You can't get rid of him wherever you are, in the trenches or
+in billets, and he sticks closer than a brother. The cootie is a
+good deal of an acrobat. His policy of attack is to hang on to the
+shirt and to nibble at the occupant. Pull off the shirt and he
+comes with it. Hence the shirt hunt. Tommy gets out in the open
+somewhere so as not to shed his little companions indoors--there's
+always enough there anyhow--and he peels. Then he systematically
+runs down each seam--the cootie's favorite hiding place--catches
+the game, and ends his career by cracking him between the thumb
+nails.
+
+For some obscure psychological reason, Tommy seems to like company
+on one of these hunts. Perhaps it is because misery loves company,
+or it may be that he likes to compare notes on the catch. Anyhow,
+it is a common thing to see from a dozen to twenty soldiers with
+their shirts off, hunting cooties.
+
+"Hi sye, 'Arry," you'll hear some one sing out. "Look 'ere. Strike
+me bloomin' well pink but this one 'ere's got a black stripe along
+'is back."
+
+Or, "If this don't look like the one I showed ye 'fore we went into
+the blinkin' line. 'Ow'd 'e git loose?"
+
+And then, as likely as not, a little farther away, behind the
+officers' quarters, you'll hear one say:
+
+"I say, old chap, it's deucedly peculiar I should have so many of
+the beastly things after putting on the Harrisons mothaw sent in
+the lawst parcel."
+
+The cootie isn't at all fastidious. He will bite the British
+aristocrat as soon as anybody else. He finds his way into all
+branches of the service, and I have even seen a dignified colonel
+wiggle his shoulders anxiously.
+
+Some of the cootie stories have become classical, like this one
+which was told from the North Sea to the Swiss border. It might
+have happened at that.
+
+A soldier was going over the top when one of his cootie friends bit
+him on the calf. The soldier reached down and captured the biter.
+Just as he stooped, a shell whizzed over where his head would have
+been if he had not gone after the cootie. Holding the captive
+between thumb and finger, he said:
+
+"Old feller, I cawn't give yer the Victoria Cross--but I can put
+yer back."
+
+And he did.
+
+The worst thing about the cootie is that there is no remedy for
+him. The shirt hunt is the only effective way for the soldier to
+get rid of his bosom friends. The various dopes and patent
+preparations guaranteed as "good for cooties" are just that. They
+give 'em an appetite.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+FEEDING THE TOMMIES
+
+
+Food is a burning issue in the lives of all of us. It is the main
+consideration with the soldier. His life is simplified to two
+principal motives, _i.e._, keeping alive himself and killing the
+other fellow. The question uppermost in his mind every time and all
+of the time, is, "When do we eat?"
+
+In the trenches the backbone of Tommy's diet is bully beef,
+"Maconochie's Ration", cheese, bread or biscuit, jam, and tea. He
+may get some of this hot or he may eat it from the tin, all
+depending upon how badly Fritz is behaving.
+
+In billets the diet is more varied. Here he gets some fresh meat,
+lots of bacon, and the bully and the Maconochie's come along in the
+form of stew. Also there is fresh bread and some dried fruit and a
+certain amount of sweet stuff.
+
+It was this matter of grub that made my life a burden in the
+billets at Petite-Saens. I had been rather proud of being lance
+corporal. It was, to me, the first step along the road to being
+field marshal. I found, however, that a corporal is high enough to
+take responsibility and to get bawled out for anything that goes
+wrong. He's not high enough to command any consideration from those
+higher up, and he is so close to the men that they take out their
+grievances on him as a matter of course. He is neither fish, flesh,
+nor fowl, and his life is a burden.
+
+I had the job of issuing the rations of our platoon, and it nearly
+drove me mad. Every morning I would detail a couple of men from our
+platoon to be standing mess orderlies for the day. They would fetch
+the char and bacon from the field kitchen in the morning and clean
+up the "dixies" after breakfast. The "dixie", by the way, is an
+iron box or pot, oblong in shape, capacity about four or five
+gallons. It fits into the field kitchen and is used for roasts,
+stews, char, or anything else. The cover serves to cook bacon in.
+
+Field kitchens are drawn by horses and follow the battalion
+everywhere that it is safe to go, and to some places where it
+isn't. Two men are detailed from each company to cook, and there is
+usually another man who gets the sergeants' mess, besides the
+officers' cook, who does not as a rule use the field kitchen, but
+prepares the food in the house taken as the officers' mess.
+
+As far as possible, the company cooks are men who were cooks in
+civil life, but not always. We drew a plumber and a navvy (road
+builder)--and the grub tasted of both trades. The way our company
+worked the kitchen problem was to have stew for two platoons one
+day and roast dinner for the others, and then reverse the order
+next day, so that we didn't have stew all the time. There were not
+enough "dixies" for us all to have stew the same day.
+
+Every afternoon I would take my mess orderlies and go to the
+quartermaster's stores and get our allowance and carry it back to
+the billets in waterproof sheets. Then the stuff that was to be
+cooked in the kitchen went there, and the bread and that sort of
+material was issued direct to the men. That was where my trouble
+started.
+
+The powers that were had an uncanny knack of issuing an odd number
+of articles to go among an even number of men, and vice versa.
+There would be eleven loaves of bread to go to a platoon of fifty
+men divided into four sections. Some of the sections would have ten
+men and some twelve or thirteen.
+
+The British Tommy is a scrapper when it comes to his rations. He
+reminds me of an English sparrow. He's always right in there
+wangling for his own. He will bully and browbeat if he can, and he
+will coax and cajole if he can't. It would be "Hi sye, corporal.
+They's ten men in Number 2 section and fourteen in ourn. An' blimme
+if you hain't guv 'em four loaves, same as ourn. Is it right, I
+arsks yer? Is it?" Or,
+
+"Lookee! Do yer call that a loaf o' bread? Looks like the A.S.C.
+(Army Service Corps) been using it fer a piller. Gimme another,
+will yer, corporal?"
+
+When it comes to splitting seven onions nine ways, I defy any one
+to keep peace in the family, and every doggoned Tommy would hold
+out for his onion whether he liked 'em or not. Same way with a
+bottle of pickles to go among eleven men or a handful of raisins or
+apricots. Or jam or butter or anything, except bully beef or
+Maconochie. I never heard any one "argue the toss" on either of
+those commodities.
+
+Bully is high-grade corned beef in cans and is O.K. if you like it,
+but it does get tiresome.
+
+Maconochie ration is put up a pound to the can and bears a label
+which assures the consumer that it is a scientifically prepared,
+well-balanced ration. Maybe so. It is my personal opinion that the
+inventor brought to his task an imperfect knowledge of cookery and
+a perverted imagination. Open a can of Maconochie and you find a
+gooey gob of grease, like rancid lard. Investigate and you find
+chunks of carrot and other unidentifiable material, and now and
+then a bit of mysterious meat. The first man who ate an oyster had
+courage, but the last man who ate Maconochie's unheated had more.
+Tommy regards it as a very inferior grade of garbage. The label
+notwithstanding, he's right.
+
+Many people have asked me what to send our soldiers in the line of
+food. I'd say stick to sweets. Cookies of any durable kind--I mean
+that will stand chance moisture--the sweeter the better, and if
+possible those containing raisins or dried fruit. Figs, dates,
+etc., are good. And, of course, chocolate. Personally, I never did
+have enough chocolate. Candy is acceptable, if it is of the sort to
+stand more or less rough usage which it may get before it reaches
+the soldier. Chewing gum is always received gladly. The army issue
+of sweets is limited pretty much to jam, which gets to taste all
+alike.
+
+It is pathetic to see some of the messes Tommy gets together to
+fill his craving for dessert. The favorite is a slum composed of
+biscuit, water, condensed milk, raisins, and chocolate. If some of
+you folks at home would get one look at that concoction, let alone
+tasting it, you would dash out and spend your last dollar for a
+package to send to some lad "over there."
+
+ [Illustration: COOKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES.]
+
+After the excitement of dodging shells and bullets in the front
+trenches, life in billets seems dull. Tommy has too much time to
+get into mischief. It was at Petite-Saens that I first saw the
+Divisional Folies. This was a vaudeville show by ten men who had
+been actors in civil life, and who were detailed to amuse the
+soldiers. They charged a small admission fee and the profit went to
+the Red Cross.
+
+There ought to be more recreation for the soldiers of all armies.
+The Y.M.C.A. is to take care of that with our boys.
+
+By the way, we had a Y.M.C.A. hut at Petite-Saens, and I cannot say
+enough for this great work. No one who has not been there can know
+what a blessing it is to be able to go into a clean, warm, dry
+place and sit down to reading or games and to hear good music.
+Personally I am a little bit sorry that the secretaries are to be
+in khaki. They weren't when I left. And it sure did seem good to
+see a man in civilian's clothes. You get after a while so you hate
+the sight of a uniform.
+
+Another thing about the Y.M.C.A. I could wish that they would have
+more women in the huts. Not frilly, frivolous society girls, but
+women from thirty-five to fifty. A soldier likes kisses as well as
+the next. And he takes them when he finds them. And he finds too
+many. But what he really wants, though, is the chance to sit down
+and tell his troubles to some nice, sympathetic woman who is old
+enough to be level-headed.
+
+Nearly every soldier reverts more or less to a boyish point of
+view. He hankers for somebody to mother him. I should be glad to
+see many women of that type in the Y.M.C.A. work. It is one of the
+great needs of our army that the boys should be amused and kept
+clean mentally and morally. I don't believe there is any
+organization better qualified to do this than the Y.M.C.A.
+
+Most of our chaps spent their time "on their own" either in the
+Y.M.C.A. hut or in the _estaminets_ while we were in Petite-Saens.
+Our stop there was hardly typical of the rest in billets. Usually
+"rest" means that you are set to mending roads or some such fatigue
+duty. At Petite-Saens, however, we had it "cushy."
+
+The routine was about like this: Up at 6:30, we fell in for
+three-quarters of an hour physical drill or bayonet practice.
+Breakfast. Inspection of ammo and gas masks. One hour drill. After
+that, "on our own", with nothing to do but smoke, read, and gamble.
+
+Tommy is a great smoker. He gets a fag issue from the government,
+if he is lucky, of two packets or twenty a week. This lasts him
+with care about two days. After that he goes smokeless unless he
+has friends at home to send him a supply. I had friends in London
+who sent me about five hundred fags a week, and I was consequently
+popular while they lasted. This took off some of the curse of being
+a lance corporal.
+
+Tommy has his favorite in "fags" like anybody else. He likes above
+all Wild Woodbines. This cigarette is composed of glue, cheap
+paper, and a poor quality of hay. Next in his affection comes
+Goldflakes--pretty near as bad.
+
+People over here who have boys at the front mustn't forget the
+cigarette supply. Send them along early and often. There'll never
+be too many. Smoking is one of the soldier's few comforts. Two
+bits' worth of makin's a week will help one lad make life
+endurable. It's cheap at the price. Come through for the smoke
+fund whenever you get the chance.
+
+Café life among us at Petite-Saens was mostly drinking and
+gambling. That is not half as bad as it sounds. The drinking was
+mostly confined to the slushy French beer and vin blanc and citron.
+Whiskey and absinthe were barred.
+
+The gambling was on a small scale, necessarily, the British soldier
+not being at any time a bloated plutocrat. At the same time the
+games were continuous. "House" was the most popular. This is a game
+similar to the "lotto" we used to play as children. The backers
+distribute cards having fifteen numbers, forming what they call a
+school. Then numbered cardboard squares are drawn from a bag, the
+numbers being called out. When a number comes out which appears on
+your card, you cover it with a bit of match. If you get all your
+numbers covered, you call out "house", winning the pot. If there
+are ten people in at a franc a head, the banker holds out two
+francs, and the winner gets eight.
+
+It is really quite exciting, as you may get all but one number
+covered and be rooting for a certain number to come. Usually when
+you get as close as that and sweat over a number for ten minutes,
+somebody else gets his first. Corporal Wells described the game as
+one where the winner "'ollers 'ouse and the rest 'ollers 'ell!"
+
+Some of the nicknames for the different numbers remind one of the
+slang of the crap shooter. For instance, "Kelly's eye" means one.
+"Clickety click" is sixty-six. "Top of the house" is ninety. Other
+games are "crown and anchor", which is a dice game, and "pontoon",
+which is a card game similar to "twenty-one" or "seven and a half."
+Most of these are mildly discouraged by the authorities, "house"
+being the exception. But in any _estaminet_ in a billet town you'll
+find one or all of them in progress all the time. The winner
+usually spends his winnings for beer, so the money all goes the
+same way, game or no game.
+
+When there are no games on, there is usually a sing-song going. We
+had a merry young nuisance in our platoon named Rolfe, who had a
+voice like a frog and who used to insist upon singing on all
+occasions. Rolfie would climb on the table in the _estaminet_ and
+sing numerous unprintable verses of his own, entitled "Oh, What a
+Merry Plyce is Hengland." The only redeeming feature of this song
+was the chorus, which everybody would roar out and which went like
+this:
+
+        Cheer, ye beggars, cheer!
+        Britannia rules the wave!
+        'Ard times, short times
+        Never'll come agyne.
+        Shoutin' out at th' top o' yer lungs:
+        Damn the German army!
+        Oh, wot a lovely plyce is Hengland!
+
+Our ten days _en repos_ at Petite-Saens came to an end all too
+soon.
+
+On the last day we lined up for our official "bawth."
+
+Petite-Saens was a coal-mining town. The mines were still operated,
+but only at night--this to avoid shelling from the Boche
+long-distance artillery, which are fully capable of sending shells
+and hitting the mark at eighteen miles. The water system of the
+town depended upon the pumping apparatus of the mines. Every
+morning early, before the pressure was off, all hands would turn
+out for a general "sluicing" under the hydrants. We were as clean
+as could be and fairly free of "cooties" at the end of a week, but
+official red tape demanded that we go through an authorized
+scouring.
+
+On the last day we lined up for this at dawn before an old
+warehouse which had been fitted with crude showers. We were turned
+in twenty in a batch and were given four minutes to soap ourselves
+all over and rinse off. I was in the last lot and had just lathered
+up good and plenty when the water went dead. If you want to reach
+the acme of stickiness, try this stunt. I felt like the inside of a
+mucilage bottle for a week.
+
+After the official purification we were given clean underwear. And
+then there was a howl. The fresh underthings had been boiled and
+sterilized, but the immortal cootie had come through unscathed and
+in all its vigor. Corporal Wells raised a pathetic wail:
+
+"Blimme eyes, mytie! I got more'n two 'undred now an' this supposed
+to be a bloomin' clean shirt! Why, the blinkin' thing's as lousy
+as a cookoo now, an me just a-gittin' rid o' the bloomin' chats on
+me old un. Strike me pink if it hain't a bleedin' crime! Some one
+ought to write to John Bull abaht it!"
+
+_John Bull_ is the English paper of that name published by Horatio
+Bottomley, which makes a specialty of publishing complaints from
+soldiers and generally criticising the conduct of army affairs.
+
+Well, we got through the bath and the next day were on our way.
+This time it was up the line to another sector. My one taste of
+trench action had made me keen for more excitement, and in spite of
+the comfortable time at Petite-Saens, I was glad to go. I was yet
+to know the real horrors and hardships of modern warfare. There
+were many days in those to come when I looked back upon
+Petite-Saens as a sort of heaven.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+HIKING TO VIMY RIDGE
+
+
+We left Petite-Saens about nine o'clock Friday night and commenced
+our march for what we were told would be a short hike. It was
+pretty warm and muggy. There was a thin, low-lying mist over
+everything, but clear enough above, and there was a kind of poor
+moonlight. There was a good deal of delay in getting away, and we
+had begun to sweat before we started, as we were equipped as usual
+with about eighty pounds' weight on the back and shoulders. That
+eighty pounds is theoretical weight.
+
+As a matter of practice the pack nearly always runs ten and even
+twenty pounds over the official equipment, as Tommy is a great
+little accumulator of junk. I had acquired the souvenir craze early
+in the game, and was toting excess baggage in the form of a Boche
+helmet, a mess of shell noses, and a smashed German automatic. All
+this ran to weight.
+
+I carried a lot of this kind of stuff all the time I was in the
+service, and was constantly thinning out my collection or adding to
+it.
+
+When you consider that a soldier has to carry everything he owns on
+his person, you'd say that he would want to fly light; but he
+doesn't. And that reminds me, before I forget it, I want to say
+something about sending boxes over there.
+
+It is the policy of the British, and, I suppose, will be of the
+Americans, to move the troops about a good deal. This is done so
+that no one unit will become too much at home in any one line of
+trenches and so get careless. This moving about involves a good
+deal of hiking.
+
+Now if some chap happens to get a twenty-pound box of good things
+just before he is shifted, he's going to be in an embarrassing
+position. He'll have to give it away or leave it. So--send the
+boxes two or three pounds at a time, and often.
+
+But to get back to Petite-Saens. We commenced our hike as it is was
+getting dark. As we swung out along the once good but now badly
+furrowed French road, we could see the Very lights beginning to go
+up far off to the left, showing where the lines were. We could
+distinguish between our own star lights and the German by the
+intensity of the flare, theirs being much superior to ours, so much
+so that they send them up from the second-line trenches.
+
+The sound of the guns became more distant as we swung away to the
+south and louder again as the road twisted back toward the front.
+
+We began to sing the usual songs of the march and I noticed that
+the American ragtime was more popular among the boys than their own
+music. "Dixie" frequently figured in these songs.
+
+It is always a good deal easier to march when the men sing, as it
+helps to keep time and puts pep into a column and makes the packs
+seem lighter. The officers see to it that the mouth organs get
+tuned up the minute a hike begins.
+
+At the end of each hour we came to a halt for the regulation ten
+minutes' rest. Troops in heavy marching order move very slowly,
+even with the music--and the hours drag. The ten minutes' rest
+though goes like a flash. The men keep an eye on the watches and
+"wangle" for the last second.
+
+We passed through two ruined villages with the battered walls
+sticking up like broken teeth and the gray moonlight shining
+through empty holes that had been windows. The people were gone
+from these places, but a dog howled over yonder. Several times we
+passed batteries of French artillery, and jokes and laughter came
+out of the half darkness.
+
+Topping a little rise, the moon came out bright, and away ahead the
+silver ribbon of the Souchez gleamed for an instant; the bare poles
+that once had been Bouvigny Wood were behind us, and to the right,
+to the left, a pulverized ruin where houses had stood. Blofeld told
+me this was what was left of the village of Abalaine, which had
+been demolished some time before when the French held the sector.
+
+At this point guides came out and met us to conduct us to the
+trenches. The order went down the line to fall in, single file,
+keeping touch, no smoking and no talking, and I supposed we were
+about to enter a communication trench. But no. We swung on to a
+"duck walk." This is a slatted wooden walk built to prevent as much
+as possible sinking into the mud. The ground was very soft here.
+
+I never did know why there was no communication trench unless it
+was because the ground was so full of moisture. But whatever the
+reason, there was none, and we were right out in the open on the
+duck walk. The order for no talk seemed silly as we clattered along
+the boards, making a noise like a four-horse team on a covered
+bridge.
+
+I immediately wondered whether we were near enough for the Boches
+to hear. I wasn't in doubt long, for they began to send over the
+"Berthas" in flocks. The "Bertha" is an uncommonly ugly breed of
+nine-inch shell loaded with H.E. It comes sailing over with a
+querulous "squeeeeeee", and explodes with an ear-splitting crash
+and a burst of murky, dull-red flame.
+
+If it hits you fair, you disappear. At a little distance you are
+ripped to fragments, and a little farther off you get a case of
+shell-shock. Just at the edge of the destructive area the wind of
+the explosion whistles by your ears, and then sucks back more
+slowly.
+
+The Boches had the range of that duck walk, and we began to run.
+Every now and then they would drop one near the walk, and from four
+to ten casualties would go down. There was no stopping for the
+wounded. They lay where they fell. We kept on the run, sometimes on
+the duck walk, sometimes in the mud, for three miles. I had reached
+the limit of my endurance when we came to a halt and rested for a
+little while at the foot of a slight incline. This was the
+"Pimple", so called on account of its rounded crest.
+
+The Pimple forms a part of the well-known Vimy Ridge--is a
+semi-detached extension of it--and lies between it and the Souchez
+sector. After a rest here we got into the trenches skirting the
+Pimple and soon came out on the Quarries. This was a bowl-like
+depression formed by an old quarry. The place gave a natural
+protection and all around the edge were dug-outs which had been
+built by the French, running back into the hill, some of them more
+than a hundred feet.
+
+In the darkness we could see braziers glowing softly red at the
+mouth of each burrow. There was a cheerful, mouth-watering smell of
+cookery on the air, a garlicky smell, with now and then a whiff of
+spicy wood smoke.
+
+We were hungry and thirsty, as well as tired, and shed our packs at
+the dug-outs assigned us and went at the grub and the char offered
+us by the men we were relieving, the Northumberland Fusiliers.
+
+The dug-outs here in the Quarries were the worst I saw in France.
+They were reasonably dry and roomy, but they had no ventilation
+except the tunnel entrance, and going back so far the air inside
+became simply stifling in a very short time.
+
+I took one inhale of the interior atmosphere and decided right
+there that I would bivouac in the open. It was just getting down to
+"kip" when a sentry came up and said I would have to get inside. It
+seemed that Fritz had the range of the Quarries to an inch and was
+in the habit of sending over "minnies" at intervals just to let us
+know he wasn't asleep.
+
+I had got settled down comfortably and was dozing off when there
+came a call for C company. I got the men from my platoon out as
+quickly as possible, and in half an hour we were in the trenches.
+
+Number 10 platoon was assigned to the center sector, Number 11 to
+the left sector, and Number 12 to the right sector. Number 9
+remained behind in supports in the Quarries.
+
+Now when I speak of these various sectors, I mean that at this
+point there was no continuous line of front trenches, only isolated
+stretches of trench separated by intervals of from two hundred to
+three hundred yards of open ground. There were no dug-outs. It was
+impossible to leave these trenches except under cover of
+darkness--or to get to them or to get up rations. They were awful
+holes. Any raid by the Germans in large numbers at this time would
+have wiped us out, as there was no means of retreating or getting
+up reinforcements.
+
+The Tommies called the trenches Grouse Spots. It was a good name.
+We got into them in the dense darkness of just before dawn. The
+division we relieved gave us hardly any instruction, but beat it on
+the hot foot, glad to get away and anxious to go before sun-up. As
+we settled down in our cosey danger spots I heard Rolfie, the
+frog-voiced baritone, humming one of his favorite coster songs:
+
+        Oh, why did I leave my little back room in old Bloomsbury?
+        Where I could live for a pound a week in luxury.
+        I wanted to live higher
+        So I married Marier,
+        Out of the frying pan into the bloomin' fire.
+
+And he meant every word of it.
+
+In our new positions in the Grouse Spots the orders were to patrol
+the open ground between at least four times a night. That first
+night there was one more patrol necessary before daylight. Tired as
+I was, I volunteered for it. I had had one patrol before, opposite
+Bully-Grenay, and thought I liked the game.
+
+I went over with one man, a fellow named Bellinger. We got out and
+started to crawl. All we knew was that the left sector was two
+hundred yards away. Machine-gun bullets were squealing and
+snapping overhead pretty continuously, and we had to hug the dirt.
+It is surprising to see how flat a man can keep and still get along
+at a good rate of speed. We kept straight away to the left and
+presently got into wire. And then we heard German voices. Ow! I
+went cold all over.
+
+Then some "Very" lights went up and I saw the Boche parapet not
+twenty feet away. Worst of all there was a little lane through
+their wire at that point, and there would be, no doubt, a sap head
+or a listening post near. I tried to lie still and burrow into the
+dirt at the same time. Nothing happened. Presently the lights died,
+and Bellinger gave me a poke in the ribs. We started to crawfish.
+Why we weren't seen I don't know, but we had gone all of one
+hundred feet before they spotted us. Fortunately we were on the
+edge of a shallow shell hole when the sentry caught our movements
+and Fritz cut loose with the "typewriters." We rolled in. A perfect
+torrent of bullets ripped up the dirt and cascaded us with gravel
+and mud. The noise of the bullets "crackling" a yard above us was
+deafening.
+
+The fusillade stopped after a bit. I was all for getting out and
+away immediately. Bellinger wanted to wait a while. We argued for
+as much as five minutes, I should think, and then the lights having
+gone out, I took matters in my own hands and we went away from
+there. Another piece of luck!
+
+We weren't more than a minute on our way when a pair of bombs went
+off about over the shell hole. Evidently some bold Heinie had
+chucked them over to make sure of the job in case the machines
+hadn't. It was a close pinch--two close pinches. I was in places
+afterwards where there was more action and more danger, but,
+looking back, I don't think I was ever sicker or scareder. I would
+have been easy meat if they had rushed us.
+
+We made our way back slowly, and eventually caught the gleam of
+steel helmets. They were British. We had stumbled upon our left
+sector. We found out then that the line curved and that instead of
+the left sector being directly to the left of ours--the center--it
+was to the left and to the rear. Also there was a telephone wire
+running from one to the other. We reported and made our way back to
+the center in about five minutes by feeling along the wire. That
+was our method afterwards, and the patrol was cushy for us.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+FASCINATION OF PATROL WORK
+
+
+I want to say a word right here about patrol work in general,
+because for some reason it fascinated me and was my favorite game.
+
+If you should be fortunate--or unfortunate enough, as the case
+might be--to be squatting in a front-line trench this fine morning
+and looking through a periscope, you wouldn't see much. Just over
+the top, not more than twenty feet away, would be your barbed-wire
+entanglements, a thick network of wire stretched on iron posts
+nearly waist high, and perhaps twelve or fifteen feet across. Then
+there would be an intervening stretch of from fifty to one hundred
+fifty yards of No Man's Land, a tortured, torn expanse of muddy
+soil, pitted with shell craters, and, over beyond, the German wire
+and his parapet.
+
+There would be nothing alive visible. There would probably be a
+few corpses lying about or hanging in the wire. Everything would be
+still except for the flutter of some rag of a dead man's uniform.
+Perhaps not that. Daylight movements in No Man's Land are somehow
+disconcerting. Once I was in a trench where a leg--a booted German
+leg, stuck up stark and stiff out of the mud not twenty yards in
+front. Some idiotic joker on patrol hung a helmet on the foot, and
+all the next day that helmet dangled and swung in the breeze. It
+irritated the periscope watchers, and the next night it was taken
+down.
+
+Ordinarily, however, there is little movement between the wires,
+nor behind them. And yet you know that over yonder there are
+thousands of men lurking in the trenches and shelters.
+
+After dark these men, or some of them, crawl out like hunted
+animals and prowl in the black mystery of No Man's Land. They are
+the patrol.
+
+The patrol goes out armed and equipped lightly. He has to move
+softly and at times very quickly. It is his duty to get as close
+to the enemy lines as possible and find out if they are repairing
+their wire or if any of their parties are out, and to get back word
+to the machine gunners, who immediately cut loose on the indicated
+spot.
+
+Sometimes he lies with his head to the ground over some suspected
+area, straining his ears for the faint "scrape, scrape" that means
+a German mining party is down there, getting ready to plant a ton
+or so of high explosive, or, it may be, is preparing to touch it
+off at that very moment.
+
+Always the patrol is supposed to avoid encounter with enemy
+patrols. He carries two or three Mills bombs and a pistol, but not
+for use except in extreme emergency. Also a persuader stick or a
+trench knife, which he may use if he is near enough to do it
+silently.
+
+The patrol stares constantly through the dark and gets so he can
+see almost as well as a cat. He must avoid being seen. When a Very
+light goes up, he lies still. If he happens to be standing, he
+stands still. Unless the light is behind him so that he is
+silhouetted, he is invisible to the enemy.
+
+Approaching a corpse, the patrol lies quiet and watches it for
+several minutes, unless it is one he has seen before and is
+acquainted with. Because sometimes the man isn't dead, but a
+perfectly live Boche patrol lying "doggo." You can't be too
+careful.
+
+If you happen to be pussyfooting forward erect and encounter a
+German patrol, it is policy to scuttle back unless you are near
+enough to get in one good lick with the persuader. He will retreat
+slowly himself, and you mustn't follow him. Because: The British
+patrol usually goes out singly or at the most in pairs or threes.
+
+The Germans, on the other hand, hunt in parties. One man leads. Two
+others follow to the rear, one to each side. And then two more, and
+two more, so that they form a V, like a flock of geese. Now if you
+follow up the lead man when he retreats, you are baited into a trap
+and find yourself surrounded, smothered by superior numbers, and
+taken prisoner. Then back to the Boche trench, where exceedingly
+unpleasant things are apt to happen.
+
+It is, in fact, most unwholesome for a British patrol to be
+captured. I recall a case in point which I witnessed and which is
+far enough in the past so that it can be told. It occurred, not at
+Vimy Ridge, but further down the line, nearer the Somme.
+
+I was out one night with another man, prowling in the dark, when I
+encountered a Canadian sergeant who was alone. There was a Canadian
+battalion holding the next trench to us, and another farther down.
+He was from the farther one. We lay in the mud and compared notes.
+Once, when a light floated down near us, I saw his face, and he was
+a man I knew, though not by name.
+
+After a while we separated, and he went back, as he was
+considerably off his patrol. An hour or so later the mist began to
+get gray, and it was evident that dawn was near. I was a couple of
+hundred yards down from our battalion, and my man and I made for
+the trenches opposite where we were. As we climbed into a sap head,
+I was greeted by a Canadian corporal. He invited me to a tin of
+"char", and I sent my man up the line to our own position.
+
+We sat on the fire step drinking, and I told the corporal about
+meeting the sergeant out in front. While we were at the "char" it
+kept getting lighter, and presently a pair of Lewises started to
+rattle a hundred yards or so away down the line. Then came a sudden
+commotion and a kind of low, growling shout. That is the best way I
+can describe it. We stood up, and below we saw men going over the
+top.
+
+"What the dickens can this be?" stuttered the corporal. "There's
+been no barrage. There's no orders for a charge. What is it? What
+is it?"
+
+Well, there they were, going over, as many as two hundred of
+them--growling. The corporal and I climbed out of the trench at the
+rear, over the parados, and ran across lots down to a point
+opposite where the Canadians had gone over, and watched.
+
+They swept across No Man's Land and into the Boche trench. There
+was the deuce of a ruckus over there for maybe two minutes, and
+then back they came--carrying something. Strangely enough there had
+been no machine-gun fire turned on them as they crossed, nor was
+there as they returned. They had cleaned that German trench! And
+they brought back the body of a man--nailed to a rude crucifix. The
+thing was more like a T than a cross. It was made of planks,
+perhaps two by five, and the man was spiked on by his hands and
+feet. Across the abdomen he was riddled with bullets and again with
+another row a little higher up near his chest. The man was the
+sergeant I had talked to earlier in the night. What had happened
+was this. He had, no doubt, been taken by a German patrol. Probably
+he had refused to answer questions. Perhaps he had insulted an
+officer. They had crucified him and held him up above the parapet.
+With the first light his own comrades had naturally opened on the
+thing with the Lewises, not knowing what it was. When it got
+lighter, and they recognized the hellish thing that had been done
+to one of their men, they went over. Nothing in this world could
+have stopped them.
+
+The M.O. who viewed the body said that without question the man had
+been crucified alive. Also it was said that the same thing had
+happened before.
+
+I told Captain Green of the occurrence when I got back to our own
+trenches, and he ordered me to keep silent, which I did. It was
+feared that if the affair got about the men would be "windy" on
+patrol. However, the thing did get about and was pretty well talked
+over. Too many saw it.
+
+The Canadians were reprimanded for going over without orders. But
+they were not punished. For their officers went with them--led
+them.
+
+Occasionally the temptation is too great. Once I was out on patrol
+alone, having sent my man back with a message, when I encountered a
+Heinie. I was lying down at the time. A flock of lights went up and
+showed this fellow standing about ten feet from me. He had frozen
+and stayed that way till the flares died, but I was close enough to
+see that he was a German. Also--marvel of marvels--he was alone.
+
+When the darkness settled again, I got to my feet and jumped at
+him. He jumped at me--another marvel. Going into the clinch I
+missed him with the persuader and lost my grip on it, leaving the
+weapon dangling by the leather loop on my wrist. He had struck at
+me with his automatic, which I think he must have dropped, though
+I'm not sure of that. Anyway we fell into each other's arms and
+went at it barehanded. He was bigger than I. I got under the ribs
+and tried to squeeze the breath out of him, but he was too rugged.
+
+At the same time I felt that he didn't relish the clinch. I slipped
+my elbow up and got under his chin, forcing his head back. His
+breath smelled of beer and onions. I was choking him when he
+brought his knee up and got me in the stomach and again on the
+instep when he brought his heel down.
+
+It broke my hold, and I staggered back groping for the persuader.
+He jumped back as far as I did. I felt somehow that he was glad. So
+was I. We stood for a minute, and I heard him gutter out something
+that sounded like "Verdamder swinehunt." Then we both backed away.
+
+It seemed to me to be the nicest way out of the situation. No doubt
+he felt the same.
+
+I seem to have wandered far from the Quarries and the Grouse Spots.
+Let's go back.
+
+We were two days in the Grouse Spots and were then relieved, going
+back to the Quarries and taking the place of Number 9 in support.
+While lying there, I drew a patrol that was interesting because it
+was different.
+
+The Souchez River flowed down from Abalaine and Souchez villages
+and through our lines to those of the Germans, and on to Lens.
+Spies, either in the army itself or in the villages, had been
+placing messages in bottles and floating them down the river to the
+Germans.
+
+Somebody found this out, and a net of chicken wire had been placed
+across the river in No Man's Land. Some one had to go down there
+and fish for bottles twice nightly. I took this patrol alone. The
+lines were rather far apart along the river, owing to the swampy
+nature of the ground, which made livable trenches impossible.
+
+I slipped out and down the slight incline, and presently found
+myself in a little valley. The grass was rank and high, sometimes
+nearly up to my chin, and the ground was slimy and treacherous. I
+slipped into several shell holes and was almost over my head in the
+stagnant, smelly water.
+
+I made the river all right, but there was no bridge or net in
+sight. The river was not over ten feet wide and there was supposed
+to be a footbridge of two planks where the net was.
+
+I got back into the grass and made my way downstream. Sliding
+gently through the grass, I kept catching my feet in something hard
+that felt like roots; but there were no trees in the neighborhood.
+I reached down and groped in the grass and brought up a human rib.
+The place was full of them, and skulls. Stooping, I could see them,
+grinning up out of the dusk, hundreds of them. I learned afterwards
+that this was called the Valley of Death. Early in the war several
+thousand Zouaves had perished there, and no attempt had been made
+to bury them.
+
+After getting out of the skeletons, I scouted along downstream and
+presently heard the low voices of Germans. Evidently they had found
+the net and planned to get the messages first. Creeping to the edge
+of the grass, I peeped out. I was opposite the bottle trap. I could
+dimly make out the forms of two men standing on the nearer end of
+the plank bridge. They were, I should judge, about ten yards away,
+and they hadn't heard me. I got out a Mills, pulled the pin, and
+pitched it. The bomb exploded, perhaps five feet this side of the
+men. One dropped, and the other ran.
+
+After a short wait I ran over to the German. I searched him for
+papers, found none, and rolled him into the river.
+
+After a few days in the Quarries we were moved to what was known as
+the Warren, so called because the works resembled a rabbit warren.
+This was on the lower side and to the left end of Vimy Ridge, and
+was extra dangerous. It did seem as though each place was worse
+than the last. The Warren was a regular network of trenches,
+burrows, and funk holes, and we needed them all.
+
+The position was downhill from the Huns, and they kept sending over
+and down a continuous stream of "pip-squeaks", "whiz-bangs", and
+"minnies." The "pip-squeak" is a shell that starts with a silly
+"pip", goes on with a sillier "squeeeeee", and goes off with a
+man's-size bang.
+
+The "whiz-bang" starts with a rough whirr like a flushing cock
+partridge, and goes off on contact with a tremendous bang. It is
+not as dangerous as it sounds, but bad enough.
+
+The "minnie" is about the size of a two-gallon kerosene can, and
+comes somersaulting over in a high arc and is concentrated death
+and destruction when it lands. It has one virtue--you can see it
+coming and dodge, and at night it most considerately leaves a trail
+of sparks.
+
+The Boche served us full portions of all three of these man-killers
+in the Warren and kept us ducking in and out pretty much all the
+time, night and day.
+
+I was lucky enough after the first day to be put on sappers' duty.
+The Sappers, or Engineers, are the men whose duty it is to run
+mines under No Man's Land and plant huge quantities of explosives.
+There was a great amount of mining going on all the time at Vimy
+Ridge from both sides.
+
+Sometimes Fritz would run a sap out reasonably near the surface,
+and we would counter with one lower down. Then he'd go us one
+better and go still deeper. Some of the mines went down and under
+hundreds of feet. The result of all this was that on our side at
+least, the Sappers were under-manned and a good many infantry were
+drafted into that service.
+
+I had charge of a gang and had to fill sandbags with the earth
+removed from the end of the sap and get it out and pile the bags on
+the parapets. We were well out toward the German lines and deep
+under the hill when we heard them digging below us. An engineer
+officer came in and listened for an hour and decided that they were
+getting in explosives and that it was up to us to beat them to it.
+Digging stopped at once and we began rushing in H.E. in fifty-pound
+boxes. I was ordered back into supports with my section.
+
+Right here I began to have luck. Just see how this worked out.
+First a rushing party was organized whose duty it was to rush the
+crater made by the mine explosion and occupy it before the Germans
+got there. Sixty men were selected, a few from each company, and
+placed where they were supposedly safe, but where they could get up
+fast. This is the most dangerous duty an infantryman has to do,
+because both sides after a mine explosion shower in fifty-seven
+varieties of sudden death, including a perfect rain of machine-gun
+bullets. The chances of coming out of a rushing party with a whole
+hide are about one in five.
+
+Well, for a wonder, I didn't get drawn for this one, and I breathed
+one long, deep sigh of relief, put my hand inside my tunic and
+patted Dinky on the back. Dinky is my mascot. I'll tell you about
+him later.
+
+On top of that another bit of luck came along, though it didn't
+seem like it at the moment. It was the custom for a ration party to
+go out each night and get up the grub. This party had to go over
+the duck walk and was under fire both going and coming. One of the
+corporals who had been out on rations two nights in succession
+began to "grouse."
+
+Of course Sergeant Page spotted me and detailed me to the
+"wangler's" duty. I "groused" too, like a good fellow, but had to
+go.
+
+"Garn," says Wellsie. "Wot's the diff if yer gets it 'ere or there.
+If ye clicks, I'll draw yer fags from Blighty and say a prayer for
+yer soul. On yer way."
+
+Cheerful beggar, Wellsie. He was doing me a favor and didn't know
+it.
+
+I did the three miles along the duck walk with the ration party,
+and there wasn't a shell came our way. Queer! Nor on the way back.
+Queerer! When we were nearly back and were about five hundred yards
+from the base of the Pimple, a dead silence fell on the German side
+of the line. There wasn't a gun nor a mortar nor even a rifle in
+action for a mile in either direction. There was, too, a kind of
+sympathetic let-up on our side. There weren't any lights going up.
+There was an electric tension in the very air. You could tell by
+the feel that something big was going to happen.
+
+I halted the ration party at the end of the duck walk and waited.
+But not for long. Suddenly the "Very" lights went up from the
+German side, literally in hundreds, illuminating the top of the
+ridge and the sky behind with a thin greenish white flare. Then
+came a deep rumble that shook the ground, and a dull boom. A spurt
+of blood-red flame squirted up from the near side of the hill, and
+a rolling column of gray smoke.
+
+Then another rumble, and another, and then the whole side of
+the ridge seemed to open up and move slowly skyward with a
+world-wrecking, soul-paralyzing crash. A murky red glare lit up the
+smoke screen, and against it a mass of tossed-up debris, and for an
+instant I caught the black silhouette of a whole human body
+spread-eagled and spinning like a pin-wheel.
+
+Most of our party, even at the distance, were knocked down by the
+gigantic impact of the explosion. A shower of earth and rock
+chunks, some as big as a barrel, fell around us.
+
+Then we heard a far-away cheering, and in the light of the flares
+we saw a newly made hill and our men swarming up it to the crater.
+Two mines had exploded, and the whole side of the Pimple had been
+torn away. Half of our rushing party were killed and we had sixty
+casualties from shock and wounds among men who were supposed to be
+at a safe distance from the mining operation. But we took and held
+the new crater positions.
+
+The corporal whose place I had taken on the ration party was killed
+by falling stones. Inasmuch as he was where I would have been, I
+considered that I had had a narrow escape from "going west!" More
+luck!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+ON THE GO
+
+
+        Marching, marching, marching,
+        Always ruddy well marching.
+        Marching all the morning,
+        And marching all the night.
+        Marching, marching, marching,
+        Always ruddy well marching,
+        Roll on till my time is up
+        And I shall march no more.
+
+
+We sung it to the tune of "Holy, Holy, Holy", the whole blooming
+battalion. As we swung down the Boulevard Alsace-Lorraine in Amiens
+and passed the great cathedral up there to the left, on its little
+rise of ground, the chant lifted and lilted and throbbed up from
+near a thousand throats, much as the unisoned devotions of the
+olden monks must have done in other days.
+
+Ours was a holy cause, but despite the association of the tune the
+song was far from being a holy song. It was, rather, a chanted
+remonstrance against all hiking and against this one in
+particular.
+
+After our service at Vimy Ridge some one in authority somewhere
+decided that the 22nd Battalion and two others were not quite good
+enough for really smart work. We were, indeed, hard. But not hard
+enough. So some superior intellect squatting somewhere in the
+safety of the rear, with a finger on the pulse of the army, decreed
+that we were to get not only hard but tough; and to that end we
+were to hike. Hike we did.
+
+For more than three weeks we went from place to place with no
+apparent destination, wandering aimlessly up and down the
+country-side of Northern France, imposing ourselves upon the people
+of little villages, shamming battle over their cultivated fields,
+and sleeping in their hen coops.
+
+I kept a diary on that hike. It was a thing forbidden, but I
+managed it. One manages many things out there. I have just read
+over that diary. There isn't much to it but a succession of town
+names,--Villiers du Bois, Maisincourt, Barly, Oneaux, Canchy,
+Amiens, Bourdon, Villiers Bocage, Agenvilliers, Behencourt, and
+others that I failed to set down and have forgotten. We swept
+across that country, sweating under our packs, hardening our
+muscles, stopping here for a day, there for five days for
+extended-order drills and bayonet and musketry practice, and
+somewhere else for a sham battle. We were getting ready to go into
+the Somme.
+
+The weather, by some perversity of fate, was fair during all of
+that hiking time. Whenever I was in the trenches it always rained,
+whether the season warranted it or not. Except on days when we were
+scheduled to go over the top. Then, probably because rain will
+sometimes hold up a planned-for attack, it was always fair.
+
+On the hike, with good roads under foot, the soldier does not mind
+a little wet and welcomes a lot of clouds. No such luck for us. It
+was clear all the time. Not only clear but blazing hot August
+weather.
+
+On our first march out of the Cabaret Rouge communication trench we
+covered a matter of ten miles to a place called Villiers du Bois.
+Before that I had never fully realized just what it meant to go it
+in full heavy equipment.
+
+Often on the march I compared my lot with that of the medieval
+soldier who had done his fighting over these same fields of
+Northern France.
+
+The knight of the Middle Ages was all dressed up like a hardware
+store with, I should judge, about a hundred pounds of armor. But he
+rode a horse and had a squire or some such striker trailing along
+in the rear with the things to make him comfortable, when the
+fighting was over.
+
+The modern soldier gets very little help in his war making. He is,
+in fact, more likely to be helping somebody else than asking for
+assistance for himself. The soldier has two basic functions: first,
+to keep himself whole and healthy; second, to kill the other
+fellow. To the end that he may do these two perfectly simple
+things, he has to carry about eighty pounds of weight all the time.
+
+He has a blanket, a waterproof sheet, a greatcoat, extra boots,
+extra underwear, a haversack with iron rations, entrenching tools,
+a bayonet, a water bottle, a mess kit, a rifle, two hundred fifty
+rounds of ammo, a tin hat, two gas helmets, and a lot of
+miscellaneous small junk. All this is draped, hung, and otherwise
+disposed over his figure by means of a web harness having more
+hooks than a hatrack. He parallels the old-time knight only in the
+matter of the steel helmet and the rifle, which, with the bayonet,
+corresponds to the lance, sword, and battle-ax, three in one.
+
+The modern soldier carries all his worldly goods with him all the
+time. He hates to hike. But he has to.
+
+I remember very vividly that first day. The temperature was around
+90°, and some fool officers had arranged that we start at one,--the
+very worst time of the day. The roads so near the front were
+pulverized, and the dust rose in dense clouds. The long straight
+lines of poplars beside the road were gray with it, and the heat
+waves shimmered up from the fields.
+
+Before we had gone five miles the men began to wilt. Right away I
+had some more of the joys of being a corporal brought home to me.
+I was already touched with trench fever and was away under par.
+That didn't make any difference.
+
+On the march, when the men begin to weaken, an officer is sure to
+trot up and say:
+
+"Corporal Holmes, just carry this man's rifle," or "Corporal
+Collins, take that man's pack. He's jolly well done."
+
+Seemingly the corporal never is supposed to be jolly well done. If
+one complained, his officer would look at him with astounded
+reproach and say:
+
+"Why, Corporal. We cawn't have this, you know! You are a
+Non-commissioned Officer, and you must set an example. You must,
+rahly."
+
+When we finally hit the town where our billets were, we found our
+company quartered in an old barn. It was dirty, and there was a
+pigpen at one end,--very smelly in the August heat. We flopped in
+the ancient filth. The cooties were very active, as we were
+drenched with sweat and hadn't had a bath since heavens knew when.
+We had had about ten minutes' rest and were thinking about getting
+out of the harness when up came Mad Harry, one of our "leftenants",
+and ordered us out for foot inspection.
+
+I don't want to say anything unfair about this man. He is dead now.
+I saw him die. He was brave. He knew his job all right, but he was
+a fine example of what an officer ought not to be. The only reason
+I speak of him is because I want to say something about officers in
+general.
+
+This Mad Harry,--I do not give his surname for obvious
+reasons,--was the son of one of the richest-new-rich-merchant
+families in England. He was very highly educated, had, I take it,
+spent the most of his life with the classics. He was long and thin
+and sallow and fish-eyed. He spoke in a low colorless monotone,
+absolutely without any inflection whatever. The men thought he was
+balmy. Hence the nickname Mad Harry.
+
+Mad Harry was a fiend for walking. And at the end of a twenty-mile
+hike in heavy marching order he would casually stroll alongside
+some sweating soldier and drone out,
+
+"I say, Private Stetson. Don't you just love to hike?"
+
+Then and there he made a lifelong personal enemy of Private
+Stetson. In the same or similar ways he made personal enemies of
+every private soldier he came in contact with.
+
+It may do no harm to tell how Mad Harry died. He came very near
+being shot by one of his own men.
+
+It was on the Somme. We were in the middle of a bit of a show, and
+we were all hands down in shell holes with a heavy machine-gun fire
+crackling overhead. I was in one hole, and in the next, which
+merged with mine, were two chaps who were cousins.
+
+Mad Harry came along, walking perfectly upright, regardless of
+danger, with his left arm shattered. He dropped into the next shell
+hole and with his expressionless drawl unshaken, said, "Private X.
+Dress my arm."
+
+Private X got out his own emergency bandage and fixed the arm. When
+it was done Mad Harry, still speaking in his monotonous drone,
+said:
+
+"Now, Private X, get up out of this hole. Don't be hiding."
+
+Private X obeyed orders without a question. He climbed out and fell
+with a bullet through his head. His cousin, who was a very dear
+friend of the boy, evidently went more or less crazy at this. I saw
+him leap at Mad Harry and snatch his pistol from the holster. He
+was, I think, about to shoot his officer when a shell burst
+overhead and killed them both.
+
+Well, on this first day of the hike Mad Harry ordered us out for
+foot inspection, as I have said. I found that I simply couldn't get
+them out. They were in no condition for foot inspection,--hadn't
+washed for days. Harry came round and gave me a royal dressing down
+and ordered the whole bunch out for parade and helmet inspection.
+We were kept standing for an hour. You couldn't blame the men for
+hating an officer of that kind.
+
+It is only fair to say that Mad Harry was not a usual type of
+British officer. He simply carried to excess the idea of discipline
+and unquestioning obedience. The principle of discipline is the
+guts and backbone of any army. I am inclined to think that it is
+more than half the making of any soldier. There has been a good
+deal of talk in the press about a democratic army. As a matter of
+fact fraternization between men and officers is impossible except
+in nations of exceptional temperament and imagination, like the
+French. The French are unique in everything. It follows that their
+army can do things that no other army can. It is common to see a
+French officer sitting in a cafe drinking with a private.
+
+In the British army that could not be. The new British army is more
+democratic, no doubt, than the old. But except in the heat of
+battle, no British officer can relax his dignity very much. With
+the exception of Mr. Blofeld, who was one of those rare characters
+who can be personally close and sympathetic and at the same time
+command respect and implicit obedience, I never knew a successful
+officer who did not seem to be almost of another world.
+
+Our Colonel was a fine man, but he was as dignified as a Supreme
+Court Judge. Incidentally he was as just. I have watched Colonel
+Flowers many times when he was holding orders. This is a kind of
+court when all men who have committed crimes and have been passed
+on by the captains appear before the Colonel.
+
+Colonel Flowers would sit smiling behind his hand, and would try
+his hardest to find "mitigating circumstances"; but when none could
+be dug out he passed sentence with the last limit of severity, and
+the man that was up for orders didn't come again if he knew what
+was good for himself.
+
+I think that on the hike we all got to know our officers better
+than we had known them in the trenches. Their real characters came
+out. You knew how far you could go with them, and what was more
+important, how far you couldn't go.
+
+It was at Dieval that my rank as lance corporal was confirmed. It
+is customary, when a rookie has been made a non-com in training, to
+reduce him immediately when he gets to France. I had joined in the
+trenches and had volunteered for a raiding party and there had been
+no opportunity to reduce me. I had not, however, had a corporal's
+pay. My confirmation came at Dieval, and I was put on pay. I would
+have willingly sacrificed the pay and the so-called honor to have
+been a private.
+
+Our routine throughout the hike was always about the same, that is
+in the intervals when we were in any one place for a day or more.
+It was, up at six, breakfast of tea, bread, and bacon. Drill till
+noon; dinner; drill till five. After that nothing to do till
+to-morrow, unless we got night 'ops, which was about two nights out
+of three.
+
+There were few Y.M.C.A. huts so far behind the lines, and the short
+time up to nine was usually spent in the _estaminets_. The games of
+house were in full blast all the time.
+
+On the hike we were paid weekly. Privates got five francs,
+corporals ten, and sergeants fifteen to twenty a week. That's a lot
+of money. Anything left over was held back to be paid when we got
+to Blighty. Parcels and mail came along with perfect regularity on
+that hike. It was and is a marvel to me how they do it. A battalion
+chasing around all over the place gets its stuff from Blighty day
+after day, right on the tick and without any question. I only hope
+that whatever the system is, our army will take advantage of it. A
+shortage of letters and luxury parcels is a real hardship.
+
+We finally brought up at a place called Oneux (pronounced Oh, no)
+and were there five days. I fell into luck here. It was customary,
+when we were marching on some unsuspecting village, to send the
+quartermaster sergeants ahead on bicycles to locate billets. We had
+an old granny named Cypress, better known as Lizzie. The other
+sergeants were accustomed to flim-flam Lizzie to a finish on the
+selection of billets, with the result that C company usually slept
+in pigpens of stables.
+
+The day we approached Oneux, Lizzie was sick, and I was delegated
+to his job. I went into the town with the three other quartermaster
+sergeants, got them into an _estaminet_, bought about a dollar's
+worth of drinks, sneaked out the back door, and preempted the
+schoolhouse for C company. I also took the house next door, which
+was big and clean, for the officers. We were royally comfortable
+there, and the other companies used the stables that usually fell
+to our lot.
+
+As a reward, I suspect, I was picked for Orderly Corporal, a cushy
+job. We all of us had it fairly easy at Oneux. It was hot weather,
+and nights we used to sit out in the schoolhouse yard and talk
+about the war.
+
+Some of the opinions voiced out there with more frankness than any
+one would dare to use at home would, I am sure, shock some of the
+patriots. The fact is that any one who has fought in France wants
+peace, and the sooner the better.
+
+We had one old-timer, out since Mons, who habitually, night after
+night, day after day, would pipe up with the same old plaint.
+Something like this:
+
+"Hi arsks yer. Wot are we fightin' for? Wot'd th' Belgiums hever do
+fer us? Wot? Wot'd th' Rooshians hever do fer us? Wot's th' good of
+th' Frenchies? Wot's th' good of hanybody but th' Henglish? Gawd
+lumme! I'm fed up."
+
+And yet this man had gone out at the beginning and would fight
+like the very devil, and I verily believe will be homesick for the
+trenches if he is alive when it is all over.
+
+Bones, who was educated and a thoughtful reader, had it figured out
+that the war was all due to the tyranny of the ruling classes, with
+the Kaiser the chief offender.
+
+A lot of the men wanted peace at any reasonable price. Anything, so
+they would get back to 'Arriet or Sadie or Maria.
+
+I should say offhand that there was not one man in a hundred who
+was fighting consciously for any great recognized principle. And
+yet, with all their grousing and criticism, and all their
+overwhelming desire to have it over with, every one of them was
+loyal and brave and a hard fighter.
+
+A good deal has been written about the brilliancy of the Canadians
+and the other Colonials. Too much credit cannot be given these men.
+In an attack there are no troops with more dash than the Canadians,
+but when it comes to taking punishment and hanging on a hopeless
+situation, there are no troops in the wide world who can equal,
+much less surpass, the English. Personally I think that comparisons
+should be avoided. All the Allies are doing their full duty with
+all that is in them.
+
+During most of the war talk, it was my habit to keep discreetly
+quiet. We were not in the war yet, and any remarks from me usually
+drew some hot shot about Mr. Wilson's "blankety-blinked bloomin'
+notes."
+
+There was another American, a chap named Sanford from Virginia,
+in B company, and he and I used to furnish a large amount of
+entertainment in these war talks. Sanford was a F.F.V. and didn't
+care who knew it. Also he thought General Lee was the greatest
+military genius ever known. One night he and I got started and had
+it hot and heavy as to the merits of the Civil War. This for some
+reason tickled the Tommies half to death, and after that they would
+egg us on to a discussion.
+
+One of them would slyly say, "Darby, 'oo th' blinkin' 'ell was this
+blighter, General Grant?"
+
+Or, "Hi sye, Sandy, Hi 'eard Darby syin' 'ow this General Lee was a
+bleedin' swab."
+
+Then Sanford and I would pass the wink and go at it tooth and
+nail. It was ridiculous, arguing the toss on a long-gone-by
+small-time scrap like the Civil War with the greatest show in
+history going on all around us. Anyway the Tommies loved it and
+would fairly howl with delight when we got to going good.
+
+It is strange, but with so many Americans in the British service, I
+ran up against very few. I remember one night when we were making a
+night march from one village to another, we stopped for the
+customary ten-minutes-in-the-hour rest. Over yonder in a field
+there was a camp of some kind,--probably field artillery. There was
+dim light of a fire and the low murmur of voices. And then a fellow
+began to sing in a nice tenor:
+
+        Bury me not on the lone prairie
+        Where the wild coyotes howl o'er me.
+        Bury me down in the little churchyard
+        In a grave just six by three.
+
+The last time I had heard that song was in New Orleans, and it was
+sung by a wild Texan. So I yelled, "Hello there, Texas."
+
+He answered, "Hello, Yank. Where from?"
+
+I answered, "Boston."
+
+"Give my regards to Tremont Street and go to hell," says he. A gale
+of laughter came out of the night. Just then we had the order to
+fall in, and away we went. I'd like to know sometime who that chap
+was.
+
+After knocking about all over the north of France seemingly, we
+brought up at Canchy of a Sunday afternoon. Here the whole brigade,
+four battalions, had church parade, and after that the band played
+ragtime and the officers had a gabfest and compared medals, on top
+of which we were soaked with two hours' steady drill. We were at
+Canchy ten days, and they gave it to us good and plenty. We would
+drill all day and after dark it would be night 'ops. Finally so
+many men were going to the doctor worn out that he ordered a whole
+day and a half of rest.
+
+Mr. Blofeld on Saturday night suggested that, as we were going into
+the Somme within a few weeks, the non-coms ought to have a little
+blow-out. It would be the last time we would all ever be together.
+He furnished us with all the drinkables we could get away with,
+including some very choice Johnny Walker. There was a lot of
+canned stuff, mostly sardines. Mr. Blofeld loaned us the officers'
+phonograph.
+
+It was a large, wet night. Everybody made a speech or sang a song,
+and we didn't go home until morning. It was a farewell party, and
+we went the limit. If there is one thing that the Britisher does
+better than another, it is getting ready to die. He does it with a
+smile,--and he dies with a laugh.
+
+Poor chaps! Nearly all of them are pushing up the daisies somewhere
+in France. Those who are not are, with one or two exceptions, out
+of the army with broken bodies.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+FIRST SIGHT OF THE TANKS
+
+
+Late in the summer I accumulated a nice little case of trench
+fever.
+
+This disease is due to remaining for long periods in the wet and
+mud, to racked nerves, and, I am inclined to think, to sleeping
+in the foul air of the dug-outs. The chief symptom is high
+temperature, and the patient aches a good deal. I was sent back to
+a place in the neighborhood of Arras and was there a week
+recuperating.
+
+While I was there a woman spy whom I had known in Abalaine was
+brought to the village and shot. The frequency with which the duck
+walk at Abalaine had been shelled, especially when ration parties
+or troops were going over it, had attracted a good deal of
+attention.
+
+There was a single house not far from the end of that duck walk
+west of Abalaine, occupied by a woman and two or three children.
+She had lived there for years and was, so far as anybody knew, a
+Frenchwoman in breeding and sympathies. She was in the habit of
+selling coffee to the soldiers, and, of course, gossiped with them
+and thus gained a good deal of information about troop movements.
+
+She was not suspected for a long time. Then a gunner of a battery
+which was stationed near by noticed that certain children's
+garments, a red shirt and a blue one and several white garments,
+were on the clothesline in certain arrangement on the days when
+troops were to be moved along the duck walk the following night.
+This soldier notified his officers, and evidence was accumulated
+that the woman was signalling to the Boche airplanes.
+
+She was arrested, taken to the rear, and shot. I don't like to
+think that this woman was really French. She was, no doubt, one of
+the myriad of spies who were planted in France by the Germans long
+before the war.
+
+After getting over the fever, I rejoined my battalion in the early
+part of September in the Somme district at a place called Mill
+Street. This was in reality a series of dug-outs along a road some
+little distance behind our second lines, but in the range of the
+German guns, which persistently tried for our artillery just beside
+us.
+
+Within an hour of my arrival I was treated to a taste of one of the
+forms of German kultur which was new at the time. At least it was
+new to me--tear gas. This delectable vapor came over in shells,
+comparatively harmless in themselves, but which loosed a gas,
+smelling at first a little like pineapple. When you got a good
+inhale you choked, and the eyes began to run. There was no
+controlling the tears, and the victim would fairly drip for a
+long time, leaving him wholly incapacitated.
+
+Goggles provided for this gas were nearly useless, and we all
+resorted to the regular gas helmet. In this way we were able to
+stand the stuff.
+
+The gas mask, by the way, was the bane of my existence in the
+trenches--one of the banes. I found that almost invariably after I
+had had mine on for a few minutes I got faint. Very often I would
+keel over entirely. A good many of the men were affected the same
+way, either from the lack of air inside the mask or by the
+influence of the chemicals with which the protector is impregnated.
+
+One of the closest calls I had in all my war experience was at
+Mills Street. And Fritz was not to blame.
+
+Several of the men, including myself, were squatted around a
+brazier cooking char and getting warm, for the nights were cold,
+when there was a terrific explosion. Investigation proved that an
+unexploded bomb had been buried under the brazier, and that it had
+gone off as the heat penetrated the ground. It is a wonder there
+weren't more of these accidents, as Tommy was forever throwing away
+his Millses.
+
+The Mills bomb fires by pulling out a pin which releases a lever
+which explodes the bomb after four seconds. Lots of men never
+really trust a bomb. If you have one in your pocket, you feel that
+the pin may somehow get out, and if it does you know that you'll go
+to glory in small bits. I always had that feeling myself and used
+to throw away my Millses and scoop a hatful of dirt over them with
+my foot.
+
+This particular bomb killed one man, wounded several, and shocked
+all of us. Two of the men managed to "swing" a "blighty" case out
+of it. I could have done the same if I had been wise enough.
+
+I think I ought to say a word right here about the psychology of
+the Tommy in swinging a "blighty" case.
+
+It is the one first, last, and always ambition of the Tommy to get
+back to Blighty. Usually he isn't "out there" because he wants to
+be but because he has to be. He is a patriot all right. His love of
+Blighty shows that. He will fight like a bag of wildcats when he
+gets where the fighting is, but he isn't going around looking for
+trouble. He knows that his officers will find that for him
+a-plenty.
+
+When he gets letters from home and knows that the wife or the
+"nippers" or the old mother is sick, he wants to go home. And so he
+puts in his time hoping for a wound that will be "cushy" enough not
+to discommode him much and that will be bad enough to swing
+Blighty on. Sometimes when he wants very much to get back he
+stretches his conscience to the limit--and it is pretty elastic
+anyhow--and he fakes all sorts of illness. The M.O. is usually a
+bit too clever for Tommy, however, and out and out fakes seldom get
+by. Sometimes they do, and in the most unexpected cases.
+
+I had a man named Isadore Epstein in my section who was
+instrumental in getting Blighty for himself and one other. Issy was
+a tailor by trade. He was no fighting man and didn't pretend to be,
+and he didn't care who knew it. He was wild to get a "blighty one"
+or shell shock, or anything that would take him home.
+
+One morning as we were preparing to go over the top, and the men
+were a little jumpy and nervous, I heard a shot behind me, and a
+bullet chugged into the sandbags beside my head. I whirled around,
+my first thought being that some one of our own men was trying to
+do me in. This is a thing that sometimes happens to unpopular
+officers and less frequently to the men. But not in this case.
+
+It was Issy Epstein. He had been monkeying with his rifle and had
+shot himself in the hand. Of course, Issy was at once under
+suspicion of a self-inflicted wound, which is one of the worst
+crimes in the calendar. But the suspicion was removed instantly.
+Issy was hopping around, raising a terrific row.
+
+"Oi, oi," he wailed. "I'm ruint. I'm ruint. My thimble finger is
+gone. My thimble finger! I'm ruint. Oi, oi, oi, oi."
+
+The poor fellow was so sincerely desolated over the loss of his
+necessary finger that I couldn't accuse him of shooting himself
+intentionally. I detailed a man named Bealer to take Issy back to a
+dressing station. Well, Bealer never came back.
+
+Months later in England I met up with Epstein and asked about
+Bealer. It seems that after Issy had been fixed up, the surgeon
+turned to Bealer and said:
+
+"What's the matter with you?"
+
+Bealer happened to be dreaming of something else and didn't answer.
+
+"I say," barked the doctor, "speak up. What's wrong?"
+
+Bealer was startled and jumped and begun to stutter.
+
+"Oh, I see," said the surgeon. "Shell shock."
+
+Bealer was bright enough and quick enough after that to play it up
+and was tagged for Blighty. He had it thrust upon him. And you can
+bet he grabbed it and thanked his lucky stars.
+
+We had been on Mill Street a day and a night when an order came for
+our company to move up to the second line and to be ready to go
+over the top the next day. At first there was the usual grousing,
+as there seemed to be no reason why our company should be picked
+from the whole battalion. We soon learned that all hands were going
+over, and after that we felt better.
+
+We got our equipment on and started up to the second line. It was
+right here that I got my first dose of real honest-to-goodness
+modern war. The big push had been on all summer, and the whole of
+the Somme district was battered and smashed.
+
+Going up from Mill Street there were no communication trenches. We
+were right out in the open, exposed to rifle and machine-gun fire
+and to shrapnel, and the Boches were fairly raining it in on the
+territory they had been pushed back from and of which they had the
+range to an inch. We went up under that steady fire for a full
+hour. The casualties were heavy, and the galling part of it was
+that we couldn't hurry, it was so dark. Every time a shell burst
+overhead and the shrapnel pattered in the dirt all about, I kissed
+myself good-by and thought of the baked beans at home. Men kept
+falling, and I wished I hadn't enlisted.
+
+When we finally got up to the trench, believe me, we didn't need
+any orders to get in. We relieved the Black Watch, and they
+encouraged us by telling us they had lost over half their men in
+that trench, and that Fritz kept a constant fire on it. They didn't
+need to tell us. The big boys were coming over all the time.
+
+The dead here were enough to give you the horrors. I had never seen
+so many before and never saw so many afterwards in one place. They
+were all over the place, both Germans and our own men. And in all
+states of mutilation and decomposition.
+
+There were arms and legs sticking out of the trench sides. You
+could tell their nationality by the uniforms. The Scotch
+predominated. And their dead lay in the trenches and outside and
+hanging over the edges. I think it was here that I first got the
+real meaning of that old quotation about the curse of a dead man's
+eye. With so many lying about, there were always eyes staring at
+you.
+
+Sometimes a particularly wide-staring corpse would seem to follow
+you with his gaze, like one of these posters with the pointing
+finger that they use to advertise Liberty Bonds. We would cover
+them up or turn them over. Here and there one would have a scornful
+death smile on his lips, as though he were laughing at the folly of
+the whole thing.
+
+The stench here was appalling. That frightful, sickening smell that
+strikes one in the face like something tangible. Ugh! I immediately
+grew dizzy and faint and had a mad desire to run. I think if I
+hadn't been a non-com with a certain small amount of responsibility
+to live up to, I should have gone crazy.
+
+I managed to pull myself together and placed my men as comfortably
+as possible. The Germans were five hundred yards away, and there
+was but little danger of an attack, so comparatively few had to
+"stand to." The rest took to the shelters.
+
+I found a little two-man shelter that everybody else had avoided
+and crawled in. I crowded up against a man in there and spoke to
+him. He didn't answer and then suddenly I became aware of a stench
+more powerful than ordinary. I put out my hand and thrust it into a
+slimy, cold mess. I had found a dead German with a gaping,
+putrefying wound in his abdomen. I crawled out of that shelter,
+gagging and retching. This time I simply couldn't smother my
+impulse to run, and run I did, into the next traverse, where I sank
+weak and faint on the fire step. I sat there the rest of the night,
+regardless of shells, my mind milling wildly on the problem of war
+and the reason thereof and cursing myself for a fool.
+
+ [Illustration: HEAD-ON VIEW OF A BRITISH TANK.]
+
+It was very early in the morning when Wells shook me up with, "Hi
+sye, Darby, wot the blinkin' blazes is that noise?"
+
+We listened, and away from the rear came a tremendous whirring,
+burring, rumbling buzz, like a swarm of giant bees. I thought of
+everything from a Zeppelin to a donkey engine but couldn't make it
+out. Blofeld ran around the corner of a traverse and told us to get
+the men out. He didn't know what was coming and wasn't taking any
+chances.
+
+It was getting a little light though heavily misty. We waited, and
+then out of the gray blanket of fog waddled the great steel
+monsters that we were to know afterwards as the "tanks." I shall
+never forget it.
+
+In the half darkness they looked twice as big as they really were.
+They lurched forward, slow, clumsy but irresistible, nosing down
+into shell holes and out, crushing the unburied dead, sliding over
+mere trenches as though they did not exist.
+
+There were five in all. One passed directly over us. We scuttled
+out of the way, and the men let go a cheer. For we knew that here
+was something that could and would win battles.
+
+The tanks were an absolutely new thing to us. Their secret had been
+guarded so carefully even in our own army that our battalion had
+heard nothing of them.
+
+But we didn't need to be told that they would be effective. One
+look was enough to convince us. Later it convinced Fritzie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+FOLLOWING THE TANKS INTO BATTLE
+
+
+The tanks passed beyond us and half-way up to the first line and
+stopped. Trapdoors in the decks opened, and the crews poured out
+and began to pile sandbags in front of the machines so that when
+day broke fully and the mists lifted, the enemy could not see what
+had been brought up in the night.
+
+Day dawned, and a frisky little breeze from the west scattered the
+fog and swept the sky clean. There wasn't a cloud by eight o'clock.
+The sun shone bright, and we cursed it, for if it had been rainy
+the attack would not have been made.
+
+We made the usual last preparations that morning, such as writing
+letters and delivering farewell messages; and the latest rooks made
+their wills in the little blanks provided for the purpose in the
+back of the pay books. We judged from the number of dead and the
+evident punishment other divisions had taken there that the
+chances of coming back would be slim. Around nine o'clock Captain
+Green gave us a little talk that confirmed our suspicions that the
+day was to be a hard one.
+
+He said, as nearly as I can remember:
+
+"Lads, I want to tell you that there is to be a most important
+battle--one of the most important in the whole war. High Wood out
+there commands a view of the whole of this part of the Somme and is
+most valuable. There are estimated to be about ten thousand Germans
+in that wood and in the surrounding supports. The positions are
+mostly of concrete with hundreds of machine guns and field
+artillery. Our heavies have for some reason made no impression on
+them, and regiment after regiment has attempted to take the woods
+and failed with heavy losses. Now it is up to the 47th Division to
+do the seemingly impossible. Zero is at eleven. We go over then.
+The best of luck and God bless you."
+
+We were all feeling pretty sour on the world when the sky pilot
+came along and cheered us up.
+
+He was a good little man, that chaplain, brave as they make 'em.
+He always went over the top with us and was in the thick of the
+fighting, and he had the military cross for bravery. He passed down
+the line, giving us a slap on the back or a hand grip and started
+us singing. No gospel hymns either, but any old rollicking,
+good-natured song that he happened to think of that would loosen
+things up and relieve the tension.
+
+Somehow he made you feel that you wouldn't mind going to hell if he
+was along, and you knew that he'd be willing to come if he could do
+any good. A good little man! Peace to his ashes.
+
+At ten o'clock things busted loose, and the most intense
+bombardment ever known in warfare up to that time began. Thousands
+of guns, both French and English, in fact every available gun
+within a radius of fifteen miles, poured it in. In the Bedlamitish
+din and roar it was impossible to hear the next man unless he put
+his mouth up close to your ear and yelled.
+
+My ear drums ached, and I thought I should go insane if the racket
+didn't stop. I was frightfully nervous and scared, but tried not
+to show it. An officer or a non-com must conceal his nervousness,
+though he be dying with fright.
+
+The faces of the men were hard-set and pale. Some of them looked
+positively green. They smoked fag after fag, lighting the new ones
+on the butts.
+
+All through the bombardment Fritz was comparatively quiet. He was
+saving all his for the time when we should come over. Probably,
+too, he was holed up to a large extent in his concrete dug-outs. I
+looked over the top once or twice and wondered if I, too, would be
+lying there unburied with the rats and maggots gnawing me into an
+unrecognizable mass. There were moments in that hour from ten to
+eleven when I was distinctly sorry for myself.
+
+The time, strangely enough, went fast--as it probably does with a
+condemned man in his last hour. At zero minus ten the word went
+down the line "Ten to go" and we got to the better positions of the
+trench and secured our footing on the side of the parapet to make
+our climb over when the signal came. Some of the men gave their
+bayonets a last fond rub, and I looked to my bolt action to see
+that it worked well. I had ten rounds in the magazine, and I didn't
+intend to rely too much on the bayonet. At a few seconds of eleven
+I looked at my wrist watch and was afflicted again with that empty
+feeling in the solar plexus. Then the whistles shrilled; I blew
+mine, and over we went.
+
+To a disinterested spectator who was far enough up in the air to be
+out of range it must have been a wonderful spectacle to see those
+thousands of men go over, wave after wave.
+
+The terrain was level out to the point where the little hill of
+High Wood rose covered with the splintered poles of what had once
+been a forest. This position and the supports to the left and rear
+of it began to fairly belch machine-gun and shell fire. If Fritz
+had been quiet before, he gave us all he had now.
+
+Our battalion went over from the second trench, and we got the
+cream of it.
+
+The tanks were just ahead of us and lumbered along in an imposing
+row. They lurched down into deep craters and out again, tipped and
+reeled and listed, and sometimes seemed as though they must upset;
+but they came up each time and went on and on. And how slow they
+did seem to move! Lord, I thought we should never cover that five
+or six hundred yards.
+
+The tank machine guns were spitting fire over the heads of our
+first wave, and their Hotchkiss guns were rattling. A beautiful
+creeping barrage preceded us. Row after row of shells burst at just
+the right distance ahead, spewing gobs of smoke and flashes of
+flame, made thin by the bright sunlight. Half a dozen airplanes
+circled like dragonflies up there in the blue.
+
+There was a tank just ahead of me. I got behind it. And marched
+there. Slow! God, how slow! Anyhow, it kept off the machine-gun
+bullets, but not, the shrapnel. It was breaking over us in clouds.
+I felt the stunning patter of the fragments on my tin hat, cringed
+under it, and wondered vaguely why it didn't do me in.
+
+Men in the front wave were going down like tenpins. Off there
+diagonally to the right and forward I glimpsed a blinding burst,
+and as much as a whole platoon went down.
+
+Around me men were dropping all the time--men I knew. I saw Dolbsie
+clawing at his throat as he reeled forward, falling. I saw Vickers
+double up, drop his rifle, and somersault, hanging on to his
+abdomen.
+
+A hundred yards away, to the right, an officer walked backwards
+with an automatic pistol balanced on his finger, smiling, pulling
+his men along like a drum major. A shell or something hit him. He
+disappeared in a welter of blood and half a dozen of the front file
+fell with him.
+
+I thought we must be nearly there and sneaked a look around the
+edge of the tank. A traversing machine gun raked the mud, throwing
+up handfuls, and I heard the gruff "row, row" of flattened bullets
+as they ricocheted off the steel armor. I ducked back, and on we
+went.
+
+Slow! Slow! I found myself planning what I would do when I got to
+the front trenches--if we ever did. There would be a grand rumpus,
+and I would click a dozen or more.
+
+And then we arrived.
+
+I don't suppose that trip across No Man's Land behind the tanks
+took over five minutes, but it seemed like an hour.
+
+At the end of it my participation in the battle of High Wood ended.
+No, I wasn't wounded. But when we reached the Boche front trenches
+a strange thing happened. There was no fight worth mentioning. The
+tanks stopped over the trenches and blazed away right and left with
+their all-around traverse.
+
+A few Boches ran out and threw silly little bombs at the monsters.
+The tanks, noses in air, moved slowly on. And then the Graybacks
+swarmed up out of shelters and dug-outs, literally in hundreds, and
+held up their hands, whining "Mercy, kamarad."
+
+We took prisoners by platoons. Blofeld grabbed me and turned over a
+gang of thirty to me. We searched them rapidly, cut their
+suspenders and belts, and I started to the rear with them. They
+seemed glad to go. So was I.
+
+As we hurried back over the five hundred yards that had been No
+Man's Land and was now British ground, I looked back and saw the
+irresistible tanks smashing their way through the tree stumps of
+High Wood, still spitting death and destruction in three
+directions.
+
+Going back we were under almost as heavy fire as we had been coming
+up. When we were about half-way across, shrapnel burst directly
+over our party and seven of the prisoners were killed and half a
+dozen wounded. I myself was unscratched. I stuck my hand inside my
+tunic and patted Dinky on the back, sent up a prayer for some more
+luck like that, and carried on.
+
+After getting my prisoners back to the rear, I came up again but
+couldn't find my battalion. I threw in with a battalion of
+Australians and was with them for twenty-four hours.
+
+When I found my chaps again, the battle of High Wood was pretty
+well over. Our company for some reason had suffered very few
+casualties, less than twenty-nine. Company B, however, had been
+practically wiped out, losing all but thirteen men out of two
+hundred. The other two companies had less than one hundred
+casualties. We had lost about a third of our strength. It is a
+living wonder to me that any of us came through.
+
+I don't believe any of us would have if it hadn't been for the
+tanks.
+
+The net result of the battle of High Wood was that our troops
+carried on for nearly two miles beyond the position to be taken.
+They had to fall back but held the wood and the heights. Three of
+the tanks were stalled in the farther edge of the woods--out of
+fuel--and remained there for three days unharmed under the fire of
+the German guns.
+
+Eventually some one ventured out and got some juice into them, and
+they returned to our lines. The tanks had proved themselves, not
+only as effective fighting machines, but as destroyers of German
+morale.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+PRISONERS
+
+
+For weeks after our first introduction to the tanks they were the
+chief topic of conversation in our battalion. And, notwithstanding
+the fact that we had seen the monsters go into action, had seen
+what they did and the effect they had on the Boche, the details of
+their building and of their mechanism remained a mystery for a long
+time.
+
+For weeks about all we knew about them was what we gathered from
+their appearance as they reeled along, camouflaged with browns and
+yellows like great toads, and that they were named with quaint
+names like "Creme de Menthe" and "Diplodocus."
+
+Eventually I met with a member of the crews who had manned the
+tanks at the battle of High Wood, and I obtained from him a
+description of some of his sensations. It was a thing we had all
+wondered about,--how the men inside felt as they went over.
+
+My tanker was a young fellow not over twenty-five, a machine
+gunner, and in a little _estaminet_, over a glass of citron and
+soda, he told me of his first battle.
+
+"Before we went in," he said, "I was a little bit uncertain as to
+how we were coming out. We had tried the old boats out and had
+given them every reasonable test. We knew how much they would stand
+in the way of shells on top and in the way of bombs or mines
+underneath. Still there was all the difference between rehearsal
+and the actual going on the stage.
+
+"When we crawled in through the trapdoor for the first time over,
+the shut-up feeling got me. I'd felt it before but not that way. I
+got to imagining what would happen if we got stalled somewhere in
+the Boche lines, and they built a fire around us. That was natural,
+because it's hot inside a tank at the best. You mustn't smoke
+either. I hadn't minded that in rehearsal, but in action I was
+crazy for a fag.
+
+"We went across, you remember, at eleven, and the sun was shining
+bright. We were parboiled before we started, and when we got going
+good it was like a Turkish bath. I was stripped to the waist and
+was dripping. Besides that, when we begun to give 'em hell, the
+place filled with gas, and it was stifling. The old boat pitched a
+good deal going into shell holes, and it was all a man could do to
+keep his station. I put my nose up to my loop-hole to get air, but
+only once. The machine-gun bullets were simply rattling on our
+hide. Tock, tock, tock they kept drumming. The first shell that hit
+us must have been head on and a direct hit. There was a terrific
+crash, and the old girl shook all over,--seemed to pause a little
+even. But no harm was done. After that we breathed easier. We
+hadn't been quite sure that the Boche shells wouldn't do us in.
+
+"By the time we got to the Boche trenches, we knew he hadn't
+anything that could hurt us. We just sat and raked him and laughed
+and wished it was over, so we could get the air."
+
+I had already seen the effect of the tanks on the Germans. The
+batch of prisoners who had been turned over to me seemed dazed. One
+who spoke English said in a quavering voice:
+
+"Gott in Himmel, Kamarad, how could one endure? These things are
+not human. They are not fair."
+
+That "fair" thing made a hit with me after going against tear gas
+and hearing about liquid fire and such things.
+
+The great number of the prisoners we took at High Wood were very
+scared looking at first and very surly. They apparently expected to
+be badly treated and perhaps tortured. They were tractable enough
+for the most part. But they needed watching, and they got it from
+me, as I had heard much of the treachery of the Boche prisoners.
+
+On the way to the rear with my bunch, I ran into a little episode
+which showed the foolishness of trusting a German,--particularly an
+officer.
+
+I was herding my lot along when we came up with about twelve in
+charge of a young fellow from a Leicester regiment. He was a
+private, and as most of his non-commissioned officers had been put
+out of action, he was acting corporal. We were walking together
+behind the prisoners, swapping notes on the fight, when one of his
+stopped, and no amount of coaxing would induce him to go any
+farther. He was an officer, of what rank I don't know, but judging
+from his age probably a lieutenant.
+
+Finally Crane--that was the Leicester chap--went up to the officer,
+threatened him with his bayonet, and let him know that he was due
+for the cold steel if he didn't get up and hike.
+
+Whereupon Mr. Fritz pulled an automatic from under his coat--he
+evidently had not been carefully searched--and aimed it at Crane.
+Crane dove at him and grabbed his wrist, but was too late. The gun
+went off and tore away Crane's right cheek. He didn't go down,
+however, and before I could get in without danger to Crane, he
+polished off the officer on the spot.
+
+The prisoners looked almost pleased. I suppose they knew the
+officer too well. I bandaged Crane and offered to take his
+prisoners in, but he insisted upon carrying on. He got very weak
+from loss of blood after a bit, and I had two of the Boches carry
+him to the nearest dressing station, where they took care of him. I
+have often wondered whether the poor chap "clicked" it.
+
+Eventually I got my batch of prisoners back to headquarters and
+turned them over. I want to say a word right here as to the
+treatment of the German prisoners by the British. In spite of the
+verified stories of the brutality shown to the Allied prisoners by
+the Hun, the English and French have too much humanity to
+retaliate. Time and again I have seen British soldiers who were
+bringing in Germans stop and spend their own scanty pocket money
+for their captives' comfort. I have done it myself.
+
+Almost inevitably the Boche prisoners were expecting harsh
+treatment. I found several who said that they had been told by
+their officers that they would be skinned alive if they surrendered
+to the English. They believed it, and you could hardly blame the
+poor devils for being scared.
+
+Whenever we were taking prisoners back, we always, unless we were
+in too much of a hurry, took them to the nearest canteen run by the
+Y.M.C.A. or by one of the artillery companies, and here we would
+buy English or American fags. And believe me, they liked them. Any
+one who has smoked the tobacco issued to the German army could
+almost understand a soldier surrendering just to get away from it.
+
+Usually, too, we bought bread and sweets, if we could stand the
+price. The Heinies would bolt the food down as though they were
+half starved. And it was perfectly clear from the way they went
+after the luxuries that they got little more than the hard
+necessities of army fare.
+
+At the battle of High Wood the prisoners we took ran largely to
+very young fellows and to men of fifty or over. Some of the
+youngsters said they were only seventeen and they looked not over
+fifteen. Many of them had never shaved.
+
+I think the sight of those war-worn boys, haggard and hard,
+already touched with cruelty and blood lust, brought home to me
+closer than ever before what a hellish thing war is, and how keenly
+Germany must be suffering, along with the rest of us.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+I BECOME A BOMBER
+
+
+When I found my battalion, the battle of High Wood had pretty well
+quieted down. We had taken the position we went after, and the
+fighting was going on to the north and beyond the Wood. The Big
+Push progressed very rapidly as the summer drew to a close. Our men
+were holding one of the captured positions in the neighborhood of
+the Wood.
+
+It must have been two days after we went over the top with the
+tanks that Captain Green had me up and told me that I was promoted.
+At least that was what he called it. I differed with him, but
+didn't say so.
+
+The Captain said that as I had had a course in bombing, he thought
+he would put me in the Battalion Bombers.
+
+I protested that the honor was too great and that I really didn't
+think I was good enough.
+
+After that the Captain said that he didn't _think_ I was going in
+the bombers. He _knew_ it. I was elected!
+
+I didn't take any joy whatever in the appointment, but orders are
+orders and they have to be obeyed. The bombers are called the
+"Suicide Club" and are well named. The mortality in this branch of
+the service is as great if not greater than in any other.
+
+In spite of my feelings in the matter, I accepted the decision
+cheerfully--like a man being sentenced to be electrocuted--and
+managed to convey the impression to Captain Green that I was
+greatly elated and that I looked forward to future performances
+with large relish. After that I went back to my shelter and made a
+new will.
+
+That very night I was called upon to take charge of a bombing party
+of twelve men. A lieutenant, Mr. May, one of the bravest men I ever
+knew, was to be of the party and in direct command. I was to have
+the selection of the men.
+
+Captain Green had me up along with Lieutenant May early in the
+evening, and as nearly as I can remember these were his
+instructions:
+
+"Just beyond High Wood and to the left there is a sap or small
+trench leading to the sunken road that lies between the towns of
+Albert and Bapaume. That position commands a military point that we
+find necessary to hold before we can make another attack. The
+Germans are in the trench. They have two machine guns and will
+raise the devil with us unless we get them out. It will cost a good
+many lives if we attempt to take the position by attack, but we are
+under the impression that a bombing party in the night on a
+surprise attack will be able to take it with little loss of life.
+Take your twelve men out there at ten o'clock and _take that
+trench_! You will take only bombs with you. You and Mr. May will
+have revolvers. After taking the trench, consolidate it, and before
+morning there will be relief sent out to you. The best of luck!'"
+
+The whole thing sounded as simple as ABC. All we had to do was go
+over there and take the place. The captain didn't say how many
+Germans there would be nor what they would be doing while we were
+taking their comfortable little position. Indeed he seemed to quite
+carelessly leave the Boche out of the reckoning. I didn't. I knew
+that some of us, and quite probably most of us, would never come
+back.
+
+I selected my men carefully, taking only the coolest and steadiest
+and the best bombers. Most of them were men who had been at Dover
+with me. I felt like an executioner when I notified them of their
+selection.
+
+At nine-thirty we were ready, stripped to the lightest of necessary
+equipment. Each of the men was armed with a bucket of bombs. Some
+carried an extra supply in satchels, so we knew there would be no
+shortage of Millses.
+
+Lieutenant May took us out over the top on schedule time, and we
+started for the position to be taken. We walked erect but in the
+strictest silence for about a thousand yards. At that time the
+distances were great on the Somme, as the Big Push was in full
+swing, and the advance had been fast. Trench systems had been
+demolished, and in many places there were only shell holes and
+isolated pieces of trench defended by machine guns. The whole
+movement had progressed so far that the lines were far apart and
+broken, so much so that in many cases the fighting had come back to
+the open work of early in the war.
+
+Poking along out there, I had the feeling that we were an awfully
+long way from the comparative safety of our main body--too far away
+for comfort. We were. Any doubts on the matter disappeared before
+morning.
+
+At the end of the thousand yards Lieutenant May gave the signal to
+lie down. We lay still half an hour or so and then crawled forward.
+Fortunately there was no barbed wire, as all entanglements had been
+destroyed by the terrific bombardment that had been going on for
+weeks. The Germans made no attempt to repair it nor did we.
+
+We crawled along for about ten minutes, and the Lieutenant passed
+the word in whispers to get ready, as we were nearly on them. Each
+of us got out a bomb, pulled the pin with our teeth, and waited for
+the signal. It was fairly still. Away off to the rear, guns were
+going, but they seemed a long way off. Forward, and away off to
+the right beyond the Wood, there was a lot of rifle and machine-gun
+fire, and we could see the sharp little lavender stabs of flame
+like electric flashes. It was light enough so that we could see
+dimly.
+
+Just ahead we could hear the murmur of the Huns as they chatted in
+the trench. They hadn't seen us. Evidently they didn't suspect and
+were more or less careless.
+
+The Lieutenant waited until the sound of voices was a little louder
+than before, the Boches evidently being engaged in a fireside
+argument of some kind, and then he jumped to his feet shouting,
+"Now then, my lads. All together!"
+
+We came up all standing and let 'em go. It was about fifteen yards
+to Fritz, and that is easy to a good bomber, as my men all were. A
+yell of surprise and fright went up from the trench, and they
+started to run. We spread out so as to get room, gave them another
+round of Millses, and rushed.
+
+The trench wasn't really a trench at all. It was the remains of a
+perfectly good one, but had been bashed all to pieces, and was now
+only five or six shell craters connected by the ruined traverses.
+At no point was it more than waist high and in some places only
+knee high. We swarmed into what was left of the trench and after
+the Heinies. There must have been forty of them, and it didn't take
+them long to find out that we were only a dozen. Then they came
+back at us. We got into a crooked bit of traverse that was in
+relatively good shape and threw up a barricade of sandbags. There
+was any amount of them lying about.
+
+The Germans gave us a bomb or two and considerable rifle fire, and
+we beat it around the corner of the bay. Then we had it back and
+forth, a regular seesaw game. We would chase them back from the
+barricade, and then they would rush us and back we would go. After
+we had lost three men and Lieutenant May had got a slight wound, we
+got desperate and got out of the trench and rushed them for further
+orders. We fairly showered them as we followed them up, regardless
+of danger to ourselves. All this scrap through they hadn't done
+anything with the machine guns. One was in our end of the trench,
+and we found that the other was out of commission. They must have
+been short of small-arm ammunition and bombs, because on that last
+strafing they cleared out and stayed.
+
+After the row was over we counted noses and found four dead and
+three slightly wounded, including Lieutenant May. I detailed two
+men to take the wounded and the Lieutenant back. That left four of
+us to consolidate the position. The Lieutenant promised to return
+with relief, but as it turned out he was worse than he thought, and
+he didn't get back.
+
+I turned to and inspected the position. It was pretty hopeless.
+There really wasn't much to consolidate. The whole works was
+knocked about and was only fit for a temporary defence. There were
+about a dozen German dead, and we searched them but found nothing
+of value. So we strengthened our cross-trench barricade and waited
+for the relief. It never came.
+
+When it began to get light, the place looked even more
+discouraging. There was little or no cover. We knew that unless we
+got some sort of concealment, the airplanes would spot us, and
+that we would get a shell or two. So we got out the entrenching
+tools and dug into the side of the best part of the shallow
+traverse. We finally got a slight overhang scraped out. We didn't
+dare go very far under for fear that it would cave. We got some
+sandbags up on the sides and three of us crawled into the shelter.
+The other man made a similar place for himself a little distance
+off.
+
+The day dawned clear and bright and gave promise of being hot.
+Along about seven we began to get hungry. A Tommy is always hungry,
+whether he is in danger or not. When we took account of stock and
+found that none of us had brought along "iron rations", we
+discovered that we were all nearly starved. Killing is hungry work.
+
+We had only ourselves to blame. We had been told repeatedly never
+to go anywhere without "iron rations", but Tommy is a good deal of
+a child and unless you show him the immediate reason for a thing he
+is likely to disregard instructions. I rather blamed myself in this
+case for not seeing that the men had their emergency food. In
+fact, it was my duty to see that they had. But I had overlooked it.
+And I hadn't brought any myself.
+
+The "iron ration" consists of a pound of "bully beef", a small tin
+containing tea and sugar enough for two doses, some Oxo cubes, and
+a few biscuits made of reinforced concrete. They are issued for
+just such an emergency as we were in as we lay in our isolated
+dug-out. The soldier is apt to get into that sort of situation
+almost any time, and it is folly ever to be without the ration.
+
+Well, we didn't have ours, and we knew we wouldn't get any before
+night, if we did then. One thing we had too much of. That was rum.
+The night before a bunch of us had been out on a ration party, and
+we had come across a Brigade Dump. This is a station where rations
+are left for the various companies to come and draw their own, also
+ammo and other necessities. There was no one about, and we had gone
+through the outfit. We found two cases of rum, four gallons in a
+case, and we promptly filled our bottles, more than a pint each.
+
+Tommy is always very keen on his rum. The brand used in the army is
+high proof and burns like fire going down, but it is warming. The
+regular ration as served after a cold sentry go is called a "tot."
+It is enough to keep the cold out and make a man wish he had
+another. The average Tommy will steal rum whenever he can without
+the danger of getting caught.
+
+It happened that all four of us were in the looting party and had
+our bottles full. Also it happened that we were all normally quite
+temperate and hadn't touched our supply.
+
+So we all took a nip and tightened up our belts. Then we took
+another and another. We lay on our backs with our heads out of the
+burrow, packed in like sardines and looking up at the sky. Half a
+dozen airplanes came out and flew over. We had had a hard night and
+we all dozed off, at least I did, and I guess the others did also.
+
+Around nine we all waked up, and Bones--he was the fellow in the
+middle--began to complain of thirst. Then we all took another nip
+and wished it was water. We discussed the matter of crawling down
+to a muddy pool at the end of the traverse and having some out of
+that, but passed it up as there was a dead man lying in it. Bones,
+who was pretty well educated--he once asked me if I had visited
+Emerson's home and was astounded that I hadn't--quoted from Kipling
+something to the effect that,
+
+        When you come to slaughter
+        You'll do your work on water,
+        An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it.
+
+Then Bones cursed the rum and took another nip. So did the rest of
+us.
+
+There was a considerable bombardment going on all the forenoon, but
+few shells came anywhere near us. Some shrapnel burst over us a
+little way off to the right, and some of the fragments fell in the
+trench, but on the whole the morning was uncomfortable but not
+dangerous.
+
+Around half-past ten we saw an airplane fight that was almost worth
+the forenoon's discomfort. A lot of them had been circling around
+ever since daybreak. When the fight started, two of our planes were
+nearly over us. Suddenly we saw three Boche planes volplaning down
+from away up above. They grew bigger and bigger and opened with
+their guns when they were nearly on top of our fellows. No hits.
+Then all five started circling for top position. One of the Boches
+started to fall and came down spinning, but righted himself not
+more than a thousand feet up. Our anti air-craft guns opened on
+him, and we could see the shells bursting with little cottony puffs
+all around. Some of the shrapnel struck near us. They missed him,
+and up he went again. Presently all five came circling lower and
+lower, jockeying for position and spitting away with their guns. As
+they all got to the lower levels, the anti air-craft guns stopped
+firing, fearing to get our men.
+
+Suddenly one of the Huns burst into flames and came toppling down
+behind his lines, his gas tank ablaze. Almost immediately one of
+ours dropped, also burning and behind the Boche lines.
+
+After that it was two to one, and the fight lasted more than ten
+minutes. Then down went a Hun, not afire but tumbling end over end
+behind our lines. I learned afterwards that this fellow was unhurt
+and was taken prisoner. That left it an even thing. We could see
+half a dozen planes rushing to attack the lone Boche. He saw them
+too. For he turned tail and skedaddled for home.
+
+Bonesie began to philosophize on the cold-bloodedness of air
+fighting and really worked himself up into an almost optimistic
+frame of mind. He was right in the midst of a flowery oration on
+our comparative safety, "nestling on the bosom of Mother Earth",
+when, without any warning whatever, there came a perfect avalanche
+of shell all around us.
+
+I knew perfectly well that we were caught. The shells, as near as
+we could see, were coming from our side. Doubtless our people
+thought that the trench was still manned by Germans, and they were
+shelling for the big noon attack. Such an attack was made, as I
+learned afterwards, but I never saw it.
+
+At eleven o'clock I looked at my watch. Somehow I didn't fear
+death, although I felt it was near. Maybe the rum was working. I
+turned to Bonesie and said, "What about that safety stuff, old
+top?"
+
+"Cheer, cheer, Darby," said he. "We may pull through yet."
+
+"Don't think so," I insisted. "It's us for pushing up the daisies.
+Good luck if we don't meet again!"
+
+I put my hand in and patted Dinky on the back, and sent up another
+little prayer for luck. Then there was a terrific shock, and
+everything went black.
+
+When I came out of it, I had the sensation of struggling up out of
+water. I thought for an instant that I was drowning. And in effect
+that was almost what was happening to me. I was buried, all but one
+side of my face. A tremendous weight pressed down on me, and I
+could only breathe in little gasps.
+
+I tried to move my legs and arms and couldn't. Then I wiggled my
+fingers and toes to see if any bones were broken. They wiggled all
+right. My right nostril and eye were full of dirt; also my mouth. I
+spit out the dirt and moved my head until my nose and eye were
+clear. I ached all over.
+
+It was along toward sundown. Up aloft a single airplane was winging
+toward our lines. I remember that I wondered vaguely if he was the
+same fellow who had been fighting just before the world fell in on
+me.
+
+I tried to sing out to the rest of the men, but the best I could do
+was a kind of loud gurgle. There was no answer. My head was
+humming, and the blood seemed to be bursting my ears. I was
+terribly sorry for myself and tried to pull my strength together
+for a big try at throwing the weight off my chest, but I was
+absolutely helpless. Then again I slid out of consciousness.
+
+It was dark when I struggled up through the imaginary water again.
+I was still breathing in gasps, and I could feel my heart going in
+great thumps that hurt and seemed to shake the ground. My tongue
+was curled up and dry, and fever was simply burning me up. My mind
+was clear, and I wished that I hadn't drunk that rum. Finding I
+could raise my head a little, I cocked it up, squinting over my
+cheek bones--I was on my back--and could catch the far-off flicker
+of the silver-green flare lights. There was a rattle of musketry
+off in the direction where the Boche lines ought to be. From behind
+came the constant boom of big guns. I lay back and watched the
+stars, which were bright and uncommonly low. Then a shell burst
+near by,--not near enough to hurt,--but buried as I was the whole
+earth seemed to shake. My heart stopped beating, and I went out
+again.
+
+When I came to the next time, it was still dark, and somebody was
+lifting me on to a stretcher. My first impression was of getting a
+long breath. I gulped it down, and with every grateful inhalation I
+felt my ribs painfully snapping back into place. Oh, Lady! Didn't I
+just eat that air up.
+
+And then, having gotten filled up with the long-denied oxygen, I
+asked, "Where's the others?"
+
+"Ayen't no hothers," was the brief reply.
+
+And there weren't. Later I reconstructed the occurrences of the
+night from what I was told by the rescuing party.
+
+A big shell had slammed down on us, drilling Bonesie, the man in
+the middle, from end to end. He was demolished. The shell was a
+"dud", that is, it didn't explode. If it had, there wouldn't have
+been anything whatever left of any of us. As it was our overhang
+caved in, letting sandbags and earth down on the remaining man and
+myself. The other man was buried clean under. He had life in him
+still when he was dug out but "went west" in about ten minutes.
+
+The fourth man was found dead from shrapnel. I found, too, that the
+two unwounded men who had gone back with Lieutenant May had both
+been killed on the way in. So out of the twelve men who started on
+the "suicide club" stunt I was the only one left. Dinky was still
+inside my tunic, and I laid the luck all to him.
+
+Back in hospital I was found to be suffering from shell shock. Also
+my heart was pushed out of place. There were no bones broken,
+though I was sore all over, and several ribs were pulled around so
+that it was like a knife thrust at every breath. Besides that, my
+nerves were shattered. I jumped a foot at the slightest noise and
+twitched a good deal.
+
+At the end of a week I asked the M.O. if I would get Blighty and he
+said he didn't think so, not directly. He rather thought that they
+would keep me in hospital for a month or two and see how I came
+out. The officer was a Canadian and had a sense of humor and was
+most affable. I told him if this jamming wasn't going to get me
+Blighty, I wanted to go back to duty and get a real one. He laughed
+and tagged me for a beach resort at Ault-Onival on the northern
+coast of France.
+
+I was there a week and had a bully time. The place had been a
+fashionable watering place before the war, and when I was there the
+transient population was largely wealthy Belgians. They entertained
+a good deal and did all they could for the pleasure of the four
+thousand boys who were at the camp. The Y.M.C.A. had a huge tent
+and spread themselves in taking care of the soldiers. There were
+entertainments almost every night, moving pictures, and music. The
+food was awfully good and the beds comfortable, and that pretty
+nearly spells heaven to a man down from the front.
+
+Best of all, the bathing was fine, and it was possible to keep the
+cooties under control,--more or less. I went in bathing two and
+three times daily as the sloping shore made it just as good at low
+tide as at high.
+
+I think that glorious week at the beach made the hardships of the
+front just left behind almost worth while. My chum, Corporal Wells,
+who had a quaint Cockney philosophy, used to say that he liked to
+have the stomach ache because it felt so good when it stopped. On
+the same theory I became nearly convinced that a month in the
+trenches was good fun because it felt so good to get out.
+
+At the end of the week I was better but still shaky. I started
+pestering the M.O. to tag me for Blighty. He wouldn't, so I sprung
+the same proposition on him that I had on the doctor at the
+base,--to send me back to duty if he couldn't send me to England.
+The brute took me at my word and sent me back to the battalion.
+
+I rejoined on the Somme again just as they were going back for the
+second time in that most awful part of the line. Many of the old
+faces were gone. Some had got the wooden cross, and some had gone
+to Blighty.
+
+I sure was glad when old Wellsie hopped out and grabbed me.
+
+"Gawd lumme, Darby," he said. "Hi sye, an' me thinkin' as 'ow you
+was back in Blighty. An' 'ere ye are yer blinkin' old self. Or is
+it yer bloomin' ghost. I awsks ye. Strike me pink, Yank. I'm glad."
+
+And he was. At that I did feel more or less ghostly. I seemed to
+have lost some of my confidence. I expected to "go west" on the
+next time in. And that's a bad way to feel out there.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+BACK ON THE SOMME AGAIN
+
+
+When I rejoined the battalion they were just going into the Somme
+again after a two weeks' rest. They didn't like it a bit.
+
+"Gawd lumme," says Wellsie, "'ave we got to fight th' 'ole blinkin'
+war. Is it right? I awsks yer. Is it?"
+
+It was all wrong. We had been told after High Wood that we would
+not have to go into action again in that part of the line but that
+we would have a month of rest and after that would be sent up to
+the Ypres sector. "Wipers" hadn't been any garden of roses early in
+the war, but it was paradise now compared with the Somme.
+
+It was a sad lot of men when we swung out on the road again back to
+the Somme, and there was less singing than usual. That first night
+we remained at Mametz Wood. We figured that we would get to kip
+while the kipping was good. There were some old Boche dug-outs in
+fair condition, and we were in a fair way to get comfortable. No
+luck!
+
+We were hardly down to a good sleep when C company was called to
+fall in without equipment, and we knew that meant fatigue of some
+sort. I have often admired the unknown who invented that word
+"fatigue" as applied in a military term. He used it as a disguise
+for just plain hard work. It means anything whatever in the way of
+duty that does not have to do directly with the manning of the
+trenches.
+
+This time we clicked a burial fatigue. It was my first. I never
+want another. I took a party of ten men and we set out, armed with
+picks and shovels, and, of course, rifles and bandoliers (cloth
+pockets containing fifty rounds of ammo).
+
+We hiked three miles up to High Wood and in the early morning began
+the job of getting some of the dead under ground. We were almost
+exactly in the same place from which we had gone over after the
+tanks. I kept expecting all the time to run across the bodies of
+some of our own men. It was a most unpleasant feeling.
+
+Some cleaning up had already been done, so the place was not so bad
+as it had been, but it was bad enough. The advance had gone forward
+so far that we were practically out of shell range, and we were
+safe working.
+
+The burial method was to dig a pit four feet deep and big enough to
+hold six men. Then we packed them in. The worst part of it was that
+most of the bodies were pretty far gone and in the falling away
+stage. It was hard to move them. I had to put on my gas mask to
+endure the stench and so did some of the other men. Some who had
+done this work before rather seemed to like it.
+
+I would search a body for identification marks and jot down the
+data found on a piece of paper. When the man was buried under, I
+would stick a rifle up over him and tuck the record into the trap
+in the butt of the gun where the oil bottle is carried.
+
+When the pioneers came up, they would remove the rifle and
+substitute a little wooden cross with the name painted on it. The
+indifference with which the men soon came to regard this burial
+fatigue was amazing. I remember one incident of that first morning,
+a thing that didn't seem at all shocking at the time, but which,
+looking back upon it, illustrates the matter-of-factness of the
+soldier's viewpoint on death.
+
+"Hi sye, Darby," sang out one fellow. "Hi got a blighter 'ere wif
+only one leg. Wot'll Hi do wif 'im?"
+
+"Put him under with only one, you blinking idiot," said I.
+
+Presently he called out again, this time with a little note of
+satisfaction and triumph in his voice.
+
+"Darby, Hi sye. I got a leg for that bleeder. Fits 'im perfect."
+
+Well, I went over and took a look and to my horror found that the
+fool had stuck a German leg on the body, high boot and all. I
+wouldn't stand for that and had it out again. I wasn't going to
+send a poor fellow on his last pilgrimage with any Boche leg, and
+said so. Later I heard this undertaking genius of a Tommy grousing
+and muttering to himself.
+
+"Cawn't please Darby," says he, "no matter wot. Fawncy the
+blighter'd feel better wif two legs, if one was Boche. It's a fair
+crime sendin' 'im hover the river wif only one."
+
+I was sure thankful when that burial fatigue was over, and early in
+the forenoon we started back to rest.
+
+Rest, did I say? Not that trip. We were hardly back to Mametz and
+down to breakfast when along came an order to fall in for a
+carrying party. All that day we carried boxes of Millses up to the
+dump that was by High Wood, three long miles over hard going. Being
+a corporal had its compensations at this game, as I had no carrying
+to do; but inasmuch as the bombs were moved two boxes to a man, I
+got my share of the hard work helping men out of holes and lending
+a hand when they were mired.
+
+Millses are packed with the bombs and detonators separate in the
+box, and the men are very careful in the handling of them. So the
+moving of material of this kind is wearing.
+
+Another line of man-killers that we had to move were "toffy
+apples." This quaint toy is a huge bomb, perfectly round and
+weighing sixty pounds, with a long rod or pipe which inserts into
+the mortar. Toffy apples are about the awkwardest thing imaginable
+to carry.
+
+This carrying stunt went on for eight long days and nights. We
+worked on an average sixteen hours a day. It rained nearly all the
+time, and we never got dried out. The food was awful, as the
+advance had been so fast that it was almost impossible to get up
+the supplies, and the men in the front trenches had the first pick
+of the grub. It was also up to us to get the water up to the front.
+The method on this was to use the five-gallon gasoline cans.
+Sometimes they were washed out, oftener they weren't. Always the
+water tasted of gas. We got the same thing, and several times I
+became sick drinking the stuff.
+
+When that eight days of carrying was over, we were so fed up that
+we didn't care whether we clicked or not. Maybe it was good mental
+preparation for what was to come, for on top of it all it turned
+out that we were to go over the top in another big attack.
+
+When we got that news, I got Dinky out and scolded him. Maybe I'd
+better tell you all about Dinky before I go any farther. Soldiers
+are rather prone to superstitions. Relieved of all responsibility
+and with most of their thinking done for them, they revert
+surprisingly quick to a state of more or less savage mentality.
+Perhaps it would be better to call the state childlike. At any rate
+they accumulate a lot of fool superstitions and hang to them. The
+height of folly and the superlative invitation to bad luck is
+lighting three fags on one match. When that happens one of the
+three is sure to click it soon.
+
+As one out of any group of three anywhere stands a fair chance of
+"getting his", fag or no fag, the thing is reasonably sure to work
+out according to the popular belief. Most every man has his unlucky
+day in the trenches. One of mine was Monday. The others were
+Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.
+
+Practically every soldier carries some kind of mascot or charm. A
+good many are crucifixes and religious tokens. Some are coins.
+Corporal Wells had a sea shell with three little black spots on
+it. He considered three his lucky number. Thirteen was mine. My
+mascot was the aforesaid and much revered Dinky. Dinky was and is a
+small black cat made of velvet. He's entirely flat except his head,
+which is becomingly round with yellow glass eyes. I carried Dinky
+inside my tunic always and felt safer with him there. He hangs at
+the head of my bed now and I feel better with him there. I realize
+perfectly that all this sounds like tommyrot, and that superstition
+may be a relic of barbarism and ignorance. Never mind! Wellsie
+sized the situation up one day when we were talking about this very
+thing.
+
+"Maybe my shell ayen't doin' me no good," says Wells. "Maybe Dinky
+ayen't doin' you no good. But 'e ayen't doin' ye no 'arm. So 'ang
+on to 'im."
+
+I figure that if there's anything in war that "ayen't doin' ye no
+'arm", it is pretty good policy to "'ang on to it."
+
+It was Sunday the eighth day of October that the order came to move
+into what was called the "O.G.I.", that is, the old German first
+line. You will understand that this was the line the Boches had
+occupied a few days before and out of which they had been driven in
+the Big Push. In front of this trench was Eaucort Abbaye, which had
+been razed with the aid of the tanks.
+
+We had watched this battle from the rear from the slight elevation
+of High Wood, and it had been a wonderful sight to see other men go
+out over the top without having ourselves to think about. They had
+poured out, wave after wave, a large part of them Scotch with their
+kilted rumps swinging in perfect time, a smashing barrage going on
+ahead, and the tanks lumbering along with a kind of clumsy majesty.
+When they hit the objective, the tanks crawled in and made short
+work of it.
+
+The infantry had hard work of it after the positions were taken, as
+there were numerous underground caverns and passages which had to
+be mopped out. This was done by dropping smoke bombs in the
+entrances and smoking the Boches out like bees.
+
+When we came up, we inherited these underground shelters, and they
+were mighty comfortable after the kipping in the muck. There were
+a lot of souvenirs to be picked up, and almost everybody annexed
+helmets and other truck that had been left behind by the Germans.
+
+Sometimes it was dangerous to go after souvenirs too greedily. The
+inventive Hun had a habit of fixing up a body with a bomb under it
+and a tempting wrist watch on the hand. If you started to take the
+watch, the bomb went off, and after that you didn't care what time
+it was.
+
+I accumulated a number of very fine razors, and one of the
+saw-tooth bayonets the Boche pioneers use. This is a perfectly
+hellish weapon that slips in easily and mangles terribly when it is
+withdrawn. I had thought that I would have a nice collection of
+souvenirs to take to Blighty if I ever got leave. I got the leave
+all right, and shortly, but the collection stayed behind.
+
+The dug-out that Number 10 drew was built of concrete and was big
+enough to accommodate the entire platoon. We were well within the
+Boche range and early in the day had several casualties, one of
+them a chap named Stransfield, a young Yorkshireman who was a very
+good friend of mine. Stransie was sitting on the top step cleaning
+his rifle and was blown to pieces by a falling shell. After that we
+kept to cover all day and slept all the time. We needed it after
+the exhausting work of the past eight days.
+
+It was along about dark when I was awakened by a runner from
+headquarters, which was in a dug-out a little way up the line, with
+word that the platoon commanders were wanted. I happened to be in
+command of the platoon, as Mr. Blofeld was acting second in command
+of the company, Sergeant Page was away in Havre as instructor for a
+month, and I was next senior.
+
+I thought that probably this was merely another detail for some
+fatigue, so I asked Wells if he would go. He did and in about half
+an hour came back with a face as long as my arm. I was sitting on
+the fire step cleaning my rifle and Wellsie sank dejectedly down
+beside me.
+
+"Darby," he sighed hopelessly, "wot th' blinkin' 'ell do you think
+is up now?"
+
+I hadn't the faintest idea and said so. I had, however, as the
+educated Bones used to say "a premonition of impending disaster."
+As a premonitor I was a success. Disaster was right.
+
+Wellsie sighed again and spilled the news.
+
+"We're goin' over th' bleedin' top at nine. We don't 'ave to carry
+no tools. We're in the first bloomin' wave."
+
+Going without tools was supposed to be a sort of consolation for
+being in the first wave. The other three waves carry either picks
+or shovels. They consolidate the trenches after they have been
+taken by the first wave. That is, they turn the trench around,
+facing the other way, to be ready for a counter attack. It is a
+miserable job. The tools are heavy and awkward, and the last waves
+get the cream of the artillery fire, as the Boche naturally does
+not want to take the chance of shelling the first wave for fear of
+getting his own men. However, the first wave gets the machine-gun
+fire and gets it good. At that the first wave is the preference. I
+have heard hundreds of men say so. Probably the reason is that a
+bullet, unless it is explosive, makes a relatively clean wound,
+while a shell fragment may mangle fearfully.
+
+Wells and I were talking over the infernal injustice of the
+situation when another runner arrived from the Sergeant Major's,
+ordering us up for the rum issue. I went up for the rum and left
+Wells to break the news about going over.
+
+I got an extra large supply, as the Sergeant Major was good
+humored. It was the last rum he ever served. I got enough for the
+full platoon and then some, which was a lot, as the platoon was
+well down in numbers owing to casualties. I went among the boys
+with a spoon and the rum in a mess tin and served out two tots
+instead of the customary one. After that all hands felt a little
+better, but not much. They were all fagged out after the week's
+hard work. I don't think I ever saw a more discouraged lot getting
+ready to go over. For myself I didn't seem to care much, I was in
+such rotten condition physically. I rather hoped it would be my
+last time.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE LAST TIME OVER THE TOP
+
+
+A general cleaning of rifles started, although it was dark. Mine
+was already in good shape, and I leaned it against the side of the
+trench and went below for the rest of my equipment. While I was
+gone, a shell fragment undid all my work by smashing the breech.
+
+I had seen a new short German rifle in the dug-out with a bayonet
+and ammo, and decided to use that. I hid all my souvenirs, planning
+to get them when I came out if I ever came out. I hadn't much nerve
+left after the bashing I had taken a fortnight before and didn't
+hold much hope.
+
+Our instructions were of the briefest. It was the old story that
+there would probably be little resistance, if any. There would be a
+few machine guns to stop us, but nothing more. The situation we had
+to handle was this: A certain small sector had held on the attacks
+of the few previous days, and the line had bent back around it.
+All we had to do was to straighten the line. We had heard this old
+ghost story too often to believe a word of it.
+
+Our place had been designated where we were to get into extended
+formation, and our general direction was clear. We filed out of the
+trench at eight-thirty, and as we passed the other platoons,--we
+had been to the rear,--they tossed us the familiar farewell hail,
+"The best o' luck, mytie."
+
+We soon found ourselves in the old sunken road that ran in front of
+Eaucort Abbaye. At this point we were not under observation, as a
+rise in the ground would have protected us even though it had been
+daylight. The moon was shining brilliantly, and we knew that it
+would not be anything in the nature of a surprise attack. We got
+into extended formation and waited for the order to advance. I
+thought I should go crazy during that short wait. Shells had begun
+to burst over and around us, and I was sure the next would be mine.
+
+Presently one burst a little behind me, and down went Captain Green
+and the Sergeant Major with whom he had been talking. Captain
+Green died a few days later at Rouen, and the Sergeant Major lost
+an arm. This was a hard blow right at the start, and it spelled
+disaster. Everything started to go wrong. Mr. Blofeld was in
+command, and another officer thought that he was in charge. We got
+conflicting orders, and there was one grand mix-up. Eventually we
+advanced and went straight up over the ridge. We walked slap-bang
+into perfectly directed fire. Torrents of machine-gun bullets
+crackled about us, and we went forward with our heads down, like
+men facing into a storm. It was a living marvel that any one could
+come through it.
+
+A lot of them didn't. Mr. Blofeld, who was near me, leaped in the
+air, letting go a hideous yell. I ran to him, disregarding the
+instruction not to stop to help any one. He was struck in the
+abdomen with an explosive bullet and was done for. I felt terribly
+about Mr. Blofeld, as he had been a good friend to me. He was the
+finest type of officer of the new English army, the rare sort who
+can be democratic and yet command respect. He had talked with me
+often, and I knew of his family and home life. He was more like an
+elder brother to me than a superior officer. I left Mr. Blofeld and
+went on.
+
+The hail of bullets grew even worse. They whistled and cracked and
+squealed, and I began to wonder why on earth I didn't get mine. Men
+were falling on all sides and the shrieks of those hit were the
+worst I had heard. The darkness made it worse, and although I had
+been over the top before by daylight this was the last limit of
+hellishness. And nothing but plain, unmixed machine-gun fire. As
+yet there was no artillery action to amount to anything.
+
+Once again I put my hand inside my tunic and stroked Dinky and said
+to him, "For God's sake, Dink, see me through this time." I meant
+it too. I was actually praying,--to my mascot. I realize that this
+was plain, unadulterated, heathenish fetish worship, but it shows
+what a man reverts to in the barbaric stress of war.
+
+By this time we were within about thirty yards of the Boche parapet
+and could see them standing shoulder to shoulder on the fire step,
+swarms of them, packed in, with the bayonets gleaming. Machine
+guns were emplaced and vomiting death at incredibly short intervals
+along the parapet. Flares were going up continuously, and it was
+almost as light as day.
+
+We were terribly outnumbered, and the casualties had already been
+so great that I saw we were in for the worst thing we had ever
+known. Moreover, the next waves hadn't appeared behind us.
+
+I was in command, as all the officers and non-coms so far as I
+could make out had snuffed. I signalled to halt and take cover, my
+idea being to wait for the other waves to catch up. The men needed
+no second invitation to lie low. They rolled into the shell holes
+and burrowed where there was no cover.
+
+I drew a pretty decent hole myself, and a man came pitching in on
+top of me, screaming horribly. It was Corporal Hoskins, a close
+friend of mine. He had it in the stomach and clicked in a minute or
+two.
+
+During the few minutes that I lay in that hole, I suffered the
+worst mental anguish I ever knew. Seeing so many of my closest
+chums go west so horribly had nearly broken me, shaky as I was when
+the attack started. I was dripping with sweat and frightfully
+nauseated. A sudden overpowering impulse seized me to get out in
+the open and have it over with. I was ready to die.
+
+Sooner than I ought, for the second wave had not yet shown up, I
+shrilled the whistle and lifted them out. It was a hopeless charge,
+but I was done. I would have gone at them alone. Anything to close
+the act. To blazes with everything!
+
+As I scrambled out of the shell hole, there was a blinding,
+ear-splitting explosion slightly to my left, and I went down. I did
+not lose consciousness entirely. A red-hot iron was through my
+right arm, and some one had hit me on the left shoulder with a
+sledge hammer. I felt crushed,--shattered.
+
+My impressions of the rest of that night are, for the most part,
+vague and indistinct; but in spots they stand out clear and vivid.
+The first thing I knew definitely was when Smith bent over me,
+cutting the sleeve out of my tunic.
+
+"It's a Blighty one," says Smithy. That was some consolation. I was
+back in the shell hole, or in another, and there were five or six
+other fellows piled in there too. All of them were dead except
+Smith and a man named Collins, who had his arm clean off, and
+myself. Smith dressed my wound and Collins', and said:
+
+"We'd better get out of here before Fritz rushes us. The attack was
+a ruddy failure, and they'll come over and bomb us out of here."
+
+Smith and I got out of the hole and started to crawl. It appeared
+that he had a bullet through the thigh, though he hadn't said
+anything about it before. We crawled a little way, and then the
+bullets were flying so thick that I got an insane desire to run and
+get away from them. I got to my feet and legged it. So did Smith,
+though how he did it with a wounded thigh I don't know.
+
+The next thing I remember I was on a stretcher. The beastly thing
+swayed and pitched, and I got seasick. Then came another crash
+directly over head, and out I went again. When I came to, my head
+was as clear as a bell. A shell had burst over us and had killed
+one stretcher bearer. The other had disappeared. Smith was there.
+He and I got to our feet and put our arms around each other and
+staggered on. The next I knew I was in the Cough Drop dressing
+station, so called from the peculiar formation of the place. We had
+tea and rum here and a couple of fags from a sergeant major of the
+R.A.M.C.
+
+After that there was a ride on a flat car on a light railway and
+another in an ambulance with an American driver. Snatches of
+conversation about Broadway and a girl in Newark floated back, and
+I tried to work up ambition enough to sing out and ask where the
+chap came from. So far I hadn't had much pain. When we landed in a
+regular dressing station, the M.O. gave me another going over and
+said,
+
+"Blighty for you, son." I had a piece of shrapnel or something
+through the right upper arm, clearing the bone and making a hole
+about as big as a half dollar. My left shoulder was full of
+shrapnel fragments, and began to pain like fury. More tea. More
+rum. More fags. Another faint. When I woke up the next time,
+somebody was sticking a hypodermic needle into my chest with a shot
+of anti-lockjaw serum, and shortly after I was tucked away in a
+white enameled Red Cross train with a pretty nurse taking my
+temperature. I loved that nurse. She looked sort of cool and holy.
+
+I finally brought up in General Hospital Number 12 in Rouen. I was
+there four days and had a real bath,--a genuine boiling out. Also
+had some shrapnel picked out of my anatomy. I got in fairly good
+shape, though still in a good deal of dull pain. It was a glad day
+when they put a batch of us on a train for Havre, tagged for
+Blighty. We went direct from the train to the hospital ship,
+_Carisbrook Castle_. The quarters were good,--real bunks, clean
+sheets, good food, careful nurses. It was some different from the
+crowded transport that had taken me over to France.
+
+There were a lot of German prisoners aboard, wounded, and we
+swapped stories with them. It was really a lot of fun comparing
+notes, and they were pretty good chaps on the whole. They were as
+glad as we were to see land. Their troubles were over for the
+duration of the war.
+
+Never shall I forget that wonderful morning when I looked out and
+saw again the coast of England, hazy under the mists of dawn. It
+looked like the promised land. And it was. It meant freedom again
+from battle, murder, and sudden death, from trenches and stenches,
+rats, cooties, and all the rest that goes to make up the worst of
+man-made inventions, war.
+
+It was Friday the thirteenth. And don't let anybody dare say that
+date is unlucky. For it brought me back to the best thing that can
+gladden the eyes of a broken Tommy. Blighty! Blighty!! Blighty!!!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+BITS OF BLIGHTY
+
+
+Blighty meant life,--life and happiness and physical comfort. What
+we had left behind over there was death and mutilation and bodily
+and mental suffering. Up from the depths of hell we came and
+reached out our hands with pathetic eagerness to the good things
+that Blighty had for us.
+
+I never saw a finer sight than the faces of those boys, glowing
+with love, as they strained their eyes for the first sight of the
+homeland. Those in the bunks below, unable to move, begged those on
+deck to come down at the first land raise and tell them how it all
+looked.
+
+A lump swelled in my throat, and I prayed that I might never go
+back to the trenches. And I prayed, too, that the brave boys still
+over there might soon be out of it.
+
+We steamed into the harbor of Southampton early in the afternoon.
+Within an hour all of those that could walk had gone ashore. As we
+got into the waiting trains the civilian populace cheered. I, like
+everybody else I suppose, had dreamed often of coming back sometime
+as a hero and being greeted as a hero. But the cheering, though it
+came straight from the hearts of a grateful people, seemed, after
+all, rather hollow. I wanted to get somewhere and rest.
+
+It seemed good to look out of the windows and see the signs printed
+in English. That made it all seem less like a dream.
+
+I was taken first to the Clearing Hospital at Eastleigh. As we got
+off the train there the people cheered again, and among the
+civilians were many wounded men who had just recently come back.
+They knew how we felt.
+
+ [Illustration: CORPORAL HOLMES WITH STAFF NURSE AND ANOTHER
+ PATIENT, AT FULHAM MILITARY HOSPITAL, LONDON, S.W.]
+
+The first thing at the hospital was a real honest-to-God bath. _In
+a tub. With hot water!_ Heavens, how I wallowed. The orderly helped
+me and had to drag me out. I'd have stayed in that tub all night if
+he would have let me.
+
+Out of the tub I had clean things straight through, with a neat
+blue uniform, and for once was free of the cooties. The old
+uniform, blood-stained and ragged, went to the baking and
+disinfecting plant.
+
+That night all of us newly arrived men who could went to the
+Y.M.C.A. to a concert given in our honor. The chaplain came around
+and cheered us up and gave us good fags.
+
+Next morning I went around to the M.O. He looked my arm over and
+calmly said that it would have to come off as gangrene had set in.
+For a moment I wished that piece of shrapnel had gone through my
+head. I pictured myself going around with only one arm, and the
+prospect didn't look good.
+
+However, the doctor dressed the arm with the greatest care and told
+me I could go to a London hospital as I had asked, for I wanted to
+be near my people at Southall. These were the friends I had made
+before leaving Blighty and who had sent me weekly parcels and
+letters.
+
+I arrived in London on Tuesday and was taken in a big Red Cross
+motor loaned by Sir Charles Dickerson to the Fulham Hospital in
+Hammersmith. I was overjoyed, as the hospital was very near
+Southall, and Mr. and Mrs. Puttee were both there to meet me.
+
+The Sister in charge of my ward, Miss Malin, is one of the finest
+women I have met. I owe it to her care and skill that I still have
+my good right arm. She has since married and the lucky man has one
+of the best of wives. Miss Malin advised me right at the beginning
+not to submit to an amputation.
+
+My next few weeks were pretty awful. I was in constant pain, and
+after the old arm began to come around under Miss Malin's treatment
+one of the doctors discovered that my left hand was queer. It had
+been somewhat swollen, but not really bad. The doctor insisted upon
+an X-ray and found a bit of shrapnel imbedded. He was all for an
+operation. Operations seemed to be the long suit of most of those
+doctors. I imagine they couldn't resist the temptation to get some
+practice with so much cheap material all about. I consented this
+time, and went down for the pictures on Lord Mayor's Day. Going to
+the pictures is Tommy's expression for undergoing an anesthetic.
+
+I was under ether two hours and a half, and when I came out of it
+the left hand was all to the bad and has been ever since. There
+followed weeks of agonizing massage treatments. Between treatments
+though, I had it cushy.
+
+My friends were very good to me, and several Americans entertained
+me a good deal. I had a permanent walking-out pass good from nine
+in the morning until nine at night. I saw almost every show in the
+city, and heard a special performance of the Messiah at Westminster
+Abbey. Also I enjoyed a good deal of restaurant life.
+
+London is good to the wounded men. There is entertainment for all
+of them. A good many of these slightly wounded complain because
+they cannot get anything to drink, but undoubtedly it is the best
+thing for them. It is against the law to serve men in the blue
+uniform of the wounded. Men in khaki can buy all the liquor they
+want, the public houses being open from noon to two-thirty and from
+six P.M. to nine-thirty. Treating is not allowed. Altogether it
+works out very well and there is little drunkenness among the
+soldiers.
+
+I eventually brought up in a Convalescent Hospital in Brentford,
+Middlesex, and was there for three weeks. At the end of that time I
+was placed in category C 3.
+
+The system of marking the men in England is by categories, A, B,
+and C. A 1, 2, and 3 are for active service. A 4 is for the
+under-aged. B categories are for base service, and C is for home
+service. C 3 was for clerical duty, and as I was not likely to
+become efficient again as a soldier, it looked like some kind of
+bookkeeping for me for the duration of the war.
+
+Unless one is all shot to pieces, literally with something gone, it
+is hard to get a discharge from the British army. Back in the early
+days of 1915, a leg off was about the only thing that would produce
+a discharge.
+
+When I was put at clerical duty, I immediately began to furnish
+trouble for the British army, not intentionally, of course, but
+quite effectively. The first thing I did was to drop a typewriter
+and smash it. My hands had spells when they absolutely refused to
+work. Usually it was when I had something breakable in them. After
+I had done about two hundred dollars' damage indoors they tried me
+out as bayonet instructor. I immediately dropped a rifle on a
+concrete walk and smashed it. They wanted me to pay for it, but the
+M.O. called attention to the fact that I shouldn't have been put at
+the work under my category.
+
+ [Illustration: CORPORAL HOLMES WITH COMPANY OFFICE FORCE, AT
+ WINCHESTER, ENGLAND, A WEEK PRIOR TO DISCHARGE.]
+
+They then put me back at bookkeeping at Command Headquarters,
+Salisbury, but I couldn't figure English money and had a bad habit
+of fainting and falling off the high stool. To cap the climax, I
+finally fell one day and knocked down the stovepipe, and nearly set
+the office afire. The M.O. then ordered me back to the depot at
+Winchester and recommended me for discharge. I guess he thought it
+would be the cheapest in the long run.
+
+The adjutant at Winchester didn't seem any too pleased to see me.
+He said I looked as healthy as a wolf, which I did, and that they
+would never let me out of the army. He seemed to think that my
+quite normal appearance would be looked upon as a personal insult
+by the medical board. I said that I was sorry I didn't have a leg
+or two gone, but it couldn't be helped.
+
+While waiting for the Board, I was sent to the German Prison Camp
+at Winnal Downs as corporal of the permanent guard. I began to fear
+that at last they had found something that I could do without
+damaging anything, and my visions of the U.S.A. went a-glimmering.
+I was with the Fritzies for over a week, and they certainly have it
+soft and cushy.
+
+They have as good food as the Tommies. They are paid ninepence a
+day, and the work they do is a joke. They are well housed and kept
+clean and have their own canteens, where they can buy almost
+anything in the way of delicacies. They are decently treated by the
+English soldiers, who even buy them fags out of their own money.
+The nearest thing I ever saw to humiliation of a German was a few
+good-natured jokes at their expense by some of the wits in the
+guard. The English know how to play fair with an enemy when they
+have him down.
+
+I had about given up hope of ever getting out of the army when I
+was summoned to appear before the Travelling Medical Board. You can
+wager I lost no time in appearing.
+
+The board looked me over with a discouraging and cynical suspicion.
+I certainly did look as rugged as a navvy. When they gave me a
+going over, they found that my heart was out of place and that my
+left hand might never limber up again. They voted for a discharge
+in jig time. I had all I could do to keep from howling with joy.
+
+It was some weeks before the final formalities were closed up. The
+pension board passed on my case, and I was given the magnificent
+sum of sixteen shillings and sixpence a week, or $3.75. I spent the
+next few weeks in visiting my friends and, eventually, at the 22nd
+Headquarters at Bermondsey, London, S.C., received the papers that
+once more made me a free man.
+
+The papers read in part, "He is discharged in consequence of
+paragraph 392, King's Rules and Regulations. No longer fit for
+service." In another part of the book you will find a reproduction
+of the character discharge also given. The discharged man also
+receives a little silver badge bearing the inscription, "For King
+and Empire, Services Rendered." I think that I value this badge
+more than any other possession.
+
+Once free, I lost no time in getting my passport into shape and
+engaged a passage on the _St. Paul_, to sail on the second of June.
+Since my discharge is dated the twenty-eighth of May, you can see
+that I didn't waste any time. My friends at Southall thought I was
+doing things in a good deal of a hurry. The fact is, I was fed up
+on war. I had had a plenty. And I was going to make my get-away
+before the British War Office changed its mind and got me back in
+uniform. Mrs. Puttee and her eldest son saw me off at Euston
+Station. Leaving them was the one wrench, as they had become very
+dear to me. But I had to go. If Blighty had looked good, the
+thought of the U.S.A. was better.
+
+My passage was uneventful. No submarines, no bad weather, nothing
+disagreeable. On the eighth day I looked out through a welter of
+fog and rain to the place where the Statue of Liberty should have
+been waving a greeting across New York harbor. The lady wasn't
+visible, but I knew she was there. And even in a downpour equal to
+anything furnished by the choicest of Flanders rainstorms, little
+old New York looked better than anything I could imagine, except
+sober and staid old Boston.
+
+That I am at home, safe and free of the horrors of war, is to me a
+strange thing. I think it comes into the experience of most of the
+men who have been over there and who have been invalided out of the
+service. Looking back on the awfulness of the trenches and the
+agonies of mind and body, the sacrifice seems to fade into
+insignificance beside the satisfaction of having done a bit in the
+great and just cause.
+
+Now that our own men are going over, I find myself with a very deep
+regret that I cannot go too. I can only wish them the best of luck
+and rest in confidence that every man will do his uttermost.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+SUGGESTIONS FOR "SAMMY"
+
+
+I cannot end this book without saying something to those who have
+boys over there and, what is more to the point, to those boys who
+may go over there.
+
+First as to the things that should be sent in parcels; and a great
+deal of consideration should be given to this. You must be very
+careful not to send things that will load your Sammy down, as every
+ounce counts in the pack when he is hiking, and he is likely to be
+hiking any time or all the time.
+
+In the line of eatables the soldier wants something sweet. Good
+hard cookies are all right. I wish more people in this country knew
+how to make the English plum pudding in bags, the kind that will
+keep forever and be good when it is boiled. Mainly, though,
+chocolate is the thing. The milk kind is well enough, but it is apt
+to cause overmuch thirst. Personally I would rather have the plain
+chocolate,--the water variety.
+
+Chewing gum is always in demand and is not bulky in the package.
+Send a lot of it. Lime and lemon tablets in the summertime are
+great for checking thirst on the march. A few of them won't do any
+harm in any parcel, summer or winter.
+
+Now about smoking materials. Unless the man to whom the parcel is
+to be sent is definitely known to be prejudiced against cigarettes,
+don't send him pipe tobacco or a pipe. There are smokers who hate
+cigarettes just as there are some people who think that the little
+paper roll is an invention of the devil. If any one has a boy over
+there, he--or she--had better overcome any possible personal
+feeling against the use of cigarettes and send them in preference
+to anything else.
+
+From my own experience I know that cigarettes are the most
+important thing that can be sent to a soldier. When I went out
+there, I was a pipe smoker. After I had been in the trenches a week
+I quit the pipe and threw it away. It is seldom enough that one has
+the opportunity to enjoy a full pipe. It is very hard to get
+lighted when the matches are wet in bad weather, which is nearly
+always. Besides which, say what you will, a pipe does not soothe
+the nerves as a fag does.
+
+Now when sending the cigarettes out, don't try to think of the
+special brand that Harold or Percival used when he was home. Likely
+enough his name has changed, and instead of being Percy or Harold
+he is now Pigeye or Sour-belly; and his taste in the weed has
+changed too. He won't be so keen on his own particular brand of
+Turkish. Just send him the common or garden Virginia sort at five
+cents the package. That is the kind that gives most comfort to the
+outworn Tommy or Sammy.
+
+Don't think that you can send too many. I have had five hundred
+sent to me in a week many times and have none left at the end.
+There are always men who do not get any parcels, and they have to
+be looked out for. Out there all things are common property, and
+the soldier shares his last with his less fortunate comrade.
+Subscribe when you get the chance to any and all smoke funds.
+
+Don't listen to the pestilential fuddy-duds who do not approve of
+tobacco, particularly the fussy-old-maids. Personally, when I hear
+any of these conscientious objectors to My Lady Nicotine air their
+opinions, I wish that they could be placed in the trenches for a
+while. They would soon change their minds about rum issues and
+tobacco, and I'll wager they would be first in the line when the
+issues came around.
+
+One thing that many people forget to put in the soldier's parcel,
+or don't see the point of, is talcum powder. Razors get dull very
+quickly, and the face gets sore. The powder is almost a necessity
+when one is shaving in luke-warm tea and laundry soap, with a
+safety razor blade that wasn't sharp in the first place. In the
+summer on the march men sweat and accumulate all the dirt there is
+in the world. There are forty hitherto unsuspected places on the
+body that chafe under the weight of equipment. Talc helps. In the
+matter of sore feet, it is a life saver.
+
+Soap,--don't forget that. Always some good, pure, plain white
+soap, like Ivory or Castile; and a small bath towel now and then.
+There is so little chance to wash towels that they soon get
+unusable.
+
+In the way of wearing apparel, socks are always good. But, girlie,
+make 'em right. That last pair sent me nearly cost me a court
+martial by my getting my feet into trench-foot condition. If you
+can't leave out the seams, wear them yourself for a while, and see
+how you like it.
+
+Sleeveless sweaters are good and easy to make, I am told. They
+don't last long at the best, so should not be elaborate. Any
+garment worn close to the body gets cooty in a few weeks and has to
+be ditched. However, keep right on with the knitting, with the
+exception of the socks. If you're not an expert on those, better
+buy them. You may in that way retain the affection of your
+sweetheart over there.
+
+Knitted helmets are a great comfort. I had one that was fine not
+only to wear under the tin hat but to sleep in. I am not keen on
+wristlets or gloves. Better buy the gloves you send in the shops.
+So that's the knitted stuff,--helmets, sweaters, and mufflers and,
+for the expert, socks.
+
+Be very moderate in the matter of reading matter. I mean by that,
+don't send a lot at a time or any very bulky stuff at all.
+
+If it is possible to get a louse pomade called Harrison's in this
+country, send it, as it is a cooty killer. So far as I know, it is
+the only thing sold that will do the cooty in. There's a fortune
+waiting for the one who compounds a louse eradicator that will kill
+the cooty and not irritate or nearly kill the one who uses it. I
+shall expect a royalty from the successful chemist who produces the
+much needed compound.
+
+For the wealthier people, I would suggest that good things to send
+are silk shirts and drawers. It is possible to get the cooties out
+of these garments much easier than out of the thick woollies. There
+are many other things that may be sent, but I have mentioned the
+most important. The main thing to remember is not to run to bulk.
+And don't forget that it takes a long time for stuff to get
+across.
+
+Don't overlook the letters,--this especially if you are a mother,
+wife, or sweetheart. It is an easy thing to forget. You mustn't.
+Out there life is chiefly squalor, filth, and stench. The boy gets
+disgusted and lonesome and homesick, even though he may write to
+the contrary. Write to him at least three times a week. Always
+write cheerfully, even although something may have happened that
+has plunged you into the depths of despair. If it is necessary to
+cover up something that would cause a soldier worry, cover it up.
+Even lie to him. It will be justified. Keep in mind the now famous,
+war song, "Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag and smile,
+smile, smile." Keep your own packed up and don't send any over
+there for some soldier to worry over.
+
+Just a few words to the men themselves who may go. Don't take
+elaborate shaving tackle, just brush, razor, soap, and a small
+mirror. Most of the time you won't need the mirror. You'll use the
+periscope mirror in the trenches. Don't load up on books and
+unnecessary clothing. Impress it upon your relatives that your
+stuff, tobacco and sweets, is to come along in small parcels and
+often and regularly. Let all your friends and relatives know your
+address and ask them to write often. Don't hesitate to tell them
+all that a parcel now and again will be acceptable. Have more than
+one source of supply if possible.
+
+When you get out there, hunt up the Y.M.C.A. huts. You will find
+good cheer, warmth, music, and above all a place to do your
+writing. Write home often. Your people are concerned about you all
+the time. Write at least once a week to the one nearest and dearest
+to you. I used to average ten letters a week to friends in Blighty
+and back here, and that was a lot more than I was allowed. I found
+a way. Most of you won't be able to go over your allowance. But do
+go the limit.
+
+Over there you will find a lot of attractive girls and women. Most
+any girl is attractive when you are just out of the misery of the
+trenches. Be careful of them. Remember the country has been full of
+soldiers for three years. Don't make love too easily. One of the
+singers in the Divisional Follies recently revived the once popular
+music-hall song, "If You Can't Be Good Be Careful." It should
+appeal to the soldier as much as "Smile, smile, smile", and is
+equally good advice. For the sake of those at home and for the sake
+of your own peace of mind come back from overseas clean.
+
+After all it is possible to no more than give hints to the boys who
+are going. All of you will have to learn by experience. My parting
+word to you all is just, "The best of luck."
+
+
+
+
+GLOSSARY OF ARMY SLANG
+
+
+All around traverse - A machine gun placed on a swivel to turn
+in any direction.
+
+Ammo - Ammunition. Usually for rifles, though occasionally used
+to indicate that for artillery.
+
+Argue the toss - Argue the point.
+
+Back of the line - Anywhere to the rear and out of the danger
+zone.
+
+Barbed wire - Ordinary barbed wire used for entanglements. A
+thicker and heavier military wire is sometimes used.
+
+Barrage - Shells dropped simultaneously and in a row so as to
+form a curtain of fire. Literal translation "a barrier."
+
+Bashed - Smashed.
+
+Big boys - Big guns or the shells they send over.
+
+Big push - The battles of the Somme.
+
+Billets - The quarters of the soldier when back of the line.
+Any place from a pigpen to a palace.
+
+Bleeder or Blighter - Cockney slang for fellow. Roughly
+corresponding to American "guy."
+
+Blighty - England. East Indian derivation. The paradise looked
+forward to by all good soldiers,--and all bad ones too.
+
+Blighty one - A wound that will take the soldier to Blighty.
+
+Bloody - The universal Cockney adjective. It is vaguely
+supposed to be highly obscene, though just why nobody seems to
+know.
+
+Blooming - A meaningless and greatly used adjective. Applied to
+anything and everything.
+
+Bomb - A hand grenade.
+
+Bully beef - Corned beef, high grade and good of the kind, if
+you like the kind. It sets hard on the chest.
+
+Carry on - To go ahead with the matter in hand.
+
+Char - Tea. East Indian derivation.
+
+Chat - Officers' term for cootie; supposed to be more delicate.
+
+Click - Variously used. To die. To be killed. To kill. To draw
+some disagreeable job, as: I clicked a burial fatigue.
+
+Communication trench - A trench leading up to the front trench.
+
+Consolidate - To turn around and prepare for occupation a
+captured trench.
+
+Cootie - The common,--the too common,--body louse. Everybody
+has 'em.
+
+Crater - A round pit made by an underground explosion or by a
+shell.
+
+Cushy - Easy. Soft.
+
+Dixie - An oblong iron pot or box fitting into a field kitchen.
+Used for cooking anything and everything. Nobody seems to know why
+it is so called.
+
+Doggo - Still. Quiet. East Indian derivation.
+
+Doing in - Killing.
+
+Doss - Sleep.
+
+Duck walk - A slatted wooden walk in soft ground.
+
+Dud - An unexploded shell. A dangerous thing to fool with.
+
+Dug-out - A hole more or less deep in the side of a trench
+where soldiers are supposed to rest.
+
+Dump - A place where supplies are left for distribution.
+
+Entrenching tool - A sort of small shovel for quick digging.
+Carried as part of equipment.
+
+Estaminet - A French saloon or cafe.
+
+Fag - A cigarette.
+
+Fatigue - Any kind of work except manning the trenches.
+
+Fed up - Tommy's way of saying "too much is enough."
+
+Firing step - A narrow ledge running along the parapet on which
+a soldier stands to look over the top.
+
+Flare - A star light sent up from a pistol to light up out in
+front.
+
+Fritz - An affectionate term for our friend the enemy.
+
+Funk hole - A dug-out.
+
+Gas - Any poisonous gas sent across when the wind is right.
+Used by both sides. Invented by the Germans.
+
+Goggles - A piece of equipment similar to that used by
+motorists, supposed to keep off tear gas. The rims are backed with
+strips of sponge which Tommy tears off and throws the goggle frame
+away.
+
+Go west - To die.
+
+Grouse - Complain. Growl. Kick.
+
+Hun - A German.
+
+Identification disc - A fiber tablet bearing the soldier's
+name, regiment, and rank. Worn around the neck on a string.
+
+Iron rations - About two pounds of nonperishable rations to be
+used in an emergency.
+
+Knuckle knife - A short dagger with a studded hilt. Invented by
+the Germans.
+
+Lance Corporal - The lowest grade of non-commissioned officer.
+
+Lewis gun - A very light machine gun invented by one Lewis, an
+officer in the American army.
+
+Light railway - A very narrow-gauge railway on which are pushed
+little hand cars.
+
+Listening post - One or more men go out in front, at night, of
+course, and listen for movements by the enemy.
+
+Maconochie - A scientifically compounded and well-balanced
+ration, so the authorities say. It looks, smells, and tastes like
+rancid lard.
+
+M.O. - Medical Officer. A foxy cove who can't be fooled with
+faked symptoms.
+
+Mess tin - A combination teapot, fry pan, and plate.
+
+Military cross - An officer's decoration for bravery.
+
+Military medal - A decoration for bravery given to enlisted
+men.
+
+Mills - The most commonly used hand grenade.
+
+Minnies - German trench mortar projectiles.
+
+Napper - The head.
+
+Night 'ops - A much hated practice manoeuvre done at night.
+
+No Man's Land - The area between the trenches.
+
+On your own - At liberty. Your time is your own.
+
+Out or over there - Somewhere in France.
+
+Parados - The back wall of a trench.
+
+Parapet - The front wall of a trench.
+
+Patrol - One or more men who go out in front and prowl in the
+dark, seeking information of the enemy.
+
+Periscope - A boxlike arrangement with two mirrors for looking
+over the top without exposing the napper.
+
+Persuader - A short club with a nail-studded head.
+
+Pip squeak - A German shell which makes that kind of noise when
+it comes over.
+
+Push up the daisies - To be killed and buried.
+
+Ration party - A party of men which goes to the rear and brings
+up rations for the front line.
+
+Rest - Relief from trench service. Mostly one works constantly
+when "resting."
+
+Ruddy - Same as bloody, but not quite so bad.
+
+Sandbag - A bag which is filled with mud and used for building
+the parapet.
+
+Sentry go - Time on guard in the front trench, or at rest at
+headquarters.
+
+Shell hole - A pit made by the explosion of a shell.
+
+Souvenir - Any kind of junk picked up for keepsakes. Also used
+as a begging word by the French children.
+
+Stand to - Order for all men to stand ready in the trench in
+event of a surprise attack, usually at sundown and sunrise.
+
+Stand down - Countermanding "stand to."
+
+Stokes - A bomb weighing about eleven pounds usually thrown
+from a mortar, but sometimes used by hand.
+
+Strafing - One of the few words Tommy has borrowed from Fritz.
+To punish.
+
+Suicide club - The battalion bombers.
+
+Tin hat - Steel helmet.
+
+Wave - A line of men going over the top.
+
+Whacked - Exhausted. Played out.
+
+Whiz-bang - A German shell that makes that sort of noise.
+
+Wind up or windy - Nervous. Jumpy. Temporary involuntary fear.
+
+Wooden cross - The small wooden cross placed over a soldier's
+grave.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's A Yankee in the Trenches, by R. Derby Holmes
+
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+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of
+A Yankee in the Trenches,
+    by R. Derby Holmes
+</title>
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+        margin-right: 15%;
+        text-indent: 1.5em;
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+      margin-left: 30%;  font-size: 90% }
+    p.note2 { text-indent: 0em; text-align: center; margin-top: 0em;  }
+    p.toc  { text-indent: 0em; text-align: center; font-size: 90%;
+      margin-bottom: 0em;  margin-top: .5em; }
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+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Yankee in the Trenches, by R. Derby Holmes
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Yankee in the Trenches
+
+Author: R. Derby Holmes
+
+Release Date: August 25, 2004 [EBook #13279]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A YANKEE IN THE TRENCHES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Janet Kegg and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div style="height: 8em;"><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<a name="image-0001"><!--IMG--></a>
+<center>
+<img src="images/yank1.jpg" width="295" height="450"
+alt="Corporal Holmes in the Uniform of The 22nd London
+Battalion, Queen's Royal West Surrey Regiment, H.M. Imperial Army.
+<i>frontispiece</i>">
+</center>
+<!--IMAGE END-->
+<hr>
+<h1>A YANKEE</h1>
+<h1>IN THE TRENCHES</h1>
+<center><b>
+    By
+</b></center>
+<h2>
+    R. DERBY HOLMES
+</h2>
+<p class="note2"><small>
+    CORPORAL OF THE 22D LONDON BATTALION OF THE<br>
+    QUEEN'S ROYAL WEST SURREY REGIMENT</small>
+</p>
+
+<br>
+<p class="note2">
+    <i>ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS</i>
+</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h5>
+    BOSTON<br>
+    LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY<br>
+    1918
+</h5>
+
+<hr>
+     <h3>Dedication</h3>
+
+<p class="note">
+    TO MARION A. PUTTEE, SOUTHALL, MIDDLESEX,
+    ENGLAND, I DEDICATE THIS BOOK AS A
+    TOKEN OF APPRECIATION FOR ALL THE LOVING
+    THOUGHTS AND DEEDS BESTOWED UPON ME
+    WHEN I WAS A STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND
+</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="short">
+
+
+<a name="2H_FORE"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    FOREWORD
+</h2>
+<p>
+    I have tried as an American in writing this book to give the public
+    a complete view of the trenches and life on the Western Front as it
+    appeared to me, and also my impression of conditions and men as I
+    found them. It has been a pleasure to write it, and now that I have
+    finished I am genuinely sorry that I cannot go further. On the
+    lecture tour I find that people ask me questions, and I have tried
+    in this book to give in detail many things about the quieter side
+    of war that to an audience would seem too tame. I feel that the
+    public want to know how the soldiers live when not in the trenches,
+    for all the time out there is not spent in killing and carnage. As
+    in the case of all men in the trenches, I heard things and stories
+    that especially impressed me, so I have written them as hearsay,
+    not taking to myself credit as their originator. I trust that the
+    reader will find as much joy in the cockney character as I did and
+    which I have tried to show the public; let me say now that no finer
+    body of men than those Bermondsey boys of my battalion could be
+    found.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I think it fair to say that in compiling the trench terms at the
+    end of this book I have not copied any war book, but I have given
+    in each case my own version of the words, though I will confess
+    that the idea and necessity of having such a list sprang from
+    reading Sergeant Empey's "Over the Top." It would be impossible to
+    write a book that the people would understand without the aid of
+    such a glossary.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It is my sincere wish that after reading this book the reader may
+    have a clearer conception of what this great world war means and
+    what our soldiers are contending with, and that it may awaken the
+    American people to the danger of Prussianism so that when in the
+    future there is a call for funds for Liberty Loans, Red Cross work,
+    or Y.M.C.A., there will be no slacking, for they form the real
+    triangular sign to a successful termination of this terrible
+    conflict.
+</p>
+<p class="ar">
+    R. D<small>ERBY</small> H<small>OLMES</small>.
+</p>
+<br>
+<hr class="short">
+
+
+
+<h3>CONTENTS</h3>
+ <p class="toc"><a href="#2H_FORE">
+FOREWORD
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_LIST">
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0001">
+  I</a> &nbsp; JOINING THE BRITISH ARMY </p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0002">
+ II</a> &nbsp; GOING IN </p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0003">
+  III</a> &nbsp; A TRENCH RAID </p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0004">
+ IV</a> &nbsp; A FEW DAYS' REST IN BILLETS </p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0005">
+  V</a> &nbsp; FEEDING THE TOMMIES </p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0006">
+  VI</a> &nbsp; HIKING TO VIMY RIDGE </p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0007">
+  VII</a> &nbsp; FASCINATION OF PATROL WORK </p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0008">
+  VIII</a> &nbsp; ON THE GO </p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0009">
+  IX</a> &nbsp; FIRST SIGHT OF THE TANKS </p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0010">
+  X</a> &nbsp; FOLLOWING THE TANKS INTO BATTLE </p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#2HCH0011">
+  XI</a> &nbsp; PRISONERS</p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0012">
+  XII</a> &nbsp; I BECOME A BOMBER </p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0013">
+  XIII</a> &nbsp; BACK ON THE SOMME AGAIN </p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0014">
+  XIV</a> &nbsp; THE LAST TIME OVER THE TOP </p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0015">
+  XV</a> &nbsp; BITS OF BLIGHTY </p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0016">
+  XVI</a> &nbsp; SUGGESTIONS FOR "SAMMY"</p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_GLOS">
+GLOSSARY OF ARMY SLANG</a></p>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<a name="2H_LIST"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+<h4>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h4>
+<p class="itoc"><a href="#image-0001">
+Corporal Holmes in the Uniform of the 22nd London
+Battalion, Queen's Royal West Surrey Regiment, H.M. Imperial Army &nbsp;<i>Frontispiece</i></a></p>
+<p class="itoc"><a href="#image-0002">
+Reduced Facsimile of Discharge Certificate of
+Character</a></p>
+<p class="itoc"><a href="#image-0003">
+A Heavy Howitzer, Under Camouflage</a></p>
+<p class="itoc"><a href="#image-0004">
+Over the Top on a Raid </a></p>
+<p class="itoc"><a href="#image-0005">
+Cooking Under Difficulties</a></p>
+<p class="itoc"><a href="#image-0008">
+Head-on View of a British Tank</a></p>
+<p class="itoc"><a href="#image-0006">
+Corporal Holmes with Staff Nurse and Another
+Patient, at Fulham Military Hospital, London, S.W.</a></p>
+<p class="itoc"><a href="#image-0007">
+Corporal Holmes with Company Office Force, at
+Winchester, England, a Week Prior to Discharge</a></p>
+<br>
+ <hr class="short">
+
+
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+
+
+<h2>
+    A YANKEE IN THE TRENCHES
+</h2>
+<a name="2HCH0001"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER I
+</h2>
+<h3>
+    JOINING THE BRITISH ARMY
+</h3>
+<p>
+    Once, on the Somme in the fall of 1916, when I had been over the
+    top and was being carried back somewhat disfigured but still in the
+    ring, a cockney stretcher bearer shot this question at me:
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Hi sye, Yank. Wot th' bloody 'ell are you in this bloomin' row
+    for? Ayen't there no trouble t' 'ome?"
+</p>
+<p>
+    And for the life of me I couldn't answer. After more than a year in
+    the British service I could not, on the spur of the moment, say
+    exactly why I was there.
+</p>
+<p>
+    To be perfectly frank with myself and with the reader I had no very
+    lofty motives when I took the King's shilling. When the great war
+    broke out, I was mildly sympathetic with England, and mighty sorry
+    in an indefinite way for France and Belgium; but my sympathies were
+    not strong enough in any direction to get me into uniform with a
+    chance of being killed. Nor, at first, was I able to work up any
+    compelling hate for Germany. The abstract idea of democracy did not
+    figure in my calculations at all.
+</p>
+<p>
+    However, as the war went on, it became apparent to me, as I suppose
+    it must have to everybody, that the world was going through one of
+    its epochal upheavals; and I figured that with so much history in
+    the making, any unattached young man would be missing it if he did
+    not take a part in the big game.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I had the fondness for adventure usual in young men. I liked to see
+    the wheels go round. And so it happened that, when the war was
+    about a year and a half old, I decided to get in before it was too
+    late.
+</p>
+<p>
+    On second thought I won't say that it was purely love for adventure
+    that took me across. There may have been in the back of my head a
+    sneaking extra fondness for France, perhaps instinctive, for I was
+    born in Paris, although my parents were American and I was brought
+    to Boston as a baby and have lived here since.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Whatever my motives for joining the British army, they didn't have
+    time to crystallize until I had been wounded and sent to Blighty,
+    which is trench slang for England. While recuperating in one of the
+    pleasant places of the English country-side, I had time to acquire
+    a perspective and to discover that I had been fighting for
+    democracy and the future safety of the world. I think that my
+    experience in this respect is like that of most of the young
+    Americans who have volunteered for service under a foreign flag.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I decided to get into the big war game early in 1916. My first
+    thought was to go into the ambulance service, as I knew several men
+    in that work. One of them described the driver's life about as
+    follows. He said:
+</p>
+<p>
+    "The <i>blessés</i> curse you because you jolt them. The doctors curse
+    you because you don't get the <i>blessés</i> in fast enough. The
+    Transport Service curse you because you get in the way. You eat
+    standing up and don't sleep at all. You're as likely as anybody to
+    get killed, and all the glory you get is the War Cross, if you're
+    lucky, and you don't get a single chance to kill a Hun."
+</p>
+<p>
+    That settled the ambulance for me. I hadn't wanted particularly to
+    kill a Hun until it was suggested that I mightn't. Then I wanted to
+    slaughter a whole division.
+</p>
+<p>
+    So I decided on something where there would be fighting. And having
+    decided, I thought I would "go the whole hog" and work my way
+    across to England on a horse transport.
+</p>
+<p>
+    One day in the first part of February I went, at what seemed an
+    early hour, to an office on Commercial Street, Boston, where they
+    were advertising for horse tenders for England. About three hundred
+    men were earlier than I. It seemed as though every beach-comber and
+    patriot in New England was trying to get across. I didn't get the
+    job, but filed my application and was lucky enough to be signed on
+    for a sailing on February 22 on the steam-ship <i>Cambrian</i>, bound
+    for London.
+</p>
+<a name="image-0002"><!--IMG--></a>
+<center>
+<img src="images/yank2.jpg" width="500" height="384"
+alt="Reduced Facsimile of Discharge Certificate Of
+Character.">
+</center>
+<!--IMAGE END-->
+<p>
+    We spent the morning of Washington's Birthday loading the horses.
+    These government animals were selected stock and full of ginger.
+    They seemed to know that they were going to France and resented it
+    keenly. Those in my care seemed to regard my attentions as a
+    personal affront.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We had a strenuous forenoon getting the horses aboard, and sailed
+    at noon. After we had herded in the livestock, some of the officers
+    herded up the herders. I drew a pink slip with two numbers on it,
+    one showing the compartment where I was supposed to sleep, the
+    other indicating my bunk.
+</p>
+<p>
+    That compartment certainly was a glory-hole. Most of the men had
+    been drunk the night before, and the place had the rich, balmy
+    fragrance of a water-front saloon. Incidentally there was a good
+    deal of unauthorized and undomesticated livestock. I made a limited
+    acquaintance with that pretty, playful little creature, the
+    "cootie," who was to become so familiar in the trenches later on.
+    He wasn't called a cootie aboard ship, but he was the same bird.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Perhaps the less said about that trip across the better. It lasted
+    twenty-one days. We fed the animals three times a day and cleaned
+    the stalls once on the trip. I got chewed up some and stepped on a
+    few times. Altogether the experience was good intensive training
+    for the trench life to come; especially the bunks. Those sleeping
+    quarters sure were close and crawly.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We landed in London on Saturday night about nine-thirty. The
+    immigration inspectors gave us a quick examination and we were
+    turned back to the shipping people, who paid us off,&mdash;two pounds,
+    equal to about ten dollars real change.
+</p>
+<p>
+    After that we rode on the train half an hour and then marched
+    through the streets, darkened to fool the Zeps. Around one o'clock
+    we brought up at Thrawl Street, at the lodgings where we were
+    supposed to stop until we were started for home.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The place where we were quartered was a typical London doss house.
+    There were forty beds in the room with mine, all of them occupied.
+    All hands were snoring, and the fellow in the next cot was going
+    it with the cut-out wide open, breaking all records. Most of the
+    beds sagged like a hammock. Mine humped up in the middle like a
+    pile of bricks.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I was up early and was directed to the place across the way where
+    we were to eat. It was labeled "Mother Wolf's. The Universal
+    Provider." She provided just one meal of weak tea, moldy bread, and
+    rancid bacon for me. After that I went to a hotel. I may remark in
+    passing that horse tenders, going or coming or in between whiles,
+    do not live on the fat of the land.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I spent the day&mdash;it was Sunday&mdash;seeing the sights of Whitechapel,
+    Middlesex Street or Petticoat Lane, and some of the slums. Next
+    morning it was pretty clear to me that two pounds don't go far in
+    the big town. I promptly boarded the first bus for Trafalgar
+    Square. The recruiting office was just down the road in Whitehall
+    at the old Scotland Yard office.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I had an idea when I entered that recruiting office that the
+    sergeant would receive me with open arms. He didn't. Instead he
+    looked me over with unqualified scorn and spat out, "Yank, ayen't
+    ye?"
+</p>
+<p>
+    And I in my innocence briefly answered, "Yep."
+</p>
+<p>
+    "We ayen't tykin' no nootrals," he said, with a sneer. And then:
+    "Better go back to Hamerika and 'elp Wilson write 'is blinkin'
+    notes."
+</p>
+<p>
+    Well, I was mad enough to poke that sergeant in the eye. But I
+    didn't. I retired gracefully and with dignity.
+</p>
+<p>
+    At the door another sergeant hailed me, whispering behind his hand,
+    "Hi sye, mytie. Come around in the mornin'. Hi'll get ye in." And
+    so it happened.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Next day my man was waiting and marched me boldly up to the same
+    chap who had refused me the day before.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "'Ere's a recroot for ye, Jim," says my friend.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Jim never batted an eye. He began to "awsk" questions and to fill
+    out a blank. When he got to the birthplace, my guide cut in and
+    said, "Canada."
+</p>
+<p>
+    The only place I knew in Canada was Campobello Island, a place
+    where we camped one summer, and I gave that. I don't think that
+    anything but rabbits was ever born on Campobello, but it went. For
+    that matter anything went. I discovered afterward that the sergeant
+    who had captured me on the street got five bob (shillings) for me.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The physical examination upstairs was elaborate. They told me to
+    strip, weighed me, and said I was fit. After that I was taken in to
+    an officer&mdash;a real officer this time&mdash;who made me put my hand on a
+    Bible and say yes to an oath he rattled off. Then he told me I was
+    a member of the Royal Fusiliers, gave me two shillings, sixpence
+    and ordered me to report at the Horse Guards Parade next day. I was
+    in the British army,&mdash;just like that!
+</p>
+<p>
+    I spent the balance of the day seeing the sights of London, and
+    incidentally spending my coin. When I went around to the Horse
+    Guards next morning, two hundred others, new rookies like myself,
+    were waiting. An officer gave me another two shillings, sixpence. I
+    began to think that if the money kept coming along at that rate the
+    British army might turn out a good investment. It didn't.
+</p>
+<p>
+    That morning I was sent out to Hounslow Barracks, and three days
+    later was transferred to Dover with twenty others. I was at Dover a
+    little more than two months and completed my training there.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Our barracks at Dover was on the heights of the cliffs, and on
+    clear days we could look across the Channel and see the dim
+    outlines of France. It was a fascination for all of us to look away
+    over there and to wonder what fortunes were to come to us on the
+    battle fields of Europe. It was perhaps as well that none of us had
+    imagination enough to visualize the things that were ahead.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I found the rookies at Dover a jolly, companionable lot, and I
+    never found the routine irksome. We were up at five-thirty, had
+    cocoa and biscuits, and then an hour of physical drill or bayonet
+    practice. At eight came breakfast of tea, bacon, and bread, and
+    then we drilled until twelve. Dinner. Out again on the parade
+    ground until three thirty. After that we were free.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Nights we would go into Dover and sit around the "pubs" drinking
+    ale, or "ayle" as the cockney says it.
+</p>
+<p>
+    After a few weeks, when we were hardened somewhat, they began to
+    inflict us with the torture known as "night ops." That means going
+    out at ten o'clock under full pack, hiking several miles, and then
+    "manning" the trenches around the town and returning to barracks at
+    three A.M.
+</p>
+<p>
+    This wouldn't have been so bad if we had been excused parades the
+    following day. But no. We had the same old drills except the early
+    one, but were allowed to "kip" until seven.
+</p>
+<p>
+    In the two months I completed the musketry course, was a good
+    bayonet man, and was well grounded in bombing practice. Besides
+    that I was as hard as nails and had learned thoroughly the system
+    of British discipline.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I had supposed that it took at least six months to make a
+    soldier,&mdash;in fact had been told that one could not be turned out
+    who would be ten per cent efficient in less than that time. That
+    old theory is all wrong. Modern warfare changes so fast that the
+    only thing that can be taught a man is the basic principles of
+    discipline, bombing, trench warfare, and musketry. Give him those
+    things, a well-conditioned body, and a baptism of fire, and he will
+    be right there with the veterans, doing his bit.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Two months was all our crowd got at any rate, and they were as good
+    as the best, if I do say it.
+</p>
+<p>
+    My training ended abruptly with a furlough of five days for
+    Embarkation Leave, that is, leave before going to France. This is a
+    sort of good-by vacation. Most fellows realize fully that it may be
+    their last look at Blighty, and they take it rather solemnly. To a
+    stranger without friends in England I can imagine that this
+    Embarkation Leave would be either a mighty lonesome, dismal affair,
+    or a stretch of desperate, homesick dissipation. A chap does want
+    to say good-by to some one before he goes away, perhaps to die. He
+    wants to be loved and to have some one sorry that he is going.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I was invited by one of my chums to spend the leave with him at his
+    home in Southall, Middlesex. His father, mother and sister welcomed
+    me in a way that made me know it was my home from the minute I
+    entered the door. They took me into their hearts with a simple
+    hospitality and whole-souled kindness that I can never forget. I
+    was a stranger in a strange land and they made me one of their own.
+    I shall never be able to repay all the loving thoughts and deeds of
+    that family and shall remember them while I live. My chum's mother
+    I call Mother too. It is to her that I have dedicated this book.
+</p>
+<p>
+    After my delightful few days of leave, things moved fast. I was
+    back in Dover just two days when I, with two hundred other men, was
+    sent to Winchester. Here we were notified that we were transferred
+    to the Queen's Royal West Surrey Regiment.
+</p>
+<p>
+    This news brought a wild howl from the men. They wanted to stop
+    with the Fusiliers. It is part of the British system that every man
+    is taught the traditions and history of his regiment and to <i>know</i>
+    that his is absolutely the best in the whole army. In a
+    surprisingly short time they get so they swear by their own
+    regiment and by their officers, and they protest bitterly at a
+    transfer.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Personally I didn't care a rap. I had early made up my mind that I
+    was a very small pebble on the beach and that it was up to me to
+    obey orders and keep my mouth shut.
+</p>
+<p>
+    On June 17, some eighteen hundred of us were moved down to
+    Southampton and put aboard the transport for Havre. The next day we
+    were in France, at Harfleur, the central training camp outside
+    Havre.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We were supposed to undergo an intensive training at Harfleur in
+    the various forms of gas and protection from it, barbed wire and
+    methods of construction of entanglements, musketry, bombing, and
+    bayonet fighting.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Harfleur was a miserable place. They refused to let us go in town
+    after drill. Also I managed to let myself in for something that
+    would have kept me in camp if town leave had been allowed.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The first day there was a call for a volunteer for musketry
+    instructor. I had qualified and jumped at it. When I reported, an
+    old Scotch sergeant told me to go to the quartermaster for
+    equipment. I said I already had full equipment. Whereupon the
+    sergeant laughed a rumbling Scotch laugh and told me I had to go
+    into kilts, as I was assigned to a Highland contingent.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I protested with violence and enthusiasm, but it didn't do any
+    good. They gave me a dinky little pleated petticoat, and when I
+    demanded breeks to wear underneath, I got the merry ha ha. Breeks
+    on a Scotchman? Never!
+</p>
+<p>
+    Well, I got into the fool things, and I felt as though I was naked
+    from ankle to wishbone. I couldn't get used to the outfit. I am
+    naturally a modest man. Besides, my architecture was never intended
+    for bare-leg effects. I have no dimples in my knees.
+</p>
+<p>
+    So I began an immediate campaign for transfer back to the Surreys.
+    I got it at the end of ten days, and with it came a hurry call from
+    somewhere at the front for more troops.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0002"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER II
+</h2>
+<h3>
+    GOING IN
+</h3>
+<p>
+    The excitement of getting away from camp and the knowledge that we
+    were soon to get into the thick of the big game pleased most of us.
+    We were glad to go. At least we thought so.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Two hundred of us were loaded into side-door Pullmans, forty to the
+    car. It was a kind of sardine or Boston Elevated effect, and by the
+    time we reached Rouen, twenty-four hours later, we had kinks in our
+    legs and corns on our elbows. Also we were hungry, having had
+    nothing but bully beef and biscuits. We made "char", which is
+    trench slang for tea, in the station, and after two hours moved up
+    the line again, this time in real coaches.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Next night we were billeted at Barlin&mdash;don't get that mixed up with
+    Berlin, it's not the same&mdash;in an abandoned convent within range of
+    the German guns. The roar of artillery was continuous and sounded
+    pretty close.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Now and again a shell would burst near by with a kind of hollow
+    "spung", but for some reason we didn't seem to mind. I had expected
+    to get the shivers at the first sound of the guns and was surprised
+    when I woke up in the morning after a solid night's sleep.
+</p>
+<p>
+    A message came down from the front trenches at daybreak that we
+    were wanted and wanted quick. We slung together a dixie of char and
+    some bacon and bread for breakfast, and marched around to the
+    "quarters", where they issued "tin hats", extra "ammo", and a
+    second gas helmet. A good many of the men had been out before, and
+    they did the customary "grousing" over the added load.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The British Tommy growls or grouses over anything and everything.
+    He's never happy unless he's unhappy. He resents especially having
+    anything officially added to his pack, and you can't blame him, for
+    in full equipment he certainly is all dressed up like a pack horse.
+</p>
+<p>
+    After the issue we were split up into four lots for the four
+    companies of the battalion, and after some "wangling" I got into
+    Company C, where I stopped all the time I was in France. I was
+    glad, because most of my chums were in that unit.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We got into our packs and started up the line immediately. As we
+    neared the lines we were extended into artillery formation, that
+    is, spread out so that a shell bursting in the road would inflict
+    fewer casualties.
+</p>
+<p>
+    At Bully-Grenay, the point where we entered the communication
+    trenches, guides met us and looked us over, commenting most frankly
+    and freely on our appearance. They didn't seem to think we would
+    amount to much, and said so. They agreed that the "bloomin' Yank"
+    must be a "bloody fool" to come out there. There were times later
+    when I agreed with them.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It began to rain as we entered the communication trench, and I had
+    my first taste of mud. That is literal, for with mud knee-deep in a
+    trench just wide enough for two men to pass you get smeared from
+    head to foot.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Incidentally, as we approached nearer the front, I got my first
+    smell of the dead. It is something you never get away from in the
+    trenches. So many dead have been buried so hastily and so lightly
+    that they are constantly being uncovered by shell bursts. The acrid
+    stench pervades everything, and is so thick you can fairly taste
+    it. It makes nearly everybody deathly sick at first, but one
+    becomes used to it as to anything else.
+</p>
+<p>
+    This communication trench was over two miles long, and it seemed
+    like twenty. We finally landed in a support trench called
+    "Mechanics" (every trench has a name, like a street), and from
+    there into the first-line trench.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I have to admit a feeling of disappointment in that first trench. I
+    don't know what I expected to see, but what I did see was just a
+    long, crooked ditch with a low step running along one side, and
+    with sandbags on top. Here and there was a muddy, bedraggled Tommy
+    half asleep, nursing a dirty and muddy rifle on "sentry go."
+    Everything was very quiet at the moment&mdash;no rifles popping, as I
+    had expected, no bullets flying, and, as it happened, absolutely no
+    shelling in the whole sector.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I forgot to say that we had come up by daylight. Ordinarily troops
+    are moved at night, but the communication trench from Bully-Grenay
+    was very deep and was protected at points by little hills, and it
+    was possible to move men in the daytime.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Arrived in the front trench, the sergeant-major appeared, crawling
+    out of his dug-out&mdash;the usual place for a sergeant-major&mdash;and
+    greeted us with,
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Keep your nappers down, you rooks. Don't look over the top. It
+    ayen't 'ealthy."
+</p>
+<p>
+    It is the regular warning to new men. For some reason the first
+    emotion of the rookie is an overpowering curiosity. He wants to
+    take a peep into No Man's Land. It feels safe enough when things
+    are quiet. But there's always a Fritzie over yonder with a
+    telescope-sighted rifle, and it's about ten to one he'll get you if
+    you stick the old "napper" up in daylight.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The Germans, by the way, have had the "edge" on the Allies in the
+    matter of sniping, as in almost all lines of artillery and musketry
+    practice. The Boche sniper is nearly always armed with a
+    periscope-telescope rifle. This is a specially built super-accurate
+    rifle mounted on a periscope frame. It is thrust up over the
+    parapet and the image of the opposing parapet is cast on a little
+    ground-glass screen on which are two crossed lines. At one hundred
+    fifty yards or less the image is brought up to touching distance
+    seemingly. Fritz simply trains his piece on some low place or
+    anywhere that a head may be expected. When one appears on the
+    screen, he pulls the trigger,&mdash;and you "click it" if you happen to
+    be on the other or receiving end. The shooter never shows himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I remember the first time I looked through a periscope I had no
+    sooner thrust the thing up than a bullet crashed into the upper
+    mirror, splintering it. Many times I have stuck up a cap on a stick
+    and had it pierced.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The British sniper, on the other hand&mdash;at least in my time&mdash;had a
+    plain telescope rifle and had to hide himself behind old masonry,
+    tree trunks, or anything convenient, and camouflaged himself in
+    all sorts of ways. At that he was constantly in danger.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I was assigned to Platoon 10 and found they were a good live bunch.
+    Corporal Wells was the best of the lot, and we became fast friends.
+    He helped me learn a lot of my new duties and the trench "lingo",
+    which is like a new language, especially to a Yank.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Wells started right in to make me feel at home and took me along
+    with two others of the new men down to our "apartments", a dug-out
+    built for about four, and housing ten.
+</p>
+<p>
+    My previous idea of a dug-out had been a fairly roomy sort of cave,
+    somewhat damp, but comparatively comfortable. Well, this hole was
+    about four and a half feet high&mdash;you had to get in doubled up on
+    your hands and knees&mdash;about five by six feet on the sides, and
+    there was no floor, just muck. There was some sodden, dirty straw
+    and a lot of old moldy sandbags. Seven men and their equipment were
+    packed in here, and we made ten.
+</p>
+<p>
+    There was a charcoal brazier going in the middle with two or three
+    mess tins of char boiling away. Everybody was smoking, and the
+    place stunk to high heaven, or it would have if there hadn't been a
+    bit of burlap over the door.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I crowded up into a corner with my back against the mud wall and my
+    knees under my chin. The men didn't seem overglad to see us, and
+    groused a good deal about the extra crowding. They regarded me with
+    extra disfavor because I was a lance corporal, and they disapproved
+    of any young whipper-snapper just out from Blighty with no trench
+    experience pitchforked in with even a slight superior rank. I had
+    thought up to then that a lance corporal was pretty near as
+    important as a brigadier.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "We'll soon tyke that stripe off ye, me bold lad," said one big
+    cockney.
+</p>
+<p>
+    They were a decent lot after all. Since we were just out from
+    Blighty, they showered us with questions as to how things looked
+    "t' 'ome." And then somebody asked what was the latest song. Right
+    here was where I made my hit and got in right. I sing a bit, and I
+    piped up with the newest thing from the music halls, "Tyke Me Back
+    to Blighty." Here it is:
+</p>
+<p class="poem">
+        Tyke me back to dear old Blighty, <br>
+        Put me on the tryne for London town, <br>
+        Just tyke me over there<br>
+        And drop me anywhere, <br>
+        Manchester, Leeds, or Birmingham, <br>
+        I don't care. <br><br>
+
+        I want to go see me best gal; <br>
+        Cuddlin' up soon we'll be, <br>
+        Hytey iddle de eyety. <br>
+        Tyke me back to Blighty, <br>
+        That's the plyce for me.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It doesn't look like much and I'm afraid my rendition of cockney
+    dialect into print isn't quite up to Kipling's. But the song had a
+    pretty little lilting melody, and it went big. They made me sing it
+    about a dozen times and were all joining in at the end.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Then they got sentimental&mdash;and gloomy.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Gawd lumme!" says the big fellow who had threatened my beloved
+    stripes. "Wot a life. Squattin' 'ere in the bloody mud like a
+    blinkin' frog. Fightin' fer wot? Wot, I arsks yer? Gawd lumme! I'd
+    give me bloomin' napper to stroll down the Strand agyne wif me
+    swagger stick an' drop in a private bar an' 'ave me go of 'Aig an'
+    'Aig."
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Garn," cuts in another Tommy. "Yer blinkin' 'igh wif yer wants,
+    ayen't ye? An' yer 'Aig an' 'Aig. Drop me down in Great Lime Street
+    (Liverpool) an' it's me fer the Golden Sheaf, and a pint of bitter,
+    an' me a 'oldin' 'Arriet's 'and over th' bar. I'm a courtin' 'er
+    when," etc., etc.
+</p>
+<p>
+    And then a fresh-faced lad chirps up: "T' 'ell wif yer Lonnon an'
+    yer whuskey. Gimme a jug o' cider on the sunny side of a 'ay rick
+    in old Surrey. Gimme a happle tart to go wif it. Gawd, I'm fed up
+    on bully beef."
+</p>
+<p>
+    And so it went. All about pubs and bar-maids and the things they'd
+    eat and drink, and all of it Blighty.
+</p>
+<p>
+    They were in the midst of a discussion of what part of the body was
+    most desirable to part with for a permanent Blighty wound when a
+    young officer pushed aside the burlap and wedged in. He was a
+    lieutenant and was in command of our platoon. His name was Blofeld.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Blofeld was most democratic. He shook hands with the new men and
+    said he hoped we'd be live wires, and then he told us what he
+    wanted. There was to be a raid the next night and he was looking
+    for volunteers.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Nobody spoke for a long minute, and then I offered.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I think I spoke more to break the embarrassing silence than
+    anything else. I think, too, that I was led a little by a kind of
+    youthful curiosity, and it may be that I wanted to appear brave in
+    the eyes of these men who so evidently held me more or less in
+    contempt as a newcomer.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Blofeld accepted me, and one of the other new men offered. He was
+    taken too.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It turned out that all the older men were married and that they
+    were not expected to volunteer. At least there was no disgrace
+    attaching to a refusal.
+</p>
+<p>
+    After Blofeld left, Sergeant Page told us we'd better get down to
+    "kip" while we could. "Kip" in this case meant closing our eyes and
+    dozing. I sat humped up in my original position through the night.
+    There wasn't room to stretch out.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Along toward morning I began to itch, and found I had made the
+    acquaintance of that gay and festive little soldier's enemy, the
+    "cootie." The cootie, or the "chat" as he is called by the
+    officers, is the common body louse. Common is right. I never got
+    rid of mine until I left the service. Sometimes when I get to
+    thinking about it, I believe I haven't yet.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0003"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER III
+</h2>
+<h3>
+    A TRENCH RAID
+</h3>
+<p>
+    In the morning the members of the raiding party were taken back a
+    mile or so to the rear and were given instruction and rehearsal.
+    This was the first raid that "Batt" had ever tried, and the staff
+    was anxious to have it a success. There were fifty in the party,
+    and Blofeld, who had organized the raid, beat our instructions into
+    us until we knew them by heart.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The object of a raid is to get into the enemy's trenches by stealth
+    if possible, kill as many as possible, take prisoners if
+    practicable, do a lot of damage, and get away with a whole hide.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We got back to the front trenches just before dark. I noticed a lot
+    of metal cylinders arranged along the parapet. They were about as
+    big as a stovepipe and four feet long, painted brown. They were the
+    gas containers. They were arranged about four or five to a
+    traverse, and were connected up by tubes and were covered with
+    sandbags. This was the poison gas ready for release over the top
+    through tubes.
+</p>
+<a name="image-0003"><!--IMG--></a>
+<center>
+<img src="images/yank3.jpg" width="450" height="344"
+alt="A Heavy Howitzer, Under Camouflage.">
+</center>
+<!--IMAGE END-->
+<p>
+    The time set for our stunt was eleven P.M. Eleven o'clock was
+    "zero." The system on the Western Front, and, in fact, all fronts,
+    is to indicate the time fixed for any event as zero. Anything
+    before or after is spoken of as plus or minus zero.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Around five o'clock we were taken back to Mechanics trench and
+    fed&mdash;a regular meal with plenty of everything, and all good. It
+    looked rather like giving a condemned man a hearty meal, but grub
+    is always acceptable to a soldier.
+</p>
+<p>
+    After that we blacked our faces. This is always done to prevent the
+    whiteness of the skin from showing under the flare lights. Also to
+    distinguish your own men when you get to the Boche trench.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Then we wrote letters and gave up our identification discs and were
+    served with persuader sticks or knuckle knives, and with "Mills"
+    bombs.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The persuader is a short, heavy bludgeon with a nail-studded head.
+    You thump Fritz on the head with it. Very handy at close quarters.
+    The knuckle knife is a short dagger with a heavy brass hilt that
+    covers the hand. Also very good for close work, as you can either
+    strike or stab with it.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We moved up to the front trenches at about half-past ten. At zero
+    minus ten, that is, ten minutes of eleven, our artillery opened up.
+    It was the first bombardment I had ever been under, and it seemed
+    as though all the guns in the world were banging away. Afterwards I
+    found that it was comparatively light, but it didn't seem so then.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The guns were hardly started when there was a sound like escaping
+    steam. Jerry leaned over and shouted in my ear: "There goes the
+    gas. May it finish the blighters."
+</p>
+<p>
+    Blofeld came dashing up just then, very much excited because he
+    found we had not put on our masks, through some slip-up in the
+    orders. We got into them quick. But as it turned out there was no
+    need. There was a fifteen-mile wind blowing, which carried the gas
+    away from us very rapidly. In fact it blew it across the Boche
+    trenches so fast that it didn't bother them either.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The barrage fire kept up right up to zero, as per schedule. At
+    thirty seconds of eleven I looked at my watch and the din was at
+    its height. At exactly eleven it stopped short. Fritz was still
+    sending some over, but comparatively there was silence. After the
+    ear-splitting racket it was almost still enough to hurt.
+</p>
+<p>
+    And in that silence over the top we went.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Lanes had been cut through our wire, and we got through them
+    quickly. The trenches were about one hundred twenty yards apart and
+    we still had nearly one hundred to go. We dropped and started to
+    crawl. I skinned both my knees on something, probably old wire, and
+    both hands. I could feel the blood running into my puttees, and my
+    rifle bothered me as I was afraid of jabbing Jerry, who was just
+    ahead of me as first bayonet man.
+</p>
+<p>
+    They say a drowning man or a man in great danger reviews his past.
+    I didn't. I spent those few minutes wondering when the machine-gun
+    fire would come.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I had the same "gone" feeling in the pit of the stomach that you
+    have when you drop fast in an elevator. The skin on my face felt
+    tight, and I remember that I wanted to pucker my nose and pull my
+    upper lip down over my teeth.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We got clean up to their wire before they spotted us. Their
+    entanglements had been flattened by our barrage fire, but we had to
+    get up to pick our way through, and they saw us.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Instantly the "Very" lights began to go up in scores, and hell
+    broke loose. They must have turned twenty machine guns on us, or at
+    us, but their aim evidently was high, for they only "clicked" two
+    out of our immediate party. We had started with ten men, the other
+    fifty being divided into three more parties farther down the line.
+</p>
+<p>
+    When the machine guns started, we charged. Jerry and I were ahead
+    as bayonet men, with the rest of the party following with buckets
+    of "Mills" bombs and "Stokeses."
+</p>
+<p>
+    It was pretty light, there were so many flares going up from both
+    sides. When I jumped on the parapet, there was a whaling big Boche
+    looking up at me with his rifle resting on the sandbags. I was
+    almost on the point of his bayonet.
+</p>
+<p>
+    For an instant I stood with a kind of paralyzed sensation, and
+    there flashed through my mind the instructions of the manual for
+    such a situation, only I didn't apply those instructions to this
+    emergency.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Instead I thought&mdash;if such a flash could be called thinking&mdash;how I,
+    as an instructor, would have told a rookie to act, working on a
+    dummy. I had a sort of detached feeling as though this was a silly
+    dream.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Probably this hesitation didn't last more than a second.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jerry lunge, and I lunged
+    too. Why that Boche did not fire I don't know. Perhaps he did and
+    missed. Anyhow I went down and in on him, and the bayonet went
+    through his throat.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Jerry had done his man in and all hands piled into the trench.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Then we started to race along the traverses. We found a machine
+    gun and put an eleven-pound high-explosive "Stokes" under it. Three
+    or four Germans appeared, running down communication trenches, and
+    the bombers sent a few Millses after them. Then we came to a
+    dug-out door&mdash;in fact, several, as Fritz, like a woodchuck, always
+    has more than one entrance to his burrow. We broke these in in jig
+    time and looked down a thirty-foot hole on a dug-out full of
+    graybacks. There must have been a lot of them. I could plainly see
+    four or five faces looking up with surprised expressions.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Blofeld chucked in two or three Millses and away we went.
+</p>
+<p>
+    A little farther along we came to the entrance of a mine shaft, a
+    kind of incline running toward our lines. Blofeld went in it a
+    little way and flashed his light. He thought it was about forty
+    yards long. We put several of our remaining Stokeses in that and
+    wrecked it.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Turning the corner of the next traverse, I saw Jerry drop his rifle
+    and unlimber his persuader on a huge German who had just rounded
+    the corner of the "bay." He made a good job of it, getting him in
+    the face, and must have simply caved him in, but not before he had
+    thrown a bomb. I had broken my bayonet prying the dug-out door off
+    and had my gun up-ended&mdash;clubbed.
+</p>
+<a name="image-0004"><!--IMG--></a>
+<center>
+<img src="images/yank4.jpg" width="450" height="339"
+alt="Over the Top on a Raid.">
+</center>
+<!--IMAGE END-->
+<p>
+    When I saw that bomb coming, I bunted at it like Ty Cobb trying to
+    sacrifice. It was the only thing to do. I choked my bat and poked
+    at the bomb instinctively, and by sheer good luck fouled the thing
+    over the parapet. It exploded on the other side.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Blimme eyes," says Jerry, "that's cool work. You saved us the
+    wooden cross that time."
+</p>
+<p>
+    We had found two more machine guns and were planting Stokeses under
+    them when we heard the Lewises giving the recall signal. A good
+    gunner gets so he can play a tune on a Lewis, and the device is
+    frequently used for signals. This time he thumped out the old
+    one&mdash;"All policemen have big feet." Rat-a-tat-tat&mdash;tat, tat.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It didn't come any too soon.
+</p>
+<p>
+    As we scrambled over the parapet we saw a big party of Germans
+    coming up from the second trenches. They were out of the
+    communication trenches and were coming across lots. There must have
+    been fifty of them, outnumbering us five or six to one.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We were out of bombs, Jerry had lost his rifle, and mine had no
+    "ammo." Blofeld fired the last shot from his revolver and, believe
+    me, we hooked it for home.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We had been in their trenches just three and a half minutes.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Just as we were going through their wire a bomb exploded near and
+    got Jerry in the head. We dragged him in and also the two men that
+    had been clicked on the first fire. Jerry got Blighty on his wound,
+    but was back in two months. The second time he wasn't so lucky. He
+    lies now somewhere in France with a wooden cross over his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Did that muddy old trench look good when we tumbled in? Oh, Boy!
+    The staff was tickled to pieces and complimented us all. We were
+    sent out of the lines that night and in billets got hot food,
+    high-grade "fags", a real bath, a good stiff rum ration, and
+    letters from home.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Next morning we heard the results of the raid. One party of twelve
+    never returned. Besides that we lost seven men killed. The German
+    loss was estimated at about one hundred casualties, six machine
+    guns and several dug-outs destroyed, and one mine shaft put out of
+    business. We also brought back documents of value found by one
+    party in an officer's dug-out.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Blofeld got the military cross for the night's work, and several of
+    the enlisted men got the D.C.M.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Altogether it was a successful raid. The best part of it was
+    getting back.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0004"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER IV
+</h2>
+<h3>
+    A FEW DAYS' REST IN BILLETS
+</h3>
+<p>
+    After the strafing we had given Fritz on the raid, he behaved
+    himself reasonably well for quite a while. It was the first raid
+    that had been made on that sector for a long time, and we had no
+    doubt caught the Germans off their guard.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Anyhow for quite a spell afterwards they were very "windy" and
+    would send up the "Very" lights on the slightest provocation and
+    start the "typewriters" a-rattling. Fritz was right on the job with
+    his eye peeled all the time.
+</p>
+<p>
+    In fact he was so keen that another raid that was attempted ten
+    days later failed completely because of a rapidly concentrated and
+    heavy machine-gun fire, and in another, a day or two later, our men
+    never got beyond our own wire and had thirty-eight casualties out
+    of fifty men engaged.
+</p>
+<p>
+    But so far as anything but defensive work was concerned, Fritz was
+    very meek. He sent over very few "minnies" or rifle grenades, and
+    there was hardly any shelling of the sector.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Directly after the raid, we who were in the party had a couple of
+    days "on our own" at the little village of Bully-Grenay, less than
+    three miles behind the lines. This is directly opposite Lens, the
+    better known town which figures so often in the dispatches.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Bully-Grenay had been a place of perhaps one thousand people. It
+    had been fought over and through and around early in the war, and
+    was pretty well battered up. There were a few houses left unhit and
+    the town hall and several shops. The rest of the place was ruins,
+    but about two hundred of the inhabitants still stuck to their old
+    homes. For some reason the Germans did not shell Bully-Grenay, that
+    is, not often. Once in a while they would lob one in just to let
+    the people know they were not forgotten.
+</p>
+<p>
+    There was a suspicion that there were spies in the town and that
+    that accounted for the Germans laying off, but whatever was the
+    cause the place was safer than most villages so near the lines.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Those two days in repose at Bully-Grenay were a good deal of a
+    farce. We were entirely "on our own", it is true, no parade, no
+    duty of any kind&mdash;but the quarters&mdash;oof! We were billeted in the
+    cellars of the battered-down houses. They weren't shell-proof. That
+    didn't matter much, as there wasn't any shelling, but there might
+    have been. The cellars were dangerous enough without, what with
+    tottering walls and overhanging chunks of masonry.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Moreover they were a long way from waterproof. Imagine trying to
+    find a place to sleep in an old ruin half full of rainwater. The
+    dry places were piled up with brick and mortar, but we managed to
+    clean up some half-sheltered spots for "kip" and we lived through
+    it.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The worst feature of these billets was the rats. They were the
+    biggest I ever saw, great, filthy, evil-smelling, grayish-red
+    fellows, as big as a good-sized cat. They would hop out of the
+    walls and scuttle across your face with their wet, cold feet, and
+    it was enough to drive you insane. One chap in our party had a
+    natural horror of rats, and he nearly went crazy. We had to "kip"
+    with our greatcoats pulled up over our heads, and then the beggars
+    would go down and nibble at our boots.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The first day somebody found a fox terrier, evidently lost and
+    probably the pet of some officer. We weren't allowed to carry
+    mascots, although we had a kitten that we smuggled along for a long
+    time. This terrier was a well-bred little fellow, and we grabbed
+    him. We spent a good part of both mornings digging out rats for him
+    and staged some of the grandest fights ever.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Most of the day we spent at a little <i>estaminet</i> across the way
+    from our so-called billets. There was a pretty mademoiselle there
+    who served the rotten French beer and <i>vin blanc</i>, and the Tommies
+    tried their French on her. They might as well have talked Choctaw.
+    I speak the language a little and tried to monopolize the lady, and
+    did, which didn't increase my popularity any.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "I say, Yank," some one would call, "don't be a blinkin' 'og. Give
+    somebody else a chawnce."
+</p>
+<p>
+    Whereupon I would pursue my conquest all the more ardently. I was
+    making a large hit, as I thought, when in came an officer. After
+    that I was ignored, to the huge delight of the Tommies, who joshed
+    me unmercifully. They discovered that my middle name was Derby, and
+    they christened me "Darby the Yank." Darby I remained as long as I
+    was with them.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Some of the questions the men asked about the States were certainly
+    funny. One chap asked what language we spoke over here. I thought
+    he was spoofing, but he actually meant it. He thought we spoke
+    something like Italian, he said. I couldn't resist the temptation,
+    and filled him up with a line of ghost stories about wild Indians
+    just outside Boston. I told him I left because of a raid in which
+    the redskins scalped people on Boston Common. After that he used to
+    pester the life out of me for Wild West yarns with the scenes laid
+    in New England.
+</p>
+<p>
+    One chap was amazed and, I think, a little incredulous because I
+    didn't know a man named Fisk in Des Moines.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We went back to the trenches again and were there five days. I was
+    out one night on barbed wire work, which is dangerous at any time,
+    and was especially so with Fritz in his condition of jumpy nerves.
+    You have to do most of the work lying on your back in the mud, and
+    if you jingle the wire, Fritz traverses No Man's Land with his
+    rapid-firers with a fair chance of bagging something.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I also had one night on patrol, which later became my favorite
+    game. I will tell more about it in another chapter.
+</p>
+<p>
+    At the end of the five days the whole battalion was pulled out for
+    rest. We marched a few miles to the rear and came to the village of
+    Petite-Saens. This town had been fought through, but for some
+    reason had suffered little. Few of the houses had been damaged, and
+    we had real billets.
+</p>
+<p>
+    My section, ten men besides myself, drew a big attic in a clean
+    house. There was loads of room and the roof was tight and there
+    were no rats. It was oriental luxury after Bully-Grenay and the
+    trenches, and for a wonder nobody had a word of "grousing" over
+    "kipping" on the bare floor.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The house was occupied by a very old peasant woman and a very
+    little girl, three years old, and as pretty as a picture. The old
+    woman looked ill and sad and very lonesome. One night as we sat in
+    her kitchen drinking black coffee and cognac, I persuaded her to
+    tell her story. It was, on the whole, rather a cruel thing to ask,
+    I am afraid. It is only one of many such that I heard over there.
+    France has, indeed, suffered. I set down here, as nearly as I can
+    translate, what the old woman said:
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Monsieur, I am very, very old now, almost eighty, but I am a
+    patriot and I love my France. I do not complain that I have lost
+    everything in this war. I do not care now, for I am old and it is
+    for my country; but there is much sadness for me to remember, and
+    it is with great bitterness that I think of the pig Allemand&mdash;beast
+    that he is.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Two years ago I lived in this house, happy with my daughter and
+    her husband and the little baby, and my husband, who worked in the
+    mines. He was too old to fight, but when the great war came he
+    tried to enlist, but they would not listen to him, and he returned
+    to work, that the country should not be without coal.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "The beau-fils (son-in-law), he enlisted and said good-by and went
+    to the service.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "By and by the Boche come and in a great battle not far from this
+    very house the beau-fils is wounded very badly and is brought to
+    the house by comrades to die.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "The Boche come into the village, but the beau-fils is too weak
+    to go. The Boche come into the house, seize my daughter, and
+    there&mdash;they&mdash;oh, monsieur&mdash;the things one may not say&mdash;and we so
+    helpless.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Her father tries to protect her, but he is knocked down. I try,
+    but they hold my feet over the fire until the very flesh cooks. See
+    for yourselves the burns on my feet still.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "My husband dies from the blow he gets, for he is very old, over
+    ninety. Just then mon beau-fils sees a revolver that hangs by the
+    side of the German officer, and putting all his strength together
+    he leaps forward and grabs the revolver. And there he shoots the
+    officer&mdash;and my poor little daughter&mdash;and then he says good-by and
+    through the head sends a bullet.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "The Germans did not touch me but once after that, and then they
+    knocked me to the floor when they came after the pig officer. By
+    and by come you English, and all is well for dear France once more;
+    but I am very desolate now. I am alone but for the petite-fille
+    (granddaughter), but I love the English, for they save my home and
+    my dear country."
+</p>
+<p>
+    I heard a good many stories of this kind off and on, but this
+    particular one, I think, brought home, to me at least, the general
+    beastliness of the Hun closer than ever before. We all loved our
+    little kiddie very much, and when we saw the evidence of the
+    terrible cruelties the poor old woman had suffered we saw red. Most
+    of us cried a little. I think that that one story made each of us
+    that heard it a mean, vicious fighter for the rest of our service.
+    I know it did me.
+</p>
+<p>
+    One of the first things a British soldier learns is to keep
+    himself clean. He can't do it, and he's as filthy as a pig all the
+    time he is in the trenches, but he tries. He is always shaving,
+    even under fire, and show him running water and he goes to it like
+    a duck.
+</p>
+<p>
+    More than once I have shaved in a periscope mirror pegged into the
+    side of a trench, with the bullets snapping overhead, and rubbed my
+    face with wet tea leaves afterward to freshen up.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Back in billets the very first thing that comes off is the big
+    clean-up. Uniforms are brushed up, and equipment put in order. Then
+    comes the bath, the most thorough possible under the conditions.
+    After that comes the "cootie carnival", better known as the "shirt
+    hunt." The cootie is the soldier's worst enemy. He's worse than the
+    Hun. You can't get rid of him wherever you are, in the trenches or
+    in billets, and he sticks closer than a brother. The cootie is a
+    good deal of an acrobat. His policy of attack is to hang on to the
+    shirt and to nibble at the occupant. Pull off the shirt and he
+    comes with it. Hence the shirt hunt. Tommy gets out in the open
+    somewhere so as not to shed his little companions indoors&mdash;there's
+    always enough there anyhow&mdash;and he peels. Then he systematically
+    runs down each seam&mdash;the cootie's favorite hiding place&mdash;catches
+    the game, and ends his career by cracking him between the thumb
+    nails.
+</p>
+<p>
+    For some obscure psychological reason, Tommy seems to like company
+    on one of these hunts. Perhaps it is because misery loves company,
+    or it may be that he likes to compare notes on the catch. Anyhow,
+    it is a common thing to see from a dozen to twenty soldiers with
+    their shirts off, hunting cooties.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Hi sye, 'Arry," you'll hear some one sing out. "Look 'ere. Strike
+    me bloomin' well pink but this one 'ere's got a black stripe along
+    'is back."
+</p>
+<p>
+    Or, "If this don't look like the one I showed ye 'fore we went into
+    the blinkin' line. 'Ow'd 'e git loose?"
+</p>
+<p>
+    And then, as likely as not, a little farther away, behind the
+    officers' quarters, you'll hear one say:
+</p>
+<p>
+    "I say, old chap, it's deucedly peculiar I should have so many of
+    the beastly things after putting on the Harrisons mothaw sent in
+    the lawst parcel."
+</p>
+<p>
+    The cootie isn't at all fastidious. He will bite the British
+    aristocrat as soon as anybody else. He finds his way into all
+    branches of the service, and I have even seen a dignified colonel
+    wiggle his shoulders anxiously.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Some of the cootie stories have become classical, like this one
+    which was told from the North Sea to the Swiss border. It might
+    have happened at that.
+</p>
+<p>
+    A soldier was going over the top when one of his cootie friends bit
+    him on the calf. The soldier reached down and captured the biter.
+    Just as he stooped, a shell whizzed over where his head would have
+    been if he had not gone after the cootie. Holding the captive
+    between thumb and finger, he said:
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Old feller, I cawn't give yer the Victoria Cross&mdash;but I can put
+    yer back."
+</p>
+<p>
+    And he did.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The worst thing about the cootie is that there is no remedy for
+    him. The shirt hunt is the only effective way for the soldier to
+    get rid of his bosom friends. The various dopes and patent
+    preparations guaranteed as "good for cooties" are just that. They
+    give 'em an appetite.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0005"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER V
+</h2>
+<h3>
+    FEEDING THE TOMMIES
+</h3>
+<p>
+    Food is a burning issue in the lives of all of us. It is the main
+    consideration with the soldier. His life is simplified to two
+    principal motives, <i>i.e.</i>, keeping alive himself and killing the
+    other fellow. The question uppermost in his mind every time and all
+    of the time, is, "When do we eat?"
+</p>
+<p>
+    In the trenches the backbone of Tommy's diet is bully beef,
+    "Maconochie's Ration", cheese, bread or biscuit, jam, and tea. He
+    may get some of this hot or he may eat it from the tin, all
+    depending upon how badly Fritz is behaving.
+</p>
+<p>
+    In billets the diet is more varied. Here he gets some fresh meat,
+    lots of bacon, and the bully and the Maconochie's come along in the
+    form of stew. Also there is fresh bread and some dried fruit and a
+    certain amount of sweet stuff.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It was this matter of grub that made my life a burden in the
+    billets at Petite-Saens. I had been rather proud of being lance
+    corporal. It was, to me, the first step along the road to being
+    field marshal. I found, however, that a corporal is high enough to
+    take responsibility and to get bawled out for anything that goes
+    wrong. He's not high enough to command any consideration from those
+    higher up, and he is so close to the men that they take out their
+    grievances on him as a matter of course. He is neither fish, flesh,
+    nor fowl, and his life is a burden.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I had the job of issuing the rations of our platoon, and it nearly
+    drove me mad. Every morning I would detail a couple of men from our
+    platoon to be standing mess orderlies for the day. They would fetch
+    the char and bacon from the field kitchen in the morning and clean
+    up the "dixies" after breakfast. The "dixie", by the way, is an
+    iron box or pot, oblong in shape, capacity about four or five
+    gallons. It fits into the field kitchen and is used for roasts,
+    stews, char, or anything else. The cover serves to cook bacon in.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Field kitchens are drawn by horses and follow the battalion
+    everywhere that it is safe to go, and to some places where it
+    isn't. Two men are detailed from each company to cook, and there is
+    usually another man who gets the sergeants' mess, besides the
+    officers' cook, who does not as a rule use the field kitchen, but
+    prepares the food in the house taken as the officers' mess.
+</p>
+<p>
+    As far as possible, the company cooks are men who were cooks in
+    civil life, but not always. We drew a plumber and a navvy (road
+    builder)&mdash;and the grub tasted of both trades. The way our company
+    worked the kitchen problem was to have stew for two platoons one
+    day and roast dinner for the others, and then reverse the order
+    next day, so that we didn't have stew all the time. There were not
+    enough "dixies" for us all to have stew the same day.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Every afternoon I would take my mess orderlies and go to the
+    quartermaster's stores and get our allowance and carry it back to
+    the billets in waterproof sheets. Then the stuff that was to be
+    cooked in the kitchen went there, and the bread and that sort of
+    material was issued direct to the men. That was where my trouble
+    started.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The powers that were had an uncanny knack of issuing an odd number
+    of articles to go among an even number of men, and vice versa.
+    There would be eleven loaves of bread to go to a platoon of fifty
+    men divided into four sections. Some of the sections would have ten
+    men and some twelve or thirteen.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The British Tommy is a scrapper when it comes to his rations. He
+    reminds me of an English sparrow. He's always right in there
+    wangling for his own. He will bully and browbeat if he can, and he
+    will coax and cajole if he can't. It would be "Hi sye, corporal.
+    They's ten men in Number 2 section and fourteen in ourn. An' blimme
+    if you hain't guv 'em four loaves, same as ourn. Is it right, I
+    arsks yer? Is it?" Or,
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Lookee! Do yer call that a loaf o' bread? Looks like the A.S.C.
+    (Army Service Corps) been using it fer a piller. Gimme another,
+    will yer, corporal?"
+</p>
+<p>
+    When it comes to splitting seven onions nine ways, I defy any one
+    to keep peace in the family, and every doggoned Tommy would hold
+    out for his onion whether he liked 'em or not. Same way with a
+    bottle of pickles to go among eleven men or a handful of raisins or
+    apricots. Or jam or butter or anything, except bully beef or
+    Maconochie. I never heard any one "argue the toss" on either of
+    those commodities.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Bully is high-grade corned beef in cans and is O.K. if you like it,
+    but it does get tiresome.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Maconochie ration is put up a pound to the can and bears a label
+    which assures the consumer that it is a scientifically prepared,
+    well-balanced ration. Maybe so. It is my personal opinion that the
+    inventor brought to his task an imperfect knowledge of cookery and
+    a perverted imagination. Open a can of Maconochie and you find a
+    gooey gob of grease, like rancid lard. Investigate and you find
+    chunks of carrot and other unidentifiable material, and now and
+    then a bit of mysterious meat. The first man who ate an oyster had
+    courage, but the last man who ate Maconochie's unheated had more.
+    Tommy regards it as a very inferior grade of garbage. The label
+    notwithstanding, he's right.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Many people have asked me what to send our soldiers in the line of
+    food. I'd say stick to sweets. Cookies of any durable kind&mdash;I mean
+    that will stand chance moisture&mdash;the sweeter the better, and if
+    possible those containing raisins or dried fruit. Figs, dates,
+    etc., are good. And, of course, chocolate. Personally, I never did
+    have enough chocolate. Candy is acceptable, if it is of the sort to
+    stand more or less rough usage which it may get before it reaches
+    the soldier. Chewing gum is always received gladly. The army issue
+    of sweets is limited pretty much to jam, which gets to taste all
+    alike.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It is pathetic to see some of the messes Tommy gets together to
+    fill his craving for dessert. The favorite is a slum composed of
+    biscuit, water, condensed milk, raisins, and chocolate. If some of
+    you folks at home would get one look at that concoction, let alone
+    tasting it, you would dash out and spend your last dollar for a
+    package to send to some lad "over there."
+</p>
+<a name="image-0005"><!--IMG--></a>
+<center>
+<img src="images/yank5.jpg" width="450" height="366"
+alt="Cooking Under Difficulties.">
+</center>
+<!--IMAGE END-->
+<p>
+    After the excitement of dodging shells and bullets in the front
+    trenches, life in billets seems dull. Tommy has too much time to
+    get into mischief. It was at Petite-Saens that I first saw the
+    Divisional Folies. This was a vaudeville show by ten men who had
+    been actors in civil life, and who were detailed to amuse the
+    soldiers. They charged a small admission fee and the profit went to
+    the Red Cross.
+</p>
+<p>
+    There ought to be more recreation for the soldiers of all armies.
+    The Y.M.C.A. is to take care of that with our boys.
+</p>
+<p>
+    By the way, we had a Y.M.C.A. hut at Petite-Saens, and I cannot say
+    enough for this great work. No one who has not been there can know
+    what a blessing it is to be able to go into a clean, warm, dry
+    place and sit down to reading or games and to hear good music.
+    Personally I am a little bit sorry that the secretaries are to be
+    in khaki. They weren't when I left. And it sure did seem good to
+    see a man in civilian's clothes. You get after a while so you hate
+    the sight of a uniform.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Another thing about the Y.M.C.A. I could wish that they would have
+    more women in the huts. Not frilly, frivolous society girls, but
+    women from thirty-five to fifty. A soldier likes kisses as well as
+    the next. And he takes them when he finds them. And he finds too
+    many. But what he really wants, though, is the chance to sit down
+    and tell his troubles to some nice, sympathetic woman who is old
+    enough to be level-headed.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Nearly every soldier reverts more or less to a boyish point of
+    view. He hankers for somebody to mother him. I should be glad to
+    see many women of that type in the Y.M.C.A. work. It is one of the
+    great needs of our army that the boys should be amused and kept
+    clean mentally and morally. I don't believe there is any
+    organization better qualified to do this than the Y.M.C.A.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Most of our chaps spent their time "on their own" either in the
+    Y.M.C.A. hut or in the <i>estaminets</i> while we were in Petite-Saens.
+    Our stop there was hardly typical of the rest in billets. Usually
+    "rest" means that you are set to mending roads or some such fatigue
+    duty. At Petite-Saens, however, we had it "cushy."
+</p>
+<p>
+    The routine was about like this: Up at 6:30, we fell in for
+    three-quarters of an hour physical drill or bayonet practice.
+    Breakfast. Inspection of ammo and gas masks. One hour drill. After
+    that, "on our own", with nothing to do but smoke, read, and gamble.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Tommy is a great smoker. He gets a fag issue from the government,
+    if he is lucky, of two packets or twenty a week. This lasts him
+    with care about two days. After that he goes smokeless unless he
+    has friends at home to send him a supply. I had friends in London
+    who sent me about five hundred fags a week, and I was consequently
+    popular while they lasted. This took off some of the curse of being
+    a lance corporal.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Tommy has his favorite in "fags" like anybody else. He likes above
+    all Wild Woodbines. This cigarette is composed of glue, cheap
+    paper, and a poor quality of hay. Next in his affection comes
+    Goldflakes&mdash;pretty near as bad.
+</p>
+<p>
+    People over here who have boys at the front mustn't forget the
+    cigarette supply. Send them along early and often. There'll never
+    be too many. Smoking is one of the soldier's few comforts. Two
+    bits' worth of makin's a week will help one lad make life
+    endurable. It's cheap at the price. Come through for the smoke
+    fund whenever you get the chance.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Café life among us at Petite-Saens was mostly drinking and
+    gambling. That is not half as bad as it sounds. The drinking was
+    mostly confined to the slushy French beer and vin blanc and citron.
+    Whiskey and absinthe were barred.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The gambling was on a small scale, necessarily, the British soldier
+    not being at any time a bloated plutocrat. At the same time the
+    games were continuous. "House" was the most popular. This is a game
+    similar to the "lotto" we used to play as children. The backers
+    distribute cards having fifteen numbers, forming what they call a
+    school. Then numbered cardboard squares are drawn from a bag, the
+    numbers being called out. When a number comes out which appears on
+    your card, you cover it with a bit of match. If you get all your
+    numbers covered, you call out "house", winning the pot. If there
+    are ten people in at a franc a head, the banker holds out two
+    francs, and the winner gets eight.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It is really quite exciting, as you may get all but one number
+    covered and be rooting for a certain number to come. Usually when
+    you get as close as that and sweat over a number for ten minutes,
+    somebody else gets his first. Corporal Wells described the game as
+    one where the winner "'ollers 'ouse and the rest 'ollers 'ell!"
+</p>
+<p>
+    Some of the nicknames for the different numbers remind one of the
+    slang of the crap shooter. For instance, "Kelly's eye" means one.
+    "Clickety click" is sixty-six. "Top of the house" is ninety. Other
+    games are "crown and anchor", which is a dice game, and "pontoon",
+    which is a card game similar to "twenty-one" or "seven and a half."
+    Most of these are mildly discouraged by the authorities, "house"
+    being the exception. But in any <i>estaminet</i> in a billet town you'll
+    find one or all of them in progress all the time. The winner
+    usually spends his winnings for beer, so the money all goes the
+    same way, game or no game.
+</p>
+<p>
+    When there are no games on, there is usually a sing-song going. We
+    had a merry young nuisance in our platoon named Rolfe, who had a
+    voice like a frog and who used to insist upon singing on all
+    occasions. Rolfie would climb on the table in the <i>estaminet</i> and
+    sing numerous unprintable verses of his own, entitled "Oh, What a
+    Merry Plyce is Hengland." The only redeeming feature of this song
+    was the chorus, which everybody would roar out and which went like
+    this:
+</p>
+<p class="poem">
+        Cheer, ye beggars, cheer!<br>
+        Britannia rules the wave!<br>
+        'Ard times, short times <br>
+        Never'll come agyne. <br>
+        Shoutin' out at th' top o' yer lungs: <br>
+        Damn the German army! <br>
+        Oh, wot a lovely plyce is Hengland!
+</p>
+<p>
+    Our ten days <i>en repos</i> at Petite-Saens came to an end all too
+    soon.
+</p>
+<p>
+    On the last day we lined up for our official "bawth."
+</p>
+<p>
+    Petite-Saens was a coal-mining town. The mines were still operated,
+    but only at night&mdash;this to avoid shelling from the Boche
+    long-distance artillery, which are fully capable of sending shells
+    and hitting the mark at eighteen miles. The water system of the
+    town depended upon the pumping apparatus of the mines. Every
+    morning early, before the pressure was off, all hands would turn
+    out for a general "sluicing" under the hydrants. We were as clean
+    as could be and fairly free of "cooties" at the end of a week, but
+    official red tape demanded that we go through an authorized
+    scouring.
+</p>
+<p>
+    On the last day we lined up for this at dawn before an old
+    warehouse which had been fitted with crude showers. We were turned
+    in twenty in a batch and were given four minutes to soap ourselves
+    all over and rinse off. I was in the last lot and had just lathered
+    up good and plenty when the water went dead. If you want to reach
+    the acme of stickiness, try this stunt. I felt like the inside of a
+    mucilage bottle for a week.
+</p>
+<p>
+    After the official purification we were given clean underwear. And
+    then there was a howl. The fresh underthings had been boiled and
+    sterilized, but the immortal cootie had come through unscathed and
+    in all its vigor. Corporal Wells raised a pathetic wail:
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Blimme eyes, mytie! I got more'n two 'undred now an' this supposed
+    to be a bloomin' clean shirt! Why, the blinkin' thing's as lousy
+    as a cookoo now, an me just a-gittin' rid o' the bloomin' chats on
+    me old un. Strike me pink if it hain't a bleedin' crime! Some one
+    ought to write to John Bull abaht it!"
+</p>
+<p>
+    <i>John Bull</i> is the English paper of that name published by Horatio
+    Bottomley, which makes a specialty of publishing complaints from
+    soldiers and generally criticising the conduct of army affairs.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Well, we got through the bath and the next day were on our way.
+    This time it was up the line to another sector. My one taste of
+    trench action had made me keen for more excitement, and in spite of
+    the comfortable time at Petite-Saens, I was glad to go. I was yet
+    to know the real horrors and hardships of modern warfare. There
+    were many days in those to come when I looked back upon
+    Petite-Saens as a sort of heaven.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0006"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER VI
+</h2>
+<h3>
+    HIKING TO VIMY RIDGE
+</h3>
+<p>
+    We left Petite-Saens about nine o'clock Friday night and commenced
+    our march for what we were told would be a short hike. It was
+    pretty warm and muggy. There was a thin, low-lying mist over
+    everything, but clear enough above, and there was a kind of poor
+    moonlight. There was a good deal of delay in getting away, and we
+    had begun to sweat before we started, as we were equipped as usual
+    with about eighty pounds' weight on the back and shoulders. That
+    eighty pounds is theoretical weight.
+</p>
+<p>
+    As a matter of practice the pack nearly always runs ten and even
+    twenty pounds over the official equipment, as Tommy is a great
+    little accumulator of junk. I had acquired the souvenir craze early
+    in the game, and was toting excess baggage in the form of a Boche
+    helmet, a mess of shell noses, and a smashed German automatic. All
+    this ran to weight.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I carried a lot of this kind of stuff all the time I was in the
+    service, and was constantly thinning out my collection or adding to
+    it.
+</p>
+<p>
+    When you consider that a soldier has to carry everything he owns on
+    his person, you'd say that he would want to fly light; but he
+    doesn't. And that reminds me, before I forget it, I want to say
+    something about sending boxes over there.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It is the policy of the British, and, I suppose, will be of the
+    Americans, to move the troops about a good deal. This is done so
+    that no one unit will become too much at home in any one line of
+    trenches and so get careless. This moving about involves a good
+    deal of hiking.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Now if some chap happens to get a twenty-pound box of good things
+    just before he is shifted, he's going to be in an embarrassing
+    position. He'll have to give it away or leave it. So&mdash;send the
+    boxes two or three pounds at a time, and often.
+</p>
+<p>
+    But to get back to Petite-Saens. We commenced our hike as it is was
+    getting dark. As we swung out along the once good but now badly
+    furrowed French road, we could see the Very lights beginning to go
+    up far off to the left, showing where the lines were. We could
+    distinguish between our own star lights and the German by the
+    intensity of the flare, theirs being much superior to ours, so much
+    so that they send them up from the second-line trenches.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The sound of the guns became more distant as we swung away to the
+    south and louder again as the road twisted back toward the front.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We began to sing the usual songs of the march and I noticed that
+    the American ragtime was more popular among the boys than their own
+    music. "Dixie" frequently figured in these songs.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It is always a good deal easier to march when the men sing, as it
+    helps to keep time and puts pep into a column and makes the packs
+    seem lighter. The officers see to it that the mouth organs get
+    tuned up the minute a hike begins.
+</p>
+<p>
+    At the end of each hour we came to a halt for the regulation ten
+    minutes' rest. Troops in heavy marching order move very slowly,
+    even with the music&mdash;and the hours drag. The ten minutes' rest
+    though goes like a flash. The men keep an eye on the watches and
+    "wangle" for the last second.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We passed through two ruined villages with the battered walls
+    sticking up like broken teeth and the gray moonlight shining
+    through empty holes that had been windows. The people were gone
+    from these places, but a dog howled over yonder. Several times we
+    passed batteries of French artillery, and jokes and laughter came
+    out of the half darkness.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Topping a little rise, the moon came out bright, and away ahead the
+    silver ribbon of the Souchez gleamed for an instant; the bare poles
+    that once had been Bouvigny Wood were behind us, and to the right,
+    to the left, a pulverized ruin where houses had stood. Blofeld told
+    me this was what was left of the village of Abalaine, which had
+    been demolished some time before when the French held the sector.
+</p>
+<p>
+    At this point guides came out and met us to conduct us to the
+    trenches. The order went down the line to fall in, single file,
+    keeping touch, no smoking and no talking, and I supposed we were
+    about to enter a communication trench. But no. We swung on to a
+    "duck walk." This is a slatted wooden walk built to prevent as much
+    as possible sinking into the mud. The ground was very soft here.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I never did know why there was no communication trench unless it
+    was because the ground was so full of moisture. But whatever the
+    reason, there was none, and we were right out in the open on the
+    duck walk. The order for no talk seemed silly as we clattered along
+    the boards, making a noise like a four-horse team on a covered
+    bridge.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I immediately wondered whether we were near enough for the Boches
+    to hear. I wasn't in doubt long, for they began to send over the
+    "Berthas" in flocks. The "Bertha" is an uncommonly ugly breed of
+    nine-inch shell loaded with H.E. It comes sailing over with a
+    querulous "squeeeeeee", and explodes with an ear-splitting crash
+    and a burst of murky, dull-red flame.
+</p>
+<p>
+    If it hits you fair, you disappear. At a little distance you are
+    ripped to fragments, and a little farther off you get a case of
+    shell-shock. Just at the edge of the destructive area the wind of
+    the explosion whistles by your ears, and then sucks back more
+    slowly.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The Boches had the range of that duck walk, and we began to run.
+    Every now and then they would drop one near the walk, and from four
+    to ten casualties would go down. There was no stopping for the
+    wounded. They lay where they fell. We kept on the run, sometimes on
+    the duck walk, sometimes in the mud, for three miles. I had reached
+    the limit of my endurance when we came to a halt and rested for a
+    little while at the foot of a slight incline. This was the
+    "Pimple", so called on account of its rounded crest.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The Pimple forms a part of the well-known Vimy Ridge&mdash;is a
+    semi-detached extension of it&mdash;and lies between it and the Souchez
+    sector. After a rest here we got into the trenches skirting the
+    Pimple and soon came out on the Quarries. This was a bowl-like
+    depression formed by an old quarry. The place gave a natural
+    protection and all around the edge were dug-outs which had been
+    built by the French, running back into the hill, some of them more
+    than a hundred feet.
+</p>
+<p>
+    In the darkness we could see braziers glowing softly red at the
+    mouth of each burrow. There was a cheerful, mouth-watering smell of
+    cookery on the air, a garlicky smell, with now and then a whiff of
+    spicy wood smoke.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We were hungry and thirsty, as well as tired, and shed our packs at
+    the dug-outs assigned us and went at the grub and the char offered
+    us by the men we were relieving, the Northumberland Fusiliers.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The dug-outs here in the Quarries were the worst I saw in France.
+    They were reasonably dry and roomy, but they had no ventilation
+    except the tunnel entrance, and going back so far the air inside
+    became simply stifling in a very short time.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I took one inhale of the interior atmosphere and decided right
+    there that I would bivouac in the open. It was just getting down to
+    "kip" when a sentry came up and said I would have to get inside. It
+    seemed that Fritz had the range of the Quarries to an inch and was
+    in the habit of sending over "minnies" at intervals just to let us
+    know he wasn't asleep.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I had got settled down comfortably and was dozing off when there
+    came a call for C company. I got the men from my platoon out as
+    quickly as possible, and in half an hour we were in the trenches.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Number 10 platoon was assigned to the center sector, Number 11 to
+    the left sector, and Number 12 to the right sector. Number 9
+    remained behind in supports in the Quarries.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Now when I speak of these various sectors, I mean that at this
+    point there was no continuous line of front trenches, only isolated
+    stretches of trench separated by intervals of from two hundred to
+    three hundred yards of open ground. There were no dug-outs. It was
+    impossible to leave these trenches except under cover of
+    darkness&mdash;or to get to them or to get up rations. They were awful
+    holes. Any raid by the Germans in large numbers at this time would
+    have wiped us out, as there was no means of retreating or getting
+    up reinforcements.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The Tommies called the trenches Grouse Spots. It was a good name.
+    We got into them in the dense darkness of just before dawn. The
+    division we relieved gave us hardly any instruction, but beat it on
+    the hot foot, glad to get away and anxious to go before sun-up. As
+    we settled down in our cosey danger spots I heard Rolfie, the
+    frog-voiced baritone, humming one of his favorite coster songs:
+</p>
+<p class="poem">
+        Oh, why did I leave my little back room in old Bloomsbury? <br>
+        Where I could live for a pound a week in luxury. <br>
+        I wanted to live higher<br>
+        So I married Marier, <br>
+        Out of the frying pan into the bloomin' fire.
+</p>
+<p>
+    And he meant every word of it.
+</p>
+<p>
+    In our new positions in the Grouse Spots the orders were to patrol
+    the open ground between at least four times a night. That first
+    night there was one more patrol necessary before daylight. Tired as
+    I was, I volunteered for it. I had had one patrol before, opposite
+    Bully-Grenay, and thought I liked the game.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I went over with one man, a fellow named Bellinger. We got out and
+    started to crawl. All we knew was that the left sector was two
+    hundred yards away. Machine-gun bullets were squealing and
+    snapping overhead pretty continuously, and we had to hug the dirt.
+    It is surprising to see how flat a man can keep and still get along
+    at a good rate of speed. We kept straight away to the left and
+    presently got into wire. And then we heard German voices. Ow! I
+    went cold all over.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Then some "Very" lights went up and I saw the Boche parapet not
+    twenty feet away. Worst of all there was a little lane through
+    their wire at that point, and there would be, no doubt, a sap head
+    or a listening post near. I tried to lie still and burrow into the
+    dirt at the same time. Nothing happened. Presently the lights died,
+    and Bellinger gave me a poke in the ribs. We started to crawfish.
+    Why we weren't seen I don't know, but we had gone all of one
+    hundred feet before they spotted us. Fortunately we were on the
+    edge of a shallow shell hole when the sentry caught our movements
+    and Fritz cut loose with the "typewriters." We rolled in. A perfect
+    torrent of bullets ripped up the dirt and cascaded us with gravel
+    and mud. The noise of the bullets "crackling" a yard above us was
+    deafening.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The fusillade stopped after a bit. I was all for getting out and
+    away immediately. Bellinger wanted to wait a while. We argued for
+    as much as five minutes, I should think, and then the lights having
+    gone out, I took matters in my own hands and we went away from
+    there. Another piece of luck!
+</p>
+<p>
+    We weren't more than a minute on our way when a pair of bombs went
+    off about over the shell hole. Evidently some bold Heinie had
+    chucked them over to make sure of the job in case the machines
+    hadn't. It was a close pinch&mdash;two close pinches. I was in places
+    afterwards where there was more action and more danger, but,
+    looking back, I don't think I was ever sicker or scareder. I would
+    have been easy meat if they had rushed us.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We made our way back slowly, and eventually caught the gleam of
+    steel helmets. They were British. We had stumbled upon our left
+    sector. We found out then that the line curved and that instead of
+    the left sector being directly to the left of ours&mdash;the center&mdash;it
+    was to the left and to the rear. Also there was a telephone wire
+    running from one to the other. We reported and made our way back to
+    the center in about five minutes by feeling along the wire. That
+    was our method afterwards, and the patrol was cushy for us.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0007"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER VII
+</h2>
+<h3>
+    FASCINATION OF PATROL WORK
+</h3>
+<p>
+    I want to say a word right here about patrol work in general,
+    because for some reason it fascinated me and was my favorite game.
+</p>
+<p>
+    If you should be fortunate&mdash;or unfortunate enough, as the case
+    might be&mdash;to be squatting in a front-line trench this fine morning
+    and looking through a periscope, you wouldn't see much. Just over
+    the top, not more than twenty feet away, would be your barbed-wire
+    entanglements, a thick network of wire stretched on iron posts
+    nearly waist high, and perhaps twelve or fifteen feet across. Then
+    there would be an intervening stretch of from fifty to one hundred
+    fifty yards of No Man's Land, a tortured, torn expanse of muddy
+    soil, pitted with shell craters, and, over beyond, the German wire
+    and his parapet.
+</p>
+<p>
+    There would be nothing alive visible. There would probably be a
+    few corpses lying about or hanging in the wire. Everything would be
+    still except for the flutter of some rag of a dead man's uniform.
+    Perhaps not that. Daylight movements in No Man's Land are somehow
+    disconcerting. Once I was in a trench where a leg&mdash;a booted German
+    leg, stuck up stark and stiff out of the mud not twenty yards in
+    front. Some idiotic joker on patrol hung a helmet on the foot, and
+    all the next day that helmet dangled and swung in the breeze. It
+    irritated the periscope watchers, and the next night it was taken
+    down.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Ordinarily, however, there is little movement between the wires,
+    nor behind them. And yet you know that over yonder there are
+    thousands of men lurking in the trenches and shelters.
+</p>
+<p>
+    After dark these men, or some of them, crawl out like hunted
+    animals and prowl in the black mystery of No Man's Land. They are
+    the patrol.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The patrol goes out armed and equipped lightly. He has to move
+    softly and at times very quickly. It is his duty to get as close
+    to the enemy lines as possible and find out if they are repairing
+    their wire or if any of their parties are out, and to get back word
+    to the machine gunners, who immediately cut loose on the indicated
+    spot.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Sometimes he lies with his head to the ground over some suspected
+    area, straining his ears for the faint "scrape, scrape" that means
+    a German mining party is down there, getting ready to plant a ton
+    or so of high explosive, or, it may be, is preparing to touch it
+    off at that very moment.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Always the patrol is supposed to avoid encounter with enemy
+    patrols. He carries two or three Mills bombs and a pistol, but not
+    for use except in extreme emergency. Also a persuader stick or a
+    trench knife, which he may use if he is near enough to do it
+    silently.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The patrol stares constantly through the dark and gets so he can
+    see almost as well as a cat. He must avoid being seen. When a Very
+    light goes up, he lies still. If he happens to be standing, he
+    stands still. Unless the light is behind him so that he is
+    silhouetted, he is invisible to the enemy.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Approaching a corpse, the patrol lies quiet and watches it for
+    several minutes, unless it is one he has seen before and is
+    acquainted with. Because sometimes the man isn't dead, but a
+    perfectly live Boche patrol lying "doggo." You can't be too
+    careful.
+</p>
+<p>
+    If you happen to be pussyfooting forward erect and encounter a
+    German patrol, it is policy to scuttle back unless you are near
+    enough to get in one good lick with the persuader. He will retreat
+    slowly himself, and you mustn't follow him. Because: The British
+    patrol usually goes out singly or at the most in pairs or threes.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The Germans, on the other hand, hunt in parties. One man leads. Two
+    others follow to the rear, one to each side. And then two more, and
+    two more, so that they form a V, like a flock of geese. Now if you
+    follow up the lead man when he retreats, you are baited into a trap
+    and find yourself surrounded, smothered by superior numbers, and
+    taken prisoner. Then back to the Boche trench, where exceedingly
+    unpleasant things are apt to happen.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It is, in fact, most unwholesome for a British patrol to be
+    captured. I recall a case in point which I witnessed and which is
+    far enough in the past so that it can be told. It occurred, not at
+    Vimy Ridge, but further down the line, nearer the Somme.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I was out one night with another man, prowling in the dark, when I
+    encountered a Canadian sergeant who was alone. There was a Canadian
+    battalion holding the next trench to us, and another farther down.
+    He was from the farther one. We lay in the mud and compared notes.
+    Once, when a light floated down near us, I saw his face, and he was
+    a man I knew, though not by name.
+</p>
+<p>
+    After a while we separated, and he went back, as he was
+    considerably off his patrol. An hour or so later the mist began to
+    get gray, and it was evident that dawn was near. I was a couple of
+    hundred yards down from our battalion, and my man and I made for
+    the trenches opposite where we were. As we climbed into a sap head,
+    I was greeted by a Canadian corporal. He invited me to a tin of
+    "char", and I sent my man up the line to our own position.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We sat on the fire step drinking, and I told the corporal about
+    meeting the sergeant out in front. While we were at the "char" it
+    kept getting lighter, and presently a pair of Lewises started to
+    rattle a hundred yards or so away down the line. Then came a sudden
+    commotion and a kind of low, growling shout. That is the best way I
+    can describe it. We stood up, and below we saw men going over the
+    top.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "What the dickens can this be?" stuttered the corporal. "There's
+    been no barrage. There's no orders for a charge. What is it? What
+    is it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+    Well, there they were, going over, as many as two hundred of
+    them&mdash;growling. The corporal and I climbed out of the trench at the
+    rear, over the parados, and ran across lots down to a point
+    opposite where the Canadians had gone over, and watched.
+</p>
+<p>
+    They swept across No Man's Land and into the Boche trench. There
+    was the deuce of a ruckus over there for maybe two minutes, and
+    then back they came&mdash;carrying something. Strangely enough there had
+    been no machine-gun fire turned on them as they crossed, nor was
+    there as they returned. They had cleaned that German trench! And
+    they brought back the body of a man&mdash;nailed to a rude crucifix. The
+    thing was more like a T than a cross. It was made of planks,
+    perhaps two by five, and the man was spiked on by his hands and
+    feet. Across the abdomen he was riddled with bullets and again with
+    another row a little higher up near his chest. The man was the
+    sergeant I had talked to earlier in the night. What had happened
+    was this. He had, no doubt, been taken by a German patrol. Probably
+    he had refused to answer questions. Perhaps he had insulted an
+    officer. They had crucified him and held him up above the parapet.
+    With the first light his own comrades had naturally opened on the
+    thing with the Lewises, not knowing what it was. When it got
+    lighter, and they recognized the hellish thing that had been done
+    to one of their men, they went over. Nothing in this world could
+    have stopped them.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The M.O. who viewed the body said that without question the man had
+    been crucified alive. Also it was said that the same thing had
+    happened before.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I told Captain Green of the occurrence when I got back to our own
+    trenches, and he ordered me to keep silent, which I did. It was
+    feared that if the affair got about the men would be "windy" on
+    patrol. However, the thing did get about and was pretty well talked
+    over. Too many saw it.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The Canadians were reprimanded for going over without orders. But
+    they were not punished. For their officers went with them&mdash;led
+    them.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Occasionally the temptation is too great. Once I was out on patrol
+    alone, having sent my man back with a message, when I encountered a
+    Heinie. I was lying down at the time. A flock of lights went up and
+    showed this fellow standing about ten feet from me. He had frozen
+    and stayed that way till the flares died, but I was close enough to
+    see that he was a German. Also&mdash;marvel of marvels&mdash;he was alone.
+</p>
+<p>
+    When the darkness settled again, I got to my feet and jumped at
+    him. He jumped at me&mdash;another marvel. Going into the clinch I
+    missed him with the persuader and lost my grip on it, leaving the
+    weapon dangling by the leather loop on my wrist. He had struck at
+    me with his automatic, which I think he must have dropped, though
+    I'm not sure of that. Anyway we fell into each other's arms and
+    went at it barehanded. He was bigger than I. I got under the ribs
+    and tried to squeeze the breath out of him, but he was too rugged.
+</p>
+<p>
+    At the same time I felt that he didn't relish the clinch. I slipped
+    my elbow up and got under his chin, forcing his head back. His
+    breath smelled of beer and onions. I was choking him when he
+    brought his knee up and got me in the stomach and again on the
+    instep when he brought his heel down.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It broke my hold, and I staggered back groping for the persuader.
+    He jumped back as far as I did. I felt somehow that he was glad. So
+    was I. We stood for a minute, and I heard him gutter out something
+    that sounded like "Verdamder swinehunt." Then we both backed away.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It seemed to me to be the nicest way out of the situation. No doubt
+    he felt the same.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I seem to have wandered far from the Quarries and the Grouse Spots.
+    Let's go back.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We were two days in the Grouse Spots and were then relieved, going
+    back to the Quarries and taking the place of Number 9 in support.
+    While lying there, I drew a patrol that was interesting because it
+    was different.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The Souchez River flowed down from Abalaine and Souchez villages
+    and through our lines to those of the Germans, and on to Lens.
+    Spies, either in the army itself or in the villages, had been
+    placing messages in bottles and floating them down the river to the
+    Germans.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Somebody found this out, and a net of chicken wire had been placed
+    across the river in No Man's Land. Some one had to go down there
+    and fish for bottles twice nightly. I took this patrol alone. The
+    lines were rather far apart along the river, owing to the swampy
+    nature of the ground, which made livable trenches impossible.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I slipped out and down the slight incline, and presently found
+    myself in a little valley. The grass was rank and high, sometimes
+    nearly up to my chin, and the ground was slimy and treacherous. I
+    slipped into several shell holes and was almost over my head in the
+    stagnant, smelly water.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I made the river all right, but there was no bridge or net in
+    sight. The river was not over ten feet wide and there was supposed
+    to be a footbridge of two planks where the net was.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I got back into the grass and made my way downstream. Sliding
+    gently through the grass, I kept catching my feet in something hard
+    that felt like roots; but there were no trees in the neighborhood.
+    I reached down and groped in the grass and brought up a human rib.
+    The place was full of them, and skulls. Stooping, I could see them,
+    grinning up out of the dusk, hundreds of them. I learned afterwards
+    that this was called the Valley of Death. Early in the war several
+    thousand Zouaves had perished there, and no attempt had been made
+    to bury them.
+</p>
+<p>
+    After getting out of the skeletons, I scouted along downstream and
+    presently heard the low voices of Germans. Evidently they had found
+    the net and planned to get the messages first. Creeping to the edge
+    of the grass, I peeped out. I was opposite the bottle trap. I could
+    dimly make out the forms of two men standing on the nearer end of
+    the plank bridge. They were, I should judge, about ten yards away,
+    and they hadn't heard me. I got out a Mills, pulled the pin, and
+    pitched it. The bomb exploded, perhaps five feet this side of the
+    men. One dropped, and the other ran.
+</p>
+<p>
+    After a short wait I ran over to the German. I searched him for
+    papers, found none, and rolled him into the river.
+</p>
+<p>
+    After a few days in the Quarries we were moved to what was known as
+    the Warren, so called because the works resembled a rabbit warren.
+    This was on the lower side and to the left end of Vimy Ridge, and
+    was extra dangerous. It did seem as though each place was worse
+    than the last. The Warren was a regular network of trenches,
+    burrows, and funk holes, and we needed them all.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The position was downhill from the Huns, and they kept sending over
+    and down a continuous stream of "pip-squeaks", "whiz-bangs", and
+    "minnies." The "pip-squeak" is a shell that starts with a silly
+    "pip", goes on with a sillier "squeeeeee", and goes off with a
+    man's-size bang.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The "whiz-bang" starts with a rough whirr like a flushing cock
+    partridge, and goes off on contact with a tremendous bang. It is
+    not as dangerous as it sounds, but bad enough.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The "minnie" is about the size of a two-gallon kerosene can, and
+    comes somersaulting over in a high arc and is concentrated death
+    and destruction when it lands. It has one virtue&mdash;you can see it
+    coming and dodge, and at night it most considerately leaves a trail
+    of sparks.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The Boche served us full portions of all three of these man-killers
+    in the Warren and kept us ducking in and out pretty much all the
+    time, night and day.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I was lucky enough after the first day to be put on sappers' duty.
+    The Sappers, or Engineers, are the men whose duty it is to run
+    mines under No Man's Land and plant huge quantities of explosives.
+    There was a great amount of mining going on all the time at Vimy
+    Ridge from both sides.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Sometimes Fritz would run a sap out reasonably near the surface,
+    and we would counter with one lower down. Then he'd go us one
+    better and go still deeper. Some of the mines went down and under
+    hundreds of feet. The result of all this was that on our side at
+    least, the Sappers were under-manned and a good many infantry were
+    drafted into that service.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I had charge of a gang and had to fill sandbags with the earth
+    removed from the end of the sap and get it out and pile the bags on
+    the parapets. We were well out toward the German lines and deep
+    under the hill when we heard them digging below us. An engineer
+    officer came in and listened for an hour and decided that they were
+    getting in explosives and that it was up to us to beat them to it.
+    Digging stopped at once and we began rushing in H.E. in fifty-pound
+    boxes. I was ordered back into supports with my section.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Right here I began to have luck. Just see how this worked out.
+    First a rushing party was organized whose duty it was to rush the
+    crater made by the mine explosion and occupy it before the Germans
+    got there. Sixty men were selected, a few from each company, and
+    placed where they were supposedly safe, but where they could get up
+    fast. This is the most dangerous duty an infantryman has to do,
+    because both sides after a mine explosion shower in fifty-seven
+    varieties of sudden death, including a perfect rain of machine-gun
+    bullets. The chances of coming out of a rushing party with a whole
+    hide are about one in five.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Well, for a wonder, I didn't get drawn for this one, and I breathed
+    one long, deep sigh of relief, put my hand inside my tunic and
+    patted Dinky on the back. Dinky is my mascot. I'll tell you about
+    him later.
+</p>
+<p>
+    On top of that another bit of luck came along, though it didn't
+    seem like it at the moment. It was the custom for a ration party to
+    go out each night and get up the grub. This party had to go over
+    the duck walk and was under fire both going and coming. One of the
+    corporals who had been out on rations two nights in succession
+    began to "grouse."
+</p>
+<p>
+    Of course Sergeant Page spotted me and detailed me to the
+    "wangler's" duty. I "groused" too, like a good fellow, but had to
+    go.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Garn," says Wellsie. "Wot's the diff if yer gets it 'ere or there.
+    If ye clicks, I'll draw yer fags from Blighty and say a prayer for
+    yer soul. On yer way."
+</p>
+<p>
+    Cheerful beggar, Wellsie. He was doing me a favor and didn't know
+    it.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I did the three miles along the duck walk with the ration party,
+    and there wasn't a shell came our way. Queer! Nor on the way back.
+    Queerer! When we were nearly back and were about five hundred yards
+    from the base of the Pimple, a dead silence fell on the German side
+    of the line. There wasn't a gun nor a mortar nor even a rifle in
+    action for a mile in either direction. There was, too, a kind of
+    sympathetic let-up on our side. There weren't any lights going up.
+    There was an electric tension in the very air. You could tell by
+    the feel that something big was going to happen.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I halted the ration party at the end of the duck walk and waited.
+    But not for long. Suddenly the "Very" lights went up from the
+    German side, literally in hundreds, illuminating the top of the
+    ridge and the sky behind with a thin greenish white flare. Then
+    came a deep rumble that shook the ground, and a dull boom. A spurt
+    of blood-red flame squirted up from the near side of the hill, and
+    a rolling column of gray smoke.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Then another rumble, and another, and then the whole side of
+    the ridge seemed to open up and move slowly skyward with a
+    world-wrecking, soul-paralyzing crash. A murky red glare lit up the
+    smoke screen, and against it a mass of tossed-up debris, and for an
+    instant I caught the black silhouette of a whole human body
+    spread-eagled and spinning like a pin-wheel.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Most of our party, even at the distance, were knocked down by the
+    gigantic impact of the explosion. A shower of earth and rock
+    chunks, some as big as a barrel, fell around us.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Then we heard a far-away cheering, and in the light of the flares
+    we saw a newly made hill and our men swarming up it to the crater.
+    Two mines had exploded, and the whole side of the Pimple had been
+    torn away. Half of our rushing party were killed and we had sixty
+    casualties from shock and wounds among men who were supposed to be
+    at a safe distance from the mining operation. But we took and held
+    the new crater positions.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The corporal whose place I had taken on the ration party was killed
+    by falling stones. Inasmuch as he was where I would have been, I
+    considered that I had had a narrow escape from "going west!" More
+    luck!
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0008"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER VIII
+</h2>
+<h3>
+    ON THE GO
+</h3>
+<p class="poem2">
+        Marching, marching, marching, <br>
+        Always ruddy well marching. <br>
+        Marching all the morning, <br>
+        And marching all the night. <br>
+        Marching, marching, marching, <br>
+        Always ruddy well marching, <br>
+        Roll on till my time is up<br>
+        And I shall march no more.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We sung it to the tune of "Holy, Holy, Holy", the whole blooming
+    battalion. As we swung down the Boulevard Alsace-Lorraine in Amiens
+    and passed the great cathedral up there to the left, on its little
+    rise of ground, the chant lifted and lilted and throbbed up from
+    near a thousand throats, much as the unisoned devotions of the
+    olden monks must have done in other days.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Ours was a holy cause, but despite the association of the tune the
+    song was far from being a holy song. It was, rather, a chanted
+    remonstrance against all hiking and against this one in
+    particular.
+</p>
+<p>
+    After our service at Vimy Ridge some one in authority somewhere
+    decided that the 22nd Battalion and two others were not quite good
+    enough for really smart work. We were, indeed, hard. But not hard
+    enough. So some superior intellect squatting somewhere in the
+    safety of the rear, with a finger on the pulse of the army, decreed
+    that we were to get not only hard but tough; and to that end we
+    were to hike. Hike we did.
+</p>
+<p>
+    For more than three weeks we went from place to place with no
+    apparent destination, wandering aimlessly up and down the
+    country-side of Northern France, imposing ourselves upon the people
+    of little villages, shamming battle over their cultivated fields,
+    and sleeping in their hen coops.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I kept a diary on that hike. It was a thing forbidden, but I
+    managed it. One manages many things out there. I have just read
+    over that diary. There isn't much to it but a succession of town
+    names,&mdash;Villiers du Bois, Maisincourt, Barly, Oneaux, Canchy,
+    Amiens, Bourdon, Villiers Bocage, Agenvilliers, Behencourt, and
+    others that I failed to set down and have forgotten. We swept
+    across that country, sweating under our packs, hardening our
+    muscles, stopping here for a day, there for five days for
+    extended-order drills and bayonet and musketry practice, and
+    somewhere else for a sham battle. We were getting ready to go into
+    the Somme.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The weather, by some perversity of fate, was fair during all of
+    that hiking time. Whenever I was in the trenches it always rained,
+    whether the season warranted it or not. Except on days when we were
+    scheduled to go over the top. Then, probably because rain will
+    sometimes hold up a planned-for attack, it was always fair.
+</p>
+<p>
+    On the hike, with good roads under foot, the soldier does not mind
+    a little wet and welcomes a lot of clouds. No such luck for us. It
+    was clear all the time. Not only clear but blazing hot August
+    weather.
+</p>
+<p>
+    On our first march out of the Cabaret Rouge communication trench we
+    covered a matter of ten miles to a place called Villiers du Bois.
+    Before that I had never fully realized just what it meant to go it
+    in full heavy equipment.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Often on the march I compared my lot with that of the medieval
+    soldier who had done his fighting over these same fields of
+    Northern France.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The knight of the Middle Ages was all dressed up like a hardware
+    store with, I should judge, about a hundred pounds of armor. But he
+    rode a horse and had a squire or some such striker trailing along
+    in the rear with the things to make him comfortable, when the
+    fighting was over.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The modern soldier gets very little help in his war making. He is,
+    in fact, more likely to be helping somebody else than asking for
+    assistance for himself. The soldier has two basic functions: first,
+    to keep himself whole and healthy; second, to kill the other
+    fellow. To the end that he may do these two perfectly simple
+    things, he has to carry about eighty pounds of weight all the time.
+</p>
+<p>
+    He has a blanket, a waterproof sheet, a greatcoat, extra boots,
+    extra underwear, a haversack with iron rations, entrenching tools,
+    a bayonet, a water bottle, a mess kit, a rifle, two hundred fifty
+    rounds of ammo, a tin hat, two gas helmets, and a lot of
+    miscellaneous small junk. All this is draped, hung, and otherwise
+    disposed over his figure by means of a web harness having more
+    hooks than a hatrack. He parallels the old-time knight only in the
+    matter of the steel helmet and the rifle, which, with the bayonet,
+    corresponds to the lance, sword, and battle-ax, three in one.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The modern soldier carries all his worldly goods with him all the
+    time. He hates to hike. But he has to.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I remember very vividly that first day. The temperature was around
+    90°, and some fool officers had arranged that we start at one,&mdash;the
+    very worst time of the day. The roads so near the front were
+    pulverized, and the dust rose in dense clouds. The long straight
+    lines of poplars beside the road were gray with it, and the heat
+    waves shimmered up from the fields.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Before we had gone five miles the men began to wilt. Right away I
+    had some more of the joys of being a corporal brought home to me.
+    I was already touched with trench fever and was away under par.
+    That didn't make any difference.
+</p>
+<p>
+    On the march, when the men begin to weaken, an officer is sure to
+    trot up and say:
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Corporal Holmes, just carry this man's rifle," or "Corporal
+    Collins, take that man's pack. He's jolly well done."
+</p>
+<p>
+    Seemingly the corporal never is supposed to be jolly well done. If
+    one complained, his officer would look at him with astounded
+    reproach and say:
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Why, Corporal. We cawn't have this, you know! You are a
+    Non-commissioned Officer, and you must set an example. You must,
+    rahly."
+</p>
+<p>
+    When we finally hit the town where our billets were, we found our
+    company quartered in an old barn. It was dirty, and there was a
+    pigpen at one end,&mdash;very smelly in the August heat. We flopped in
+    the ancient filth. The cooties were very active, as we were
+    drenched with sweat and hadn't had a bath since heavens knew when.
+    We had had about ten minutes' rest and were thinking about getting
+    out of the harness when up came Mad Harry, one of our "leftenants",
+    and ordered us out for foot inspection.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I don't want to say anything unfair about this man. He is dead now.
+    I saw him die. He was brave. He knew his job all right, but he was
+    a fine example of what an officer ought not to be. The only reason
+    I speak of him is because I want to say something about officers in
+    general.
+</p>
+<p>
+    This Mad Harry,&mdash;I do not give his surname for obvious
+    reasons,&mdash;was the son of one of the richest-new-rich-merchant
+    families in England. He was very highly educated, had, I take it,
+    spent the most of his life with the classics. He was long and thin
+    and sallow and fish-eyed. He spoke in a low colorless monotone,
+    absolutely without any inflection whatever. The men thought he was
+    balmy. Hence the nickname Mad Harry.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Mad Harry was a fiend for walking. And at the end of a twenty-mile
+    hike in heavy marching order he would casually stroll alongside
+    some sweating soldier and drone out,
+</p>
+<p>
+    "I say, Private Stetson. Don't you just love to hike?"
+</p>
+<p>
+    Then and there he made a lifelong personal enemy of Private
+    Stetson. In the same or similar ways he made personal enemies of
+    every private soldier he came in contact with.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It may do no harm to tell how Mad Harry died. He came very near
+    being shot by one of his own men.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It was on the Somme. We were in the middle of a bit of a show, and
+    we were all hands down in shell holes with a heavy machine-gun fire
+    crackling overhead. I was in one hole, and in the next, which
+    merged with mine, were two chaps who were cousins.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Mad Harry came along, walking perfectly upright, regardless of
+    danger, with his left arm shattered. He dropped into the next shell
+    hole and with his expressionless drawl unshaken, said, "Private X.
+    Dress my arm."
+</p>
+<p>
+    Private X got out his own emergency bandage and fixed the arm. When
+    it was done Mad Harry, still speaking in his monotonous drone,
+    said:
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Now, Private X, get up out of this hole. Don't be hiding."
+</p>
+<p>
+    Private X obeyed orders without a question. He climbed out and fell
+    with a bullet through his head. His cousin, who was a very dear
+    friend of the boy, evidently went more or less crazy at this. I saw
+    him leap at Mad Harry and snatch his pistol from the holster. He
+    was, I think, about to shoot his officer when a shell burst
+    overhead and killed them both.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Well, on this first day of the hike Mad Harry ordered us out for
+    foot inspection, as I have said. I found that I simply couldn't get
+    them out. They were in no condition for foot inspection,&mdash;hadn't
+    washed for days. Harry came round and gave me a royal dressing down
+    and ordered the whole bunch out for parade and helmet inspection.
+    We were kept standing for an hour. You couldn't blame the men for
+    hating an officer of that kind.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It is only fair to say that Mad Harry was not a usual type of
+    British officer. He simply carried to excess the idea of discipline
+    and unquestioning obedience. The principle of discipline is the
+    guts and backbone of any army. I am inclined to think that it is
+    more than half the making of any soldier. There has been a good
+    deal of talk in the press about a democratic army. As a matter of
+    fact fraternization between men and officers is impossible except
+    in nations of exceptional temperament and imagination, like the
+    French. The French are unique in everything. It follows that their
+    army can do things that no other army can. It is common to see a
+    French officer sitting in a cafe drinking with a private.
+</p>
+<p>
+    In the British army that could not be. The new British army is more
+    democratic, no doubt, than the old. But except in the heat of
+    battle, no British officer can relax his dignity very much. With
+    the exception of Mr. Blofeld, who was one of those rare characters
+    who can be personally close and sympathetic and at the same time
+    command respect and implicit obedience, I never knew a successful
+    officer who did not seem to be almost of another world.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Our Colonel was a fine man, but he was as dignified as a Supreme
+    Court Judge. Incidentally he was as just. I have watched Colonel
+    Flowers many times when he was holding orders. This is a kind of
+    court when all men who have committed crimes and have been passed
+    on by the captains appear before the Colonel.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Colonel Flowers would sit smiling behind his hand, and would try
+    his hardest to find "mitigating circumstances"; but when none could
+    be dug out he passed sentence with the last limit of severity, and
+    the man that was up for orders didn't come again if he knew what
+    was good for himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I think that on the hike we all got to know our officers better
+    than we had known them in the trenches. Their real characters came
+    out. You knew how far you could go with them, and what was more
+    important, how far you couldn't go.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It was at Dieval that my rank as lance corporal was confirmed. It
+    is customary, when a rookie has been made a non-com in training, to
+    reduce him immediately when he gets to France. I had joined in the
+    trenches and had volunteered for a raiding party and there had been
+    no opportunity to reduce me. I had not, however, had a corporal's
+    pay. My confirmation came at Dieval, and I was put on pay. I would
+    have willingly sacrificed the pay and the so-called honor to have
+    been a private.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Our routine throughout the hike was always about the same, that is
+    in the intervals when we were in any one place for a day or more.
+    It was, up at six, breakfast of tea, bread, and bacon. Drill till
+    noon; dinner; drill till five. After that nothing to do till
+    to-morrow, unless we got night 'ops, which was about two nights out
+    of three.
+</p>
+<p>
+    There were few Y.M.C.A. huts so far behind the lines, and the short
+    time up to nine was usually spent in the <i>estaminets</i>. The games of
+    house were in full blast all the time.
+</p>
+<p>
+    On the hike we were paid weekly. Privates got five francs,
+    corporals ten, and sergeants fifteen to twenty a week. That's a lot
+    of money. Anything left over was held back to be paid when we got
+    to Blighty. Parcels and mail came along with perfect regularity on
+    that hike. It was and is a marvel to me how they do it. A battalion
+    chasing around all over the place gets its stuff from Blighty day
+    after day, right on the tick and without any question. I only hope
+    that whatever the system is, our army will take advantage of it. A
+    shortage of letters and luxury parcels is a real hardship.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We finally brought up at a place called Oneux (pronounced Oh, no)
+    and were there five days. I fell into luck here. It was customary,
+    when we were marching on some unsuspecting village, to send the
+    quartermaster sergeants ahead on bicycles to locate billets. We had
+    an old granny named Cypress, better known as Lizzie. The other
+    sergeants were accustomed to flim-flam Lizzie to a finish on the
+    selection of billets, with the result that C company usually slept
+    in pigpens of stables.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The day we approached Oneux, Lizzie was sick, and I was delegated
+    to his job. I went into the town with the three other quartermaster
+    sergeants, got them into an <i>estaminet</i>, bought about a dollar's
+    worth of drinks, sneaked out the back door, and preempted the
+    schoolhouse for C company. I also took the house next door, which
+    was big and clean, for the officers. We were royally comfortable
+    there, and the other companies used the stables that usually fell
+    to our lot.
+</p>
+<p>
+    As a reward, I suspect, I was picked for Orderly Corporal, a cushy
+    job. We all of us had it fairly easy at Oneux. It was hot weather,
+    and nights we used to sit out in the schoolhouse yard and talk
+    about the war.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Some of the opinions voiced out there with more frankness than any
+    one would dare to use at home would, I am sure, shock some of the
+    patriots. The fact is that any one who has fought in France wants
+    peace, and the sooner the better.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We had one old-timer, out since Mons, who habitually, night after
+    night, day after day, would pipe up with the same old plaint.
+    Something like this:
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Hi arsks yer. Wot are we fightin' for? Wot'd th' Belgiums hever do
+    fer us? Wot? Wot'd th' Rooshians hever do fer us? Wot's th' good of
+    th' Frenchies? Wot's th' good of hanybody but th' Henglish? Gawd
+    lumme! I'm fed up."
+</p>
+<p>
+    And yet this man had gone out at the beginning and would fight
+    like the very devil, and I verily believe will be homesick for the
+    trenches if he is alive when it is all over.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Bones, who was educated and a thoughtful reader, had it figured out
+    that the war was all due to the tyranny of the ruling classes, with
+    the Kaiser the chief offender.
+</p>
+<p>
+    A lot of the men wanted peace at any reasonable price. Anything, so
+    they would get back to 'Arriet or Sadie or Maria.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I should say offhand that there was not one man in a hundred who
+    was fighting consciously for any great recognized principle. And
+    yet, with all their grousing and criticism, and all their
+    overwhelming desire to have it over with, every one of them was
+    loyal and brave and a hard fighter.
+</p>
+<p>
+    A good deal has been written about the brilliancy of the Canadians
+    and the other Colonials. Too much credit cannot be given these men.
+    In an attack there are no troops with more dash than the Canadians,
+    but when it comes to taking punishment and hanging on a hopeless
+    situation, there are no troops in the wide world who can equal,
+    much less surpass, the English. Personally I think that comparisons
+    should be avoided. All the Allies are doing their full duty with
+    all that is in them.
+</p>
+<p>
+    During most of the war talk, it was my habit to keep discreetly
+    quiet. We were not in the war yet, and any remarks from me usually
+    drew some hot shot about Mr. Wilson's "blankety-blinked bloomin'
+    notes."
+</p>
+<p>
+    There was another American, a chap named Sanford from Virginia,
+    in B company, and he and I used to furnish a large amount of
+    entertainment in these war talks. Sanford was a F.F.V. and didn't
+    care who knew it. Also he thought General Lee was the greatest
+    military genius ever known. One night he and I got started and had
+    it hot and heavy as to the merits of the Civil War. This for some
+    reason tickled the Tommies half to death, and after that they would
+    egg us on to a discussion.
+</p>
+<p>
+    One of them would slyly say, "Darby, 'oo th' blinkin' 'ell was this
+    blighter, General Grant?"
+</p>
+<p>
+    Or, "Hi sye, Sandy, Hi 'eard Darby syin' 'ow this General Lee was a
+    bleedin' swab."
+</p>
+<p>
+    Then Sanford and I would pass the wink and go at it tooth and
+    nail. It was ridiculous, arguing the toss on a long-gone-by
+    small-time scrap like the Civil War with the greatest show in
+    history going on all around us. Anyway the Tommies loved it and
+    would fairly howl with delight when we got to going good.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It is strange, but with so many Americans in the British service, I
+    ran up against very few. I remember one night when we were making a
+    night march from one village to another, we stopped for the
+    customary ten-minutes-in-the-hour rest. Over yonder in a field
+    there was a camp of some kind,&mdash;probably field artillery. There was
+    dim light of a fire and the low murmur of voices. And then a fellow
+    began to sing in a nice tenor:
+</p>
+<p class="poem">
+        Bury me not on the lone prairie<br>
+        Where the wild coyotes howl o'er me. <br>
+        Bury me down in the little churchyard<br>
+        In a grave just six by three.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The last time I had heard that song was in New Orleans, and it was
+    sung by a wild Texan. So I yelled, "Hello there, Texas."
+</p>
+<p>
+    He answered, "Hello, Yank. Where from?"
+</p>
+<p>
+    I answered, "Boston."
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Give my regards to Tremont Street and go to hell," says he. A gale
+    of laughter came out of the night. Just then we had the order to
+    fall in, and away we went. I'd like to know sometime who that chap
+    was.
+</p>
+<p>
+    After knocking about all over the north of France seemingly, we
+    brought up at Canchy of a Sunday afternoon. Here the whole brigade,
+    four battalions, had church parade, and after that the band played
+    ragtime and the officers had a gabfest and compared medals, on top
+    of which we were soaked with two hours' steady drill. We were at
+    Canchy ten days, and they gave it to us good and plenty. We would
+    drill all day and after dark it would be night 'ops. Finally so
+    many men were going to the doctor worn out that he ordered a whole
+    day and a half of rest.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Mr. Blofeld on Saturday night suggested that, as we were going into
+    the Somme within a few weeks, the non-coms ought to have a little
+    blow-out. It would be the last time we would all ever be together.
+    He furnished us with all the drinkables we could get away with,
+    including some very choice Johnny Walker. There was a lot of
+    canned stuff, mostly sardines. Mr. Blofeld loaned us the officers'
+    phonograph.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It was a large, wet night. Everybody made a speech or sang a song,
+    and we didn't go home until morning. It was a farewell party, and
+    we went the limit. If there is one thing that the Britisher does
+    better than another, it is getting ready to die. He does it with a
+    smile,&mdash;and he dies with a laugh.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Poor chaps! Nearly all of them are pushing up the daisies somewhere
+    in France. Those who are not are, with one or two exceptions, out
+    of the army with broken bodies.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0009"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER IX
+</h2>
+<h3>
+    FIRST SIGHT OF THE TANKS
+</h3>
+<p>
+    Late in the summer I accumulated a nice little case of trench
+    fever.
+</p>
+<p>
+    This disease is due to remaining for long periods in the wet and
+    mud, to racked nerves, and, I am inclined to think, to sleeping
+    in the foul air of the dug-outs. The chief symptom is high
+    temperature, and the patient aches a good deal. I was sent back to
+    a place in the neighborhood of Arras and was there a week
+    recuperating.
+</p>
+<p>
+    While I was there a woman spy whom I had known in Abalaine was
+    brought to the village and shot. The frequency with which the duck
+    walk at Abalaine had been shelled, especially when ration parties
+    or troops were going over it, had attracted a good deal of
+    attention.
+</p>
+<p>
+    There was a single house not far from the end of that duck walk
+    west of Abalaine, occupied by a woman and two or three children.
+    She had lived there for years and was, so far as anybody knew, a
+    Frenchwoman in breeding and sympathies. She was in the habit of
+    selling coffee to the soldiers, and, of course, gossiped with them
+    and thus gained a good deal of information about troop movements.
+</p>
+<p>
+    She was not suspected for a long time. Then a gunner of a battery
+    which was stationed near by noticed that certain children's
+    garments, a red shirt and a blue one and several white garments,
+    were on the clothesline in certain arrangement on the days when
+    troops were to be moved along the duck walk the following night.
+    This soldier notified his officers, and evidence was accumulated
+    that the woman was signalling to the Boche airplanes.
+</p>
+<p>
+    She was arrested, taken to the rear, and shot. I don't like to
+    think that this woman was really French. She was, no doubt, one of
+    the myriad of spies who were planted in France by the Germans long
+    before the war.
+</p>
+<p>
+    After getting over the fever, I rejoined my battalion in the early
+    part of September in the Somme district at a place called Mill
+    Street. This was in reality a series of dug-outs along a road some
+    little distance behind our second lines, but in the range of the
+    German guns, which persistently tried for our artillery just beside
+    us.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Within an hour of my arrival I was treated to a taste of one of the
+    forms of German kultur which was new at the time. At least it was
+    new to me&mdash;tear gas. This delectable vapor came over in shells,
+    comparatively harmless in themselves, but which loosed a gas,
+    smelling at first a little like pineapple. When you got a good
+    inhale you choked, and the eyes began to run. There was no
+    controlling the tears, and the victim would fairly drip for a
+    long time, leaving him wholly incapacitated.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Goggles provided for this gas were nearly useless, and we all
+    resorted to the regular gas helmet. In this way we were able to
+    stand the stuff.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The gas mask, by the way, was the bane of my existence in the
+    trenches&mdash;one of the banes. I found that almost invariably after I
+    had had mine on for a few minutes I got faint. Very often I would
+    keel over entirely. A good many of the men were affected the same
+    way, either from the lack of air inside the mask or by the
+    influence of the chemicals with which the protector is impregnated.
+</p>
+<p>
+    One of the closest calls I had in all my war experience was at
+    Mills Street. And Fritz was not to blame.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Several of the men, including myself, were squatted around a
+    brazier cooking char and getting warm, for the nights were cold,
+    when there was a terrific explosion. Investigation proved that an
+    unexploded bomb had been buried under the brazier, and that it had
+    gone off as the heat penetrated the ground. It is a wonder there
+    weren't more of these accidents, as Tommy was forever throwing away
+    his Millses.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The Mills bomb fires by pulling out a pin which releases a lever
+    which explodes the bomb after four seconds. Lots of men never
+    really trust a bomb. If you have one in your pocket, you feel that
+    the pin may somehow get out, and if it does you know that you'll go
+    to glory in small bits. I always had that feeling myself and used
+    to throw away my Millses and scoop a hatful of dirt over them with
+    my foot.
+</p>
+<p>
+    This particular bomb killed one man, wounded several, and shocked
+    all of us. Two of the men managed to "swing" a "blighty" case out
+    of it. I could have done the same if I had been wise enough.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I think I ought to say a word right here about the psychology of
+    the Tommy in swinging a "blighty" case.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It is the one first, last, and always ambition of the Tommy to get
+    back to Blighty. Usually he isn't "out there" because he wants to
+    be but because he has to be. He is a patriot all right. His love of
+    Blighty shows that. He will fight like a bag of wildcats when he
+    gets where the fighting is, but he isn't going around looking for
+    trouble. He knows that his officers will find that for him
+    a-plenty.
+</p>
+<p>
+    When he gets letters from home and knows that the wife or the
+    "nippers" or the old mother is sick, he wants to go home. And so he
+    puts in his time hoping for a wound that will be "cushy" enough not
+    to discommode him much and that will be bad enough to swing
+    Blighty on. Sometimes when he wants very much to get back he
+    stretches his conscience to the limit&mdash;and it is pretty elastic
+    anyhow&mdash;and he fakes all sorts of illness. The M.O. is usually a
+    bit too clever for Tommy, however, and out and out fakes seldom get
+    by. Sometimes they do, and in the most unexpected cases.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I had a man named Isadore Epstein in my section who was
+    instrumental in getting Blighty for himself and one other. Issy was
+    a tailor by trade. He was no fighting man and didn't pretend to be,
+    and he didn't care who knew it. He was wild to get a "blighty one"
+    or shell shock, or anything that would take him home.
+</p>
+<p>
+    One morning as we were preparing to go over the top, and the men
+    were a little jumpy and nervous, I heard a shot behind me, and a
+    bullet chugged into the sandbags beside my head. I whirled around,
+    my first thought being that some one of our own men was trying to
+    do me in. This is a thing that sometimes happens to unpopular
+    officers and less frequently to the men. But not in this case.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It was Issy Epstein. He had been monkeying with his rifle and had
+    shot himself in the hand. Of course, Issy was at once under
+    suspicion of a self-inflicted wound, which is one of the worst
+    crimes in the calendar. But the suspicion was removed instantly.
+    Issy was hopping around, raising a terrific row.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Oi, oi," he wailed. "I'm ruint. I'm ruint. My thimble finger is
+    gone. My thimble finger! I'm ruint. Oi, oi, oi, oi."
+</p>
+<p>
+    The poor fellow was so sincerely desolated over the loss of his
+    necessary finger that I couldn't accuse him of shooting himself
+    intentionally. I detailed a man named Bealer to take Issy back to a
+    dressing station. Well, Bealer never came back.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Months later in England I met up with Epstein and asked about
+    Bealer. It seems that after Issy had been fixed up, the surgeon
+    turned to Bealer and said:
+</p>
+<p>
+    "What's the matter with you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+    Bealer happened to be dreaming of something else and didn't answer.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "I say," barked the doctor, "speak up. What's wrong?"
+</p>
+<p>
+    Bealer was startled and jumped and begun to stutter.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Oh, I see," said the surgeon. "Shell shock."
+</p>
+<p>
+    Bealer was bright enough and quick enough after that to play it up
+    and was tagged for Blighty. He had it thrust upon him. And you can
+    bet he grabbed it and thanked his lucky stars.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We had been on Mill Street a day and a night when an order came for
+    our company to move up to the second line and to be ready to go
+    over the top the next day. At first there was the usual grousing,
+    as there seemed to be no reason why our company should be picked
+    from the whole battalion. We soon learned that all hands were going
+    over, and after that we felt better.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We got our equipment on and started up to the second line. It was
+    right here that I got my first dose of real honest-to-goodness
+    modern war. The big push had been on all summer, and the whole of
+    the Somme district was battered and smashed.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Going up from Mill Street there were no communication trenches. We
+    were right out in the open, exposed to rifle and machine-gun fire
+    and to shrapnel, and the Boches were fairly raining it in on the
+    territory they had been pushed back from and of which they had the
+    range to an inch. We went up under that steady fire for a full
+    hour. The casualties were heavy, and the galling part of it was
+    that we couldn't hurry, it was so dark. Every time a shell burst
+    overhead and the shrapnel pattered in the dirt all about, I kissed
+    myself good-by and thought of the baked beans at home. Men kept
+    falling, and I wished I hadn't enlisted.
+</p>
+<p>
+    When we finally got up to the trench, believe me, we didn't need
+    any orders to get in. We relieved the Black Watch, and they
+    encouraged us by telling us they had lost over half their men in
+    that trench, and that Fritz kept a constant fire on it. They didn't
+    need to tell us. The big boys were coming over all the time.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The dead here were enough to give you the horrors. I had never seen
+    so many before and never saw so many afterwards in one place. They
+    were all over the place, both Germans and our own men. And in all
+    states of mutilation and decomposition.
+</p>
+<p>
+    There were arms and legs sticking out of the trench sides. You
+    could tell their nationality by the uniforms. The Scotch
+    predominated. And their dead lay in the trenches and outside and
+    hanging over the edges. I think it was here that I first got the
+    real meaning of that old quotation about the curse of a dead man's
+    eye. With so many lying about, there were always eyes staring at
+    you.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Sometimes a particularly wide-staring corpse would seem to follow
+    you with his gaze, like one of these posters with the pointing
+    finger that they use to advertise Liberty Bonds. We would cover
+    them up or turn them over. Here and there one would have a scornful
+    death smile on his lips, as though he were laughing at the folly of
+    the whole thing.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The stench here was appalling. That frightful, sickening smell that
+    strikes one in the face like something tangible. Ugh! I immediately
+    grew dizzy and faint and had a mad desire to run. I think if I
+    hadn't been a non-com with a certain small amount of responsibility
+    to live up to, I should have gone crazy.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I managed to pull myself together and placed my men as comfortably
+    as possible. The Germans were five hundred yards away, and there
+    was but little danger of an attack, so comparatively few had to
+    "stand to." The rest took to the shelters.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I found a little two-man shelter that everybody else had avoided
+    and crawled in. I crowded up against a man in there and spoke to
+    him. He didn't answer and then suddenly I became aware of a stench
+    more powerful than ordinary. I put out my hand and thrust it into a
+    slimy, cold mess. I had found a dead German with a gaping,
+    putrefying wound in his abdomen. I crawled out of that shelter,
+    gagging and retching. This time I simply couldn't smother my
+    impulse to run, and run I did, into the next traverse, where I sank
+    weak and faint on the fire step. I sat there the rest of the night,
+    regardless of shells, my mind milling wildly on the problem of war
+    and the reason thereof and cursing myself for a fool.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It was very early in the morning when Wells shook me up with, "Hi
+    sye, Darby, wot the blinkin' blazes is that noise?"
+</p>
+<p>
+    We listened, and away from the rear came a tremendous whirring,
+    burring, rumbling buzz, like a swarm of giant bees. I thought of
+    everything from a Zeppelin to a donkey engine but couldn't make it
+    out. Blofeld ran around the corner of a traverse and told us to get
+    the men out. He didn't know what was coming and wasn't taking any
+    chances.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It was getting a little light though heavily misty. We waited, and
+    then out of the gray blanket of fog waddled the great steel
+    monsters that we were to know afterwards as the "tanks." I shall
+    never forget it.
+</p>
+
+<a name="image-0008"><!--IMG--></a>
+<center>
+<img src="images/yank8.jpg" width="450" height="350"
+alt="Head-on View of a British Tank">
+</center>
+<!--IMAGE END-->
+
+<p>
+    In the half darkness they looked twice as big as they really were.
+    They lurched forward, slow, clumsy but irresistible, nosing down
+    into shell holes and out, crushing the unburied dead, sliding over
+    mere trenches as though they did not exist.
+</p>
+<p>
+    There were five in all. One passed directly over us. We scuttled
+    out of the way, and the men let go a cheer. For we knew that here
+    was something that could and would win battles.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The tanks were an absolutely new thing to us. Their secret had been
+    guarded so carefully even in our own army that our battalion had
+    heard nothing of them.
+</p>
+<p>
+    But we didn't need to be told that they would be effective. One
+    look was enough to convince us. Later it convinced Fritzie.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0010"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER X
+</h2>
+<h3>
+    FOLLOWING THE TANKS INTO BATTLE
+</h3>
+<p>
+    The tanks passed beyond us and half-way up to the first line and
+    stopped. Trapdoors in the decks opened, and the crews poured out
+    and began to pile sandbags in front of the machines so that when
+    day broke fully and the mists lifted, the enemy could not see what
+    had been brought up in the night.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Day dawned, and a frisky little breeze from the west scattered the
+    fog and swept the sky clean. There wasn't a cloud by eight o'clock.
+    The sun shone bright, and we cursed it, for if it had been rainy
+    the attack would not have been made.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We made the usual last preparations that morning, such as writing
+    letters and delivering farewell messages; and the latest rooks made
+    their wills in the little blanks provided for the purpose in the
+    back of the pay books. We judged from the number of dead and the
+    evident punishment other divisions had taken there that the
+    chances of coming back would be slim. Around nine o'clock Captain
+    Green gave us a little talk that confirmed our suspicions that the
+    day was to be a hard one.
+</p>
+<p>
+    He said, as nearly as I can remember:
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Lads, I want to tell you that there is to be a most important
+    battle&mdash;one of the most important in the whole war. High Wood out
+    there commands a view of the whole of this part of the Somme and is
+    most valuable. There are estimated to be about ten thousand Germans
+    in that wood and in the surrounding supports. The positions are
+    mostly of concrete with hundreds of machine guns and field
+    artillery. Our heavies have for some reason made no impression on
+    them, and regiment after regiment has attempted to take the woods
+    and failed with heavy losses. Now it is up to the 47th Division to
+    do the seemingly impossible. Zero is at eleven. We go over then.
+    The best of luck and God bless you."
+</p>
+<p>
+    We were all feeling pretty sour on the world when the sky pilot
+    came along and cheered us up.
+</p>
+<p>
+    He was a good little man, that chaplain, brave as they make 'em.
+    He always went over the top with us and was in the thick of the
+    fighting, and he had the military cross for bravery. He passed down
+    the line, giving us a slap on the back or a hand grip and started
+    us singing. No gospel hymns either, but any old rollicking,
+    good-natured song that he happened to think of that would loosen
+    things up and relieve the tension.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Somehow he made you feel that you wouldn't mind going to hell if he
+    was along, and you knew that he'd be willing to come if he could do
+    any good. A good little man! Peace to his ashes.
+</p>
+<p>
+    At ten o'clock things busted loose, and the most intense
+    bombardment ever known in warfare up to that time began. Thousands
+    of guns, both French and English, in fact every available gun
+    within a radius of fifteen miles, poured it in. In the Bedlamitish
+    din and roar it was impossible to hear the next man unless he put
+    his mouth up close to your ear and yelled.
+</p>
+<p>
+    My ear drums ached, and I thought I should go insane if the racket
+    didn't stop. I was frightfully nervous and scared, but tried not
+    to show it. An officer or a non-com must conceal his nervousness,
+    though he be dying with fright.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The faces of the men were hard-set and pale. Some of them looked
+    positively green. They smoked fag after fag, lighting the new ones
+    on the butts.
+</p>
+<p>
+    All through the bombardment Fritz was comparatively quiet. He was
+    saving all his for the time when we should come over. Probably,
+    too, he was holed up to a large extent in his concrete dug-outs. I
+    looked over the top once or twice and wondered if I, too, would be
+    lying there unburied with the rats and maggots gnawing me into an
+    unrecognizable mass. There were moments in that hour from ten to
+    eleven when I was distinctly sorry for myself.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The time, strangely enough, went fast&mdash;as it probably does with a
+    condemned man in his last hour. At zero minus ten the word went
+    down the line "Ten to go" and we got to the better positions of the
+    trench and secured our footing on the side of the parapet to make
+    our climb over when the signal came. Some of the men gave their
+    bayonets a last fond rub, and I looked to my bolt action to see
+    that it worked well. I had ten rounds in the magazine, and I didn't
+    intend to rely too much on the bayonet. At a few seconds of eleven
+    I looked at my wrist watch and was afflicted again with that empty
+    feeling in the solar plexus. Then the whistles shrilled; I blew
+    mine, and over we went.
+</p>
+<p>
+    To a disinterested spectator who was far enough up in the air to be
+    out of range it must have been a wonderful spectacle to see those
+    thousands of men go over, wave after wave.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The terrain was level out to the point where the little hill of
+    High Wood rose covered with the splintered poles of what had once
+    been a forest. This position and the supports to the left and rear
+    of it began to fairly belch machine-gun and shell fire. If Fritz
+    had been quiet before, he gave us all he had now.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Our battalion went over from the second trench, and we got the
+    cream of it.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The tanks were just ahead of us and lumbered along in an imposing
+    row. They lurched down into deep craters and out again, tipped and
+    reeled and listed, and sometimes seemed as though they must upset;
+    but they came up each time and went on and on. And how slow they
+    did seem to move! Lord, I thought we should never cover that five
+    or six hundred yards.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The tank machine guns were spitting fire over the heads of our
+    first wave, and their Hotchkiss guns were rattling. A beautiful
+    creeping barrage preceded us. Row after row of shells burst at just
+    the right distance ahead, spewing gobs of smoke and flashes of
+    flame, made thin by the bright sunlight. Half a dozen airplanes
+    circled like dragonflies up there in the blue.
+</p>
+<p>
+    There was a tank just ahead of me. I got behind it. And marched
+    there. Slow! God, how slow! Anyhow, it kept off the machine-gun
+    bullets, but not, the shrapnel. It was breaking over us in clouds.
+    I felt the stunning patter of the fragments on my tin hat, cringed
+    under it, and wondered vaguely why it didn't do me in.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Men in the front wave were going down like tenpins. Off there
+    diagonally to the right and forward I glimpsed a blinding burst,
+    and as much as a whole platoon went down.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Around me men were dropping all the time&mdash;men I knew. I saw Dolbsie
+    clawing at his throat as he reeled forward, falling. I saw Vickers
+    double up, drop his rifle, and somersault, hanging on to his
+    abdomen.
+</p>
+<p>
+    A hundred yards away, to the right, an officer walked backwards
+    with an automatic pistol balanced on his finger, smiling, pulling
+    his men along like a drum major. A shell or something hit him. He
+    disappeared in a welter of blood and half a dozen of the front file
+    fell with him.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I thought we must be nearly there and sneaked a look around the
+    edge of the tank. A traversing machine gun raked the mud, throwing
+    up handfuls, and I heard the gruff "row, row" of flattened bullets
+    as they ricocheted off the steel armor. I ducked back, and on we
+    went.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Slow! Slow! I found myself planning what I would do when I got to
+    the front trenches&mdash;if we ever did. There would be a grand rumpus,
+    and I would click a dozen or more.
+</p>
+<p>
+    And then we arrived.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I don't suppose that trip across No Man's Land behind the tanks
+    took over five minutes, but it seemed like an hour.
+</p>
+<p>
+    At the end of it my participation in the battle of High Wood ended.
+    No, I wasn't wounded. But when we reached the Boche front trenches
+    a strange thing happened. There was no fight worth mentioning. The
+    tanks stopped over the trenches and blazed away right and left with
+    their all-around traverse.
+</p>
+<p>
+    A few Boches ran out and threw silly little bombs at the monsters.
+    The tanks, noses in air, moved slowly on. And then the Graybacks
+    swarmed up out of shelters and dug-outs, literally in hundreds, and
+    held up their hands, whining "Mercy, kamarad."
+</p>
+<p>
+    We took prisoners by platoons. Blofeld grabbed me and turned over a
+    gang of thirty to me. We searched them rapidly, cut their
+    suspenders and belts, and I started to the rear with them. They
+    seemed glad to go. So was I.
+</p>
+<p>
+    As we hurried back over the five hundred yards that had been No
+    Man's Land and was now British ground, I looked back and saw the
+    irresistible tanks smashing their way through the tree stumps of
+    High Wood, still spitting death and destruction in three
+    directions.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Going back we were under almost as heavy fire as we had been coming
+    up. When we were about half-way across, shrapnel burst directly
+    over our party and seven of the prisoners were killed and half a
+    dozen wounded. I myself was unscratched. I stuck my hand inside my
+    tunic and patted Dinky on the back, sent up a prayer for some more
+    luck like that, and carried on.
+</p>
+<p>
+    After getting my prisoners back to the rear, I came up again but
+    couldn't find my battalion. I threw in with a battalion of
+    Australians and was with them for twenty-four hours.
+</p>
+<p>
+    When I found my chaps again, the battle of High Wood was pretty
+    well over. Our company for some reason had suffered very few
+    casualties, less than twenty-nine. Company B, however, had been
+    practically wiped out, losing all but thirteen men out of two
+    hundred. The other two companies had less than one hundred
+    casualties. We had lost about a third of our strength. It is a
+    living wonder to me that any of us came through.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I don't believe any of us would have if it hadn't been for the
+    tanks.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The net result of the battle of High Wood was that our troops
+    carried on for nearly two miles beyond the position to be taken.
+    They had to fall back but held the wood and the heights. Three of
+    the tanks were stalled in the farther edge of the woods&mdash;out of
+    fuel&mdash;and remained there for three days unharmed under the fire of
+    the German guns.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Eventually some one ventured out and got some juice into them, and
+    they returned to our lines. The tanks had proved themselves, not
+    only as effective fighting machines, but as destroyers of German
+    morale.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0011"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER XI
+</h2>
+<h3>
+    PRISONERS
+</h3>
+<p>
+    For weeks after our first introduction to the tanks they were the
+    chief topic of conversation in our battalion. And, notwithstanding
+    the fact that we had seen the monsters go into action, had seen
+    what they did and the effect they had on the Boche, the details of
+    their building and of their mechanism remained a mystery for a long
+    time.
+</p>
+<p>
+    For weeks about all we knew about them was what we gathered from
+    their appearance as they reeled along, camouflaged with browns and
+    yellows like great toads, and that they were named with quaint
+    names like "Creme de Menthe" and "Diplodocus."
+</p>
+<p>
+    Eventually I met with a member of the crews who had manned the
+    tanks at the battle of High Wood, and I obtained from him a
+    description of some of his sensations. It was a thing we had all
+    wondered about,&mdash;how the men inside felt as they went over.
+</p>
+<p>
+    My tanker was a young fellow not over twenty-five, a machine
+    gunner, and in a little <i>estaminet</i>, over a glass of citron and
+    soda, he told me of his first battle.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Before we went in," he said, "I was a little bit uncertain as to
+    how we were coming out. We had tried the old boats out and had
+    given them every reasonable test. We knew how much they would stand
+    in the way of shells on top and in the way of bombs or mines
+    underneath. Still there was all the difference between rehearsal
+    and the actual going on the stage.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "When we crawled in through the trapdoor for the first time over,
+    the shut-up feeling got me. I'd felt it before but not that way. I
+    got to imagining what would happen if we got stalled somewhere in
+    the Boche lines, and they built a fire around us. That was natural,
+    because it's hot inside a tank at the best. You mustn't smoke
+    either. I hadn't minded that in rehearsal, but in action I was
+    crazy for a fag.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "We went across, you remember, at eleven, and the sun was shining
+    bright. We were parboiled before we started, and when we got going
+    good it was like a Turkish bath. I was stripped to the waist and
+    was dripping. Besides that, when we begun to give 'em hell, the
+    place filled with gas, and it was stifling. The old boat pitched a
+    good deal going into shell holes, and it was all a man could do to
+    keep his station. I put my nose up to my loop-hole to get air, but
+    only once. The machine-gun bullets were simply rattling on our
+    hide. Tock, tock, tock they kept drumming. The first shell that hit
+    us must have been head on and a direct hit. There was a terrific
+    crash, and the old girl shook all over,&mdash;seemed to pause a little
+    even. But no harm was done. After that we breathed easier. We
+    hadn't been quite sure that the Boche shells wouldn't do us in.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "By the time we got to the Boche trenches, we knew he hadn't
+    anything that could hurt us. We just sat and raked him and laughed
+    and wished it was over, so we could get the air."
+</p>
+<p>
+    I had already seen the effect of the tanks on the Germans. The
+    batch of prisoners who had been turned over to me seemed dazed. One
+    who spoke English said in a quavering voice:
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Gott in Himmel, Kamarad, how could one endure? These things are
+    not human. They are not fair."
+</p>
+<p>
+    That "fair" thing made a hit with me after going against tear gas
+    and hearing about liquid fire and such things.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The great number of the prisoners we took at High Wood were very
+    scared looking at first and very surly. They apparently expected to
+    be badly treated and perhaps tortured. They were tractable enough
+    for the most part. But they needed watching, and they got it from
+    me, as I had heard much of the treachery of the Boche prisoners.
+</p>
+<p>
+    On the way to the rear with my bunch, I ran into a little episode
+    which showed the foolishness of trusting a German,&mdash;particularly an
+    officer.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I was herding my lot along when we came up with about twelve in
+    charge of a young fellow from a Leicester regiment. He was a
+    private, and as most of his non-commissioned officers had been put
+    out of action, he was acting corporal. We were walking together
+    behind the prisoners, swapping notes on the fight, when one of his
+    stopped, and no amount of coaxing would induce him to go any
+    farther. He was an officer, of what rank I don't know, but judging
+    from his age probably a lieutenant.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Finally Crane&mdash;that was the Leicester chap&mdash;went up to the officer,
+    threatened him with his bayonet, and let him know that he was due
+    for the cold steel if he didn't get up and hike.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Whereupon Mr. Fritz pulled an automatic from under his coat&mdash;he
+    evidently had not been carefully searched&mdash;and aimed it at Crane.
+    Crane dove at him and grabbed his wrist, but was too late. The gun
+    went off and tore away Crane's right cheek. He didn't go down,
+    however, and before I could get in without danger to Crane, he
+    polished off the officer on the spot.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The prisoners looked almost pleased. I suppose they knew the
+    officer too well. I bandaged Crane and offered to take his
+    prisoners in, but he insisted upon carrying on. He got very weak
+    from loss of blood after a bit, and I had two of the Boches carry
+    him to the nearest dressing station, where they took care of him. I
+    have often wondered whether the poor chap "clicked" it.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Eventually I got my batch of prisoners back to headquarters and
+    turned them over. I want to say a word right here as to the
+    treatment of the German prisoners by the British. In spite of the
+    verified stories of the brutality shown to the Allied prisoners by
+    the Hun, the English and French have too much humanity to
+    retaliate. Time and again I have seen British soldiers who were
+    bringing in Germans stop and spend their own scanty pocket money
+    for their captives' comfort. I have done it myself.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Almost inevitably the Boche prisoners were expecting harsh
+    treatment. I found several who said that they had been told by
+    their officers that they would be skinned alive if they surrendered
+    to the English. They believed it, and you could hardly blame the
+    poor devils for being scared.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Whenever we were taking prisoners back, we always, unless we were
+    in too much of a hurry, took them to the nearest canteen run by the
+    Y.M.C.A. or by one of the artillery companies, and here we would
+    buy English or American fags. And believe me, they liked them. Any
+    one who has smoked the tobacco issued to the German army could
+    almost understand a soldier surrendering just to get away from it.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Usually, too, we bought bread and sweets, if we could stand the
+    price. The Heinies would bolt the food down as though they were
+    half starved. And it was perfectly clear from the way they went
+    after the luxuries that they got little more than the hard
+    necessities of army fare.
+</p>
+<p>
+    At the battle of High Wood the prisoners we took ran largely to
+    very young fellows and to men of fifty or over. Some of the
+    youngsters said they were only seventeen and they looked not over
+    fifteen. Many of them had never shaved.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I think the sight of those war-worn boys, haggard and hard,
+    already touched with cruelty and blood lust, brought home to me
+    closer than ever before what a hellish thing war is, and how keenly
+    Germany must be suffering, along with the rest of us.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0012"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER XII
+</h2>
+<h3>
+    I BECOME A BOMBER
+</h3>
+<p>
+    When I found my battalion, the battle of High Wood had pretty well
+    quieted down. We had taken the position we went after, and the
+    fighting was going on to the north and beyond the Wood. The Big
+    Push progressed very rapidly as the summer drew to a close. Our men
+    were holding one of the captured positions in the neighborhood of
+    the Wood.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It must have been two days after we went over the top with the
+    tanks that Captain Green had me up and told me that I was promoted.
+    At least that was what he called it. I differed with him, but
+    didn't say so.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The Captain said that as I had had a course in bombing, he thought
+    he would put me in the Battalion Bombers.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I protested that the honor was too great and that I really didn't
+    think I was good enough.
+</p>
+<p>
+    After that the Captain said that he didn't <i>think</i> I was going in
+    the bombers. He <i>knew</i> it. I was elected!
+</p>
+<p>
+    I didn't take any joy whatever in the appointment, but orders are
+    orders and they have to be obeyed. The bombers are called the
+    "Suicide Club" and are well named. The mortality in this branch of
+    the service is as great if not greater than in any other.
+</p>
+<p>
+    In spite of my feelings in the matter, I accepted the decision
+    cheerfully&mdash;like a man being sentenced to be electrocuted&mdash;and
+    managed to convey the impression to Captain Green that I was
+    greatly elated and that I looked forward to future performances
+    with large relish. After that I went back to my shelter and made a
+    new will.
+</p>
+<p>
+    That very night I was called upon to take charge of a bombing party
+    of twelve men. A lieutenant, Mr. May, one of the bravest men I ever
+    knew, was to be of the party and in direct command. I was to have
+    the selection of the men.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Captain Green had me up along with Lieutenant May early in the
+    evening, and as nearly as I can remember these were his
+    instructions:
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Just beyond High Wood and to the left there is a sap or small
+    trench leading to the sunken road that lies between the towns of
+    Albert and Bapaume. That position commands a military point that we
+    find necessary to hold before we can make another attack. The
+    Germans are in the trench. They have two machine guns and will
+    raise the devil with us unless we get them out. It will cost a good
+    many lives if we attempt to take the position by attack, but we are
+    under the impression that a bombing party in the night on a
+    surprise attack will be able to take it with little loss of life.
+    Take your twelve men out there at ten o'clock and <i>take that
+    trench</i>! You will take only bombs with you. You and Mr. May will
+    have revolvers. After taking the trench, consolidate it, and before
+    morning there will be relief sent out to you. The best of luck!'"
+</p>
+<p>
+    The whole thing sounded as simple as ABC. All we had to do was go
+    over there and take the place. The captain didn't say how many
+    Germans there would be nor what they would be doing while we were
+    taking their comfortable little position. Indeed he seemed to quite
+    carelessly leave the Boche out of the reckoning. I didn't. I knew
+    that some of us, and quite probably most of us, would never come
+    back.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I selected my men carefully, taking only the coolest and steadiest
+    and the best bombers. Most of them were men who had been at Dover
+    with me. I felt like an executioner when I notified them of their
+    selection.
+</p>
+<p>
+    At nine-thirty we were ready, stripped to the lightest of necessary
+    equipment. Each of the men was armed with a bucket of bombs. Some
+    carried an extra supply in satchels, so we knew there would be no
+    shortage of Millses.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Lieutenant May took us out over the top on schedule time, and we
+    started for the position to be taken. We walked erect but in the
+    strictest silence for about a thousand yards. At that time the
+    distances were great on the Somme, as the Big Push was in full
+    swing, and the advance had been fast. Trench systems had been
+    demolished, and in many places there were only shell holes and
+    isolated pieces of trench defended by machine guns. The whole
+    movement had progressed so far that the lines were far apart and
+    broken, so much so that in many cases the fighting had come back to
+    the open work of early in the war.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Poking along out there, I had the feeling that we were an awfully
+    long way from the comparative safety of our main body&mdash;too far away
+    for comfort. We were. Any doubts on the matter disappeared before
+    morning.
+</p>
+<p>
+    At the end of the thousand yards Lieutenant May gave the signal to
+    lie down. We lay still half an hour or so and then crawled forward.
+    Fortunately there was no barbed wire, as all entanglements had been
+    destroyed by the terrific bombardment that had been going on for
+    weeks. The Germans made no attempt to repair it nor did we.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We crawled along for about ten minutes, and the Lieutenant passed
+    the word in whispers to get ready, as we were nearly on them. Each
+    of us got out a bomb, pulled the pin with our teeth, and waited for
+    the signal. It was fairly still. Away off to the rear, guns were
+    going, but they seemed a long way off. Forward, and away off to
+    the right beyond the Wood, there was a lot of rifle and machine-gun
+    fire, and we could see the sharp little lavender stabs of flame
+    like electric flashes. It was light enough so that we could see
+    dimly.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Just ahead we could hear the murmur of the Huns as they chatted in
+    the trench. They hadn't seen us. Evidently they didn't suspect and
+    were more or less careless.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The Lieutenant waited until the sound of voices was a little louder
+    than before, the Boches evidently being engaged in a fireside
+    argument of some kind, and then he jumped to his feet shouting,
+    "Now then, my lads. All together!"
+</p>
+<p>
+    We came up all standing and let 'em go. It was about fifteen yards
+    to Fritz, and that is easy to a good bomber, as my men all were. A
+    yell of surprise and fright went up from the trench, and they
+    started to run. We spread out so as to get room, gave them another
+    round of Millses, and rushed.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The trench wasn't really a trench at all. It was the remains of a
+    perfectly good one, but had been bashed all to pieces, and was now
+    only five or six shell craters connected by the ruined traverses.
+    At no point was it more than waist high and in some places only
+    knee high. We swarmed into what was left of the trench and after
+    the Heinies. There must have been forty of them, and it didn't take
+    them long to find out that we were only a dozen. Then they came
+    back at us. We got into a crooked bit of traverse that was in
+    relatively good shape and threw up a barricade of sandbags. There
+    was any amount of them lying about.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The Germans gave us a bomb or two and considerable rifle fire, and
+    we beat it around the corner of the bay. Then we had it back and
+    forth, a regular seesaw game. We would chase them back from the
+    barricade, and then they would rush us and back we would go. After
+    we had lost three men and Lieutenant May had got a slight wound, we
+    got desperate and got out of the trench and rushed them for further
+    orders. We fairly showered them as we followed them up, regardless
+    of danger to ourselves. All this scrap through they hadn't done
+    anything with the machine guns. One was in our end of the trench,
+    and we found that the other was out of commission. They must have
+    been short of small-arm ammunition and bombs, because on that last
+    strafing they cleared out and stayed.
+</p>
+<p>
+    After the row was over we counted noses and found four dead and
+    three slightly wounded, including Lieutenant May. I detailed two
+    men to take the wounded and the Lieutenant back. That left four of
+    us to consolidate the position. The Lieutenant promised to return
+    with relief, but as it turned out he was worse than he thought, and
+    he didn't get back.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I turned to and inspected the position. It was pretty hopeless.
+    There really wasn't much to consolidate. The whole works was
+    knocked about and was only fit for a temporary defence. There were
+    about a dozen German dead, and we searched them but found nothing
+    of value. So we strengthened our cross-trench barricade and waited
+    for the relief. It never came.
+</p>
+<p>
+    When it began to get light, the place looked even more
+    discouraging. There was little or no cover. We knew that unless we
+    got some sort of concealment, the airplanes would spot us, and
+    that we would get a shell or two. So we got out the entrenching
+    tools and dug into the side of the best part of the shallow
+    traverse. We finally got a slight overhang scraped out. We didn't
+    dare go very far under for fear that it would cave. We got some
+    sandbags up on the sides and three of us crawled into the shelter.
+    The other man made a similar place for himself a little distance
+    off.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The day dawned clear and bright and gave promise of being hot.
+    Along about seven we began to get hungry. A Tommy is always hungry,
+    whether he is in danger or not. When we took account of stock and
+    found that none of us had brought along "iron rations", we
+    discovered that we were all nearly starved. Killing is hungry work.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We had only ourselves to blame. We had been told repeatedly never
+    to go anywhere without "iron rations", but Tommy is a good deal of
+    a child and unless you show him the immediate reason for a thing he
+    is likely to disregard instructions. I rather blamed myself in this
+    case for not seeing that the men had their emergency food. In
+    fact, it was my duty to see that they had. But I had overlooked it.
+    And I hadn't brought any myself.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The "iron ration" consists of a pound of "bully beef", a small tin
+    containing tea and sugar enough for two doses, some Oxo cubes, and
+    a few biscuits made of reinforced concrete. They are issued for
+    just such an emergency as we were in as we lay in our isolated
+    dug-out. The soldier is apt to get into that sort of situation
+    almost any time, and it is folly ever to be without the ration.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Well, we didn't have ours, and we knew we wouldn't get any before
+    night, if we did then. One thing we had too much of. That was rum.
+    The night before a bunch of us had been out on a ration party, and
+    we had come across a Brigade Dump. This is a station where rations
+    are left for the various companies to come and draw their own, also
+    ammo and other necessities. There was no one about, and we had gone
+    through the outfit. We found two cases of rum, four gallons in a
+    case, and we promptly filled our bottles, more than a pint each.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Tommy is always very keen on his rum. The brand used in the army is
+    high proof and burns like fire going down, but it is warming. The
+    regular ration as served after a cold sentry go is called a "tot."
+    It is enough to keep the cold out and make a man wish he had
+    another. The average Tommy will steal rum whenever he can without
+    the danger of getting caught.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It happened that all four of us were in the looting party and had
+    our bottles full. Also it happened that we were all normally quite
+    temperate and hadn't touched our supply.
+</p>
+<p>
+    So we all took a nip and tightened up our belts. Then we took
+    another and another. We lay on our backs with our heads out of the
+    burrow, packed in like sardines and looking up at the sky. Half a
+    dozen airplanes came out and flew over. We had had a hard night and
+    we all dozed off, at least I did, and I guess the others did also.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Around nine we all waked up, and Bones&mdash;he was the fellow in the
+    middle&mdash;began to complain of thirst. Then we all took another nip
+    and wished it was water. We discussed the matter of crawling down
+    to a muddy pool at the end of the traverse and having some out of
+    that, but passed it up as there was a dead man lying in it. Bones,
+    who was pretty well educated&mdash;he once asked me if I had visited
+    Emerson's home and was astounded that I hadn't&mdash;quoted from Kipling
+    something to the effect that,
+</p>
+<p class="poem">
+        When you come to slaughter<br>
+        You'll do your work on water, <br>
+        An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Then Bones cursed the rum and took another nip. So did the rest of
+    us.
+</p>
+<p>
+    There was a considerable bombardment going on all the forenoon, but
+    few shells came anywhere near us. Some shrapnel burst over us a
+    little way off to the right, and some of the fragments fell in the
+    trench, but on the whole the morning was uncomfortable but not
+    dangerous.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Around half-past ten we saw an airplane fight that was almost worth
+    the forenoon's discomfort. A lot of them had been circling around
+    ever since daybreak. When the fight started, two of our planes were
+    nearly over us. Suddenly we saw three Boche planes volplaning down
+    from away up above. They grew bigger and bigger and opened with
+    their guns when they were nearly on top of our fellows. No hits.
+    Then all five started circling for top position. One of the Boches
+    started to fall and came down spinning, but righted himself not
+    more than a thousand feet up. Our anti air-craft guns opened on
+    him, and we could see the shells bursting with little cottony puffs
+    all around. Some of the shrapnel struck near us. They missed him,
+    and up he went again. Presently all five came circling lower and
+    lower, jockeying for position and spitting away with their guns. As
+    they all got to the lower levels, the anti air-craft guns stopped
+    firing, fearing to get our men.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Suddenly one of the Huns burst into flames and came toppling down
+    behind his lines, his gas tank ablaze. Almost immediately one of
+    ours dropped, also burning and behind the Boche lines.
+</p>
+<p>
+    After that it was two to one, and the fight lasted more than ten
+    minutes. Then down went a Hun, not afire but tumbling end over end
+    behind our lines. I learned afterwards that this fellow was unhurt
+    and was taken prisoner. That left it an even thing. We could see
+    half a dozen planes rushing to attack the lone Boche. He saw them
+    too. For he turned tail and skedaddled for home.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Bonesie began to philosophize on the cold-bloodedness of air
+    fighting and really worked himself up into an almost optimistic
+    frame of mind. He was right in the midst of a flowery oration on
+    our comparative safety, "nestling on the bosom of Mother Earth",
+    when, without any warning whatever, there came a perfect avalanche
+    of shell all around us.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I knew perfectly well that we were caught. The shells, as near as
+    we could see, were coming from our side. Doubtless our people
+    thought that the trench was still manned by Germans, and they were
+    shelling for the big noon attack. Such an attack was made, as I
+    learned afterwards, but I never saw it.
+</p>
+<p>
+    At eleven o'clock I looked at my watch. Somehow I didn't fear
+    death, although I felt it was near. Maybe the rum was working. I
+    turned to Bonesie and said, "What about that safety stuff, old
+    top?"
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Cheer, cheer, Darby," said he. "We may pull through yet."
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Don't think so," I insisted. "It's us for pushing up the daisies.
+    Good luck if we don't meet again!"
+</p>
+<p>
+    I put my hand in and patted Dinky on the back, and sent up another
+    little prayer for luck. Then there was a terrific shock, and
+    everything went black.
+</p>
+<p>
+    When I came out of it, I had the sensation of struggling up out of
+    water. I thought for an instant that I was drowning. And in effect
+    that was almost what was happening to me. I was buried, all but one
+    side of my face. A tremendous weight pressed down on me, and I
+    could only breathe in little gasps.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I tried to move my legs and arms and couldn't. Then I wiggled my
+    fingers and toes to see if any bones were broken. They wiggled all
+    right. My right nostril and eye were full of dirt; also my mouth. I
+    spit out the dirt and moved my head until my nose and eye were
+    clear. I ached all over.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It was along toward sundown. Up aloft a single airplane was winging
+    toward our lines. I remember that I wondered vaguely if he was the
+    same fellow who had been fighting just before the world fell in on
+    me.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I tried to sing out to the rest of the men, but the best I could do
+    was a kind of loud gurgle. There was no answer. My head was
+    humming, and the blood seemed to be bursting my ears. I was
+    terribly sorry for myself and tried to pull my strength together
+    for a big try at throwing the weight off my chest, but I was
+    absolutely helpless. Then again I slid out of consciousness.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It was dark when I struggled up through the imaginary water again.
+    I was still breathing in gasps, and I could feel my heart going in
+    great thumps that hurt and seemed to shake the ground. My tongue
+    was curled up and dry, and fever was simply burning me up. My mind
+    was clear, and I wished that I hadn't drunk that rum. Finding I
+    could raise my head a little, I cocked it up, squinting over my
+    cheek bones&mdash;I was on my back&mdash;and could catch the far-off flicker
+    of the silver-green flare lights. There was a rattle of musketry
+    off in the direction where the Boche lines ought to be. From behind
+    came the constant boom of big guns. I lay back and watched the
+    stars, which were bright and uncommonly low. Then a shell burst
+    near by,&mdash;not near enough to hurt,&mdash;but buried as I was the whole
+    earth seemed to shake. My heart stopped beating, and I went out
+    again.
+</p>
+<p>
+    When I came to the next time, it was still dark, and somebody was
+    lifting me on to a stretcher. My first impression was of getting a
+    long breath. I gulped it down, and with every grateful inhalation I
+    felt my ribs painfully snapping back into place. Oh, Lady! Didn't I
+    just eat that air up.
+</p>
+<p>
+    And then, having gotten filled up with the long-denied oxygen, I
+    asked, "Where's the others?"
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Ayen't no hothers," was the brief reply.
+</p>
+<p>
+    And there weren't. Later I reconstructed the occurrences of the
+    night from what I was told by the rescuing party.
+</p>
+<p>
+    A big shell had slammed down on us, drilling Bonesie, the man in
+    the middle, from end to end. He was demolished. The shell was a
+    "dud", that is, it didn't explode. If it had, there wouldn't have
+    been anything whatever left of any of us. As it was our overhang
+    caved in, letting sandbags and earth down on the remaining man and
+    myself. The other man was buried clean under. He had life in him
+    still when he was dug out but "went west" in about ten minutes.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The fourth man was found dead from shrapnel. I found, too, that the
+    two unwounded men who had gone back with Lieutenant May had both
+    been killed on the way in. So out of the twelve men who started on
+    the "suicide club" stunt I was the only one left. Dinky was still
+    inside my tunic, and I laid the luck all to him.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Back in hospital I was found to be suffering from shell shock. Also
+    my heart was pushed out of place. There were no bones broken,
+    though I was sore all over, and several ribs were pulled around so
+    that it was like a knife thrust at every breath. Besides that, my
+    nerves were shattered. I jumped a foot at the slightest noise and
+    twitched a good deal.
+</p>
+<p>
+    At the end of a week I asked the M.O. if I would get Blighty and he
+    said he didn't think so, not directly. He rather thought that they
+    would keep me in hospital for a month or two and see how I came
+    out. The officer was a Canadian and had a sense of humor and was
+    most affable. I told him if this jamming wasn't going to get me
+    Blighty, I wanted to go back to duty and get a real one. He laughed
+    and tagged me for a beach resort at Ault-Onival on the northern
+    coast of France.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I was there a week and had a bully time. The place had been a
+    fashionable watering place before the war, and when I was there the
+    transient population was largely wealthy Belgians. They entertained
+    a good deal and did all they could for the pleasure of the four
+    thousand boys who were at the camp. The Y.M.C.A. had a huge tent
+    and spread themselves in taking care of the soldiers. There were
+    entertainments almost every night, moving pictures, and music. The
+    food was awfully good and the beds comfortable, and that pretty
+    nearly spells heaven to a man down from the front.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Best of all, the bathing was fine, and it was possible to keep the
+    cooties under control,&mdash;more or less. I went in bathing two and
+    three times daily as the sloping shore made it just as good at low
+    tide as at high.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I think that glorious week at the beach made the hardships of the
+    front just left behind almost worth while. My chum, Corporal Wells,
+    who had a quaint Cockney philosophy, used to say that he liked to
+    have the stomach ache because it felt so good when it stopped. On
+    the same theory I became nearly convinced that a month in the
+    trenches was good fun because it felt so good to get out.
+</p>
+<p>
+    At the end of the week I was better but still shaky. I started
+    pestering the M.O. to tag me for Blighty. He wouldn't, so I sprung
+    the same proposition on him that I had on the doctor at the
+    base,&mdash;to send me back to duty if he couldn't send me to England.
+    The brute took me at my word and sent me back to the battalion.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I rejoined on the Somme again just as they were going back for the
+    second time in that most awful part of the line. Many of the old
+    faces were gone. Some had got the wooden cross, and some had gone
+    to Blighty.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I sure was glad when old Wellsie hopped out and grabbed me.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Gawd lumme, Darby," he said. "Hi sye, an' me thinkin' as 'ow you
+    was back in Blighty. An' 'ere ye are yer blinkin' old self. Or is
+    it yer bloomin' ghost. I awsks ye. Strike me pink, Yank. I'm glad."
+</p>
+<p>
+    And he was. At that I did feel more or less ghostly. I seemed to
+    have lost some of my confidence. I expected to "go west" on the
+    next time in. And that's a bad way to feel out there.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0013"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER XIII
+</h2>
+<h3>
+    BACK ON THE SOMME AGAIN
+</h3>
+<p>
+    When I rejoined the battalion they were just going into the Somme
+    again after a two weeks' rest. They didn't like it a bit.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Gawd lumme," says Wellsie, "'ave we got to fight th' 'ole blinkin'
+    war. Is it right? I awsks yer. Is it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+    It was all wrong. We had been told after High Wood that we would
+    not have to go into action again in that part of the line but that
+    we would have a month of rest and after that would be sent up to
+    the Ypres sector. "Wipers" hadn't been any garden of roses early in
+    the war, but it was paradise now compared with the Somme.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It was a sad lot of men when we swung out on the road again back to
+    the Somme, and there was less singing than usual. That first night
+    we remained at Mametz Wood. We figured that we would get to kip
+    while the kipping was good. There were some old Boche dug-outs in
+    fair condition, and we were in a fair way to get comfortable. No
+    luck!
+</p>
+<p>
+    We were hardly down to a good sleep when C company was called to
+    fall in without equipment, and we knew that meant fatigue of some
+    sort. I have often admired the unknown who invented that word
+    "fatigue" as applied in a military term. He used it as a disguise
+    for just plain hard work. It means anything whatever in the way of
+    duty that does not have to do directly with the manning of the
+    trenches.
+</p>
+<p>
+    This time we clicked a burial fatigue. It was my first. I never
+    want another. I took a party of ten men and we set out, armed with
+    picks and shovels, and, of course, rifles and bandoliers (cloth
+    pockets containing fifty rounds of ammo).
+</p>
+<p>
+    We hiked three miles up to High Wood and in the early morning began
+    the job of getting some of the dead under ground. We were almost
+    exactly in the same place from which we had gone over after the
+    tanks. I kept expecting all the time to run across the bodies of
+    some of our own men. It was a most unpleasant feeling.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Some cleaning up had already been done, so the place was not so bad
+    as it had been, but it was bad enough. The advance had gone forward
+    so far that we were practically out of shell range, and we were
+    safe working.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The burial method was to dig a pit four feet deep and big enough to
+    hold six men. Then we packed them in. The worst part of it was that
+    most of the bodies were pretty far gone and in the falling away
+    stage. It was hard to move them. I had to put on my gas mask to
+    endure the stench and so did some of the other men. Some who had
+    done this work before rather seemed to like it.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I would search a body for identification marks and jot down the
+    data found on a piece of paper. When the man was buried under, I
+    would stick a rifle up over him and tuck the record into the trap
+    in the butt of the gun where the oil bottle is carried.
+</p>
+<p>
+    When the pioneers came up, they would remove the rifle and
+    substitute a little wooden cross with the name painted on it. The
+    indifference with which the men soon came to regard this burial
+    fatigue was amazing. I remember one incident of that first morning,
+    a thing that didn't seem at all shocking at the time, but which,
+    looking back upon it, illustrates the matter-of-factness of the
+    soldier's viewpoint on death.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Hi sye, Darby," sang out one fellow. "Hi got a blighter 'ere wif
+    only one leg. Wot'll Hi do wif 'im?"
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Put him under with only one, you blinking idiot," said I.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Presently he called out again, this time with a little note of
+    satisfaction and triumph in his voice.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Darby, Hi sye. I got a leg for that bleeder. Fits 'im perfect."
+</p>
+<p>
+    Well, I went over and took a look and to my horror found that the
+    fool had stuck a German leg on the body, high boot and all. I
+    wouldn't stand for that and had it out again. I wasn't going to
+    send a poor fellow on his last pilgrimage with any Boche leg, and
+    said so. Later I heard this undertaking genius of a Tommy grousing
+    and muttering to himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Cawn't please Darby," says he, "no matter wot. Fawncy the
+    blighter'd feel better wif two legs, if one was Boche. It's a fair
+    crime sendin' 'im hover the river wif only one."
+</p>
+<p>
+    I was sure thankful when that burial fatigue was over, and early in
+    the forenoon we started back to rest.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Rest, did I say? Not that trip. We were hardly back to Mametz and
+    down to breakfast when along came an order to fall in for a
+    carrying party. All that day we carried boxes of Millses up to the
+    dump that was by High Wood, three long miles over hard going. Being
+    a corporal had its compensations at this game, as I had no carrying
+    to do; but inasmuch as the bombs were moved two boxes to a man, I
+    got my share of the hard work helping men out of holes and lending
+    a hand when they were mired.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Millses are packed with the bombs and detonators separate in the
+    box, and the men are very careful in the handling of them. So the
+    moving of material of this kind is wearing.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Another line of man-killers that we had to move were "toffy
+    apples." This quaint toy is a huge bomb, perfectly round and
+    weighing sixty pounds, with a long rod or pipe which inserts into
+    the mortar. Toffy apples are about the awkwardest thing imaginable
+    to carry.
+</p>
+<p>
+    This carrying stunt went on for eight long days and nights. We
+    worked on an average sixteen hours a day. It rained nearly all the
+    time, and we never got dried out. The food was awful, as the
+    advance had been so fast that it was almost impossible to get up
+    the supplies, and the men in the front trenches had the first pick
+    of the grub. It was also up to us to get the water up to the front.
+    The method on this was to use the five-gallon gasoline cans.
+    Sometimes they were washed out, oftener they weren't. Always the
+    water tasted of gas. We got the same thing, and several times I
+    became sick drinking the stuff.
+</p>
+<p>
+    When that eight days of carrying was over, we were so fed up that
+    we didn't care whether we clicked or not. Maybe it was good mental
+    preparation for what was to come, for on top of it all it turned
+    out that we were to go over the top in another big attack.
+</p>
+<p>
+    When we got that news, I got Dinky out and scolded him. Maybe I'd
+    better tell you all about Dinky before I go any farther. Soldiers
+    are rather prone to superstitions. Relieved of all responsibility
+    and with most of their thinking done for them, they revert
+    surprisingly quick to a state of more or less savage mentality.
+    Perhaps it would be better to call the state childlike. At any rate
+    they accumulate a lot of fool superstitions and hang to them. The
+    height of folly and the superlative invitation to bad luck is
+    lighting three fags on one match. When that happens one of the
+    three is sure to click it soon.
+</p>
+<p>
+    As one out of any group of three anywhere stands a fair chance of
+    "getting his", fag or no fag, the thing is reasonably sure to work
+    out according to the popular belief. Most every man has his unlucky
+    day in the trenches. One of mine was Monday. The others were
+    Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Practically every soldier carries some kind of mascot or charm. A
+    good many are crucifixes and religious tokens. Some are coins.
+    Corporal Wells had a sea shell with three little black spots on
+    it. He considered three his lucky number. Thirteen was mine. My
+    mascot was the aforesaid and much revered Dinky. Dinky was and is a
+    small black cat made of velvet. He's entirely flat except his head,
+    which is becomingly round with yellow glass eyes. I carried Dinky
+    inside my tunic always and felt safer with him there. He hangs at
+    the head of my bed now and I feel better with him there. I realize
+    perfectly that all this sounds like tommyrot, and that superstition
+    may be a relic of barbarism and ignorance. Never mind! Wellsie
+    sized the situation up one day when we were talking about this very
+    thing.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Maybe my shell ayen't doin' me no good," says Wells. "Maybe Dinky
+    ayen't doin' you no good. But 'e ayen't doin' ye no 'arm. So 'ang
+    on to 'im."
+</p>
+<p>
+    I figure that if there's anything in war that "ayen't doin' ye no
+    'arm", it is pretty good policy to "'ang on to it."
+</p>
+<p>
+    It was Sunday the eighth day of October that the order came to move
+    into what was called the "O.G.I.", that is, the old German first
+    line. You will understand that this was the line the Boches had
+    occupied a few days before and out of which they had been driven in
+    the Big Push. In front of this trench was Eaucort Abbaye, which had
+    been razed with the aid of the tanks.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We had watched this battle from the rear from the slight elevation
+    of High Wood, and it had been a wonderful sight to see other men go
+    out over the top without having ourselves to think about. They had
+    poured out, wave after wave, a large part of them Scotch with their
+    kilted rumps swinging in perfect time, a smashing barrage going on
+    ahead, and the tanks lumbering along with a kind of clumsy majesty.
+    When they hit the objective, the tanks crawled in and made short
+    work of it.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The infantry had hard work of it after the positions were taken, as
+    there were numerous underground caverns and passages which had to
+    be mopped out. This was done by dropping smoke bombs in the
+    entrances and smoking the Boches out like bees.
+</p>
+<p>
+    When we came up, we inherited these underground shelters, and they
+    were mighty comfortable after the kipping in the muck. There were
+    a lot of souvenirs to be picked up, and almost everybody annexed
+    helmets and other truck that had been left behind by the Germans.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Sometimes it was dangerous to go after souvenirs too greedily. The
+    inventive Hun had a habit of fixing up a body with a bomb under it
+    and a tempting wrist watch on the hand. If you started to take the
+    watch, the bomb went off, and after that you didn't care what time
+    it was.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I accumulated a number of very fine razors, and one of the
+    saw-tooth bayonets the Boche pioneers use. This is a perfectly
+    hellish weapon that slips in easily and mangles terribly when it is
+    withdrawn. I had thought that I would have a nice collection of
+    souvenirs to take to Blighty if I ever got leave. I got the leave
+    all right, and shortly, but the collection stayed behind.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The dug-out that Number 10 drew was built of concrete and was big
+    enough to accommodate the entire platoon. We were well within the
+    Boche range and early in the day had several casualties, one of
+    them a chap named Stransfield, a young Yorkshireman who was a very
+    good friend of mine. Stransie was sitting on the top step cleaning
+    his rifle and was blown to pieces by a falling shell. After that we
+    kept to cover all day and slept all the time. We needed it after
+    the exhausting work of the past eight days.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It was along about dark when I was awakened by a runner from
+    headquarters, which was in a dug-out a little way up the line, with
+    word that the platoon commanders were wanted. I happened to be in
+    command of the platoon, as Mr. Blofeld was acting second in command
+    of the company, Sergeant Page was away in Havre as instructor for a
+    month, and I was next senior.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I thought that probably this was merely another detail for some
+    fatigue, so I asked Wells if he would go. He did and in about half
+    an hour came back with a face as long as my arm. I was sitting on
+    the fire step cleaning my rifle and Wellsie sank dejectedly down
+    beside me.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Darby," he sighed hopelessly, "wot th' blinkin' 'ell do you think
+    is up now?"
+</p>
+<p>
+    I hadn't the faintest idea and said so. I had, however, as the
+    educated Bones used to say "a premonition of impending disaster."
+    As a premonitor I was a success. Disaster was right.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Wellsie sighed again and spilled the news.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "We're goin' over th' bleedin' top at nine. We don't 'ave to carry
+    no tools. We're in the first bloomin' wave."
+</p>
+<p>
+    Going without tools was supposed to be a sort of consolation for
+    being in the first wave. The other three waves carry either picks
+    or shovels. They consolidate the trenches after they have been
+    taken by the first wave. That is, they turn the trench around,
+    facing the other way, to be ready for a counter attack. It is a
+    miserable job. The tools are heavy and awkward, and the last waves
+    get the cream of the artillery fire, as the Boche naturally does
+    not want to take the chance of shelling the first wave for fear of
+    getting his own men. However, the first wave gets the machine-gun
+    fire and gets it good. At that the first wave is the preference. I
+    have heard hundreds of men say so. Probably the reason is that a
+    bullet, unless it is explosive, makes a relatively clean wound,
+    while a shell fragment may mangle fearfully.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Wells and I were talking over the infernal injustice of the
+    situation when another runner arrived from the Sergeant Major's,
+    ordering us up for the rum issue. I went up for the rum and left
+    Wells to break the news about going over.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I got an extra large supply, as the Sergeant Major was good
+    humored. It was the last rum he ever served. I got enough for the
+    full platoon and then some, which was a lot, as the platoon was
+    well down in numbers owing to casualties. I went among the boys
+    with a spoon and the rum in a mess tin and served out two tots
+    instead of the customary one. After that all hands felt a little
+    better, but not much. They were all fagged out after the week's
+    hard work. I don't think I ever saw a more discouraged lot getting
+    ready to go over. For myself I didn't seem to care much, I was in
+    such rotten condition physically. I rather hoped it would be my
+    last time.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0014"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER XIV
+</h2>
+<h3>
+    THE LAST TIME OVER THE TOP
+</h3>
+<p>
+    A general cleaning of rifles started, although it was dark. Mine
+    was already in good shape, and I leaned it against the side of the
+    trench and went below for the rest of my equipment. While I was
+    gone, a shell fragment undid all my work by smashing the breech.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I had seen a new short German rifle in the dug-out with a bayonet
+    and ammo, and decided to use that. I hid all my souvenirs, planning
+    to get them when I came out if I ever came out. I hadn't much nerve
+    left after the bashing I had taken a fortnight before and didn't
+    hold much hope.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Our instructions were of the briefest. It was the old story that
+    there would probably be little resistance, if any. There would be a
+    few machine guns to stop us, but nothing more. The situation we had
+    to handle was this: A certain small sector had held on the attacks
+    of the few previous days, and the line had bent back around it.
+    All we had to do was to straighten the line. We had heard this old
+    ghost story too often to believe a word of it.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Our place had been designated where we were to get into extended
+    formation, and our general direction was clear. We filed out of the
+    trench at eight-thirty, and as we passed the other platoons,&mdash;we
+    had been to the rear,&mdash;they tossed us the familiar farewell hail,
+    "The best o' luck, mytie."
+</p>
+<p>
+    We soon found ourselves in the old sunken road that ran in front of
+    Eaucort Abbaye. At this point we were not under observation, as a
+    rise in the ground would have protected us even though it had been
+    daylight. The moon was shining brilliantly, and we knew that it
+    would not be anything in the nature of a surprise attack. We got
+    into extended formation and waited for the order to advance. I
+    thought I should go crazy during that short wait. Shells had begun
+    to burst over and around us, and I was sure the next would be mine.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Presently one burst a little behind me, and down went Captain Green
+    and the Sergeant Major with whom he had been talking. Captain
+    Green died a few days later at Rouen, and the Sergeant Major lost
+    an arm. This was a hard blow right at the start, and it spelled
+    disaster. Everything started to go wrong. Mr. Blofeld was in
+    command, and another officer thought that he was in charge. We got
+    conflicting orders, and there was one grand mix-up. Eventually we
+    advanced and went straight up over the ridge. We walked slap-bang
+    into perfectly directed fire. Torrents of machine-gun bullets
+    crackled about us, and we went forward with our heads down, like
+    men facing into a storm. It was a living marvel that any one could
+    come through it.
+</p>
+<p>
+    A lot of them didn't. Mr. Blofeld, who was near me, leaped in the
+    air, letting go a hideous yell. I ran to him, disregarding the
+    instruction not to stop to help any one. He was struck in the
+    abdomen with an explosive bullet and was done for. I felt terribly
+    about Mr. Blofeld, as he had been a good friend to me. He was the
+    finest type of officer of the new English army, the rare sort who
+    can be democratic and yet command respect. He had talked with me
+    often, and I knew of his family and home life. He was more like an
+    elder brother to me than a superior officer. I left Mr. Blofeld and
+    went on.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The hail of bullets grew even worse. They whistled and cracked and
+    squealed, and I began to wonder why on earth I didn't get mine. Men
+    were falling on all sides and the shrieks of those hit were the
+    worst I had heard. The darkness made it worse, and although I had
+    been over the top before by daylight this was the last limit of
+    hellishness. And nothing but plain, unmixed machine-gun fire. As
+    yet there was no artillery action to amount to anything.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Once again I put my hand inside my tunic and stroked Dinky and said
+    to him, "For God's sake, Dink, see me through this time." I meant
+    it too. I was actually praying,&mdash;to my mascot. I realize that this
+    was plain, unadulterated, heathenish fetish worship, but it shows
+    what a man reverts to in the barbaric stress of war.
+</p>
+<p>
+    By this time we were within about thirty yards of the Boche parapet
+    and could see them standing shoulder to shoulder on the fire step,
+    swarms of them, packed in, with the bayonets gleaming. Machine
+    guns were emplaced and vomiting death at incredibly short intervals
+    along the parapet. Flares were going up continuously, and it was
+    almost as light as day.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We were terribly outnumbered, and the casualties had already been
+    so great that I saw we were in for the worst thing we had ever
+    known. Moreover, the next waves hadn't appeared behind us.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I was in command, as all the officers and non-coms so far as I
+    could make out had snuffed. I signalled to halt and take cover, my
+    idea being to wait for the other waves to catch up. The men needed
+    no second invitation to lie low. They rolled into the shell holes
+    and burrowed where there was no cover.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I drew a pretty decent hole myself, and a man came pitching in on
+    top of me, screaming horribly. It was Corporal Hoskins, a close
+    friend of mine. He had it in the stomach and clicked in a minute or
+    two.
+</p>
+<p>
+    During the few minutes that I lay in that hole, I suffered the
+    worst mental anguish I ever knew. Seeing so many of my closest
+    chums go west so horribly had nearly broken me, shaky as I was when
+    the attack started. I was dripping with sweat and frightfully
+    nauseated. A sudden overpowering impulse seized me to get out in
+    the open and have it over with. I was ready to die.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Sooner than I ought, for the second wave had not yet shown up, I
+    shrilled the whistle and lifted them out. It was a hopeless charge,
+    but I was done. I would have gone at them alone. Anything to close
+    the act. To blazes with everything!
+</p>
+<p>
+    As I scrambled out of the shell hole, there was a blinding,
+    ear-splitting explosion slightly to my left, and I went down. I did
+    not lose consciousness entirely. A red-hot iron was through my
+    right arm, and some one had hit me on the left shoulder with a
+    sledge hammer. I felt crushed,&mdash;shattered.
+</p>
+<p>
+    My impressions of the rest of that night are, for the most part,
+    vague and indistinct; but in spots they stand out clear and vivid.
+    The first thing I knew definitely was when Smith bent over me,
+    cutting the sleeve out of my tunic.
+</p>
+<p>
+    "It's a Blighty one," says Smithy. That was some consolation. I was
+    back in the shell hole, or in another, and there were five or six
+    other fellows piled in there too. All of them were dead except
+    Smith and a man named Collins, who had his arm clean off, and
+    myself. Smith dressed my wound and Collins', and said:
+</p>
+<p>
+    "We'd better get out of here before Fritz rushes us. The attack was
+    a ruddy failure, and they'll come over and bomb us out of here."
+</p>
+<p>
+    Smith and I got out of the hole and started to crawl. It appeared
+    that he had a bullet through the thigh, though he hadn't said
+    anything about it before. We crawled a little way, and then the
+    bullets were flying so thick that I got an insane desire to run and
+    get away from them. I got to my feet and legged it. So did Smith,
+    though how he did it with a wounded thigh I don't know.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The next thing I remember I was on a stretcher. The beastly thing
+    swayed and pitched, and I got seasick. Then came another crash
+    directly over head, and out I went again. When I came to, my head
+    was as clear as a bell. A shell had burst over us and had killed
+    one stretcher bearer. The other had disappeared. Smith was there.
+    He and I got to our feet and put our arms around each other and
+    staggered on. The next I knew I was in the Cough Drop dressing
+    station, so called from the peculiar formation of the place. We had
+    tea and rum here and a couple of fags from a sergeant major of the
+    R.A.M.C.
+</p>
+<p>
+    After that there was a ride on a flat car on a light railway and
+    another in an ambulance with an American driver. Snatches of
+    conversation about Broadway and a girl in Newark floated back, and
+    I tried to work up ambition enough to sing out and ask where the
+    chap came from. So far I hadn't had much pain. When we landed in a
+    regular dressing station, the M.O. gave me another going over and
+    said,
+</p>
+<p>
+    "Blighty for you, son." I had a piece of shrapnel or something
+    through the right upper arm, clearing the bone and making a hole
+    about as big as a half dollar. My left shoulder was full of
+    shrapnel fragments, and began to pain like fury. More tea. More
+    rum. More fags. Another faint. When I woke up the next time,
+    somebody was sticking a hypodermic needle into my chest with a shot
+    of anti-lockjaw serum, and shortly after I was tucked away in a
+    white enameled Red Cross train with a pretty nurse taking my
+    temperature. I loved that nurse. She looked sort of cool and holy.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I finally brought up in General Hospital Number 12 in Rouen. I was
+    there four days and had a real bath,&mdash;a genuine boiling out. Also
+    had some shrapnel picked out of my anatomy. I got in fairly good
+    shape, though still in a good deal of dull pain. It was a glad day
+    when they put a batch of us on a train for Havre, tagged for
+    Blighty. We went direct from the train to the hospital ship,
+    <i>Carisbrook Castle</i>. The quarters were good,&mdash;real bunks, clean
+    sheets, good food, careful nurses. It was some different from the
+    crowded transport that had taken me over to France.
+</p>
+<p>
+    There were a lot of German prisoners aboard, wounded, and we
+    swapped stories with them. It was really a lot of fun comparing
+    notes, and they were pretty good chaps on the whole. They were as
+    glad as we were to see land. Their troubles were over for the
+    duration of the war.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Never shall I forget that wonderful morning when I looked out and
+    saw again the coast of England, hazy under the mists of dawn. It
+    looked like the promised land. And it was. It meant freedom again
+    from battle, murder, and sudden death, from trenches and stenches,
+    rats, cooties, and all the rest that goes to make up the worst of
+    man-made inventions, war.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It was Friday the thirteenth. And don't let anybody dare say that
+    date is unlucky. For it brought me back to the best thing that can
+    gladden the eyes of a broken Tommy. Blighty! Blighty!! Blighty!!!
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0015"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER XV
+</h2>
+<h3>
+    BITS OF BLIGHTY
+</h3>
+<p>
+    Blighty meant life,&mdash;life and happiness and physical comfort. What
+    we had left behind over there was death and mutilation and bodily
+    and mental suffering. Up from the depths of hell we came and
+    reached out our hands with pathetic eagerness to the good things
+    that Blighty had for us.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I never saw a finer sight than the faces of those boys, glowing
+    with love, as they strained their eyes for the first sight of the
+    homeland. Those in the bunks below, unable to move, begged those on
+    deck to come down at the first land raise and tell them how it all
+    looked.
+</p>
+<p>
+    A lump swelled in my throat, and I prayed that I might never go
+    back to the trenches. And I prayed, too, that the brave boys still
+    over there might soon be out of it.
+</p>
+<p>
+    We steamed into the harbor of Southampton early in the afternoon.
+    Within an hour all of those that could walk had gone ashore. As we
+    got into the waiting trains the civilian populace cheered. I, like
+    everybody else I suppose, had dreamed often of coming back sometime
+    as a hero and being greeted as a hero. But the cheering, though it
+    came straight from the hearts of a grateful people, seemed, after
+    all, rather hollow. I wanted to get somewhere and rest.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It seemed good to look out of the windows and see the signs printed
+    in English. That made it all seem less like a dream.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I was taken first to the Clearing Hospital at Eastleigh. As we got
+    off the train there the people cheered again, and among the
+    civilians were many wounded men who had just recently come back.
+    They knew how we felt.
+</p>
+<a name="image-0006"><!--IMG--></a>
+<center>
+<img src="images/yank6.jpg" width="322" height="450"
+alt="Corporal Holmes with Staff Nurse and Another
+Patient, at Fulham Military Hospital, London, S.W.">
+</center>
+<!--IMAGE END-->
+<p>
+    The first thing at the hospital was a real honest-to-God bath. <i>In
+    a tub. With hot water!</i> Heavens, how I wallowed. The orderly helped
+    me and had to drag me out. I'd have stayed in that tub all night if
+    he would have let me.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Out of the tub I had clean things straight through, with a neat
+    blue uniform, and for once was free of the cooties. The old
+    uniform, blood-stained and ragged, went to the baking and
+    disinfecting plant.
+</p>
+<p>
+    That night all of us newly arrived men who could went to the
+    Y.M.C.A. to a concert given in our honor. The chaplain came around
+    and cheered us up and gave us good fags.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Next morning I went around to the M.O. He looked my arm over and
+    calmly said that it would have to come off as gangrene had set in.
+    For a moment I wished that piece of shrapnel had gone through my
+    head. I pictured myself going around with only one arm, and the
+    prospect didn't look good.
+</p>
+<p>
+    However, the doctor dressed the arm with the greatest care and told
+    me I could go to a London hospital as I had asked, for I wanted to
+    be near my people at Southall. These were the friends I had made
+    before leaving Blighty and who had sent me weekly parcels and
+    letters.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I arrived in London on Tuesday and was taken in a big Red Cross
+    motor loaned by Sir Charles Dickerson to the Fulham Hospital in
+    Hammersmith. I was overjoyed, as the hospital was very near
+    Southall, and Mr. and Mrs. Puttee were both there to meet me.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The Sister in charge of my ward, Miss Malin, is one of the finest
+    women I have met. I owe it to her care and skill that I still have
+    my good right arm. She has since married and the lucky man has one
+    of the best of wives. Miss Malin advised me right at the beginning
+    not to submit to an amputation.
+</p>
+<p>
+    My next few weeks were pretty awful. I was in constant pain, and
+    after the old arm began to come around under Miss Malin's treatment
+    one of the doctors discovered that my left hand was queer. It had
+    been somewhat swollen, but not really bad. The doctor insisted upon
+    an X-ray and found a bit of shrapnel imbedded. He was all for an
+    operation. Operations seemed to be the long suit of most of those
+    doctors. I imagine they couldn't resist the temptation to get some
+    practice with so much cheap material all about. I consented this
+    time, and went down for the pictures on Lord Mayor's Day. Going to
+    the pictures is Tommy's expression for undergoing an anesthetic.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I was under ether two hours and a half, and when I came out of it
+    the left hand was all to the bad and has been ever since. There
+    followed weeks of agonizing massage treatments. Between treatments
+    though, I had it cushy.
+</p>
+<p>
+    My friends were very good to me, and several Americans entertained
+    me a good deal. I had a permanent walking-out pass good from nine
+    in the morning until nine at night. I saw almost every show in the
+    city, and heard a special performance of the Messiah at Westminster
+    Abbey. Also I enjoyed a good deal of restaurant life.
+</p>
+<p>
+    London is good to the wounded men. There is entertainment for all
+    of them. A good many of these slightly wounded complain because
+    they cannot get anything to drink, but undoubtedly it is the best
+    thing for them. It is against the law to serve men in the blue
+    uniform of the wounded. Men in khaki can buy all the liquor they
+    want, the public houses being open from noon to two-thirty and from
+    six P.M. to nine-thirty. Treating is not allowed. Altogether it
+    works out very well and there is little drunkenness among the
+    soldiers.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I eventually brought up in a Convalescent Hospital in Brentford,
+    Middlesex, and was there for three weeks. At the end of that time I
+    was placed in category C&nbsp;3.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The system of marking the men in England is by categories, A, B,
+    and C. A&nbsp;1, 2, and 3 are for active service. A&nbsp;4 is for the
+    under-aged. B categories are for base service, and C is for home
+    service. C&nbsp;3 was for clerical duty, and as I was not likely to
+    become efficient again as a soldier, it looked like some kind of
+    bookkeeping for me for the duration of the war.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Unless one is all shot to pieces, literally with something gone, it
+    is hard to get a discharge from the British army. Back in the early
+    days of 1915, a leg off was about the only thing that would produce
+    a discharge.
+</p>
+<p>
+    When I was put at clerical duty, I immediately began to furnish
+    trouble for the British army, not intentionally, of course, but
+    quite effectively. The first thing I did was to drop a typewriter
+    and smash it. My hands had spells when they absolutely refused to
+    work. Usually it was when I had something breakable in them. After
+    I had done about two hundred dollars' damage indoors they tried me
+    out as bayonet instructor. I immediately dropped a rifle on a
+    concrete walk and smashed it. They wanted me to pay for it, but the
+    M.O. called attention to the fact that I shouldn't have been put at
+    the work under my category.
+</p>
+<a name="image-0007"><!--IMG--></a>
+<center>
+<img src="images/yank7.jpg" width="450" height="319"
+alt="Corporal Holmes with Company Office Force, at
+Winchester, England, a Week Prior to Discharge.">
+</center>
+<!--IMAGE END-->
+<p>
+    They then put me back at bookkeeping at Command Headquarters,
+    Salisbury, but I couldn't figure English money and had a bad habit
+    of fainting and falling off the high stool. To cap the climax, I
+    finally fell one day and knocked down the stovepipe, and nearly set
+    the office afire. The M.O. then ordered me back to the depot at
+    Winchester and recommended me for discharge. I guess he thought it
+    would be the cheapest in the long run.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The adjutant at Winchester didn't seem any too pleased to see me.
+    He said I looked as healthy as a wolf, which I did, and that they
+    would never let me out of the army. He seemed to think that my
+    quite normal appearance would be looked upon as a personal insult
+    by the medical board. I said that I was sorry I didn't have a leg
+    or two gone, but it couldn't be helped.
+</p>
+<p>
+    While waiting for the Board, I was sent to the German Prison Camp
+    at Winnal Downs as corporal of the permanent guard. I began to fear
+    that at last they had found something that I could do without
+    damaging anything, and my visions of the U.S.A. went a-glimmering.
+    I was with the Fritzies for over a week, and they certainly have it
+    soft and cushy.
+</p>
+<p>
+    They have as good food as the Tommies. They are paid ninepence a
+    day, and the work they do is a joke. They are well housed and kept
+    clean and have their own canteens, where they can buy almost
+    anything in the way of delicacies. They are decently treated by the
+    English soldiers, who even buy them fags out of their own money.
+    The nearest thing I ever saw to humiliation of a German was a few
+    good-natured jokes at their expense by some of the wits in the
+    guard. The English know how to play fair with an enemy when they
+    have him down.
+</p>
+<p>
+    I had about given up hope of ever getting out of the army when I
+    was summoned to appear before the Travelling Medical Board. You can
+    wager I lost no time in appearing.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The board looked me over with a discouraging and cynical suspicion.
+    I certainly did look as rugged as a navvy. When they gave me a
+    going over, they found that my heart was out of place and that my
+    left hand might never limber up again. They voted for a discharge
+    in jig time. I had all I could do to keep from howling with joy.
+</p>
+<p>
+    It was some weeks before the final formalities were closed up. The
+    pension board passed on my case, and I was given the magnificent
+    sum of sixteen shillings and sixpence a week, or $3.75. I spent the
+    next few weeks in visiting my friends and, eventually, at the 22nd
+    Headquarters at Bermondsey, London, S.C., received the papers that
+    once more made me a free man.
+</p>
+<p>
+    The papers read in part, "He is discharged in consequence of
+    paragraph 392, King's Rules and Regulations. No longer fit for
+    service." In another part of the book you will find a reproduction
+    of the character discharge also given. The discharged man also
+    receives a little silver badge bearing the inscription, "For King
+    and Empire, Services Rendered." I think that I value this badge
+    more than any other possession.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Once free, I lost no time in getting my passport into shape and
+    engaged a passage on the <i>St. Paul</i>, to sail on the second of June.
+    Since my discharge is dated the twenty-eighth of May, you can see
+    that I didn't waste any time. My friends at Southall thought I was
+    doing things in a good deal of a hurry. The fact is, I was fed up
+    on war. I had had a plenty. And I was going to make my get-away
+    before the British War Office changed its mind and got me back in
+    uniform. Mrs. Puttee and her eldest son saw me off at Euston
+    Station. Leaving them was the one wrench, as they had become very
+    dear to me. But I had to go. If Blighty had looked good, the
+    thought of the U.S.A. was better.
+</p>
+<p>
+    My passage was uneventful. No submarines, no bad weather, nothing
+    disagreeable. On the eighth day I looked out through a welter of
+    fog and rain to the place where the Statue of Liberty should have
+    been waving a greeting across New York harbor. The lady wasn't
+    visible, but I knew she was there. And even in a downpour equal to
+    anything furnished by the choicest of Flanders rainstorms, little
+    old New York looked better than anything I could imagine, except
+    sober and staid old Boston.
+</p>
+<p>
+    That I am at home, safe and free of the horrors of war, is to me a
+    strange thing. I think it comes into the experience of most of the
+    men who have been over there and who have been invalided out of the
+    service. Looking back on the awfulness of the trenches and the
+    agonies of mind and body, the sacrifice seems to fade into
+    insignificance beside the satisfaction of having done a bit in the
+    great and just cause.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Now that our own men are going over, I find myself with a very deep
+    regret that I cannot go too. I can only wish them the best of luck
+    and rest in confidence that every man will do his uttermost.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0016"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER XVI
+</h2>
+<h3>
+    SUGGESTIONS FOR "SAMMY"
+</h3>
+<p>
+    I cannot end this book without saying something to those who have
+    boys over there and, what is more to the point, to those boys who
+    may go over there.
+</p>
+<p>
+    First as to the things that should be sent in parcels; and a great
+    deal of consideration should be given to this. You must be very
+    careful not to send things that will load your Sammy down, as every
+    ounce counts in the pack when he is hiking, and he is likely to be
+    hiking any time or all the time.
+</p>
+<p>
+    In the line of eatables the soldier wants something sweet. Good
+    hard cookies are all right. I wish more people in this country knew
+    how to make the English plum pudding in bags, the kind that will
+    keep forever and be good when it is boiled. Mainly, though,
+    chocolate is the thing. The milk kind is well enough, but it is apt
+    to cause overmuch thirst. Personally I would rather have the plain
+    chocolate,&mdash;the water variety.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Chewing gum is always in demand and is not bulky in the package.
+    Send a lot of it. Lime and lemon tablets in the summertime are
+    great for checking thirst on the march. A few of them won't do any
+    harm in any parcel, summer or winter.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Now about smoking materials. Unless the man to whom the parcel is
+    to be sent is definitely known to be prejudiced against cigarettes,
+    don't send him pipe tobacco or a pipe. There are smokers who hate
+    cigarettes just as there are some people who think that the little
+    paper roll is an invention of the devil. If any one has a boy over
+    there, he&mdash;or she&mdash;had better overcome any possible personal
+    feeling against the use of cigarettes and send them in preference
+    to anything else.
+</p>
+<p>
+    From my own experience I know that cigarettes are the most
+    important thing that can be sent to a soldier. When I went out
+    there, I was a pipe smoker. After I had been in the trenches a week
+    I quit the pipe and threw it away. It is seldom enough that one has
+    the opportunity to enjoy a full pipe. It is very hard to get
+    lighted when the matches are wet in bad weather, which is nearly
+    always. Besides which, say what you will, a pipe does not soothe
+    the nerves as a fag does.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Now when sending the cigarettes out, don't try to think of the
+    special brand that Harold or Percival used when he was home. Likely
+    enough his name has changed, and instead of being Percy or Harold
+    he is now Pigeye or Sour-belly; and his taste in the weed has
+    changed too. He won't be so keen on his own particular brand of
+    Turkish. Just send him the common or garden Virginia sort at five
+    cents the package. That is the kind that gives most comfort to the
+    outworn Tommy or Sammy.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Don't think that you can send too many. I have had five hundred
+    sent to me in a week many times and have none left at the end.
+    There are always men who do not get any parcels, and they have to
+    be looked out for. Out there all things are common property, and
+    the soldier shares his last with his less fortunate comrade.
+    Subscribe when you get the chance to any and all smoke funds.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Don't listen to the pestilential fuddy-duds who do not approve of
+    tobacco, particularly the fussy-old-maids. Personally, when I hear
+    any of these conscientious objectors to My Lady Nicotine air their
+    opinions, I wish that they could be placed in the trenches for a
+    while. They would soon change their minds about rum issues and
+    tobacco, and I'll wager they would be first in the line when the
+    issues came around.
+</p>
+<p>
+    One thing that many people forget to put in the soldier's parcel,
+    or don't see the point of, is talcum powder. Razors get dull very
+    quickly, and the face gets sore. The powder is almost a necessity
+    when one is shaving in luke-warm tea and laundry soap, with a
+    safety razor blade that wasn't sharp in the first place. In the
+    summer on the march men sweat and accumulate all the dirt there is
+    in the world. There are forty hitherto unsuspected places on the
+    body that chafe under the weight of equipment. Talc helps. In the
+    matter of sore feet, it is a life saver.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Soap,&mdash;don't forget that. Always some good, pure, plain white
+    soap, like Ivory or Castile; and a small bath towel now and then.
+    There is so little chance to wash towels that they soon get
+    unusable.
+</p>
+<p>
+    In the way of wearing apparel, socks are always good. But, girlie,
+    make 'em right. That last pair sent me nearly cost me a court
+    martial by my getting my feet into trench-foot condition. If you
+    can't leave out the seams, wear them yourself for a while, and see
+    how you like it.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Sleeveless sweaters are good and easy to make, I am told. They
+    don't last long at the best, so should not be elaborate. Any
+    garment worn close to the body gets cooty in a few weeks and has to
+    be ditched. However, keep right on with the knitting, with the
+    exception of the socks. If you're not an expert on those, better
+    buy them. You may in that way retain the affection of your
+    sweetheart over there.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Knitted helmets are a great comfort. I had one that was fine not
+    only to wear under the tin hat but to sleep in. I am not keen on
+    wristlets or gloves. Better buy the gloves you send in the shops.
+    So that's the knitted stuff,&mdash;helmets, sweaters, and mufflers and,
+    for the expert, socks.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Be very moderate in the matter of reading matter. I mean by that,
+    don't send a lot at a time or any very bulky stuff at all.
+</p>
+<p>
+    If it is possible to get a louse pomade called Harrison's in this
+    country, send it, as it is a cooty killer. So far as I know, it is
+    the only thing sold that will do the cooty in. There's a fortune
+    waiting for the one who compounds a louse eradicator that will kill
+    the cooty and not irritate or nearly kill the one who uses it. I
+    shall expect a royalty from the successful chemist who produces the
+    much needed compound.
+</p>
+<p>
+    For the wealthier people, I would suggest that good things to send
+    are silk shirts and drawers. It is possible to get the cooties out
+    of these garments much easier than out of the thick woollies. There
+    are many other things that may be sent, but I have mentioned the
+    most important. The main thing to remember is not to run to bulk.
+    And don't forget that it takes a long time for stuff to get
+    across.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Don't overlook the letters,&mdash;this especially if you are a mother,
+    wife, or sweetheart. It is an easy thing to forget. You mustn't.
+    Out there life is chiefly squalor, filth, and stench. The boy gets
+    disgusted and lonesome and homesick, even though he may write to
+    the contrary. Write to him at least three times a week. Always
+    write cheerfully, even although something may have happened that
+    has plunged you into the depths of despair. If it is necessary to
+    cover up something that would cause a soldier worry, cover it up.
+    Even lie to him. It will be justified. Keep in mind the now famous,
+    war song, "Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag and smile,
+    smile, smile." Keep your own packed up and don't send any over
+    there for some soldier to worry over.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Just a few words to the men themselves who may go. Don't take
+    elaborate shaving tackle, just brush, razor, soap, and a small
+    mirror. Most of the time you won't need the mirror. You'll use the
+    periscope mirror in the trenches. Don't load up on books and
+    unnecessary clothing. Impress it upon your relatives that your
+    stuff, tobacco and sweets, is to come along in small parcels and
+    often and regularly. Let all your friends and relatives know your
+    address and ask them to write often. Don't hesitate to tell them
+    all that a parcel now and again will be acceptable. Have more than
+    one source of supply if possible.
+</p>
+<p>
+    When you get out there, hunt up the Y.M.C.A. huts. You will find
+    good cheer, warmth, music, and above all a place to do your
+    writing. Write home often. Your people are concerned about you all
+    the time. Write at least once a week to the one nearest and dearest
+    to you. I used to average ten letters a week to friends in Blighty
+    and back here, and that was a lot more than I was allowed. I found
+    a way. Most of you won't be able to go over your allowance. But do
+    go the limit.
+</p>
+<p>
+    Over there you will find a lot of attractive girls and women. Most
+    any girl is attractive when you are just out of the misery of the
+    trenches. Be careful of them. Remember the country has been full of
+    soldiers for three years. Don't make love too easily. One of the
+    singers in the Divisional Follies recently revived the once popular
+    music-hall song, "If You Can't Be Good Be Careful." It should
+    appeal to the soldier as much as "Smile, smile, smile", and is
+    equally good advice. For the sake of those at home and for the sake
+    of your own peace of mind come back from overseas clean.
+</p>
+<p>
+    After all it is possible to no more than give hints to the boys who
+    are going. All of you will have to learn by experience. My parting
+    word to you all is just, "The best of luck."
+</p>
+<a name="2H_GLOS"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h3>
+    GLOSSARY OF ARMY SLANG
+</h3>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>All around traverse</b>&mdash;A machine gun placed on a swivel to turn
+    in any direction.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Ammo</b>&mdash;Ammunition. Usually for rifles, though occasionally used
+    to indicate that for artillery.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Argue the toss</b>&mdash;Argue the point.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Back of the line</b>&mdash;Anywhere to the rear and out of the danger
+    zone.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Barbed wire</b>&mdash;Ordinary barbed wire used for entanglements. A
+    thicker and heavier military wire is sometimes used.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Barrage</b>&mdash;Shells dropped simultaneously and in a row so as to
+    form a curtain of fire. Literal translation "a barrier."
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Bashed</b>&mdash;Smashed.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Big boys</b>&mdash;Big guns or the shells they send over.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Big push</b>&mdash;The battles of the Somme.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Billets</b>&mdash;The quarters of the soldier when back of the line.
+    Any place from a pigpen to a palace.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Bleeder or Blighter</b>&mdash;Cockney slang for fellow. Roughly
+    corresponding to American "guy."
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Blighty</b>&mdash;England. East Indian derivation. The paradise looked
+    forward to by all good soldiers,&mdash;and all bad ones too.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Blighty one</b>&mdash;A wound that will take the soldier to Blighty.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Bloody</b>&mdash;The universal Cockney adjective. It is vaguely
+    supposed to be highly obscene, though just why nobody seems to
+    know.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Blooming</b>&mdash;A meaningless and greatly used adjective. Applied to
+    anything and everything.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Bomb</b>&mdash;A hand grenade.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Bully beef</b>&mdash;Corned beef, high grade and good of the kind, if
+    you like the kind. It sets hard on the chest.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Carry on</b>&mdash;To go ahead with the matter in hand.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Char</b>&mdash;Tea. East Indian derivation.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Chat</b>&mdash;Officers' term for cootie; supposed to be more delicate.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Click</b>&mdash;Variously used. To die. To be killed. To kill. To draw
+    some disagreeable job, as: I clicked a burial fatigue.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Communication trench</b>&mdash;A trench leading up to the front trench.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Consolidate</b>&mdash;To turn around and prepare for occupation a
+    captured trench.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Cootie</b>&mdash;The common,&mdash;the too common,&mdash;body louse. Everybody
+    has 'em.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Crater</b>&mdash;A round pit made by an underground explosion or by a
+    shell.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Cushy</b>&mdash;Easy. Soft.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Dixie</b>&mdash;An oblong iron pot or box fitting into a field kitchen.
+    Used for cooking anything and everything. Nobody seems to know why
+    it is so called.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Doggo</b>&mdash;Still. Quiet. East Indian derivation.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Doing in</b>&mdash;Killing.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Doss</b>&mdash;Sleep.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Duck walk</b>&mdash;A slatted wooden walk in soft ground.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Dud</b>&mdash;An unexploded shell. A dangerous thing to fool with.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Dug-out</b>&mdash;A hole more or less deep in the side of a trench
+    where soldiers are supposed to rest.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Dump</b>&mdash;A place where supplies are left for distribution.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Entrenching tool</b>&mdash;A sort of small shovel for quick digging.
+    Carried as part of equipment.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Estaminet</b>&mdash;A French saloon or cafe.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Fag</b>&mdash;A cigarette.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Fatigue</b>&mdash;Any kind of work except manning the trenches.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Fed up</b>&mdash;Tommy's way of saying "too much is enough."
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Firing step</b>&mdash;A narrow ledge running along the parapet on which
+    a soldier stands to look over the top.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Flare</b>&mdash;A star light sent up from a pistol to light up out in
+    front.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Fritz</b>&mdash;An affectionate term for our friend the enemy.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Funk hole</b>&mdash;A dug-out.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Gas</b>&mdash;Any poisonous gas sent across when the wind is right.
+    Used by both sides. Invented by the Germans.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Goggles</b>&mdash;A piece of equipment similar to that used by
+    motorists, supposed to keep off tear gas. The rims are backed with
+    strips of sponge which Tommy tears off and throws the goggle frame
+    away.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Go west</b>&mdash;To die.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Grouse</b>&mdash;Complain. Growl. Kick.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Hun</b>&mdash;A German.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Identification disc</b>&mdash;A fiber tablet bearing the soldier's
+    name, regiment, and rank. Worn around the neck on a string.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Iron rations</b>&mdash;About two pounds of nonperishable rations to be
+    used in an emergency.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Knuckle knife</b>&mdash;A short dagger with a studded hilt. Invented by
+    the Germans.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Lance Corporal</b>&mdash;The lowest grade of non-commissioned officer.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Lewis gun</b>&mdash;A very light machine gun invented by one Lewis, an
+    officer in the American army.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Light railway</b>&mdash;A very narrow-gauge railway on which are pushed
+    little hand cars.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Listening post</b>&mdash;One or more men go out in front, at night, of
+    course, and listen for movements by the enemy.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Maconochie</b>&mdash;A scientifically compounded and well-balanced
+    ration, so the authorities say. It looks, smells, and tastes like
+    rancid lard.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>M.O.</b>&mdash;Medical Officer. A foxy cove who can't be fooled with
+    faked symptoms.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Mess tin</b>&mdash;A combination teapot, fry pan, and plate.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Military cross</b>&mdash;An officer's decoration for bravery.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Military medal</b>&mdash;A decoration for bravery given to enlisted
+    men.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Mills</b>&mdash;The most commonly used hand grenade.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Minnies</b>&mdash;German trench mortar projectiles.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Napper</b>&mdash;The head.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Night 'ops</b>&mdash;A much hated practice manoeuvre done at night.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>No Man's Land</b>&mdash;The area between the trenches.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>On your own</b>&mdash;At liberty. Your time is your own.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Out or over there</b>&mdash;Somewhere in France.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Parados</b>&mdash;The back wall of a trench.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Parapet</b>&mdash;The front wall of a trench.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Patrol</b>&mdash;One or more men who go out in front and prowl in the
+    dark, seeking information of the enemy.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Periscope</b>&mdash;A boxlike arrangement with two mirrors for looking
+    over the top without exposing the napper.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Persuader</b>&mdash;A short club with a nail-studded head.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Pip squeak</b>&mdash;A German shell which makes that kind of noise when
+    it comes over.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Push up the daisies</b>&mdash;To be killed and buried.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Ration party</b>&mdash;A party of men which goes to the rear and brings
+    up rations for the front line.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Rest</b>&mdash;Relief from trench service. Mostly one works constantly
+    when "resting."
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Ruddy</b>&mdash;Same as bloody, but not quite so bad.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Sandbag</b>&mdash;A bag which is filled with mud and used for building
+    the parapet.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Sentry go</b>&mdash;Time on guard in the front trench, or at rest at
+    headquarters.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Shell hole</b>&mdash;A pit made by the explosion of a shell.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Souvenir</b>&mdash;Any kind of junk picked up for keepsakes. Also used
+    as a begging word by the French children.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Stand to</b>&mdash;Order for all men to stand ready in the trench in
+    event of a surprise attack, usually at sundown and sunrise.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Stand down</b>&mdash;Countermanding "stand to."
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Stokes</b>&mdash;A bomb weighing about eleven pounds usually thrown
+    from a mortar, but sometimes used by hand.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Strafing</b>&mdash;One of the few words Tommy has borrowed from Fritz.
+    To punish.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Suicide club</b>&mdash;The battalion bombers.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Tin hat</b>&mdash;Steel helmet.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Wave</b>&mdash;A line of men going over the top.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Whacked</b>&mdash;Exhausted. Played out.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Whiz-bang</b>&mdash;A German shell that makes that sort of noise.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Wind up or windy</b>&mdash;Nervous. Jumpy. Temporary involuntary fear.
+</p>
+<p class="gloss">
+    <b>Wooden cross</b>&mdash;The small wooden cross placed over a soldier's
+    grave.
+</p>
+
+
+<div style="height: 6em;"><br><br><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's A Yankee in the Trenches, by R. Derby Holmes
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Yankee in the Trenches, by R. Derby Holmes
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Yankee in the Trenches
+
+Author: R. Derby Holmes
+
+Release Date: August 25, 2004 [EBook #13279]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A YANKEE IN THE TRENCHES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Janet Kegg and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ [Illustration: CORPORAL HOLMES IN THE UNIFORM OF THE 22ND LONDON
+ BATTALION, QUEEN'S ROYAL WEST SURREY REGIMENT, H.M. IMPERIAL ARMY.
+ _Frontispiece_.]
+
+
+A YANKEE IN THE TRENCHES
+
+By
+
+R. DERBY HOLMES
+
+CORPORAL OF THE 22D LONDON BATTALION OF THE
+QUEEN'S ROYAL WEST SURREY REGIMENT
+
+
+_ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS_
+
+
+BOSTON
+LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
+1918
+
+
+
+  Dedication
+
+  TO MARION A. PUTTEE, SOUTHALL, MIDDLESEX,
+  ENGLAND, I DEDICATE THIS BOOK AS A
+  TOKEN OF APPRECIATION FOR ALL THE LOVING
+  THOUGHTS AND DEEDS BESTOWED UPON ME
+  WHEN I WAS A STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND
+
+
+
+
+FOREWORD
+
+
+I have tried as an American in writing this book to give the public
+a complete view of the trenches and life on the Western Front as it
+appeared to me, and also my impression of conditions and men as I
+found them. It has been a pleasure to write it, and now that I have
+finished I am genuinely sorry that I cannot go further. On the
+lecture tour I find that people ask me questions, and I have tried
+in this book to give in detail many things about the quieter side
+of war that to an audience would seem too tame. I feel that the
+public want to know how the soldiers live when not in the trenches,
+for all the time out there is not spent in killing and carnage. As
+in the case of all men in the trenches, I heard things and stories
+that especially impressed me, so I have written them as hearsay,
+not taking to myself credit as their originator. I trust that the
+reader will find as much joy in the cockney character as I did and
+which I have tried to show the public; let me say now that no finer
+body of men than those Bermondsey boys of my battalion could be
+found.
+
+I think it fair to say that in compiling the trench terms at the
+end of this book I have not copied any war book, but I have given
+in each case my own version of the words, though I will confess
+that the idea and necessity of having such a list sprang from
+reading Sergeant Empey's "Over the Top." It would be impossible to
+write a book that the people would understand without the aid of
+such a glossary.
+
+It is my sincere wish that after reading this book the reader may
+have a clearer conception of what this great world war means and
+what our soldiers are contending with, and that it may awaken the
+American people to the danger of Prussianism so that when in the
+future there is a call for funds for Liberty Loans, Red Cross work,
+or Y.M.C.A., there will be no slacking, for they form the real
+triangular sign to a successful termination of this terrible
+conflict.
+
+R. DERBY HOLMES.
+
+
+
+
+       CONTENTS
+
+
+       FOREWORD
+     I JOINING THE BRITISH ARMY
+    II GOING IN
+   III A TRENCH RAID
+    IV A FEW DAYS' REST IN BILLETS
+     V FEEDING THE TOMMIES
+    VI HIKING TO VIMY RIDGE
+   VII FASCINATION OF PATROL WORK
+  VIII ON THE GO
+    IX FIRST SIGHT OF THE TANKS
+     X FOLLOWING THE TANKS INTO BATTLE
+    XI PRISONERS
+   XII I BECOME A BOMBER
+  XIII BACK ON THE SOMME AGAIN
+   XIV THE LAST TIME OVER THE TOP
+    XV BITS OF BLIGHTY
+   XVI SUGGESTIONS FOR "SAMMY"
+       GLOSSARY OF ARMY SLANG
+
+
+
+
+  LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+  Corporal Holmes in the Uniform of the 22nd London
+    Battalion, Queen's Royal West Surrey Regiment, H.M.
+    Imperial Army  _Frontispiece_
+
+  Reduced Facsimile of Discharge Certificate of Character
+
+  A Heavy Howitzer, Under Camouflage
+
+  Over the Top on a Raid
+
+  Cooking Under Difficulties
+
+  Head-on View of a British Tank
+
+  Corporal Holmes with Staff Nurse and Another Patient, at
+    Fulham Military Hospital, London, S.W.
+
+  Corporal Holmes with Company Office Force, at Winchester,
+    England, a Week Prior to Discharge
+
+
+
+
+
+A YANKEE IN THE TRENCHES
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+JOINING THE BRITISH ARMY
+
+
+Once, on the Somme in the fall of 1916, when I had been over the
+top and was being carried back somewhat disfigured but still in the
+ring, a cockney stretcher bearer shot this question at me:
+
+"Hi sye, Yank. Wot th' bloody 'ell are you in this bloomin' row
+for? Ayen't there no trouble t' 'ome?"
+
+And for the life of me I couldn't answer. After more than a year in
+the British service I could not, on the spur of the moment, say
+exactly why I was there.
+
+To be perfectly frank with myself and with the reader I had no very
+lofty motives when I took the King's shilling. When the great war
+broke out, I was mildly sympathetic with England, and mighty sorry
+in an indefinite way for France and Belgium; but my sympathies were
+not strong enough in any direction to get me into uniform with a
+chance of being killed. Nor, at first, was I able to work up any
+compelling hate for Germany. The abstract idea of democracy did not
+figure in my calculations at all.
+
+However, as the war went on, it became apparent to me, as I suppose
+it must have to everybody, that the world was going through one of
+its epochal upheavals; and I figured that with so much history in
+the making, any unattached young man would be missing it if he did
+not take a part in the big game.
+
+I had the fondness for adventure usual in young men. I liked to see
+the wheels go round. And so it happened that, when the war was
+about a year and a half old, I decided to get in before it was too
+late.
+
+On second thought I won't say that it was purely love for adventure
+that took me across. There may have been in the back of my head a
+sneaking extra fondness for France, perhaps instinctive, for I was
+born in Paris, although my parents were American and I was brought
+to Boston as a baby and have lived here since.
+
+Whatever my motives for joining the British army, they didn't have
+time to crystallize until I had been wounded and sent to Blighty,
+which is trench slang for England. While recuperating in one of the
+pleasant places of the English country-side, I had time to acquire
+a perspective and to discover that I had been fighting for
+democracy and the future safety of the world. I think that my
+experience in this respect is like that of most of the young
+Americans who have volunteered for service under a foreign flag.
+
+I decided to get into the big war game early in 1916. My first
+thought was to go into the ambulance service, as I knew several men
+in that work. One of them described the driver's life about as
+follows. He said:
+
+"The _blesses_ curse you because you jolt them. The doctors curse
+you because you don't get the _blesses_ in fast enough. The
+Transport Service curse you because you get in the way. You eat
+standing up and don't sleep at all. You're as likely as anybody to
+get killed, and all the glory you get is the War Cross, if you're
+lucky, and you don't get a single chance to kill a Hun."
+
+That settled the ambulance for me. I hadn't wanted particularly to
+kill a Hun until it was suggested that I mightn't. Then I wanted to
+slaughter a whole division.
+
+So I decided on something where there would be fighting. And having
+decided, I thought I would "go the whole hog" and work my way
+across to England on a horse transport.
+
+One day in the first part of February I went, at what seemed an
+early hour, to an office on Commercial Street, Boston, where they
+were advertising for horse tenders for England. About three hundred
+men were earlier than I. It seemed as though every beach-comber and
+patriot in New England was trying to get across. I didn't get the
+job, but filed my application and was lucky enough to be signed on
+for a sailing on February 22 on the steam-ship _Cambrian_, bound
+for London.
+
+ [Illustration: REDUCED FACSIMILE OF DISCHARGE CERTIFICATE OF
+ CHARACTER.]
+
+We spent the morning of Washington's Birthday loading the horses.
+These government animals were selected stock and full of ginger.
+They seemed to know that they were going to France and resented it
+keenly. Those in my care seemed to regard my attentions as a
+personal affront.
+
+We had a strenuous forenoon getting the horses aboard, and sailed
+at noon. After we had herded in the livestock, some of the officers
+herded up the herders. I drew a pink slip with two numbers on it,
+one showing the compartment where I was supposed to sleep, the
+other indicating my bunk.
+
+That compartment certainly was a glory-hole. Most of the men had
+been drunk the night before, and the place had the rich, balmy
+fragrance of a water-front saloon. Incidentally there was a good
+deal of unauthorized and undomesticated livestock. I made a limited
+acquaintance with that pretty, playful little creature, the
+"cootie," who was to become so familiar in the trenches later on.
+He wasn't called a cootie aboard ship, but he was the same bird.
+
+Perhaps the less said about that trip across the better. It lasted
+twenty-one days. We fed the animals three times a day and cleaned
+the stalls once on the trip. I got chewed up some and stepped on a
+few times. Altogether the experience was good intensive training
+for the trench life to come; especially the bunks. Those sleeping
+quarters sure were close and crawly.
+
+We landed in London on Saturday night about nine-thirty. The
+immigration inspectors gave us a quick examination and we were
+turned back to the shipping people, who paid us off,--two pounds,
+equal to about ten dollars real change.
+
+After that we rode on the train half an hour and then marched
+through the streets, darkened to fool the Zeps. Around one o'clock
+we brought up at Thrawl Street, at the lodgings where we were
+supposed to stop until we were started for home.
+
+The place where we were quartered was a typical London doss house.
+There were forty beds in the room with mine, all of them occupied.
+All hands were snoring, and the fellow in the next cot was going
+it with the cut-out wide open, breaking all records. Most of the
+beds sagged like a hammock. Mine humped up in the middle like a
+pile of bricks.
+
+I was up early and was directed to the place across the way where
+we were to eat. It was labeled "Mother Wolf's. The Universal
+Provider." She provided just one meal of weak tea, moldy bread, and
+rancid bacon for me. After that I went to a hotel. I may remark in
+passing that horse tenders, going or coming or in between whiles,
+do not live on the fat of the land.
+
+I spent the day--it was Sunday--seeing the sights of Whitechapel,
+Middlesex Street or Petticoat Lane, and some of the slums. Next
+morning it was pretty clear to me that two pounds don't go far in
+the big town. I promptly boarded the first bus for Trafalgar
+Square. The recruiting office was just down the road in Whitehall
+at the old Scotland Yard office.
+
+I had an idea when I entered that recruiting office that the
+sergeant would receive me with open arms. He didn't. Instead he
+looked me over with unqualified scorn and spat out, "Yank, ayen't
+ye?"
+
+And I in my innocence briefly answered, "Yep."
+
+"We ayen't tykin' no nootrals," he said, with a sneer. And then:
+"Better go back to Hamerika and 'elp Wilson write 'is blinkin'
+notes."
+
+Well, I was mad enough to poke that sergeant in the eye. But I
+didn't. I retired gracefully and with dignity.
+
+At the door another sergeant hailed me, whispering behind his hand,
+"Hi sye, mytie. Come around in the mornin'. Hi'll get ye in." And
+so it happened.
+
+Next day my man was waiting and marched me boldly up to the same
+chap who had refused me the day before.
+
+"'Ere's a recroot for ye, Jim," says my friend.
+
+Jim never batted an eye. He began to "awsk" questions and to fill
+out a blank. When he got to the birthplace, my guide cut in and
+said, "Canada."
+
+The only place I knew in Canada was Campobello Island, a place
+where we camped one summer, and I gave that. I don't think that
+anything but rabbits was ever born on Campobello, but it went. For
+that matter anything went. I discovered afterward that the sergeant
+who had captured me on the street got five bob (shillings) for me.
+
+The physical examination upstairs was elaborate. They told me to
+strip, weighed me, and said I was fit. After that I was taken in to
+an officer--a real officer this time--who made me put my hand on a
+Bible and say yes to an oath he rattled off. Then he told me I was
+a member of the Royal Fusiliers, gave me two shillings, sixpence
+and ordered me to report at the Horse Guards Parade next day. I was
+in the British army,--just like that!
+
+I spent the balance of the day seeing the sights of London, and
+incidentally spending my coin. When I went around to the Horse
+Guards next morning, two hundred others, new rookies like myself,
+were waiting. An officer gave me another two shillings, sixpence. I
+began to think that if the money kept coming along at that rate the
+British army might turn out a good investment. It didn't.
+
+That morning I was sent out to Hounslow Barracks, and three days
+later was transferred to Dover with twenty others. I was at Dover a
+little more than two months and completed my training there.
+
+Our barracks at Dover was on the heights of the cliffs, and on
+clear days we could look across the Channel and see the dim
+outlines of France. It was a fascination for all of us to look away
+over there and to wonder what fortunes were to come to us on the
+battle fields of Europe. It was perhaps as well that none of us had
+imagination enough to visualize the things that were ahead.
+
+I found the rookies at Dover a jolly, companionable lot, and I
+never found the routine irksome. We were up at five-thirty, had
+cocoa and biscuits, and then an hour of physical drill or bayonet
+practice. At eight came breakfast of tea, bacon, and bread, and
+then we drilled until twelve. Dinner. Out again on the parade
+ground until three thirty. After that we were free.
+
+Nights we would go into Dover and sit around the "pubs" drinking
+ale, or "ayle" as the cockney says it.
+
+After a few weeks, when we were hardened somewhat, they began to
+inflict us with the torture known as "night ops." That means going
+out at ten o'clock under full pack, hiking several miles, and then
+"manning" the trenches around the town and returning to barracks at
+three A.M.
+
+This wouldn't have been so bad if we had been excused parades the
+following day. But no. We had the same old drills except the early
+one, but were allowed to "kip" until seven.
+
+In the two months I completed the musketry course, was a good
+bayonet man, and was well grounded in bombing practice. Besides
+that I was as hard as nails and had learned thoroughly the system
+of British discipline.
+
+I had supposed that it took at least six months to make a
+soldier,--in fact had been told that one could not be turned out
+who would be ten per cent efficient in less than that time. That
+old theory is all wrong. Modern warfare changes so fast that the
+only thing that can be taught a man is the basic principles of
+discipline, bombing, trench warfare, and musketry. Give him those
+things, a well-conditioned body, and a baptism of fire, and he will
+be right there with the veterans, doing his bit.
+
+Two months was all our crowd got at any rate, and they were as good
+as the best, if I do say it.
+
+My training ended abruptly with a furlough of five days for
+Embarkation Leave, that is, leave before going to France. This is a
+sort of good-by vacation. Most fellows realize fully that it may be
+their last look at Blighty, and they take it rather solemnly. To a
+stranger without friends in England I can imagine that this
+Embarkation Leave would be either a mighty lonesome, dismal affair,
+or a stretch of desperate, homesick dissipation. A chap does want
+to say good-by to some one before he goes away, perhaps to die. He
+wants to be loved and to have some one sorry that he is going.
+
+I was invited by one of my chums to spend the leave with him at his
+home in Southall, Middlesex. His father, mother and sister welcomed
+me in a way that made me know it was my home from the minute I
+entered the door. They took me into their hearts with a simple
+hospitality and whole-souled kindness that I can never forget. I
+was a stranger in a strange land and they made me one of their own.
+I shall never be able to repay all the loving thoughts and deeds of
+that family and shall remember them while I live. My chum's mother
+I call Mother too. It is to her that I have dedicated this book.
+
+After my delightful few days of leave, things moved fast. I was
+back in Dover just two days when I, with two hundred other men, was
+sent to Winchester. Here we were notified that we were transferred
+to the Queen's Royal West Surrey Regiment.
+
+This news brought a wild howl from the men. They wanted to stop
+with the Fusiliers. It is part of the British system that every man
+is taught the traditions and history of his regiment and to _know_
+that his is absolutely the best in the whole army. In a
+surprisingly short time they get so they swear by their own
+regiment and by their officers, and they protest bitterly at a
+transfer.
+
+Personally I didn't care a rap. I had early made up my mind that I
+was a very small pebble on the beach and that it was up to me to
+obey orders and keep my mouth shut.
+
+On June 17, some eighteen hundred of us were moved down to
+Southampton and put aboard the transport for Havre. The next day we
+were in France, at Harfleur, the central training camp outside
+Havre.
+
+We were supposed to undergo an intensive training at Harfleur in
+the various forms of gas and protection from it, barbed wire and
+methods of construction of entanglements, musketry, bombing, and
+bayonet fighting.
+
+Harfleur was a miserable place. They refused to let us go in town
+after drill. Also I managed to let myself in for something that
+would have kept me in camp if town leave had been allowed.
+
+The first day there was a call for a volunteer for musketry
+instructor. I had qualified and jumped at it. When I reported, an
+old Scotch sergeant told me to go to the quartermaster for
+equipment. I said I already had full equipment. Whereupon the
+sergeant laughed a rumbling Scotch laugh and told me I had to go
+into kilts, as I was assigned to a Highland contingent.
+
+I protested with violence and enthusiasm, but it didn't do any
+good. They gave me a dinky little pleated petticoat, and when I
+demanded breeks to wear underneath, I got the merry ha ha. Breeks
+on a Scotchman? Never!
+
+Well, I got into the fool things, and I felt as though I was naked
+from ankle to wishbone. I couldn't get used to the outfit. I am
+naturally a modest man. Besides, my architecture was never intended
+for bare-leg effects. I have no dimples in my knees.
+
+So I began an immediate campaign for transfer back to the Surreys.
+I got it at the end of ten days, and with it came a hurry call from
+somewhere at the front for more troops.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+GOING IN
+
+
+The excitement of getting away from camp and the knowledge that we
+were soon to get into the thick of the big game pleased most of us.
+We were glad to go. At least we thought so.
+
+Two hundred of us were loaded into side-door Pullmans, forty to the
+car. It was a kind of sardine or Boston Elevated effect, and by the
+time we reached Rouen, twenty-four hours later, we had kinks in our
+legs and corns on our elbows. Also we were hungry, having had
+nothing but bully beef and biscuits. We made "char", which is
+trench slang for tea, in the station, and after two hours moved up
+the line again, this time in real coaches.
+
+Next night we were billeted at Barlin--don't get that mixed up with
+Berlin, it's not the same--in an abandoned convent within range of
+the German guns. The roar of artillery was continuous and sounded
+pretty close.
+
+Now and again a shell would burst near by with a kind of hollow
+"spung", but for some reason we didn't seem to mind. I had expected
+to get the shivers at the first sound of the guns and was surprised
+when I woke up in the morning after a solid night's sleep.
+
+A message came down from the front trenches at daybreak that we
+were wanted and wanted quick. We slung together a dixie of char and
+some bacon and bread for breakfast, and marched around to the
+"quarters", where they issued "tin hats", extra "ammo", and a
+second gas helmet. A good many of the men had been out before, and
+they did the customary "grousing" over the added load.
+
+The British Tommy growls or grouses over anything and everything.
+He's never happy unless he's unhappy. He resents especially having
+anything officially added to his pack, and you can't blame him, for
+in full equipment he certainly is all dressed up like a pack horse.
+
+After the issue we were split up into four lots for the four
+companies of the battalion, and after some "wangling" I got into
+Company C, where I stopped all the time I was in France. I was
+glad, because most of my chums were in that unit.
+
+We got into our packs and started up the line immediately. As we
+neared the lines we were extended into artillery formation, that
+is, spread out so that a shell bursting in the road would inflict
+fewer casualties.
+
+At Bully-Grenay, the point where we entered the communication
+trenches, guides met us and looked us over, commenting most frankly
+and freely on our appearance. They didn't seem to think we would
+amount to much, and said so. They agreed that the "bloomin' Yank"
+must be a "bloody fool" to come out there. There were times later
+when I agreed with them.
+
+It began to rain as we entered the communication trench, and I had
+my first taste of mud. That is literal, for with mud knee-deep in a
+trench just wide enough for two men to pass you get smeared from
+head to foot.
+
+Incidentally, as we approached nearer the front, I got my first
+smell of the dead. It is something you never get away from in the
+trenches. So many dead have been buried so hastily and so lightly
+that they are constantly being uncovered by shell bursts. The acrid
+stench pervades everything, and is so thick you can fairly taste
+it. It makes nearly everybody deathly sick at first, but one
+becomes used to it as to anything else.
+
+This communication trench was over two miles long, and it seemed
+like twenty. We finally landed in a support trench called
+"Mechanics" (every trench has a name, like a street), and from
+there into the first-line trench.
+
+I have to admit a feeling of disappointment in that first trench. I
+don't know what I expected to see, but what I did see was just a
+long, crooked ditch with a low step running along one side, and
+with sandbags on top. Here and there was a muddy, bedraggled Tommy
+half asleep, nursing a dirty and muddy rifle on "sentry go."
+Everything was very quiet at the moment--no rifles popping, as I
+had expected, no bullets flying, and, as it happened, absolutely no
+shelling in the whole sector.
+
+I forgot to say that we had come up by daylight. Ordinarily troops
+are moved at night, but the communication trench from Bully-Grenay
+was very deep and was protected at points by little hills, and it
+was possible to move men in the daytime.
+
+Arrived in the front trench, the sergeant-major appeared, crawling
+out of his dug-out--the usual place for a sergeant-major--and
+greeted us with,
+
+"Keep your nappers down, you rooks. Don't look over the top. It
+ayen't 'ealthy."
+
+It is the regular warning to new men. For some reason the first
+emotion of the rookie is an overpowering curiosity. He wants to
+take a peep into No Man's Land. It feels safe enough when things
+are quiet. But there's always a Fritzie over yonder with a
+telescope-sighted rifle, and it's about ten to one he'll get you if
+you stick the old "napper" up in daylight.
+
+The Germans, by the way, have had the "edge" on the Allies in the
+matter of sniping, as in almost all lines of artillery and musketry
+practice. The Boche sniper is nearly always armed with a
+periscope-telescope rifle. This is a specially built super-accurate
+rifle mounted on a periscope frame. It is thrust up over the
+parapet and the image of the opposing parapet is cast on a little
+ground-glass screen on which are two crossed lines. At one hundred
+fifty yards or less the image is brought up to touching distance
+seemingly. Fritz simply trains his piece on some low place or
+anywhere that a head may be expected. When one appears on the
+screen, he pulls the trigger,--and you "click it" if you happen to
+be on the other or receiving end. The shooter never shows himself.
+
+I remember the first time I looked through a periscope I had no
+sooner thrust the thing up than a bullet crashed into the upper
+mirror, splintering it. Many times I have stuck up a cap on a stick
+and had it pierced.
+
+The British sniper, on the other hand--at least in my time--had a
+plain telescope rifle and had to hide himself behind old masonry,
+tree trunks, or anything convenient, and camouflaged himself in
+all sorts of ways. At that he was constantly in danger.
+
+I was assigned to Platoon 10 and found they were a good live bunch.
+Corporal Wells was the best of the lot, and we became fast friends.
+He helped me learn a lot of my new duties and the trench "lingo",
+which is like a new language, especially to a Yank.
+
+Wells started right in to make me feel at home and took me along
+with two others of the new men down to our "apartments", a dug-out
+built for about four, and housing ten.
+
+My previous idea of a dug-out had been a fairly roomy sort of cave,
+somewhat damp, but comparatively comfortable. Well, this hole was
+about four and a half feet high--you had to get in doubled up on
+your hands and knees--about five by six feet on the sides, and
+there was no floor, just muck. There was some sodden, dirty straw
+and a lot of old moldy sandbags. Seven men and their equipment were
+packed in here, and we made ten.
+
+There was a charcoal brazier going in the middle with two or three
+mess tins of char boiling away. Everybody was smoking, and the
+place stunk to high heaven, or it would have if there hadn't been a
+bit of burlap over the door.
+
+I crowded up into a corner with my back against the mud wall and my
+knees under my chin. The men didn't seem overglad to see us, and
+groused a good deal about the extra crowding. They regarded me with
+extra disfavor because I was a lance corporal, and they disapproved
+of any young whipper-snapper just out from Blighty with no trench
+experience pitchforked in with even a slight superior rank. I had
+thought up to then that a lance corporal was pretty near as
+important as a brigadier.
+
+"We'll soon tyke that stripe off ye, me bold lad," said one big
+cockney.
+
+They were a decent lot after all. Since we were just out from
+Blighty, they showered us with questions as to how things looked
+"t' 'ome." And then somebody asked what was the latest song. Right
+here was where I made my hit and got in right. I sing a bit, and I
+piped up with the newest thing from the music halls, "Tyke Me Back
+to Blighty." Here it is:
+
+        Tyke me back to dear old Blighty,
+        Put me on the tryne for London town,
+        Just tyke me over there
+        And drop me anywhere,
+        Manchester, Leeds, or Birmingham,
+        I don't care.
+
+        I want to go see me best gal;
+        Cuddlin' up soon we'll be,
+        Hytey iddle de eyety.
+        Tyke me back to Blighty,
+        That's the plyce for me.
+
+It doesn't look like much and I'm afraid my rendition of cockney
+dialect into print isn't quite up to Kipling's. But the song had a
+pretty little lilting melody, and it went big. They made me sing it
+about a dozen times and were all joining in at the end.
+
+Then they got sentimental--and gloomy.
+
+"Gawd lumme!" says the big fellow who had threatened my beloved
+stripes. "Wot a life. Squattin' 'ere in the bloody mud like a
+blinkin' frog. Fightin' fer wot? Wot, I arsks yer? Gawd lumme! I'd
+give me bloomin' napper to stroll down the Strand agyne wif me
+swagger stick an' drop in a private bar an' 'ave me go of 'Aig an'
+'Aig."
+
+"Garn," cuts in another Tommy. "Yer blinkin' 'igh wif yer wants,
+ayen't ye? An' yer 'Aig an' 'Aig. Drop me down in Great Lime Street
+(Liverpool) an' it's me fer the Golden Sheaf, and a pint of bitter,
+an' me a 'oldin' 'Arriet's 'and over th' bar. I'm a courtin' 'er
+when," etc., etc.
+
+And then a fresh-faced lad chirps up: "T' 'ell wif yer Lonnon an'
+yer whuskey. Gimme a jug o' cider on the sunny side of a 'ay rick
+in old Surrey. Gimme a happle tart to go wif it. Gawd, I'm fed up
+on bully beef."
+
+And so it went. All about pubs and bar-maids and the things they'd
+eat and drink, and all of it Blighty.
+
+They were in the midst of a discussion of what part of the body was
+most desirable to part with for a permanent Blighty wound when a
+young officer pushed aside the burlap and wedged in. He was a
+lieutenant and was in command of our platoon. His name was Blofeld.
+
+Blofeld was most democratic. He shook hands with the new men and
+said he hoped we'd be live wires, and then he told us what he
+wanted. There was to be a raid the next night and he was looking
+for volunteers.
+
+Nobody spoke for a long minute, and then I offered.
+
+I think I spoke more to break the embarrassing silence than
+anything else. I think, too, that I was led a little by a kind of
+youthful curiosity, and it may be that I wanted to appear brave in
+the eyes of these men who so evidently held me more or less in
+contempt as a newcomer.
+
+Blofeld accepted me, and one of the other new men offered. He was
+taken too.
+
+It turned out that all the older men were married and that they
+were not expected to volunteer. At least there was no disgrace
+attaching to a refusal.
+
+After Blofeld left, Sergeant Page told us we'd better get down to
+"kip" while we could. "Kip" in this case meant closing our eyes and
+dozing. I sat humped up in my original position through the night.
+There wasn't room to stretch out.
+
+Along toward morning I began to itch, and found I had made the
+acquaintance of that gay and festive little soldier's enemy, the
+"cootie." The cootie, or the "chat" as he is called by the
+officers, is the common body louse. Common is right. I never got
+rid of mine until I left the service. Sometimes when I get to
+thinking about it, I believe I haven't yet.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+A TRENCH RAID
+
+
+In the morning the members of the raiding party were taken back a
+mile or so to the rear and were given instruction and rehearsal.
+This was the first raid that "Batt" had ever tried, and the staff
+was anxious to have it a success. There were fifty in the party,
+and Blofeld, who had organized the raid, beat our instructions into
+us until we knew them by heart.
+
+The object of a raid is to get into the enemy's trenches by stealth
+if possible, kill as many as possible, take prisoners if
+practicable, do a lot of damage, and get away with a whole hide.
+
+We got back to the front trenches just before dark. I noticed a lot
+of metal cylinders arranged along the parapet. They were about as
+big as a stovepipe and four feet long, painted brown. They were the
+gas containers. They were arranged about four or five to a
+traverse, and were connected up by tubes and were covered with
+sandbags. This was the poison gas ready for release over the top
+through tubes.
+
+ [Illustration: A HEAVY HOWITZER, UNDER CAMOUFLAGE. Copyright, by
+ Underwood & Underwood, N.Y.]
+
+The time set for our stunt was eleven P.M. Eleven o'clock was
+"zero." The system on the Western Front, and, in fact, all fronts,
+is to indicate the time fixed for any event as zero. Anything
+before or after is spoken of as plus or minus zero.
+
+Around five o'clock we were taken back to Mechanics trench and
+fed--a regular meal with plenty of everything, and all good. It
+looked rather like giving a condemned man a hearty meal, but grub
+is always acceptable to a soldier.
+
+After that we blacked our faces. This is always done to prevent the
+whiteness of the skin from showing under the flare lights. Also to
+distinguish your own men when you get to the Boche trench.
+
+Then we wrote letters and gave up our identification discs and were
+served with persuader sticks or knuckle knives, and with "Mills"
+bombs.
+
+The persuader is a short, heavy bludgeon with a nail-studded head.
+You thump Fritz on the head with it. Very handy at close quarters.
+The knuckle knife is a short dagger with a heavy brass hilt that
+covers the hand. Also very good for close work, as you can either
+strike or stab with it.
+
+We moved up to the front trenches at about half-past ten. At zero
+minus ten, that is, ten minutes of eleven, our artillery opened up.
+It was the first bombardment I had ever been under, and it seemed
+as though all the guns in the world were banging away. Afterwards I
+found that it was comparatively light, but it didn't seem so then.
+
+The guns were hardly started when there was a sound like escaping
+steam. Jerry leaned over and shouted in my ear: "There goes the
+gas. May it finish the blighters."
+
+Blofeld came dashing up just then, very much excited because he
+found we had not put on our masks, through some slip-up in the
+orders. We got into them quick. But as it turned out there was no
+need. There was a fifteen-mile wind blowing, which carried the gas
+away from us very rapidly. In fact it blew it across the Boche
+trenches so fast that it didn't bother them either.
+
+The barrage fire kept up right up to zero, as per schedule. At
+thirty seconds of eleven I looked at my watch and the din was at
+its height. At exactly eleven it stopped short. Fritz was still
+sending some over, but comparatively there was silence. After the
+ear-splitting racket it was almost still enough to hurt.
+
+And in that silence over the top we went.
+
+Lanes had been cut through our wire, and we got through them
+quickly. The trenches were about one hundred twenty yards apart and
+we still had nearly one hundred to go. We dropped and started to
+crawl. I skinned both my knees on something, probably old wire, and
+both hands. I could feel the blood running into my puttees, and my
+rifle bothered me as I was afraid of jabbing Jerry, who was just
+ahead of me as first bayonet man.
+
+They say a drowning man or a man in great danger reviews his past.
+I didn't. I spent those few minutes wondering when the machine-gun
+fire would come.
+
+I had the same "gone" feeling in the pit of the stomach that you
+have when you drop fast in an elevator. The skin on my face felt
+tight, and I remember that I wanted to pucker my nose and pull my
+upper lip down over my teeth.
+
+We got clean up to their wire before they spotted us. Their
+entanglements had been flattened by our barrage fire, but we had to
+get up to pick our way through, and they saw us.
+
+Instantly the "Very" lights began to go up in scores, and hell
+broke loose. They must have turned twenty machine guns on us, or at
+us, but their aim evidently was high, for they only "clicked" two
+out of our immediate party. We had started with ten men, the other
+fifty being divided into three more parties farther down the line.
+
+When the machine guns started, we charged. Jerry and I were ahead
+as bayonet men, with the rest of the party following with buckets
+of "Mills" bombs and "Stokeses."
+
+It was pretty light, there were so many flares going up from both
+sides. When I jumped on the parapet, there was a whaling big Boche
+looking up at me with his rifle resting on the sandbags. I was
+almost on the point of his bayonet.
+
+For an instant I stood with a kind of paralyzed sensation, and
+there flashed through my mind the instructions of the manual for
+such a situation, only I didn't apply those instructions to this
+emergency.
+
+Instead I thought--if such a flash could be called thinking--how I,
+as an instructor, would have told a rookie to act, working on a
+dummy. I had a sort of detached feeling as though this was a silly
+dream.
+
+Probably this hesitation didn't last more than a second.
+
+Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jerry lunge, and I lunged
+too. Why that Boche did not fire I don't know. Perhaps he did and
+missed. Anyhow I went down and in on him, and the bayonet went
+through his throat.
+
+Jerry had done his man in and all hands piled into the trench.
+
+Then we started to race along the traverses. We found a machine
+gun and put an eleven-pound high-explosive "Stokes" under it. Three
+or four Germans appeared, running down communication trenches, and
+the bombers sent a few Millses after them. Then we came to a
+dug-out door--in fact, several, as Fritz, like a woodchuck, always
+has more than one entrance to his burrow. We broke these in in jig
+time and looked down a thirty-foot hole on a dug-out full of
+graybacks. There must have been a lot of them. I could plainly see
+four or five faces looking up with surprised expressions.
+
+Blofeld chucked in two or three Millses and away we went.
+
+A little farther along we came to the entrance of a mine shaft, a
+kind of incline running toward our lines. Blofeld went in it a
+little way and flashed his light. He thought it was about forty
+yards long. We put several of our remaining Stokeses in that and
+wrecked it.
+
+Turning the corner of the next traverse, I saw Jerry drop his rifle
+and unlimber his persuader on a huge German who had just rounded
+the corner of the "bay." He made a good job of it, getting him in
+the face, and must have simply caved him in, but not before he had
+thrown a bomb. I had broken my bayonet prying the dug-out door off
+and had my gun up-ended--clubbed.
+
+ [Illustration: OVER THE TOP ON A RAID. Photograph from Underwood &
+ Underwood, N.Y.]
+
+When I saw that bomb coming, I bunted at it like Ty Cobb trying to
+sacrifice. It was the only thing to do. I choked my bat and poked
+at the bomb instinctively, and by sheer good luck fouled the thing
+over the parapet. It exploded on the other side.
+
+"Blimme eyes," says Jerry, "that's cool work. You saved us the
+wooden cross that time."
+
+We had found two more machine guns and were planting Stokeses under
+them when we heard the Lewises giving the recall signal. A good
+gunner gets so he can play a tune on a Lewis, and the device is
+frequently used for signals. This time he thumped out the old
+one--"All policemen have big feet." Rat-a-tat-tat--tat, tat.
+
+It didn't come any too soon.
+
+As we scrambled over the parapet we saw a big party of Germans
+coming up from the second trenches. They were out of the
+communication trenches and were coming across lots. There must have
+been fifty of them, outnumbering us five or six to one.
+
+We were out of bombs, Jerry had lost his rifle, and mine had no
+"ammo." Blofeld fired the last shot from his revolver and, believe
+me, we hooked it for home.
+
+We had been in their trenches just three and a half minutes.
+
+Just as we were going through their wire a bomb exploded near and
+got Jerry in the head. We dragged him in and also the two men that
+had been clicked on the first fire. Jerry got Blighty on his wound,
+but was back in two months. The second time he wasn't so lucky. He
+lies now somewhere in France with a wooden cross over his head.
+
+Did that muddy old trench look good when we tumbled in? Oh, Boy!
+The staff was tickled to pieces and complimented us all. We were
+sent out of the lines that night and in billets got hot food,
+high-grade "fags", a real bath, a good stiff rum ration, and
+letters from home.
+
+Next morning we heard the results of the raid. One party of twelve
+never returned. Besides that we lost seven men killed. The German
+loss was estimated at about one hundred casualties, six machine
+guns and several dug-outs destroyed, and one mine shaft put out of
+business. We also brought back documents of value found by one
+party in an officer's dug-out.
+
+Blofeld got the military cross for the night's work, and several of
+the enlisted men got the D.C.M.
+
+Altogether it was a successful raid. The best part of it was
+getting back.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+A FEW DAYS' REST IN BILLETS
+
+
+After the strafing we had given Fritz on the raid, he behaved
+himself reasonably well for quite a while. It was the first raid
+that had been made on that sector for a long time, and we had no
+doubt caught the Germans off their guard.
+
+Anyhow for quite a spell afterwards they were very "windy" and
+would send up the "Very" lights on the slightest provocation and
+start the "typewriters" a-rattling. Fritz was right on the job with
+his eye peeled all the time.
+
+In fact he was so keen that another raid that was attempted ten
+days later failed completely because of a rapidly concentrated and
+heavy machine-gun fire, and in another, a day or two later, our men
+never got beyond our own wire and had thirty-eight casualties out
+of fifty men engaged.
+
+But so far as anything but defensive work was concerned, Fritz was
+very meek. He sent over very few "minnies" or rifle grenades, and
+there was hardly any shelling of the sector.
+
+Directly after the raid, we who were in the party had a couple of
+days "on our own" at the little village of Bully-Grenay, less than
+three miles behind the lines. This is directly opposite Lens, the
+better known town which figures so often in the dispatches.
+
+Bully-Grenay had been a place of perhaps one thousand people. It
+had been fought over and through and around early in the war, and
+was pretty well battered up. There were a few houses left unhit and
+the town hall and several shops. The rest of the place was ruins,
+but about two hundred of the inhabitants still stuck to their old
+homes. For some reason the Germans did not shell Bully-Grenay, that
+is, not often. Once in a while they would lob one in just to let
+the people know they were not forgotten.
+
+There was a suspicion that there were spies in the town and that
+that accounted for the Germans laying off, but whatever was the
+cause the place was safer than most villages so near the lines.
+
+Those two days in repose at Bully-Grenay were a good deal of a
+farce. We were entirely "on our own", it is true, no parade, no
+duty of any kind--but the quarters--oof! We were billeted in the
+cellars of the battered-down houses. They weren't shell-proof. That
+didn't matter much, as there wasn't any shelling, but there might
+have been. The cellars were dangerous enough without, what with
+tottering walls and overhanging chunks of masonry.
+
+Moreover they were a long way from waterproof. Imagine trying to
+find a place to sleep in an old ruin half full of rainwater. The
+dry places were piled up with brick and mortar, but we managed to
+clean up some half-sheltered spots for "kip" and we lived through
+it.
+
+The worst feature of these billets was the rats. They were the
+biggest I ever saw, great, filthy, evil-smelling, grayish-red
+fellows, as big as a good-sized cat. They would hop out of the
+walls and scuttle across your face with their wet, cold feet, and
+it was enough to drive you insane. One chap in our party had a
+natural horror of rats, and he nearly went crazy. We had to "kip"
+with our greatcoats pulled up over our heads, and then the beggars
+would go down and nibble at our boots.
+
+The first day somebody found a fox terrier, evidently lost and
+probably the pet of some officer. We weren't allowed to carry
+mascots, although we had a kitten that we smuggled along for a long
+time. This terrier was a well-bred little fellow, and we grabbed
+him. We spent a good part of both mornings digging out rats for him
+and staged some of the grandest fights ever.
+
+Most of the day we spent at a little _estaminet_ across the way
+from our so-called billets. There was a pretty mademoiselle there
+who served the rotten French beer and _vin blanc_, and the Tommies
+tried their French on her. They might as well have talked Choctaw.
+I speak the language a little and tried to monopolize the lady, and
+did, which didn't increase my popularity any.
+
+"I say, Yank," some one would call, "don't be a blinkin' 'og. Give
+somebody else a chawnce."
+
+Whereupon I would pursue my conquest all the more ardently. I was
+making a large hit, as I thought, when in came an officer. After
+that I was ignored, to the huge delight of the Tommies, who joshed
+me unmercifully. They discovered that my middle name was Derby, and
+they christened me "Darby the Yank." Darby I remained as long as I
+was with them.
+
+Some of the questions the men asked about the States were certainly
+funny. One chap asked what language we spoke over here. I thought
+he was spoofing, but he actually meant it. He thought we spoke
+something like Italian, he said. I couldn't resist the temptation,
+and filled him up with a line of ghost stories about wild Indians
+just outside Boston. I told him I left because of a raid in which
+the redskins scalped people on Boston Common. After that he used to
+pester the life out of me for Wild West yarns with the scenes laid
+in New England.
+
+One chap was amazed and, I think, a little incredulous because I
+didn't know a man named Fisk in Des Moines.
+
+We went back to the trenches again and were there five days. I was
+out one night on barbed wire work, which is dangerous at any time,
+and was especially so with Fritz in his condition of jumpy nerves.
+You have to do most of the work lying on your back in the mud, and
+if you jingle the wire, Fritz traverses No Man's Land with his
+rapid-firers with a fair chance of bagging something.
+
+I also had one night on patrol, which later became my favorite
+game. I will tell more about it in another chapter.
+
+At the end of the five days the whole battalion was pulled out for
+rest. We marched a few miles to the rear and came to the village of
+Petite-Saens. This town had been fought through, but for some
+reason had suffered little. Few of the houses had been damaged, and
+we had real billets.
+
+My section, ten men besides myself, drew a big attic in a clean
+house. There was loads of room and the roof was tight and there
+were no rats. It was oriental luxury after Bully-Grenay and the
+trenches, and for a wonder nobody had a word of "grousing" over
+"kipping" on the bare floor.
+
+The house was occupied by a very old peasant woman and a very
+little girl, three years old, and as pretty as a picture. The old
+woman looked ill and sad and very lonesome. One night as we sat in
+her kitchen drinking black coffee and cognac, I persuaded her to
+tell her story. It was, on the whole, rather a cruel thing to ask,
+I am afraid. It is only one of many such that I heard over there.
+France has, indeed, suffered. I set down here, as nearly as I can
+translate, what the old woman said:
+
+"Monsieur, I am very, very old now, almost eighty, but I am a
+patriot and I love my France. I do not complain that I have lost
+everything in this war. I do not care now, for I am old and it is
+for my country; but there is much sadness for me to remember, and
+it is with great bitterness that I think of the pig Allemand--beast
+that he is.
+
+"Two years ago I lived in this house, happy with my daughter and
+her husband and the little baby, and my husband, who worked in the
+mines. He was too old to fight, but when the great war came he
+tried to enlist, but they would not listen to him, and he returned
+to work, that the country should not be without coal.
+
+"The beau-fils (son-in-law), he enlisted and said good-by and went
+to the service.
+
+"By and by the Boche come and in a great battle not far from this
+very house the beau-fils is wounded very badly and is brought to
+the house by comrades to die.
+
+"The Boche come into the village, but the beau-fils is too weak
+to go. The Boche come into the house, seize my daughter, and
+there--they--oh, monsieur--the things one may not say--and we so
+helpless.
+
+"Her father tries to protect her, but he is knocked down. I try,
+but they hold my feet over the fire until the very flesh cooks. See
+for yourselves the burns on my feet still.
+
+"My husband dies from the blow he gets, for he is very old, over
+ninety. Just then mon beau-fils sees a revolver that hangs by the
+side of the German officer, and putting all his strength together
+he leaps forward and grabs the revolver. And there he shoots the
+officer--and my poor little daughter--and then he says good-by and
+through the head sends a bullet.
+
+"The Germans did not touch me but once after that, and then they
+knocked me to the floor when they came after the pig officer. By
+and by come you English, and all is well for dear France once more;
+but I am very desolate now. I am alone but for the petite-fille
+(granddaughter), but I love the English, for they save my home and
+my dear country."
+
+I heard a good many stories of this kind off and on, but this
+particular one, I think, brought home, to me at least, the general
+beastliness of the Hun closer than ever before. We all loved our
+little kiddie very much, and when we saw the evidence of the
+terrible cruelties the poor old woman had suffered we saw red. Most
+of us cried a little. I think that that one story made each of us
+that heard it a mean, vicious fighter for the rest of our service.
+I know it did me.
+
+One of the first things a British soldier learns is to keep
+himself clean. He can't do it, and he's as filthy as a pig all the
+time he is in the trenches, but he tries. He is always shaving,
+even under fire, and show him running water and he goes to it like
+a duck.
+
+More than once I have shaved in a periscope mirror pegged into the
+side of a trench, with the bullets snapping overhead, and rubbed my
+face with wet tea leaves afterward to freshen up.
+
+Back in billets the very first thing that comes off is the big
+clean-up. Uniforms are brushed up, and equipment put in order. Then
+comes the bath, the most thorough possible under the conditions.
+After that comes the "cootie carnival", better known as the "shirt
+hunt." The cootie is the soldier's worst enemy. He's worse than the
+Hun. You can't get rid of him wherever you are, in the trenches or
+in billets, and he sticks closer than a brother. The cootie is a
+good deal of an acrobat. His policy of attack is to hang on to the
+shirt and to nibble at the occupant. Pull off the shirt and he
+comes with it. Hence the shirt hunt. Tommy gets out in the open
+somewhere so as not to shed his little companions indoors--there's
+always enough there anyhow--and he peels. Then he systematically
+runs down each seam--the cootie's favorite hiding place--catches
+the game, and ends his career by cracking him between the thumb
+nails.
+
+For some obscure psychological reason, Tommy seems to like company
+on one of these hunts. Perhaps it is because misery loves company,
+or it may be that he likes to compare notes on the catch. Anyhow,
+it is a common thing to see from a dozen to twenty soldiers with
+their shirts off, hunting cooties.
+
+"Hi sye, 'Arry," you'll hear some one sing out. "Look 'ere. Strike
+me bloomin' well pink but this one 'ere's got a black stripe along
+'is back."
+
+Or, "If this don't look like the one I showed ye 'fore we went into
+the blinkin' line. 'Ow'd 'e git loose?"
+
+And then, as likely as not, a little farther away, behind the
+officers' quarters, you'll hear one say:
+
+"I say, old chap, it's deucedly peculiar I should have so many of
+the beastly things after putting on the Harrisons mothaw sent in
+the lawst parcel."
+
+The cootie isn't at all fastidious. He will bite the British
+aristocrat as soon as anybody else. He finds his way into all
+branches of the service, and I have even seen a dignified colonel
+wiggle his shoulders anxiously.
+
+Some of the cootie stories have become classical, like this one
+which was told from the North Sea to the Swiss border. It might
+have happened at that.
+
+A soldier was going over the top when one of his cootie friends bit
+him on the calf. The soldier reached down and captured the biter.
+Just as he stooped, a shell whizzed over where his head would have
+been if he had not gone after the cootie. Holding the captive
+between thumb and finger, he said:
+
+"Old feller, I cawn't give yer the Victoria Cross--but I can put
+yer back."
+
+And he did.
+
+The worst thing about the cootie is that there is no remedy for
+him. The shirt hunt is the only effective way for the soldier to
+get rid of his bosom friends. The various dopes and patent
+preparations guaranteed as "good for cooties" are just that. They
+give 'em an appetite.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+FEEDING THE TOMMIES
+
+
+Food is a burning issue in the lives of all of us. It is the main
+consideration with the soldier. His life is simplified to two
+principal motives, _i.e._, keeping alive himself and killing the
+other fellow. The question uppermost in his mind every time and all
+of the time, is, "When do we eat?"
+
+In the trenches the backbone of Tommy's diet is bully beef,
+"Maconochie's Ration", cheese, bread or biscuit, jam, and tea. He
+may get some of this hot or he may eat it from the tin, all
+depending upon how badly Fritz is behaving.
+
+In billets the diet is more varied. Here he gets some fresh meat,
+lots of bacon, and the bully and the Maconochie's come along in the
+form of stew. Also there is fresh bread and some dried fruit and a
+certain amount of sweet stuff.
+
+It was this matter of grub that made my life a burden in the
+billets at Petite-Saens. I had been rather proud of being lance
+corporal. It was, to me, the first step along the road to being
+field marshal. I found, however, that a corporal is high enough to
+take responsibility and to get bawled out for anything that goes
+wrong. He's not high enough to command any consideration from those
+higher up, and he is so close to the men that they take out their
+grievances on him as a matter of course. He is neither fish, flesh,
+nor fowl, and his life is a burden.
+
+I had the job of issuing the rations of our platoon, and it nearly
+drove me mad. Every morning I would detail a couple of men from our
+platoon to be standing mess orderlies for the day. They would fetch
+the char and bacon from the field kitchen in the morning and clean
+up the "dixies" after breakfast. The "dixie", by the way, is an
+iron box or pot, oblong in shape, capacity about four or five
+gallons. It fits into the field kitchen and is used for roasts,
+stews, char, or anything else. The cover serves to cook bacon in.
+
+Field kitchens are drawn by horses and follow the battalion
+everywhere that it is safe to go, and to some places where it
+isn't. Two men are detailed from each company to cook, and there is
+usually another man who gets the sergeants' mess, besides the
+officers' cook, who does not as a rule use the field kitchen, but
+prepares the food in the house taken as the officers' mess.
+
+As far as possible, the company cooks are men who were cooks in
+civil life, but not always. We drew a plumber and a navvy (road
+builder)--and the grub tasted of both trades. The way our company
+worked the kitchen problem was to have stew for two platoons one
+day and roast dinner for the others, and then reverse the order
+next day, so that we didn't have stew all the time. There were not
+enough "dixies" for us all to have stew the same day.
+
+Every afternoon I would take my mess orderlies and go to the
+quartermaster's stores and get our allowance and carry it back to
+the billets in waterproof sheets. Then the stuff that was to be
+cooked in the kitchen went there, and the bread and that sort of
+material was issued direct to the men. That was where my trouble
+started.
+
+The powers that were had an uncanny knack of issuing an odd number
+of articles to go among an even number of men, and vice versa.
+There would be eleven loaves of bread to go to a platoon of fifty
+men divided into four sections. Some of the sections would have ten
+men and some twelve or thirteen.
+
+The British Tommy is a scrapper when it comes to his rations. He
+reminds me of an English sparrow. He's always right in there
+wangling for his own. He will bully and browbeat if he can, and he
+will coax and cajole if he can't. It would be "Hi sye, corporal.
+They's ten men in Number 2 section and fourteen in ourn. An' blimme
+if you hain't guv 'em four loaves, same as ourn. Is it right, I
+arsks yer? Is it?" Or,
+
+"Lookee! Do yer call that a loaf o' bread? Looks like the A.S.C.
+(Army Service Corps) been using it fer a piller. Gimme another,
+will yer, corporal?"
+
+When it comes to splitting seven onions nine ways, I defy any one
+to keep peace in the family, and every doggoned Tommy would hold
+out for his onion whether he liked 'em or not. Same way with a
+bottle of pickles to go among eleven men or a handful of raisins or
+apricots. Or jam or butter or anything, except bully beef or
+Maconochie. I never heard any one "argue the toss" on either of
+those commodities.
+
+Bully is high-grade corned beef in cans and is O.K. if you like it,
+but it does get tiresome.
+
+Maconochie ration is put up a pound to the can and bears a label
+which assures the consumer that it is a scientifically prepared,
+well-balanced ration. Maybe so. It is my personal opinion that the
+inventor brought to his task an imperfect knowledge of cookery and
+a perverted imagination. Open a can of Maconochie and you find a
+gooey gob of grease, like rancid lard. Investigate and you find
+chunks of carrot and other unidentifiable material, and now and
+then a bit of mysterious meat. The first man who ate an oyster had
+courage, but the last man who ate Maconochie's unheated had more.
+Tommy regards it as a very inferior grade of garbage. The label
+notwithstanding, he's right.
+
+Many people have asked me what to send our soldiers in the line of
+food. I'd say stick to sweets. Cookies of any durable kind--I mean
+that will stand chance moisture--the sweeter the better, and if
+possible those containing raisins or dried fruit. Figs, dates,
+etc., are good. And, of course, chocolate. Personally, I never did
+have enough chocolate. Candy is acceptable, if it is of the sort to
+stand more or less rough usage which it may get before it reaches
+the soldier. Chewing gum is always received gladly. The army issue
+of sweets is limited pretty much to jam, which gets to taste all
+alike.
+
+It is pathetic to see some of the messes Tommy gets together to
+fill his craving for dessert. The favorite is a slum composed of
+biscuit, water, condensed milk, raisins, and chocolate. If some of
+you folks at home would get one look at that concoction, let alone
+tasting it, you would dash out and spend your last dollar for a
+package to send to some lad "over there."
+
+ [Illustration: COOKING UNDER DIFFICULTIES.]
+
+After the excitement of dodging shells and bullets in the front
+trenches, life in billets seems dull. Tommy has too much time to
+get into mischief. It was at Petite-Saens that I first saw the
+Divisional Folies. This was a vaudeville show by ten men who had
+been actors in civil life, and who were detailed to amuse the
+soldiers. They charged a small admission fee and the profit went to
+the Red Cross.
+
+There ought to be more recreation for the soldiers of all armies.
+The Y.M.C.A. is to take care of that with our boys.
+
+By the way, we had a Y.M.C.A. hut at Petite-Saens, and I cannot say
+enough for this great work. No one who has not been there can know
+what a blessing it is to be able to go into a clean, warm, dry
+place and sit down to reading or games and to hear good music.
+Personally I am a little bit sorry that the secretaries are to be
+in khaki. They weren't when I left. And it sure did seem good to
+see a man in civilian's clothes. You get after a while so you hate
+the sight of a uniform.
+
+Another thing about the Y.M.C.A. I could wish that they would have
+more women in the huts. Not frilly, frivolous society girls, but
+women from thirty-five to fifty. A soldier likes kisses as well as
+the next. And he takes them when he finds them. And he finds too
+many. But what he really wants, though, is the chance to sit down
+and tell his troubles to some nice, sympathetic woman who is old
+enough to be level-headed.
+
+Nearly every soldier reverts more or less to a boyish point of
+view. He hankers for somebody to mother him. I should be glad to
+see many women of that type in the Y.M.C.A. work. It is one of the
+great needs of our army that the boys should be amused and kept
+clean mentally and morally. I don't believe there is any
+organization better qualified to do this than the Y.M.C.A.
+
+Most of our chaps spent their time "on their own" either in the
+Y.M.C.A. hut or in the _estaminets_ while we were in Petite-Saens.
+Our stop there was hardly typical of the rest in billets. Usually
+"rest" means that you are set to mending roads or some such fatigue
+duty. At Petite-Saens, however, we had it "cushy."
+
+The routine was about like this: Up at 6:30, we fell in for
+three-quarters of an hour physical drill or bayonet practice.
+Breakfast. Inspection of ammo and gas masks. One hour drill. After
+that, "on our own", with nothing to do but smoke, read, and gamble.
+
+Tommy is a great smoker. He gets a fag issue from the government,
+if he is lucky, of two packets or twenty a week. This lasts him
+with care about two days. After that he goes smokeless unless he
+has friends at home to send him a supply. I had friends in London
+who sent me about five hundred fags a week, and I was consequently
+popular while they lasted. This took off some of the curse of being
+a lance corporal.
+
+Tommy has his favorite in "fags" like anybody else. He likes above
+all Wild Woodbines. This cigarette is composed of glue, cheap
+paper, and a poor quality of hay. Next in his affection comes
+Goldflakes--pretty near as bad.
+
+People over here who have boys at the front mustn't forget the
+cigarette supply. Send them along early and often. There'll never
+be too many. Smoking is one of the soldier's few comforts. Two
+bits' worth of makin's a week will help one lad make life
+endurable. It's cheap at the price. Come through for the smoke
+fund whenever you get the chance.
+
+Cafe life among us at Petite-Saens was mostly drinking and
+gambling. That is not half as bad as it sounds. The drinking was
+mostly confined to the slushy French beer and vin blanc and citron.
+Whiskey and absinthe were barred.
+
+The gambling was on a small scale, necessarily, the British soldier
+not being at any time a bloated plutocrat. At the same time the
+games were continuous. "House" was the most popular. This is a game
+similar to the "lotto" we used to play as children. The backers
+distribute cards having fifteen numbers, forming what they call a
+school. Then numbered cardboard squares are drawn from a bag, the
+numbers being called out. When a number comes out which appears on
+your card, you cover it with a bit of match. If you get all your
+numbers covered, you call out "house", winning the pot. If there
+are ten people in at a franc a head, the banker holds out two
+francs, and the winner gets eight.
+
+It is really quite exciting, as you may get all but one number
+covered and be rooting for a certain number to come. Usually when
+you get as close as that and sweat over a number for ten minutes,
+somebody else gets his first. Corporal Wells described the game as
+one where the winner "'ollers 'ouse and the rest 'ollers 'ell!"
+
+Some of the nicknames for the different numbers remind one of the
+slang of the crap shooter. For instance, "Kelly's eye" means one.
+"Clickety click" is sixty-six. "Top of the house" is ninety. Other
+games are "crown and anchor", which is a dice game, and "pontoon",
+which is a card game similar to "twenty-one" or "seven and a half."
+Most of these are mildly discouraged by the authorities, "house"
+being the exception. But in any _estaminet_ in a billet town you'll
+find one or all of them in progress all the time. The winner
+usually spends his winnings for beer, so the money all goes the
+same way, game or no game.
+
+When there are no games on, there is usually a sing-song going. We
+had a merry young nuisance in our platoon named Rolfe, who had a
+voice like a frog and who used to insist upon singing on all
+occasions. Rolfie would climb on the table in the _estaminet_ and
+sing numerous unprintable verses of his own, entitled "Oh, What a
+Merry Plyce is Hengland." The only redeeming feature of this song
+was the chorus, which everybody would roar out and which went like
+this:
+
+        Cheer, ye beggars, cheer!
+        Britannia rules the wave!
+        'Ard times, short times
+        Never'll come agyne.
+        Shoutin' out at th' top o' yer lungs:
+        Damn the German army!
+        Oh, wot a lovely plyce is Hengland!
+
+Our ten days _en repos_ at Petite-Saens came to an end all too
+soon.
+
+On the last day we lined up for our official "bawth."
+
+Petite-Saens was a coal-mining town. The mines were still operated,
+but only at night--this to avoid shelling from the Boche
+long-distance artillery, which are fully capable of sending shells
+and hitting the mark at eighteen miles. The water system of the
+town depended upon the pumping apparatus of the mines. Every
+morning early, before the pressure was off, all hands would turn
+out for a general "sluicing" under the hydrants. We were as clean
+as could be and fairly free of "cooties" at the end of a week, but
+official red tape demanded that we go through an authorized
+scouring.
+
+On the last day we lined up for this at dawn before an old
+warehouse which had been fitted with crude showers. We were turned
+in twenty in a batch and were given four minutes to soap ourselves
+all over and rinse off. I was in the last lot and had just lathered
+up good and plenty when the water went dead. If you want to reach
+the acme of stickiness, try this stunt. I felt like the inside of a
+mucilage bottle for a week.
+
+After the official purification we were given clean underwear. And
+then there was a howl. The fresh underthings had been boiled and
+sterilized, but the immortal cootie had come through unscathed and
+in all its vigor. Corporal Wells raised a pathetic wail:
+
+"Blimme eyes, mytie! I got more'n two 'undred now an' this supposed
+to be a bloomin' clean shirt! Why, the blinkin' thing's as lousy
+as a cookoo now, an me just a-gittin' rid o' the bloomin' chats on
+me old un. Strike me pink if it hain't a bleedin' crime! Some one
+ought to write to John Bull abaht it!"
+
+_John Bull_ is the English paper of that name published by Horatio
+Bottomley, which makes a specialty of publishing complaints from
+soldiers and generally criticising the conduct of army affairs.
+
+Well, we got through the bath and the next day were on our way.
+This time it was up the line to another sector. My one taste of
+trench action had made me keen for more excitement, and in spite of
+the comfortable time at Petite-Saens, I was glad to go. I was yet
+to know the real horrors and hardships of modern warfare. There
+were many days in those to come when I looked back upon
+Petite-Saens as a sort of heaven.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+HIKING TO VIMY RIDGE
+
+
+We left Petite-Saens about nine o'clock Friday night and commenced
+our march for what we were told would be a short hike. It was
+pretty warm and muggy. There was a thin, low-lying mist over
+everything, but clear enough above, and there was a kind of poor
+moonlight. There was a good deal of delay in getting away, and we
+had begun to sweat before we started, as we were equipped as usual
+with about eighty pounds' weight on the back and shoulders. That
+eighty pounds is theoretical weight.
+
+As a matter of practice the pack nearly always runs ten and even
+twenty pounds over the official equipment, as Tommy is a great
+little accumulator of junk. I had acquired the souvenir craze early
+in the game, and was toting excess baggage in the form of a Boche
+helmet, a mess of shell noses, and a smashed German automatic. All
+this ran to weight.
+
+I carried a lot of this kind of stuff all the time I was in the
+service, and was constantly thinning out my collection or adding to
+it.
+
+When you consider that a soldier has to carry everything he owns on
+his person, you'd say that he would want to fly light; but he
+doesn't. And that reminds me, before I forget it, I want to say
+something about sending boxes over there.
+
+It is the policy of the British, and, I suppose, will be of the
+Americans, to move the troops about a good deal. This is done so
+that no one unit will become too much at home in any one line of
+trenches and so get careless. This moving about involves a good
+deal of hiking.
+
+Now if some chap happens to get a twenty-pound box of good things
+just before he is shifted, he's going to be in an embarrassing
+position. He'll have to give it away or leave it. So--send the
+boxes two or three pounds at a time, and often.
+
+But to get back to Petite-Saens. We commenced our hike as it is was
+getting dark. As we swung out along the once good but now badly
+furrowed French road, we could see the Very lights beginning to go
+up far off to the left, showing where the lines were. We could
+distinguish between our own star lights and the German by the
+intensity of the flare, theirs being much superior to ours, so much
+so that they send them up from the second-line trenches.
+
+The sound of the guns became more distant as we swung away to the
+south and louder again as the road twisted back toward the front.
+
+We began to sing the usual songs of the march and I noticed that
+the American ragtime was more popular among the boys than their own
+music. "Dixie" frequently figured in these songs.
+
+It is always a good deal easier to march when the men sing, as it
+helps to keep time and puts pep into a column and makes the packs
+seem lighter. The officers see to it that the mouth organs get
+tuned up the minute a hike begins.
+
+At the end of each hour we came to a halt for the regulation ten
+minutes' rest. Troops in heavy marching order move very slowly,
+even with the music--and the hours drag. The ten minutes' rest
+though goes like a flash. The men keep an eye on the watches and
+"wangle" for the last second.
+
+We passed through two ruined villages with the battered walls
+sticking up like broken teeth and the gray moonlight shining
+through empty holes that had been windows. The people were gone
+from these places, but a dog howled over yonder. Several times we
+passed batteries of French artillery, and jokes and laughter came
+out of the half darkness.
+
+Topping a little rise, the moon came out bright, and away ahead the
+silver ribbon of the Souchez gleamed for an instant; the bare poles
+that once had been Bouvigny Wood were behind us, and to the right,
+to the left, a pulverized ruin where houses had stood. Blofeld told
+me this was what was left of the village of Abalaine, which had
+been demolished some time before when the French held the sector.
+
+At this point guides came out and met us to conduct us to the
+trenches. The order went down the line to fall in, single file,
+keeping touch, no smoking and no talking, and I supposed we were
+about to enter a communication trench. But no. We swung on to a
+"duck walk." This is a slatted wooden walk built to prevent as much
+as possible sinking into the mud. The ground was very soft here.
+
+I never did know why there was no communication trench unless it
+was because the ground was so full of moisture. But whatever the
+reason, there was none, and we were right out in the open on the
+duck walk. The order for no talk seemed silly as we clattered along
+the boards, making a noise like a four-horse team on a covered
+bridge.
+
+I immediately wondered whether we were near enough for the Boches
+to hear. I wasn't in doubt long, for they began to send over the
+"Berthas" in flocks. The "Bertha" is an uncommonly ugly breed of
+nine-inch shell loaded with H.E. It comes sailing over with a
+querulous "squeeeeeee", and explodes with an ear-splitting crash
+and a burst of murky, dull-red flame.
+
+If it hits you fair, you disappear. At a little distance you are
+ripped to fragments, and a little farther off you get a case of
+shell-shock. Just at the edge of the destructive area the wind of
+the explosion whistles by your ears, and then sucks back more
+slowly.
+
+The Boches had the range of that duck walk, and we began to run.
+Every now and then they would drop one near the walk, and from four
+to ten casualties would go down. There was no stopping for the
+wounded. They lay where they fell. We kept on the run, sometimes on
+the duck walk, sometimes in the mud, for three miles. I had reached
+the limit of my endurance when we came to a halt and rested for a
+little while at the foot of a slight incline. This was the
+"Pimple", so called on account of its rounded crest.
+
+The Pimple forms a part of the well-known Vimy Ridge--is a
+semi-detached extension of it--and lies between it and the Souchez
+sector. After a rest here we got into the trenches skirting the
+Pimple and soon came out on the Quarries. This was a bowl-like
+depression formed by an old quarry. The place gave a natural
+protection and all around the edge were dug-outs which had been
+built by the French, running back into the hill, some of them more
+than a hundred feet.
+
+In the darkness we could see braziers glowing softly red at the
+mouth of each burrow. There was a cheerful, mouth-watering smell of
+cookery on the air, a garlicky smell, with now and then a whiff of
+spicy wood smoke.
+
+We were hungry and thirsty, as well as tired, and shed our packs at
+the dug-outs assigned us and went at the grub and the char offered
+us by the men we were relieving, the Northumberland Fusiliers.
+
+The dug-outs here in the Quarries were the worst I saw in France.
+They were reasonably dry and roomy, but they had no ventilation
+except the tunnel entrance, and going back so far the air inside
+became simply stifling in a very short time.
+
+I took one inhale of the interior atmosphere and decided right
+there that I would bivouac in the open. It was just getting down to
+"kip" when a sentry came up and said I would have to get inside. It
+seemed that Fritz had the range of the Quarries to an inch and was
+in the habit of sending over "minnies" at intervals just to let us
+know he wasn't asleep.
+
+I had got settled down comfortably and was dozing off when there
+came a call for C company. I got the men from my platoon out as
+quickly as possible, and in half an hour we were in the trenches.
+
+Number 10 platoon was assigned to the center sector, Number 11 to
+the left sector, and Number 12 to the right sector. Number 9
+remained behind in supports in the Quarries.
+
+Now when I speak of these various sectors, I mean that at this
+point there was no continuous line of front trenches, only isolated
+stretches of trench separated by intervals of from two hundred to
+three hundred yards of open ground. There were no dug-outs. It was
+impossible to leave these trenches except under cover of
+darkness--or to get to them or to get up rations. They were awful
+holes. Any raid by the Germans in large numbers at this time would
+have wiped us out, as there was no means of retreating or getting
+up reinforcements.
+
+The Tommies called the trenches Grouse Spots. It was a good name.
+We got into them in the dense darkness of just before dawn. The
+division we relieved gave us hardly any instruction, but beat it on
+the hot foot, glad to get away and anxious to go before sun-up. As
+we settled down in our cosey danger spots I heard Rolfie, the
+frog-voiced baritone, humming one of his favorite coster songs:
+
+        Oh, why did I leave my little back room in old Bloomsbury?
+        Where I could live for a pound a week in luxury.
+        I wanted to live higher
+        So I married Marier,
+        Out of the frying pan into the bloomin' fire.
+
+And he meant every word of it.
+
+In our new positions in the Grouse Spots the orders were to patrol
+the open ground between at least four times a night. That first
+night there was one more patrol necessary before daylight. Tired as
+I was, I volunteered for it. I had had one patrol before, opposite
+Bully-Grenay, and thought I liked the game.
+
+I went over with one man, a fellow named Bellinger. We got out and
+started to crawl. All we knew was that the left sector was two
+hundred yards away. Machine-gun bullets were squealing and
+snapping overhead pretty continuously, and we had to hug the dirt.
+It is surprising to see how flat a man can keep and still get along
+at a good rate of speed. We kept straight away to the left and
+presently got into wire. And then we heard German voices. Ow! I
+went cold all over.
+
+Then some "Very" lights went up and I saw the Boche parapet not
+twenty feet away. Worst of all there was a little lane through
+their wire at that point, and there would be, no doubt, a sap head
+or a listening post near. I tried to lie still and burrow into the
+dirt at the same time. Nothing happened. Presently the lights died,
+and Bellinger gave me a poke in the ribs. We started to crawfish.
+Why we weren't seen I don't know, but we had gone all of one
+hundred feet before they spotted us. Fortunately we were on the
+edge of a shallow shell hole when the sentry caught our movements
+and Fritz cut loose with the "typewriters." We rolled in. A perfect
+torrent of bullets ripped up the dirt and cascaded us with gravel
+and mud. The noise of the bullets "crackling" a yard above us was
+deafening.
+
+The fusillade stopped after a bit. I was all for getting out and
+away immediately. Bellinger wanted to wait a while. We argued for
+as much as five minutes, I should think, and then the lights having
+gone out, I took matters in my own hands and we went away from
+there. Another piece of luck!
+
+We weren't more than a minute on our way when a pair of bombs went
+off about over the shell hole. Evidently some bold Heinie had
+chucked them over to make sure of the job in case the machines
+hadn't. It was a close pinch--two close pinches. I was in places
+afterwards where there was more action and more danger, but,
+looking back, I don't think I was ever sicker or scareder. I would
+have been easy meat if they had rushed us.
+
+We made our way back slowly, and eventually caught the gleam of
+steel helmets. They were British. We had stumbled upon our left
+sector. We found out then that the line curved and that instead of
+the left sector being directly to the left of ours--the center--it
+was to the left and to the rear. Also there was a telephone wire
+running from one to the other. We reported and made our way back to
+the center in about five minutes by feeling along the wire. That
+was our method afterwards, and the patrol was cushy for us.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+FASCINATION OF PATROL WORK
+
+
+I want to say a word right here about patrol work in general,
+because for some reason it fascinated me and was my favorite game.
+
+If you should be fortunate--or unfortunate enough, as the case
+might be--to be squatting in a front-line trench this fine morning
+and looking through a periscope, you wouldn't see much. Just over
+the top, not more than twenty feet away, would be your barbed-wire
+entanglements, a thick network of wire stretched on iron posts
+nearly waist high, and perhaps twelve or fifteen feet across. Then
+there would be an intervening stretch of from fifty to one hundred
+fifty yards of No Man's Land, a tortured, torn expanse of muddy
+soil, pitted with shell craters, and, over beyond, the German wire
+and his parapet.
+
+There would be nothing alive visible. There would probably be a
+few corpses lying about or hanging in the wire. Everything would be
+still except for the flutter of some rag of a dead man's uniform.
+Perhaps not that. Daylight movements in No Man's Land are somehow
+disconcerting. Once I was in a trench where a leg--a booted German
+leg, stuck up stark and stiff out of the mud not twenty yards in
+front. Some idiotic joker on patrol hung a helmet on the foot, and
+all the next day that helmet dangled and swung in the breeze. It
+irritated the periscope watchers, and the next night it was taken
+down.
+
+Ordinarily, however, there is little movement between the wires,
+nor behind them. And yet you know that over yonder there are
+thousands of men lurking in the trenches and shelters.
+
+After dark these men, or some of them, crawl out like hunted
+animals and prowl in the black mystery of No Man's Land. They are
+the patrol.
+
+The patrol goes out armed and equipped lightly. He has to move
+softly and at times very quickly. It is his duty to get as close
+to the enemy lines as possible and find out if they are repairing
+their wire or if any of their parties are out, and to get back word
+to the machine gunners, who immediately cut loose on the indicated
+spot.
+
+Sometimes he lies with his head to the ground over some suspected
+area, straining his ears for the faint "scrape, scrape" that means
+a German mining party is down there, getting ready to plant a ton
+or so of high explosive, or, it may be, is preparing to touch it
+off at that very moment.
+
+Always the patrol is supposed to avoid encounter with enemy
+patrols. He carries two or three Mills bombs and a pistol, but not
+for use except in extreme emergency. Also a persuader stick or a
+trench knife, which he may use if he is near enough to do it
+silently.
+
+The patrol stares constantly through the dark and gets so he can
+see almost as well as a cat. He must avoid being seen. When a Very
+light goes up, he lies still. If he happens to be standing, he
+stands still. Unless the light is behind him so that he is
+silhouetted, he is invisible to the enemy.
+
+Approaching a corpse, the patrol lies quiet and watches it for
+several minutes, unless it is one he has seen before and is
+acquainted with. Because sometimes the man isn't dead, but a
+perfectly live Boche patrol lying "doggo." You can't be too
+careful.
+
+If you happen to be pussyfooting forward erect and encounter a
+German patrol, it is policy to scuttle back unless you are near
+enough to get in one good lick with the persuader. He will retreat
+slowly himself, and you mustn't follow him. Because: The British
+patrol usually goes out singly or at the most in pairs or threes.
+
+The Germans, on the other hand, hunt in parties. One man leads. Two
+others follow to the rear, one to each side. And then two more, and
+two more, so that they form a V, like a flock of geese. Now if you
+follow up the lead man when he retreats, you are baited into a trap
+and find yourself surrounded, smothered by superior numbers, and
+taken prisoner. Then back to the Boche trench, where exceedingly
+unpleasant things are apt to happen.
+
+It is, in fact, most unwholesome for a British patrol to be
+captured. I recall a case in point which I witnessed and which is
+far enough in the past so that it can be told. It occurred, not at
+Vimy Ridge, but further down the line, nearer the Somme.
+
+I was out one night with another man, prowling in the dark, when I
+encountered a Canadian sergeant who was alone. There was a Canadian
+battalion holding the next trench to us, and another farther down.
+He was from the farther one. We lay in the mud and compared notes.
+Once, when a light floated down near us, I saw his face, and he was
+a man I knew, though not by name.
+
+After a while we separated, and he went back, as he was
+considerably off his patrol. An hour or so later the mist began to
+get gray, and it was evident that dawn was near. I was a couple of
+hundred yards down from our battalion, and my man and I made for
+the trenches opposite where we were. As we climbed into a sap head,
+I was greeted by a Canadian corporal. He invited me to a tin of
+"char", and I sent my man up the line to our own position.
+
+We sat on the fire step drinking, and I told the corporal about
+meeting the sergeant out in front. While we were at the "char" it
+kept getting lighter, and presently a pair of Lewises started to
+rattle a hundred yards or so away down the line. Then came a sudden
+commotion and a kind of low, growling shout. That is the best way I
+can describe it. We stood up, and below we saw men going over the
+top.
+
+"What the dickens can this be?" stuttered the corporal. "There's
+been no barrage. There's no orders for a charge. What is it? What
+is it?"
+
+Well, there they were, going over, as many as two hundred of
+them--growling. The corporal and I climbed out of the trench at the
+rear, over the parados, and ran across lots down to a point
+opposite where the Canadians had gone over, and watched.
+
+They swept across No Man's Land and into the Boche trench. There
+was the deuce of a ruckus over there for maybe two minutes, and
+then back they came--carrying something. Strangely enough there had
+been no machine-gun fire turned on them as they crossed, nor was
+there as they returned. They had cleaned that German trench! And
+they brought back the body of a man--nailed to a rude crucifix. The
+thing was more like a T than a cross. It was made of planks,
+perhaps two by five, and the man was spiked on by his hands and
+feet. Across the abdomen he was riddled with bullets and again with
+another row a little higher up near his chest. The man was the
+sergeant I had talked to earlier in the night. What had happened
+was this. He had, no doubt, been taken by a German patrol. Probably
+he had refused to answer questions. Perhaps he had insulted an
+officer. They had crucified him and held him up above the parapet.
+With the first light his own comrades had naturally opened on the
+thing with the Lewises, not knowing what it was. When it got
+lighter, and they recognized the hellish thing that had been done
+to one of their men, they went over. Nothing in this world could
+have stopped them.
+
+The M.O. who viewed the body said that without question the man had
+been crucified alive. Also it was said that the same thing had
+happened before.
+
+I told Captain Green of the occurrence when I got back to our own
+trenches, and he ordered me to keep silent, which I did. It was
+feared that if the affair got about the men would be "windy" on
+patrol. However, the thing did get about and was pretty well talked
+over. Too many saw it.
+
+The Canadians were reprimanded for going over without orders. But
+they were not punished. For their officers went with them--led
+them.
+
+Occasionally the temptation is too great. Once I was out on patrol
+alone, having sent my man back with a message, when I encountered a
+Heinie. I was lying down at the time. A flock of lights went up and
+showed this fellow standing about ten feet from me. He had frozen
+and stayed that way till the flares died, but I was close enough to
+see that he was a German. Also--marvel of marvels--he was alone.
+
+When the darkness settled again, I got to my feet and jumped at
+him. He jumped at me--another marvel. Going into the clinch I
+missed him with the persuader and lost my grip on it, leaving the
+weapon dangling by the leather loop on my wrist. He had struck at
+me with his automatic, which I think he must have dropped, though
+I'm not sure of that. Anyway we fell into each other's arms and
+went at it barehanded. He was bigger than I. I got under the ribs
+and tried to squeeze the breath out of him, but he was too rugged.
+
+At the same time I felt that he didn't relish the clinch. I slipped
+my elbow up and got under his chin, forcing his head back. His
+breath smelled of beer and onions. I was choking him when he
+brought his knee up and got me in the stomach and again on the
+instep when he brought his heel down.
+
+It broke my hold, and I staggered back groping for the persuader.
+He jumped back as far as I did. I felt somehow that he was glad. So
+was I. We stood for a minute, and I heard him gutter out something
+that sounded like "Verdamder swinehunt." Then we both backed away.
+
+It seemed to me to be the nicest way out of the situation. No doubt
+he felt the same.
+
+I seem to have wandered far from the Quarries and the Grouse Spots.
+Let's go back.
+
+We were two days in the Grouse Spots and were then relieved, going
+back to the Quarries and taking the place of Number 9 in support.
+While lying there, I drew a patrol that was interesting because it
+was different.
+
+The Souchez River flowed down from Abalaine and Souchez villages
+and through our lines to those of the Germans, and on to Lens.
+Spies, either in the army itself or in the villages, had been
+placing messages in bottles and floating them down the river to the
+Germans.
+
+Somebody found this out, and a net of chicken wire had been placed
+across the river in No Man's Land. Some one had to go down there
+and fish for bottles twice nightly. I took this patrol alone. The
+lines were rather far apart along the river, owing to the swampy
+nature of the ground, which made livable trenches impossible.
+
+I slipped out and down the slight incline, and presently found
+myself in a little valley. The grass was rank and high, sometimes
+nearly up to my chin, and the ground was slimy and treacherous. I
+slipped into several shell holes and was almost over my head in the
+stagnant, smelly water.
+
+I made the river all right, but there was no bridge or net in
+sight. The river was not over ten feet wide and there was supposed
+to be a footbridge of two planks where the net was.
+
+I got back into the grass and made my way downstream. Sliding
+gently through the grass, I kept catching my feet in something hard
+that felt like roots; but there were no trees in the neighborhood.
+I reached down and groped in the grass and brought up a human rib.
+The place was full of them, and skulls. Stooping, I could see them,
+grinning up out of the dusk, hundreds of them. I learned afterwards
+that this was called the Valley of Death. Early in the war several
+thousand Zouaves had perished there, and no attempt had been made
+to bury them.
+
+After getting out of the skeletons, I scouted along downstream and
+presently heard the low voices of Germans. Evidently they had found
+the net and planned to get the messages first. Creeping to the edge
+of the grass, I peeped out. I was opposite the bottle trap. I could
+dimly make out the forms of two men standing on the nearer end of
+the plank bridge. They were, I should judge, about ten yards away,
+and they hadn't heard me. I got out a Mills, pulled the pin, and
+pitched it. The bomb exploded, perhaps five feet this side of the
+men. One dropped, and the other ran.
+
+After a short wait I ran over to the German. I searched him for
+papers, found none, and rolled him into the river.
+
+After a few days in the Quarries we were moved to what was known as
+the Warren, so called because the works resembled a rabbit warren.
+This was on the lower side and to the left end of Vimy Ridge, and
+was extra dangerous. It did seem as though each place was worse
+than the last. The Warren was a regular network of trenches,
+burrows, and funk holes, and we needed them all.
+
+The position was downhill from the Huns, and they kept sending over
+and down a continuous stream of "pip-squeaks", "whiz-bangs", and
+"minnies." The "pip-squeak" is a shell that starts with a silly
+"pip", goes on with a sillier "squeeeeee", and goes off with a
+man's-size bang.
+
+The "whiz-bang" starts with a rough whirr like a flushing cock
+partridge, and goes off on contact with a tremendous bang. It is
+not as dangerous as it sounds, but bad enough.
+
+The "minnie" is about the size of a two-gallon kerosene can, and
+comes somersaulting over in a high arc and is concentrated death
+and destruction when it lands. It has one virtue--you can see it
+coming and dodge, and at night it most considerately leaves a trail
+of sparks.
+
+The Boche served us full portions of all three of these man-killers
+in the Warren and kept us ducking in and out pretty much all the
+time, night and day.
+
+I was lucky enough after the first day to be put on sappers' duty.
+The Sappers, or Engineers, are the men whose duty it is to run
+mines under No Man's Land and plant huge quantities of explosives.
+There was a great amount of mining going on all the time at Vimy
+Ridge from both sides.
+
+Sometimes Fritz would run a sap out reasonably near the surface,
+and we would counter with one lower down. Then he'd go us one
+better and go still deeper. Some of the mines went down and under
+hundreds of feet. The result of all this was that on our side at
+least, the Sappers were under-manned and a good many infantry were
+drafted into that service.
+
+I had charge of a gang and had to fill sandbags with the earth
+removed from the end of the sap and get it out and pile the bags on
+the parapets. We were well out toward the German lines and deep
+under the hill when we heard them digging below us. An engineer
+officer came in and listened for an hour and decided that they were
+getting in explosives and that it was up to us to beat them to it.
+Digging stopped at once and we began rushing in H.E. in fifty-pound
+boxes. I was ordered back into supports with my section.
+
+Right here I began to have luck. Just see how this worked out.
+First a rushing party was organized whose duty it was to rush the
+crater made by the mine explosion and occupy it before the Germans
+got there. Sixty men were selected, a few from each company, and
+placed where they were supposedly safe, but where they could get up
+fast. This is the most dangerous duty an infantryman has to do,
+because both sides after a mine explosion shower in fifty-seven
+varieties of sudden death, including a perfect rain of machine-gun
+bullets. The chances of coming out of a rushing party with a whole
+hide are about one in five.
+
+Well, for a wonder, I didn't get drawn for this one, and I breathed
+one long, deep sigh of relief, put my hand inside my tunic and
+patted Dinky on the back. Dinky is my mascot. I'll tell you about
+him later.
+
+On top of that another bit of luck came along, though it didn't
+seem like it at the moment. It was the custom for a ration party to
+go out each night and get up the grub. This party had to go over
+the duck walk and was under fire both going and coming. One of the
+corporals who had been out on rations two nights in succession
+began to "grouse."
+
+Of course Sergeant Page spotted me and detailed me to the
+"wangler's" duty. I "groused" too, like a good fellow, but had to
+go.
+
+"Garn," says Wellsie. "Wot's the diff if yer gets it 'ere or there.
+If ye clicks, I'll draw yer fags from Blighty and say a prayer for
+yer soul. On yer way."
+
+Cheerful beggar, Wellsie. He was doing me a favor and didn't know
+it.
+
+I did the three miles along the duck walk with the ration party,
+and there wasn't a shell came our way. Queer! Nor on the way back.
+Queerer! When we were nearly back and were about five hundred yards
+from the base of the Pimple, a dead silence fell on the German side
+of the line. There wasn't a gun nor a mortar nor even a rifle in
+action for a mile in either direction. There was, too, a kind of
+sympathetic let-up on our side. There weren't any lights going up.
+There was an electric tension in the very air. You could tell by
+the feel that something big was going to happen.
+
+I halted the ration party at the end of the duck walk and waited.
+But not for long. Suddenly the "Very" lights went up from the
+German side, literally in hundreds, illuminating the top of the
+ridge and the sky behind with a thin greenish white flare. Then
+came a deep rumble that shook the ground, and a dull boom. A spurt
+of blood-red flame squirted up from the near side of the hill, and
+a rolling column of gray smoke.
+
+Then another rumble, and another, and then the whole side of
+the ridge seemed to open up and move slowly skyward with a
+world-wrecking, soul-paralyzing crash. A murky red glare lit up the
+smoke screen, and against it a mass of tossed-up debris, and for an
+instant I caught the black silhouette of a whole human body
+spread-eagled and spinning like a pin-wheel.
+
+Most of our party, even at the distance, were knocked down by the
+gigantic impact of the explosion. A shower of earth and rock
+chunks, some as big as a barrel, fell around us.
+
+Then we heard a far-away cheering, and in the light of the flares
+we saw a newly made hill and our men swarming up it to the crater.
+Two mines had exploded, and the whole side of the Pimple had been
+torn away. Half of our rushing party were killed and we had sixty
+casualties from shock and wounds among men who were supposed to be
+at a safe distance from the mining operation. But we took and held
+the new crater positions.
+
+The corporal whose place I had taken on the ration party was killed
+by falling stones. Inasmuch as he was where I would have been, I
+considered that I had had a narrow escape from "going west!" More
+luck!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+ON THE GO
+
+
+        Marching, marching, marching,
+        Always ruddy well marching.
+        Marching all the morning,
+        And marching all the night.
+        Marching, marching, marching,
+        Always ruddy well marching,
+        Roll on till my time is up
+        And I shall march no more.
+
+
+We sung it to the tune of "Holy, Holy, Holy", the whole blooming
+battalion. As we swung down the Boulevard Alsace-Lorraine in Amiens
+and passed the great cathedral up there to the left, on its little
+rise of ground, the chant lifted and lilted and throbbed up from
+near a thousand throats, much as the unisoned devotions of the
+olden monks must have done in other days.
+
+Ours was a holy cause, but despite the association of the tune the
+song was far from being a holy song. It was, rather, a chanted
+remonstrance against all hiking and against this one in
+particular.
+
+After our service at Vimy Ridge some one in authority somewhere
+decided that the 22nd Battalion and two others were not quite good
+enough for really smart work. We were, indeed, hard. But not hard
+enough. So some superior intellect squatting somewhere in the
+safety of the rear, with a finger on the pulse of the army, decreed
+that we were to get not only hard but tough; and to that end we
+were to hike. Hike we did.
+
+For more than three weeks we went from place to place with no
+apparent destination, wandering aimlessly up and down the
+country-side of Northern France, imposing ourselves upon the people
+of little villages, shamming battle over their cultivated fields,
+and sleeping in their hen coops.
+
+I kept a diary on that hike. It was a thing forbidden, but I
+managed it. One manages many things out there. I have just read
+over that diary. There isn't much to it but a succession of town
+names,--Villiers du Bois, Maisincourt, Barly, Oneaux, Canchy,
+Amiens, Bourdon, Villiers Bocage, Agenvilliers, Behencourt, and
+others that I failed to set down and have forgotten. We swept
+across that country, sweating under our packs, hardening our
+muscles, stopping here for a day, there for five days for
+extended-order drills and bayonet and musketry practice, and
+somewhere else for a sham battle. We were getting ready to go into
+the Somme.
+
+The weather, by some perversity of fate, was fair during all of
+that hiking time. Whenever I was in the trenches it always rained,
+whether the season warranted it or not. Except on days when we were
+scheduled to go over the top. Then, probably because rain will
+sometimes hold up a planned-for attack, it was always fair.
+
+On the hike, with good roads under foot, the soldier does not mind
+a little wet and welcomes a lot of clouds. No such luck for us. It
+was clear all the time. Not only clear but blazing hot August
+weather.
+
+On our first march out of the Cabaret Rouge communication trench we
+covered a matter of ten miles to a place called Villiers du Bois.
+Before that I had never fully realized just what it meant to go it
+in full heavy equipment.
+
+Often on the march I compared my lot with that of the medieval
+soldier who had done his fighting over these same fields of
+Northern France.
+
+The knight of the Middle Ages was all dressed up like a hardware
+store with, I should judge, about a hundred pounds of armor. But he
+rode a horse and had a squire or some such striker trailing along
+in the rear with the things to make him comfortable, when the
+fighting was over.
+
+The modern soldier gets very little help in his war making. He is,
+in fact, more likely to be helping somebody else than asking for
+assistance for himself. The soldier has two basic functions: first,
+to keep himself whole and healthy; second, to kill the other
+fellow. To the end that he may do these two perfectly simple
+things, he has to carry about eighty pounds of weight all the time.
+
+He has a blanket, a waterproof sheet, a greatcoat, extra boots,
+extra underwear, a haversack with iron rations, entrenching tools,
+a bayonet, a water bottle, a mess kit, a rifle, two hundred fifty
+rounds of ammo, a tin hat, two gas helmets, and a lot of
+miscellaneous small junk. All this is draped, hung, and otherwise
+disposed over his figure by means of a web harness having more
+hooks than a hatrack. He parallels the old-time knight only in the
+matter of the steel helmet and the rifle, which, with the bayonet,
+corresponds to the lance, sword, and battle-ax, three in one.
+
+The modern soldier carries all his worldly goods with him all the
+time. He hates to hike. But he has to.
+
+I remember very vividly that first day. The temperature was around
+90 deg., and some fool officers had arranged that we start at one,--the
+very worst time of the day. The roads so near the front were
+pulverized, and the dust rose in dense clouds. The long straight
+lines of poplars beside the road were gray with it, and the heat
+waves shimmered up from the fields.
+
+Before we had gone five miles the men began to wilt. Right away I
+had some more of the joys of being a corporal brought home to me.
+I was already touched with trench fever and was away under par.
+That didn't make any difference.
+
+On the march, when the men begin to weaken, an officer is sure to
+trot up and say:
+
+"Corporal Holmes, just carry this man's rifle," or "Corporal
+Collins, take that man's pack. He's jolly well done."
+
+Seemingly the corporal never is supposed to be jolly well done. If
+one complained, his officer would look at him with astounded
+reproach and say:
+
+"Why, Corporal. We cawn't have this, you know! You are a
+Non-commissioned Officer, and you must set an example. You must,
+rahly."
+
+When we finally hit the town where our billets were, we found our
+company quartered in an old barn. It was dirty, and there was a
+pigpen at one end,--very smelly in the August heat. We flopped in
+the ancient filth. The cooties were very active, as we were
+drenched with sweat and hadn't had a bath since heavens knew when.
+We had had about ten minutes' rest and were thinking about getting
+out of the harness when up came Mad Harry, one of our "leftenants",
+and ordered us out for foot inspection.
+
+I don't want to say anything unfair about this man. He is dead now.
+I saw him die. He was brave. He knew his job all right, but he was
+a fine example of what an officer ought not to be. The only reason
+I speak of him is because I want to say something about officers in
+general.
+
+This Mad Harry,--I do not give his surname for obvious
+reasons,--was the son of one of the richest-new-rich-merchant
+families in England. He was very highly educated, had, I take it,
+spent the most of his life with the classics. He was long and thin
+and sallow and fish-eyed. He spoke in a low colorless monotone,
+absolutely without any inflection whatever. The men thought he was
+balmy. Hence the nickname Mad Harry.
+
+Mad Harry was a fiend for walking. And at the end of a twenty-mile
+hike in heavy marching order he would casually stroll alongside
+some sweating soldier and drone out,
+
+"I say, Private Stetson. Don't you just love to hike?"
+
+Then and there he made a lifelong personal enemy of Private
+Stetson. In the same or similar ways he made personal enemies of
+every private soldier he came in contact with.
+
+It may do no harm to tell how Mad Harry died. He came very near
+being shot by one of his own men.
+
+It was on the Somme. We were in the middle of a bit of a show, and
+we were all hands down in shell holes with a heavy machine-gun fire
+crackling overhead. I was in one hole, and in the next, which
+merged with mine, were two chaps who were cousins.
+
+Mad Harry came along, walking perfectly upright, regardless of
+danger, with his left arm shattered. He dropped into the next shell
+hole and with his expressionless drawl unshaken, said, "Private X.
+Dress my arm."
+
+Private X got out his own emergency bandage and fixed the arm. When
+it was done Mad Harry, still speaking in his monotonous drone,
+said:
+
+"Now, Private X, get up out of this hole. Don't be hiding."
+
+Private X obeyed orders without a question. He climbed out and fell
+with a bullet through his head. His cousin, who was a very dear
+friend of the boy, evidently went more or less crazy at this. I saw
+him leap at Mad Harry and snatch his pistol from the holster. He
+was, I think, about to shoot his officer when a shell burst
+overhead and killed them both.
+
+Well, on this first day of the hike Mad Harry ordered us out for
+foot inspection, as I have said. I found that I simply couldn't get
+them out. They were in no condition for foot inspection,--hadn't
+washed for days. Harry came round and gave me a royal dressing down
+and ordered the whole bunch out for parade and helmet inspection.
+We were kept standing for an hour. You couldn't blame the men for
+hating an officer of that kind.
+
+It is only fair to say that Mad Harry was not a usual type of
+British officer. He simply carried to excess the idea of discipline
+and unquestioning obedience. The principle of discipline is the
+guts and backbone of any army. I am inclined to think that it is
+more than half the making of any soldier. There has been a good
+deal of talk in the press about a democratic army. As a matter of
+fact fraternization between men and officers is impossible except
+in nations of exceptional temperament and imagination, like the
+French. The French are unique in everything. It follows that their
+army can do things that no other army can. It is common to see a
+French officer sitting in a cafe drinking with a private.
+
+In the British army that could not be. The new British army is more
+democratic, no doubt, than the old. But except in the heat of
+battle, no British officer can relax his dignity very much. With
+the exception of Mr. Blofeld, who was one of those rare characters
+who can be personally close and sympathetic and at the same time
+command respect and implicit obedience, I never knew a successful
+officer who did not seem to be almost of another world.
+
+Our Colonel was a fine man, but he was as dignified as a Supreme
+Court Judge. Incidentally he was as just. I have watched Colonel
+Flowers many times when he was holding orders. This is a kind of
+court when all men who have committed crimes and have been passed
+on by the captains appear before the Colonel.
+
+Colonel Flowers would sit smiling behind his hand, and would try
+his hardest to find "mitigating circumstances"; but when none could
+be dug out he passed sentence with the last limit of severity, and
+the man that was up for orders didn't come again if he knew what
+was good for himself.
+
+I think that on the hike we all got to know our officers better
+than we had known them in the trenches. Their real characters came
+out. You knew how far you could go with them, and what was more
+important, how far you couldn't go.
+
+It was at Dieval that my rank as lance corporal was confirmed. It
+is customary, when a rookie has been made a non-com in training, to
+reduce him immediately when he gets to France. I had joined in the
+trenches and had volunteered for a raiding party and there had been
+no opportunity to reduce me. I had not, however, had a corporal's
+pay. My confirmation came at Dieval, and I was put on pay. I would
+have willingly sacrificed the pay and the so-called honor to have
+been a private.
+
+Our routine throughout the hike was always about the same, that is
+in the intervals when we were in any one place for a day or more.
+It was, up at six, breakfast of tea, bread, and bacon. Drill till
+noon; dinner; drill till five. After that nothing to do till
+to-morrow, unless we got night 'ops, which was about two nights out
+of three.
+
+There were few Y.M.C.A. huts so far behind the lines, and the short
+time up to nine was usually spent in the _estaminets_. The games of
+house were in full blast all the time.
+
+On the hike we were paid weekly. Privates got five francs,
+corporals ten, and sergeants fifteen to twenty a week. That's a lot
+of money. Anything left over was held back to be paid when we got
+to Blighty. Parcels and mail came along with perfect regularity on
+that hike. It was and is a marvel to me how they do it. A battalion
+chasing around all over the place gets its stuff from Blighty day
+after day, right on the tick and without any question. I only hope
+that whatever the system is, our army will take advantage of it. A
+shortage of letters and luxury parcels is a real hardship.
+
+We finally brought up at a place called Oneux (pronounced Oh, no)
+and were there five days. I fell into luck here. It was customary,
+when we were marching on some unsuspecting village, to send the
+quartermaster sergeants ahead on bicycles to locate billets. We had
+an old granny named Cypress, better known as Lizzie. The other
+sergeants were accustomed to flim-flam Lizzie to a finish on the
+selection of billets, with the result that C company usually slept
+in pigpens of stables.
+
+The day we approached Oneux, Lizzie was sick, and I was delegated
+to his job. I went into the town with the three other quartermaster
+sergeants, got them into an _estaminet_, bought about a dollar's
+worth of drinks, sneaked out the back door, and preempted the
+schoolhouse for C company. I also took the house next door, which
+was big and clean, for the officers. We were royally comfortable
+there, and the other companies used the stables that usually fell
+to our lot.
+
+As a reward, I suspect, I was picked for Orderly Corporal, a cushy
+job. We all of us had it fairly easy at Oneux. It was hot weather,
+and nights we used to sit out in the schoolhouse yard and talk
+about the war.
+
+Some of the opinions voiced out there with more frankness than any
+one would dare to use at home would, I am sure, shock some of the
+patriots. The fact is that any one who has fought in France wants
+peace, and the sooner the better.
+
+We had one old-timer, out since Mons, who habitually, night after
+night, day after day, would pipe up with the same old plaint.
+Something like this:
+
+"Hi arsks yer. Wot are we fightin' for? Wot'd th' Belgiums hever do
+fer us? Wot? Wot'd th' Rooshians hever do fer us? Wot's th' good of
+th' Frenchies? Wot's th' good of hanybody but th' Henglish? Gawd
+lumme! I'm fed up."
+
+And yet this man had gone out at the beginning and would fight
+like the very devil, and I verily believe will be homesick for the
+trenches if he is alive when it is all over.
+
+Bones, who was educated and a thoughtful reader, had it figured out
+that the war was all due to the tyranny of the ruling classes, with
+the Kaiser the chief offender.
+
+A lot of the men wanted peace at any reasonable price. Anything, so
+they would get back to 'Arriet or Sadie or Maria.
+
+I should say offhand that there was not one man in a hundred who
+was fighting consciously for any great recognized principle. And
+yet, with all their grousing and criticism, and all their
+overwhelming desire to have it over with, every one of them was
+loyal and brave and a hard fighter.
+
+A good deal has been written about the brilliancy of the Canadians
+and the other Colonials. Too much credit cannot be given these men.
+In an attack there are no troops with more dash than the Canadians,
+but when it comes to taking punishment and hanging on a hopeless
+situation, there are no troops in the wide world who can equal,
+much less surpass, the English. Personally I think that comparisons
+should be avoided. All the Allies are doing their full duty with
+all that is in them.
+
+During most of the war talk, it was my habit to keep discreetly
+quiet. We were not in the war yet, and any remarks from me usually
+drew some hot shot about Mr. Wilson's "blankety-blinked bloomin'
+notes."
+
+There was another American, a chap named Sanford from Virginia,
+in B company, and he and I used to furnish a large amount of
+entertainment in these war talks. Sanford was a F.F.V. and didn't
+care who knew it. Also he thought General Lee was the greatest
+military genius ever known. One night he and I got started and had
+it hot and heavy as to the merits of the Civil War. This for some
+reason tickled the Tommies half to death, and after that they would
+egg us on to a discussion.
+
+One of them would slyly say, "Darby, 'oo th' blinkin' 'ell was this
+blighter, General Grant?"
+
+Or, "Hi sye, Sandy, Hi 'eard Darby syin' 'ow this General Lee was a
+bleedin' swab."
+
+Then Sanford and I would pass the wink and go at it tooth and
+nail. It was ridiculous, arguing the toss on a long-gone-by
+small-time scrap like the Civil War with the greatest show in
+history going on all around us. Anyway the Tommies loved it and
+would fairly howl with delight when we got to going good.
+
+It is strange, but with so many Americans in the British service, I
+ran up against very few. I remember one night when we were making a
+night march from one village to another, we stopped for the
+customary ten-minutes-in-the-hour rest. Over yonder in a field
+there was a camp of some kind,--probably field artillery. There was
+dim light of a fire and the low murmur of voices. And then a fellow
+began to sing in a nice tenor:
+
+        Bury me not on the lone prairie
+        Where the wild coyotes howl o'er me.
+        Bury me down in the little churchyard
+        In a grave just six by three.
+
+The last time I had heard that song was in New Orleans, and it was
+sung by a wild Texan. So I yelled, "Hello there, Texas."
+
+He answered, "Hello, Yank. Where from?"
+
+I answered, "Boston."
+
+"Give my regards to Tremont Street and go to hell," says he. A gale
+of laughter came out of the night. Just then we had the order to
+fall in, and away we went. I'd like to know sometime who that chap
+was.
+
+After knocking about all over the north of France seemingly, we
+brought up at Canchy of a Sunday afternoon. Here the whole brigade,
+four battalions, had church parade, and after that the band played
+ragtime and the officers had a gabfest and compared medals, on top
+of which we were soaked with two hours' steady drill. We were at
+Canchy ten days, and they gave it to us good and plenty. We would
+drill all day and after dark it would be night 'ops. Finally so
+many men were going to the doctor worn out that he ordered a whole
+day and a half of rest.
+
+Mr. Blofeld on Saturday night suggested that, as we were going into
+the Somme within a few weeks, the non-coms ought to have a little
+blow-out. It would be the last time we would all ever be together.
+He furnished us with all the drinkables we could get away with,
+including some very choice Johnny Walker. There was a lot of
+canned stuff, mostly sardines. Mr. Blofeld loaned us the officers'
+phonograph.
+
+It was a large, wet night. Everybody made a speech or sang a song,
+and we didn't go home until morning. It was a farewell party, and
+we went the limit. If there is one thing that the Britisher does
+better than another, it is getting ready to die. He does it with a
+smile,--and he dies with a laugh.
+
+Poor chaps! Nearly all of them are pushing up the daisies somewhere
+in France. Those who are not are, with one or two exceptions, out
+of the army with broken bodies.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+FIRST SIGHT OF THE TANKS
+
+
+Late in the summer I accumulated a nice little case of trench
+fever.
+
+This disease is due to remaining for long periods in the wet and
+mud, to racked nerves, and, I am inclined to think, to sleeping
+in the foul air of the dug-outs. The chief symptom is high
+temperature, and the patient aches a good deal. I was sent back to
+a place in the neighborhood of Arras and was there a week
+recuperating.
+
+While I was there a woman spy whom I had known in Abalaine was
+brought to the village and shot. The frequency with which the duck
+walk at Abalaine had been shelled, especially when ration parties
+or troops were going over it, had attracted a good deal of
+attention.
+
+There was a single house not far from the end of that duck walk
+west of Abalaine, occupied by a woman and two or three children.
+She had lived there for years and was, so far as anybody knew, a
+Frenchwoman in breeding and sympathies. She was in the habit of
+selling coffee to the soldiers, and, of course, gossiped with them
+and thus gained a good deal of information about troop movements.
+
+She was not suspected for a long time. Then a gunner of a battery
+which was stationed near by noticed that certain children's
+garments, a red shirt and a blue one and several white garments,
+were on the clothesline in certain arrangement on the days when
+troops were to be moved along the duck walk the following night.
+This soldier notified his officers, and evidence was accumulated
+that the woman was signalling to the Boche airplanes.
+
+She was arrested, taken to the rear, and shot. I don't like to
+think that this woman was really French. She was, no doubt, one of
+the myriad of spies who were planted in France by the Germans long
+before the war.
+
+After getting over the fever, I rejoined my battalion in the early
+part of September in the Somme district at a place called Mill
+Street. This was in reality a series of dug-outs along a road some
+little distance behind our second lines, but in the range of the
+German guns, which persistently tried for our artillery just beside
+us.
+
+Within an hour of my arrival I was treated to a taste of one of the
+forms of German kultur which was new at the time. At least it was
+new to me--tear gas. This delectable vapor came over in shells,
+comparatively harmless in themselves, but which loosed a gas,
+smelling at first a little like pineapple. When you got a good
+inhale you choked, and the eyes began to run. There was no
+controlling the tears, and the victim would fairly drip for a
+long time, leaving him wholly incapacitated.
+
+Goggles provided for this gas were nearly useless, and we all
+resorted to the regular gas helmet. In this way we were able to
+stand the stuff.
+
+The gas mask, by the way, was the bane of my existence in the
+trenches--one of the banes. I found that almost invariably after I
+had had mine on for a few minutes I got faint. Very often I would
+keel over entirely. A good many of the men were affected the same
+way, either from the lack of air inside the mask or by the
+influence of the chemicals with which the protector is impregnated.
+
+One of the closest calls I had in all my war experience was at
+Mills Street. And Fritz was not to blame.
+
+Several of the men, including myself, were squatted around a
+brazier cooking char and getting warm, for the nights were cold,
+when there was a terrific explosion. Investigation proved that an
+unexploded bomb had been buried under the brazier, and that it had
+gone off as the heat penetrated the ground. It is a wonder there
+weren't more of these accidents, as Tommy was forever throwing away
+his Millses.
+
+The Mills bomb fires by pulling out a pin which releases a lever
+which explodes the bomb after four seconds. Lots of men never
+really trust a bomb. If you have one in your pocket, you feel that
+the pin may somehow get out, and if it does you know that you'll go
+to glory in small bits. I always had that feeling myself and used
+to throw away my Millses and scoop a hatful of dirt over them with
+my foot.
+
+This particular bomb killed one man, wounded several, and shocked
+all of us. Two of the men managed to "swing" a "blighty" case out
+of it. I could have done the same if I had been wise enough.
+
+I think I ought to say a word right here about the psychology of
+the Tommy in swinging a "blighty" case.
+
+It is the one first, last, and always ambition of the Tommy to get
+back to Blighty. Usually he isn't "out there" because he wants to
+be but because he has to be. He is a patriot all right. His love of
+Blighty shows that. He will fight like a bag of wildcats when he
+gets where the fighting is, but he isn't going around looking for
+trouble. He knows that his officers will find that for him
+a-plenty.
+
+When he gets letters from home and knows that the wife or the
+"nippers" or the old mother is sick, he wants to go home. And so he
+puts in his time hoping for a wound that will be "cushy" enough not
+to discommode him much and that will be bad enough to swing
+Blighty on. Sometimes when he wants very much to get back he
+stretches his conscience to the limit--and it is pretty elastic
+anyhow--and he fakes all sorts of illness. The M.O. is usually a
+bit too clever for Tommy, however, and out and out fakes seldom get
+by. Sometimes they do, and in the most unexpected cases.
+
+I had a man named Isadore Epstein in my section who was
+instrumental in getting Blighty for himself and one other. Issy was
+a tailor by trade. He was no fighting man and didn't pretend to be,
+and he didn't care who knew it. He was wild to get a "blighty one"
+or shell shock, or anything that would take him home.
+
+One morning as we were preparing to go over the top, and the men
+were a little jumpy and nervous, I heard a shot behind me, and a
+bullet chugged into the sandbags beside my head. I whirled around,
+my first thought being that some one of our own men was trying to
+do me in. This is a thing that sometimes happens to unpopular
+officers and less frequently to the men. But not in this case.
+
+It was Issy Epstein. He had been monkeying with his rifle and had
+shot himself in the hand. Of course, Issy was at once under
+suspicion of a self-inflicted wound, which is one of the worst
+crimes in the calendar. But the suspicion was removed instantly.
+Issy was hopping around, raising a terrific row.
+
+"Oi, oi," he wailed. "I'm ruint. I'm ruint. My thimble finger is
+gone. My thimble finger! I'm ruint. Oi, oi, oi, oi."
+
+The poor fellow was so sincerely desolated over the loss of his
+necessary finger that I couldn't accuse him of shooting himself
+intentionally. I detailed a man named Bealer to take Issy back to a
+dressing station. Well, Bealer never came back.
+
+Months later in England I met up with Epstein and asked about
+Bealer. It seems that after Issy had been fixed up, the surgeon
+turned to Bealer and said:
+
+"What's the matter with you?"
+
+Bealer happened to be dreaming of something else and didn't answer.
+
+"I say," barked the doctor, "speak up. What's wrong?"
+
+Bealer was startled and jumped and begun to stutter.
+
+"Oh, I see," said the surgeon. "Shell shock."
+
+Bealer was bright enough and quick enough after that to play it up
+and was tagged for Blighty. He had it thrust upon him. And you can
+bet he grabbed it and thanked his lucky stars.
+
+We had been on Mill Street a day and a night when an order came for
+our company to move up to the second line and to be ready to go
+over the top the next day. At first there was the usual grousing,
+as there seemed to be no reason why our company should be picked
+from the whole battalion. We soon learned that all hands were going
+over, and after that we felt better.
+
+We got our equipment on and started up to the second line. It was
+right here that I got my first dose of real honest-to-goodness
+modern war. The big push had been on all summer, and the whole of
+the Somme district was battered and smashed.
+
+Going up from Mill Street there were no communication trenches. We
+were right out in the open, exposed to rifle and machine-gun fire
+and to shrapnel, and the Boches were fairly raining it in on the
+territory they had been pushed back from and of which they had the
+range to an inch. We went up under that steady fire for a full
+hour. The casualties were heavy, and the galling part of it was
+that we couldn't hurry, it was so dark. Every time a shell burst
+overhead and the shrapnel pattered in the dirt all about, I kissed
+myself good-by and thought of the baked beans at home. Men kept
+falling, and I wished I hadn't enlisted.
+
+When we finally got up to the trench, believe me, we didn't need
+any orders to get in. We relieved the Black Watch, and they
+encouraged us by telling us they had lost over half their men in
+that trench, and that Fritz kept a constant fire on it. They didn't
+need to tell us. The big boys were coming over all the time.
+
+The dead here were enough to give you the horrors. I had never seen
+so many before and never saw so many afterwards in one place. They
+were all over the place, both Germans and our own men. And in all
+states of mutilation and decomposition.
+
+There were arms and legs sticking out of the trench sides. You
+could tell their nationality by the uniforms. The Scotch
+predominated. And their dead lay in the trenches and outside and
+hanging over the edges. I think it was here that I first got the
+real meaning of that old quotation about the curse of a dead man's
+eye. With so many lying about, there were always eyes staring at
+you.
+
+Sometimes a particularly wide-staring corpse would seem to follow
+you with his gaze, like one of these posters with the pointing
+finger that they use to advertise Liberty Bonds. We would cover
+them up or turn them over. Here and there one would have a scornful
+death smile on his lips, as though he were laughing at the folly of
+the whole thing.
+
+The stench here was appalling. That frightful, sickening smell that
+strikes one in the face like something tangible. Ugh! I immediately
+grew dizzy and faint and had a mad desire to run. I think if I
+hadn't been a non-com with a certain small amount of responsibility
+to live up to, I should have gone crazy.
+
+I managed to pull myself together and placed my men as comfortably
+as possible. The Germans were five hundred yards away, and there
+was but little danger of an attack, so comparatively few had to
+"stand to." The rest took to the shelters.
+
+I found a little two-man shelter that everybody else had avoided
+and crawled in. I crowded up against a man in there and spoke to
+him. He didn't answer and then suddenly I became aware of a stench
+more powerful than ordinary. I put out my hand and thrust it into a
+slimy, cold mess. I had found a dead German with a gaping,
+putrefying wound in his abdomen. I crawled out of that shelter,
+gagging and retching. This time I simply couldn't smother my
+impulse to run, and run I did, into the next traverse, where I sank
+weak and faint on the fire step. I sat there the rest of the night,
+regardless of shells, my mind milling wildly on the problem of war
+and the reason thereof and cursing myself for a fool.
+
+ [Illustration: HEAD-ON VIEW OF A BRITISH TANK.]
+
+It was very early in the morning when Wells shook me up with, "Hi
+sye, Darby, wot the blinkin' blazes is that noise?"
+
+We listened, and away from the rear came a tremendous whirring,
+burring, rumbling buzz, like a swarm of giant bees. I thought of
+everything from a Zeppelin to a donkey engine but couldn't make it
+out. Blofeld ran around the corner of a traverse and told us to get
+the men out. He didn't know what was coming and wasn't taking any
+chances.
+
+It was getting a little light though heavily misty. We waited, and
+then out of the gray blanket of fog waddled the great steel
+monsters that we were to know afterwards as the "tanks." I shall
+never forget it.
+
+In the half darkness they looked twice as big as they really were.
+They lurched forward, slow, clumsy but irresistible, nosing down
+into shell holes and out, crushing the unburied dead, sliding over
+mere trenches as though they did not exist.
+
+There were five in all. One passed directly over us. We scuttled
+out of the way, and the men let go a cheer. For we knew that here
+was something that could and would win battles.
+
+The tanks were an absolutely new thing to us. Their secret had been
+guarded so carefully even in our own army that our battalion had
+heard nothing of them.
+
+But we didn't need to be told that they would be effective. One
+look was enough to convince us. Later it convinced Fritzie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+FOLLOWING THE TANKS INTO BATTLE
+
+
+The tanks passed beyond us and half-way up to the first line and
+stopped. Trapdoors in the decks opened, and the crews poured out
+and began to pile sandbags in front of the machines so that when
+day broke fully and the mists lifted, the enemy could not see what
+had been brought up in the night.
+
+Day dawned, and a frisky little breeze from the west scattered the
+fog and swept the sky clean. There wasn't a cloud by eight o'clock.
+The sun shone bright, and we cursed it, for if it had been rainy
+the attack would not have been made.
+
+We made the usual last preparations that morning, such as writing
+letters and delivering farewell messages; and the latest rooks made
+their wills in the little blanks provided for the purpose in the
+back of the pay books. We judged from the number of dead and the
+evident punishment other divisions had taken there that the
+chances of coming back would be slim. Around nine o'clock Captain
+Green gave us a little talk that confirmed our suspicions that the
+day was to be a hard one.
+
+He said, as nearly as I can remember:
+
+"Lads, I want to tell you that there is to be a most important
+battle--one of the most important in the whole war. High Wood out
+there commands a view of the whole of this part of the Somme and is
+most valuable. There are estimated to be about ten thousand Germans
+in that wood and in the surrounding supports. The positions are
+mostly of concrete with hundreds of machine guns and field
+artillery. Our heavies have for some reason made no impression on
+them, and regiment after regiment has attempted to take the woods
+and failed with heavy losses. Now it is up to the 47th Division to
+do the seemingly impossible. Zero is at eleven. We go over then.
+The best of luck and God bless you."
+
+We were all feeling pretty sour on the world when the sky pilot
+came along and cheered us up.
+
+He was a good little man, that chaplain, brave as they make 'em.
+He always went over the top with us and was in the thick of the
+fighting, and he had the military cross for bravery. He passed down
+the line, giving us a slap on the back or a hand grip and started
+us singing. No gospel hymns either, but any old rollicking,
+good-natured song that he happened to think of that would loosen
+things up and relieve the tension.
+
+Somehow he made you feel that you wouldn't mind going to hell if he
+was along, and you knew that he'd be willing to come if he could do
+any good. A good little man! Peace to his ashes.
+
+At ten o'clock things busted loose, and the most intense
+bombardment ever known in warfare up to that time began. Thousands
+of guns, both French and English, in fact every available gun
+within a radius of fifteen miles, poured it in. In the Bedlamitish
+din and roar it was impossible to hear the next man unless he put
+his mouth up close to your ear and yelled.
+
+My ear drums ached, and I thought I should go insane if the racket
+didn't stop. I was frightfully nervous and scared, but tried not
+to show it. An officer or a non-com must conceal his nervousness,
+though he be dying with fright.
+
+The faces of the men were hard-set and pale. Some of them looked
+positively green. They smoked fag after fag, lighting the new ones
+on the butts.
+
+All through the bombardment Fritz was comparatively quiet. He was
+saving all his for the time when we should come over. Probably,
+too, he was holed up to a large extent in his concrete dug-outs. I
+looked over the top once or twice and wondered if I, too, would be
+lying there unburied with the rats and maggots gnawing me into an
+unrecognizable mass. There were moments in that hour from ten to
+eleven when I was distinctly sorry for myself.
+
+The time, strangely enough, went fast--as it probably does with a
+condemned man in his last hour. At zero minus ten the word went
+down the line "Ten to go" and we got to the better positions of the
+trench and secured our footing on the side of the parapet to make
+our climb over when the signal came. Some of the men gave their
+bayonets a last fond rub, and I looked to my bolt action to see
+that it worked well. I had ten rounds in the magazine, and I didn't
+intend to rely too much on the bayonet. At a few seconds of eleven
+I looked at my wrist watch and was afflicted again with that empty
+feeling in the solar plexus. Then the whistles shrilled; I blew
+mine, and over we went.
+
+To a disinterested spectator who was far enough up in the air to be
+out of range it must have been a wonderful spectacle to see those
+thousands of men go over, wave after wave.
+
+The terrain was level out to the point where the little hill of
+High Wood rose covered with the splintered poles of what had once
+been a forest. This position and the supports to the left and rear
+of it began to fairly belch machine-gun and shell fire. If Fritz
+had been quiet before, he gave us all he had now.
+
+Our battalion went over from the second trench, and we got the
+cream of it.
+
+The tanks were just ahead of us and lumbered along in an imposing
+row. They lurched down into deep craters and out again, tipped and
+reeled and listed, and sometimes seemed as though they must upset;
+but they came up each time and went on and on. And how slow they
+did seem to move! Lord, I thought we should never cover that five
+or six hundred yards.
+
+The tank machine guns were spitting fire over the heads of our
+first wave, and their Hotchkiss guns were rattling. A beautiful
+creeping barrage preceded us. Row after row of shells burst at just
+the right distance ahead, spewing gobs of smoke and flashes of
+flame, made thin by the bright sunlight. Half a dozen airplanes
+circled like dragonflies up there in the blue.
+
+There was a tank just ahead of me. I got behind it. And marched
+there. Slow! God, how slow! Anyhow, it kept off the machine-gun
+bullets, but not, the shrapnel. It was breaking over us in clouds.
+I felt the stunning patter of the fragments on my tin hat, cringed
+under it, and wondered vaguely why it didn't do me in.
+
+Men in the front wave were going down like tenpins. Off there
+diagonally to the right and forward I glimpsed a blinding burst,
+and as much as a whole platoon went down.
+
+Around me men were dropping all the time--men I knew. I saw Dolbsie
+clawing at his throat as he reeled forward, falling. I saw Vickers
+double up, drop his rifle, and somersault, hanging on to his
+abdomen.
+
+A hundred yards away, to the right, an officer walked backwards
+with an automatic pistol balanced on his finger, smiling, pulling
+his men along like a drum major. A shell or something hit him. He
+disappeared in a welter of blood and half a dozen of the front file
+fell with him.
+
+I thought we must be nearly there and sneaked a look around the
+edge of the tank. A traversing machine gun raked the mud, throwing
+up handfuls, and I heard the gruff "row, row" of flattened bullets
+as they ricocheted off the steel armor. I ducked back, and on we
+went.
+
+Slow! Slow! I found myself planning what I would do when I got to
+the front trenches--if we ever did. There would be a grand rumpus,
+and I would click a dozen or more.
+
+And then we arrived.
+
+I don't suppose that trip across No Man's Land behind the tanks
+took over five minutes, but it seemed like an hour.
+
+At the end of it my participation in the battle of High Wood ended.
+No, I wasn't wounded. But when we reached the Boche front trenches
+a strange thing happened. There was no fight worth mentioning. The
+tanks stopped over the trenches and blazed away right and left with
+their all-around traverse.
+
+A few Boches ran out and threw silly little bombs at the monsters.
+The tanks, noses in air, moved slowly on. And then the Graybacks
+swarmed up out of shelters and dug-outs, literally in hundreds, and
+held up their hands, whining "Mercy, kamarad."
+
+We took prisoners by platoons. Blofeld grabbed me and turned over a
+gang of thirty to me. We searched them rapidly, cut their
+suspenders and belts, and I started to the rear with them. They
+seemed glad to go. So was I.
+
+As we hurried back over the five hundred yards that had been No
+Man's Land and was now British ground, I looked back and saw the
+irresistible tanks smashing their way through the tree stumps of
+High Wood, still spitting death and destruction in three
+directions.
+
+Going back we were under almost as heavy fire as we had been coming
+up. When we were about half-way across, shrapnel burst directly
+over our party and seven of the prisoners were killed and half a
+dozen wounded. I myself was unscratched. I stuck my hand inside my
+tunic and patted Dinky on the back, sent up a prayer for some more
+luck like that, and carried on.
+
+After getting my prisoners back to the rear, I came up again but
+couldn't find my battalion. I threw in with a battalion of
+Australians and was with them for twenty-four hours.
+
+When I found my chaps again, the battle of High Wood was pretty
+well over. Our company for some reason had suffered very few
+casualties, less than twenty-nine. Company B, however, had been
+practically wiped out, losing all but thirteen men out of two
+hundred. The other two companies had less than one hundred
+casualties. We had lost about a third of our strength. It is a
+living wonder to me that any of us came through.
+
+I don't believe any of us would have if it hadn't been for the
+tanks.
+
+The net result of the battle of High Wood was that our troops
+carried on for nearly two miles beyond the position to be taken.
+They had to fall back but held the wood and the heights. Three of
+the tanks were stalled in the farther edge of the woods--out of
+fuel--and remained there for three days unharmed under the fire of
+the German guns.
+
+Eventually some one ventured out and got some juice into them, and
+they returned to our lines. The tanks had proved themselves, not
+only as effective fighting machines, but as destroyers of German
+morale.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+PRISONERS
+
+
+For weeks after our first introduction to the tanks they were the
+chief topic of conversation in our battalion. And, notwithstanding
+the fact that we had seen the monsters go into action, had seen
+what they did and the effect they had on the Boche, the details of
+their building and of their mechanism remained a mystery for a long
+time.
+
+For weeks about all we knew about them was what we gathered from
+their appearance as they reeled along, camouflaged with browns and
+yellows like great toads, and that they were named with quaint
+names like "Creme de Menthe" and "Diplodocus."
+
+Eventually I met with a member of the crews who had manned the
+tanks at the battle of High Wood, and I obtained from him a
+description of some of his sensations. It was a thing we had all
+wondered about,--how the men inside felt as they went over.
+
+My tanker was a young fellow not over twenty-five, a machine
+gunner, and in a little _estaminet_, over a glass of citron and
+soda, he told me of his first battle.
+
+"Before we went in," he said, "I was a little bit uncertain as to
+how we were coming out. We had tried the old boats out and had
+given them every reasonable test. We knew how much they would stand
+in the way of shells on top and in the way of bombs or mines
+underneath. Still there was all the difference between rehearsal
+and the actual going on the stage.
+
+"When we crawled in through the trapdoor for the first time over,
+the shut-up feeling got me. I'd felt it before but not that way. I
+got to imagining what would happen if we got stalled somewhere in
+the Boche lines, and they built a fire around us. That was natural,
+because it's hot inside a tank at the best. You mustn't smoke
+either. I hadn't minded that in rehearsal, but in action I was
+crazy for a fag.
+
+"We went across, you remember, at eleven, and the sun was shining
+bright. We were parboiled before we started, and when we got going
+good it was like a Turkish bath. I was stripped to the waist and
+was dripping. Besides that, when we begun to give 'em hell, the
+place filled with gas, and it was stifling. The old boat pitched a
+good deal going into shell holes, and it was all a man could do to
+keep his station. I put my nose up to my loop-hole to get air, but
+only once. The machine-gun bullets were simply rattling on our
+hide. Tock, tock, tock they kept drumming. The first shell that hit
+us must have been head on and a direct hit. There was a terrific
+crash, and the old girl shook all over,--seemed to pause a little
+even. But no harm was done. After that we breathed easier. We
+hadn't been quite sure that the Boche shells wouldn't do us in.
+
+"By the time we got to the Boche trenches, we knew he hadn't
+anything that could hurt us. We just sat and raked him and laughed
+and wished it was over, so we could get the air."
+
+I had already seen the effect of the tanks on the Germans. The
+batch of prisoners who had been turned over to me seemed dazed. One
+who spoke English said in a quavering voice:
+
+"Gott in Himmel, Kamarad, how could one endure? These things are
+not human. They are not fair."
+
+That "fair" thing made a hit with me after going against tear gas
+and hearing about liquid fire and such things.
+
+The great number of the prisoners we took at High Wood were very
+scared looking at first and very surly. They apparently expected to
+be badly treated and perhaps tortured. They were tractable enough
+for the most part. But they needed watching, and they got it from
+me, as I had heard much of the treachery of the Boche prisoners.
+
+On the way to the rear with my bunch, I ran into a little episode
+which showed the foolishness of trusting a German,--particularly an
+officer.
+
+I was herding my lot along when we came up with about twelve in
+charge of a young fellow from a Leicester regiment. He was a
+private, and as most of his non-commissioned officers had been put
+out of action, he was acting corporal. We were walking together
+behind the prisoners, swapping notes on the fight, when one of his
+stopped, and no amount of coaxing would induce him to go any
+farther. He was an officer, of what rank I don't know, but judging
+from his age probably a lieutenant.
+
+Finally Crane--that was the Leicester chap--went up to the officer,
+threatened him with his bayonet, and let him know that he was due
+for the cold steel if he didn't get up and hike.
+
+Whereupon Mr. Fritz pulled an automatic from under his coat--he
+evidently had not been carefully searched--and aimed it at Crane.
+Crane dove at him and grabbed his wrist, but was too late. The gun
+went off and tore away Crane's right cheek. He didn't go down,
+however, and before I could get in without danger to Crane, he
+polished off the officer on the spot.
+
+The prisoners looked almost pleased. I suppose they knew the
+officer too well. I bandaged Crane and offered to take his
+prisoners in, but he insisted upon carrying on. He got very weak
+from loss of blood after a bit, and I had two of the Boches carry
+him to the nearest dressing station, where they took care of him. I
+have often wondered whether the poor chap "clicked" it.
+
+Eventually I got my batch of prisoners back to headquarters and
+turned them over. I want to say a word right here as to the
+treatment of the German prisoners by the British. In spite of the
+verified stories of the brutality shown to the Allied prisoners by
+the Hun, the English and French have too much humanity to
+retaliate. Time and again I have seen British soldiers who were
+bringing in Germans stop and spend their own scanty pocket money
+for their captives' comfort. I have done it myself.
+
+Almost inevitably the Boche prisoners were expecting harsh
+treatment. I found several who said that they had been told by
+their officers that they would be skinned alive if they surrendered
+to the English. They believed it, and you could hardly blame the
+poor devils for being scared.
+
+Whenever we were taking prisoners back, we always, unless we were
+in too much of a hurry, took them to the nearest canteen run by the
+Y.M.C.A. or by one of the artillery companies, and here we would
+buy English or American fags. And believe me, they liked them. Any
+one who has smoked the tobacco issued to the German army could
+almost understand a soldier surrendering just to get away from it.
+
+Usually, too, we bought bread and sweets, if we could stand the
+price. The Heinies would bolt the food down as though they were
+half starved. And it was perfectly clear from the way they went
+after the luxuries that they got little more than the hard
+necessities of army fare.
+
+At the battle of High Wood the prisoners we took ran largely to
+very young fellows and to men of fifty or over. Some of the
+youngsters said they were only seventeen and they looked not over
+fifteen. Many of them had never shaved.
+
+I think the sight of those war-worn boys, haggard and hard,
+already touched with cruelty and blood lust, brought home to me
+closer than ever before what a hellish thing war is, and how keenly
+Germany must be suffering, along with the rest of us.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+I BECOME A BOMBER
+
+
+When I found my battalion, the battle of High Wood had pretty well
+quieted down. We had taken the position we went after, and the
+fighting was going on to the north and beyond the Wood. The Big
+Push progressed very rapidly as the summer drew to a close. Our men
+were holding one of the captured positions in the neighborhood of
+the Wood.
+
+It must have been two days after we went over the top with the
+tanks that Captain Green had me up and told me that I was promoted.
+At least that was what he called it. I differed with him, but
+didn't say so.
+
+The Captain said that as I had had a course in bombing, he thought
+he would put me in the Battalion Bombers.
+
+I protested that the honor was too great and that I really didn't
+think I was good enough.
+
+After that the Captain said that he didn't _think_ I was going in
+the bombers. He _knew_ it. I was elected!
+
+I didn't take any joy whatever in the appointment, but orders are
+orders and they have to be obeyed. The bombers are called the
+"Suicide Club" and are well named. The mortality in this branch of
+the service is as great if not greater than in any other.
+
+In spite of my feelings in the matter, I accepted the decision
+cheerfully--like a man being sentenced to be electrocuted--and
+managed to convey the impression to Captain Green that I was
+greatly elated and that I looked forward to future performances
+with large relish. After that I went back to my shelter and made a
+new will.
+
+That very night I was called upon to take charge of a bombing party
+of twelve men. A lieutenant, Mr. May, one of the bravest men I ever
+knew, was to be of the party and in direct command. I was to have
+the selection of the men.
+
+Captain Green had me up along with Lieutenant May early in the
+evening, and as nearly as I can remember these were his
+instructions:
+
+"Just beyond High Wood and to the left there is a sap or small
+trench leading to the sunken road that lies between the towns of
+Albert and Bapaume. That position commands a military point that we
+find necessary to hold before we can make another attack. The
+Germans are in the trench. They have two machine guns and will
+raise the devil with us unless we get them out. It will cost a good
+many lives if we attempt to take the position by attack, but we are
+under the impression that a bombing party in the night on a
+surprise attack will be able to take it with little loss of life.
+Take your twelve men out there at ten o'clock and _take that
+trench_! You will take only bombs with you. You and Mr. May will
+have revolvers. After taking the trench, consolidate it, and before
+morning there will be relief sent out to you. The best of luck!'"
+
+The whole thing sounded as simple as ABC. All we had to do was go
+over there and take the place. The captain didn't say how many
+Germans there would be nor what they would be doing while we were
+taking their comfortable little position. Indeed he seemed to quite
+carelessly leave the Boche out of the reckoning. I didn't. I knew
+that some of us, and quite probably most of us, would never come
+back.
+
+I selected my men carefully, taking only the coolest and steadiest
+and the best bombers. Most of them were men who had been at Dover
+with me. I felt like an executioner when I notified them of their
+selection.
+
+At nine-thirty we were ready, stripped to the lightest of necessary
+equipment. Each of the men was armed with a bucket of bombs. Some
+carried an extra supply in satchels, so we knew there would be no
+shortage of Millses.
+
+Lieutenant May took us out over the top on schedule time, and we
+started for the position to be taken. We walked erect but in the
+strictest silence for about a thousand yards. At that time the
+distances were great on the Somme, as the Big Push was in full
+swing, and the advance had been fast. Trench systems had been
+demolished, and in many places there were only shell holes and
+isolated pieces of trench defended by machine guns. The whole
+movement had progressed so far that the lines were far apart and
+broken, so much so that in many cases the fighting had come back to
+the open work of early in the war.
+
+Poking along out there, I had the feeling that we were an awfully
+long way from the comparative safety of our main body--too far away
+for comfort. We were. Any doubts on the matter disappeared before
+morning.
+
+At the end of the thousand yards Lieutenant May gave the signal to
+lie down. We lay still half an hour or so and then crawled forward.
+Fortunately there was no barbed wire, as all entanglements had been
+destroyed by the terrific bombardment that had been going on for
+weeks. The Germans made no attempt to repair it nor did we.
+
+We crawled along for about ten minutes, and the Lieutenant passed
+the word in whispers to get ready, as we were nearly on them. Each
+of us got out a bomb, pulled the pin with our teeth, and waited for
+the signal. It was fairly still. Away off to the rear, guns were
+going, but they seemed a long way off. Forward, and away off to
+the right beyond the Wood, there was a lot of rifle and machine-gun
+fire, and we could see the sharp little lavender stabs of flame
+like electric flashes. It was light enough so that we could see
+dimly.
+
+Just ahead we could hear the murmur of the Huns as they chatted in
+the trench. They hadn't seen us. Evidently they didn't suspect and
+were more or less careless.
+
+The Lieutenant waited until the sound of voices was a little louder
+than before, the Boches evidently being engaged in a fireside
+argument of some kind, and then he jumped to his feet shouting,
+"Now then, my lads. All together!"
+
+We came up all standing and let 'em go. It was about fifteen yards
+to Fritz, and that is easy to a good bomber, as my men all were. A
+yell of surprise and fright went up from the trench, and they
+started to run. We spread out so as to get room, gave them another
+round of Millses, and rushed.
+
+The trench wasn't really a trench at all. It was the remains of a
+perfectly good one, but had been bashed all to pieces, and was now
+only five or six shell craters connected by the ruined traverses.
+At no point was it more than waist high and in some places only
+knee high. We swarmed into what was left of the trench and after
+the Heinies. There must have been forty of them, and it didn't take
+them long to find out that we were only a dozen. Then they came
+back at us. We got into a crooked bit of traverse that was in
+relatively good shape and threw up a barricade of sandbags. There
+was any amount of them lying about.
+
+The Germans gave us a bomb or two and considerable rifle fire, and
+we beat it around the corner of the bay. Then we had it back and
+forth, a regular seesaw game. We would chase them back from the
+barricade, and then they would rush us and back we would go. After
+we had lost three men and Lieutenant May had got a slight wound, we
+got desperate and got out of the trench and rushed them for further
+orders. We fairly showered them as we followed them up, regardless
+of danger to ourselves. All this scrap through they hadn't done
+anything with the machine guns. One was in our end of the trench,
+and we found that the other was out of commission. They must have
+been short of small-arm ammunition and bombs, because on that last
+strafing they cleared out and stayed.
+
+After the row was over we counted noses and found four dead and
+three slightly wounded, including Lieutenant May. I detailed two
+men to take the wounded and the Lieutenant back. That left four of
+us to consolidate the position. The Lieutenant promised to return
+with relief, but as it turned out he was worse than he thought, and
+he didn't get back.
+
+I turned to and inspected the position. It was pretty hopeless.
+There really wasn't much to consolidate. The whole works was
+knocked about and was only fit for a temporary defence. There were
+about a dozen German dead, and we searched them but found nothing
+of value. So we strengthened our cross-trench barricade and waited
+for the relief. It never came.
+
+When it began to get light, the place looked even more
+discouraging. There was little or no cover. We knew that unless we
+got some sort of concealment, the airplanes would spot us, and
+that we would get a shell or two. So we got out the entrenching
+tools and dug into the side of the best part of the shallow
+traverse. We finally got a slight overhang scraped out. We didn't
+dare go very far under for fear that it would cave. We got some
+sandbags up on the sides and three of us crawled into the shelter.
+The other man made a similar place for himself a little distance
+off.
+
+The day dawned clear and bright and gave promise of being hot.
+Along about seven we began to get hungry. A Tommy is always hungry,
+whether he is in danger or not. When we took account of stock and
+found that none of us had brought along "iron rations", we
+discovered that we were all nearly starved. Killing is hungry work.
+
+We had only ourselves to blame. We had been told repeatedly never
+to go anywhere without "iron rations", but Tommy is a good deal of
+a child and unless you show him the immediate reason for a thing he
+is likely to disregard instructions. I rather blamed myself in this
+case for not seeing that the men had their emergency food. In
+fact, it was my duty to see that they had. But I had overlooked it.
+And I hadn't brought any myself.
+
+The "iron ration" consists of a pound of "bully beef", a small tin
+containing tea and sugar enough for two doses, some Oxo cubes, and
+a few biscuits made of reinforced concrete. They are issued for
+just such an emergency as we were in as we lay in our isolated
+dug-out. The soldier is apt to get into that sort of situation
+almost any time, and it is folly ever to be without the ration.
+
+Well, we didn't have ours, and we knew we wouldn't get any before
+night, if we did then. One thing we had too much of. That was rum.
+The night before a bunch of us had been out on a ration party, and
+we had come across a Brigade Dump. This is a station where rations
+are left for the various companies to come and draw their own, also
+ammo and other necessities. There was no one about, and we had gone
+through the outfit. We found two cases of rum, four gallons in a
+case, and we promptly filled our bottles, more than a pint each.
+
+Tommy is always very keen on his rum. The brand used in the army is
+high proof and burns like fire going down, but it is warming. The
+regular ration as served after a cold sentry go is called a "tot."
+It is enough to keep the cold out and make a man wish he had
+another. The average Tommy will steal rum whenever he can without
+the danger of getting caught.
+
+It happened that all four of us were in the looting party and had
+our bottles full. Also it happened that we were all normally quite
+temperate and hadn't touched our supply.
+
+So we all took a nip and tightened up our belts. Then we took
+another and another. We lay on our backs with our heads out of the
+burrow, packed in like sardines and looking up at the sky. Half a
+dozen airplanes came out and flew over. We had had a hard night and
+we all dozed off, at least I did, and I guess the others did also.
+
+Around nine we all waked up, and Bones--he was the fellow in the
+middle--began to complain of thirst. Then we all took another nip
+and wished it was water. We discussed the matter of crawling down
+to a muddy pool at the end of the traverse and having some out of
+that, but passed it up as there was a dead man lying in it. Bones,
+who was pretty well educated--he once asked me if I had visited
+Emerson's home and was astounded that I hadn't--quoted from Kipling
+something to the effect that,
+
+        When you come to slaughter
+        You'll do your work on water,
+        An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it.
+
+Then Bones cursed the rum and took another nip. So did the rest of
+us.
+
+There was a considerable bombardment going on all the forenoon, but
+few shells came anywhere near us. Some shrapnel burst over us a
+little way off to the right, and some of the fragments fell in the
+trench, but on the whole the morning was uncomfortable but not
+dangerous.
+
+Around half-past ten we saw an airplane fight that was almost worth
+the forenoon's discomfort. A lot of them had been circling around
+ever since daybreak. When the fight started, two of our planes were
+nearly over us. Suddenly we saw three Boche planes volplaning down
+from away up above. They grew bigger and bigger and opened with
+their guns when they were nearly on top of our fellows. No hits.
+Then all five started circling for top position. One of the Boches
+started to fall and came down spinning, but righted himself not
+more than a thousand feet up. Our anti air-craft guns opened on
+him, and we could see the shells bursting with little cottony puffs
+all around. Some of the shrapnel struck near us. They missed him,
+and up he went again. Presently all five came circling lower and
+lower, jockeying for position and spitting away with their guns. As
+they all got to the lower levels, the anti air-craft guns stopped
+firing, fearing to get our men.
+
+Suddenly one of the Huns burst into flames and came toppling down
+behind his lines, his gas tank ablaze. Almost immediately one of
+ours dropped, also burning and behind the Boche lines.
+
+After that it was two to one, and the fight lasted more than ten
+minutes. Then down went a Hun, not afire but tumbling end over end
+behind our lines. I learned afterwards that this fellow was unhurt
+and was taken prisoner. That left it an even thing. We could see
+half a dozen planes rushing to attack the lone Boche. He saw them
+too. For he turned tail and skedaddled for home.
+
+Bonesie began to philosophize on the cold-bloodedness of air
+fighting and really worked himself up into an almost optimistic
+frame of mind. He was right in the midst of a flowery oration on
+our comparative safety, "nestling on the bosom of Mother Earth",
+when, without any warning whatever, there came a perfect avalanche
+of shell all around us.
+
+I knew perfectly well that we were caught. The shells, as near as
+we could see, were coming from our side. Doubtless our people
+thought that the trench was still manned by Germans, and they were
+shelling for the big noon attack. Such an attack was made, as I
+learned afterwards, but I never saw it.
+
+At eleven o'clock I looked at my watch. Somehow I didn't fear
+death, although I felt it was near. Maybe the rum was working. I
+turned to Bonesie and said, "What about that safety stuff, old
+top?"
+
+"Cheer, cheer, Darby," said he. "We may pull through yet."
+
+"Don't think so," I insisted. "It's us for pushing up the daisies.
+Good luck if we don't meet again!"
+
+I put my hand in and patted Dinky on the back, and sent up another
+little prayer for luck. Then there was a terrific shock, and
+everything went black.
+
+When I came out of it, I had the sensation of struggling up out of
+water. I thought for an instant that I was drowning. And in effect
+that was almost what was happening to me. I was buried, all but one
+side of my face. A tremendous weight pressed down on me, and I
+could only breathe in little gasps.
+
+I tried to move my legs and arms and couldn't. Then I wiggled my
+fingers and toes to see if any bones were broken. They wiggled all
+right. My right nostril and eye were full of dirt; also my mouth. I
+spit out the dirt and moved my head until my nose and eye were
+clear. I ached all over.
+
+It was along toward sundown. Up aloft a single airplane was winging
+toward our lines. I remember that I wondered vaguely if he was the
+same fellow who had been fighting just before the world fell in on
+me.
+
+I tried to sing out to the rest of the men, but the best I could do
+was a kind of loud gurgle. There was no answer. My head was
+humming, and the blood seemed to be bursting my ears. I was
+terribly sorry for myself and tried to pull my strength together
+for a big try at throwing the weight off my chest, but I was
+absolutely helpless. Then again I slid out of consciousness.
+
+It was dark when I struggled up through the imaginary water again.
+I was still breathing in gasps, and I could feel my heart going in
+great thumps that hurt and seemed to shake the ground. My tongue
+was curled up and dry, and fever was simply burning me up. My mind
+was clear, and I wished that I hadn't drunk that rum. Finding I
+could raise my head a little, I cocked it up, squinting over my
+cheek bones--I was on my back--and could catch the far-off flicker
+of the silver-green flare lights. There was a rattle of musketry
+off in the direction where the Boche lines ought to be. From behind
+came the constant boom of big guns. I lay back and watched the
+stars, which were bright and uncommonly low. Then a shell burst
+near by,--not near enough to hurt,--but buried as I was the whole
+earth seemed to shake. My heart stopped beating, and I went out
+again.
+
+When I came to the next time, it was still dark, and somebody was
+lifting me on to a stretcher. My first impression was of getting a
+long breath. I gulped it down, and with every grateful inhalation I
+felt my ribs painfully snapping back into place. Oh, Lady! Didn't I
+just eat that air up.
+
+And then, having gotten filled up with the long-denied oxygen, I
+asked, "Where's the others?"
+
+"Ayen't no hothers," was the brief reply.
+
+And there weren't. Later I reconstructed the occurrences of the
+night from what I was told by the rescuing party.
+
+A big shell had slammed down on us, drilling Bonesie, the man in
+the middle, from end to end. He was demolished. The shell was a
+"dud", that is, it didn't explode. If it had, there wouldn't have
+been anything whatever left of any of us. As it was our overhang
+caved in, letting sandbags and earth down on the remaining man and
+myself. The other man was buried clean under. He had life in him
+still when he was dug out but "went west" in about ten minutes.
+
+The fourth man was found dead from shrapnel. I found, too, that the
+two unwounded men who had gone back with Lieutenant May had both
+been killed on the way in. So out of the twelve men who started on
+the "suicide club" stunt I was the only one left. Dinky was still
+inside my tunic, and I laid the luck all to him.
+
+Back in hospital I was found to be suffering from shell shock. Also
+my heart was pushed out of place. There were no bones broken,
+though I was sore all over, and several ribs were pulled around so
+that it was like a knife thrust at every breath. Besides that, my
+nerves were shattered. I jumped a foot at the slightest noise and
+twitched a good deal.
+
+At the end of a week I asked the M.O. if I would get Blighty and he
+said he didn't think so, not directly. He rather thought that they
+would keep me in hospital for a month or two and see how I came
+out. The officer was a Canadian and had a sense of humor and was
+most affable. I told him if this jamming wasn't going to get me
+Blighty, I wanted to go back to duty and get a real one. He laughed
+and tagged me for a beach resort at Ault-Onival on the northern
+coast of France.
+
+I was there a week and had a bully time. The place had been a
+fashionable watering place before the war, and when I was there the
+transient population was largely wealthy Belgians. They entertained
+a good deal and did all they could for the pleasure of the four
+thousand boys who were at the camp. The Y.M.C.A. had a huge tent
+and spread themselves in taking care of the soldiers. There were
+entertainments almost every night, moving pictures, and music. The
+food was awfully good and the beds comfortable, and that pretty
+nearly spells heaven to a man down from the front.
+
+Best of all, the bathing was fine, and it was possible to keep the
+cooties under control,--more or less. I went in bathing two and
+three times daily as the sloping shore made it just as good at low
+tide as at high.
+
+I think that glorious week at the beach made the hardships of the
+front just left behind almost worth while. My chum, Corporal Wells,
+who had a quaint Cockney philosophy, used to say that he liked to
+have the stomach ache because it felt so good when it stopped. On
+the same theory I became nearly convinced that a month in the
+trenches was good fun because it felt so good to get out.
+
+At the end of the week I was better but still shaky. I started
+pestering the M.O. to tag me for Blighty. He wouldn't, so I sprung
+the same proposition on him that I had on the doctor at the
+base,--to send me back to duty if he couldn't send me to England.
+The brute took me at my word and sent me back to the battalion.
+
+I rejoined on the Somme again just as they were going back for the
+second time in that most awful part of the line. Many of the old
+faces were gone. Some had got the wooden cross, and some had gone
+to Blighty.
+
+I sure was glad when old Wellsie hopped out and grabbed me.
+
+"Gawd lumme, Darby," he said. "Hi sye, an' me thinkin' as 'ow you
+was back in Blighty. An' 'ere ye are yer blinkin' old self. Or is
+it yer bloomin' ghost. I awsks ye. Strike me pink, Yank. I'm glad."
+
+And he was. At that I did feel more or less ghostly. I seemed to
+have lost some of my confidence. I expected to "go west" on the
+next time in. And that's a bad way to feel out there.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+BACK ON THE SOMME AGAIN
+
+
+When I rejoined the battalion they were just going into the Somme
+again after a two weeks' rest. They didn't like it a bit.
+
+"Gawd lumme," says Wellsie, "'ave we got to fight th' 'ole blinkin'
+war. Is it right? I awsks yer. Is it?"
+
+It was all wrong. We had been told after High Wood that we would
+not have to go into action again in that part of the line but that
+we would have a month of rest and after that would be sent up to
+the Ypres sector. "Wipers" hadn't been any garden of roses early in
+the war, but it was paradise now compared with the Somme.
+
+It was a sad lot of men when we swung out on the road again back to
+the Somme, and there was less singing than usual. That first night
+we remained at Mametz Wood. We figured that we would get to kip
+while the kipping was good. There were some old Boche dug-outs in
+fair condition, and we were in a fair way to get comfortable. No
+luck!
+
+We were hardly down to a good sleep when C company was called to
+fall in without equipment, and we knew that meant fatigue of some
+sort. I have often admired the unknown who invented that word
+"fatigue" as applied in a military term. He used it as a disguise
+for just plain hard work. It means anything whatever in the way of
+duty that does not have to do directly with the manning of the
+trenches.
+
+This time we clicked a burial fatigue. It was my first. I never
+want another. I took a party of ten men and we set out, armed with
+picks and shovels, and, of course, rifles and bandoliers (cloth
+pockets containing fifty rounds of ammo).
+
+We hiked three miles up to High Wood and in the early morning began
+the job of getting some of the dead under ground. We were almost
+exactly in the same place from which we had gone over after the
+tanks. I kept expecting all the time to run across the bodies of
+some of our own men. It was a most unpleasant feeling.
+
+Some cleaning up had already been done, so the place was not so bad
+as it had been, but it was bad enough. The advance had gone forward
+so far that we were practically out of shell range, and we were
+safe working.
+
+The burial method was to dig a pit four feet deep and big enough to
+hold six men. Then we packed them in. The worst part of it was that
+most of the bodies were pretty far gone and in the falling away
+stage. It was hard to move them. I had to put on my gas mask to
+endure the stench and so did some of the other men. Some who had
+done this work before rather seemed to like it.
+
+I would search a body for identification marks and jot down the
+data found on a piece of paper. When the man was buried under, I
+would stick a rifle up over him and tuck the record into the trap
+in the butt of the gun where the oil bottle is carried.
+
+When the pioneers came up, they would remove the rifle and
+substitute a little wooden cross with the name painted on it. The
+indifference with which the men soon came to regard this burial
+fatigue was amazing. I remember one incident of that first morning,
+a thing that didn't seem at all shocking at the time, but which,
+looking back upon it, illustrates the matter-of-factness of the
+soldier's viewpoint on death.
+
+"Hi sye, Darby," sang out one fellow. "Hi got a blighter 'ere wif
+only one leg. Wot'll Hi do wif 'im?"
+
+"Put him under with only one, you blinking idiot," said I.
+
+Presently he called out again, this time with a little note of
+satisfaction and triumph in his voice.
+
+"Darby, Hi sye. I got a leg for that bleeder. Fits 'im perfect."
+
+Well, I went over and took a look and to my horror found that the
+fool had stuck a German leg on the body, high boot and all. I
+wouldn't stand for that and had it out again. I wasn't going to
+send a poor fellow on his last pilgrimage with any Boche leg, and
+said so. Later I heard this undertaking genius of a Tommy grousing
+and muttering to himself.
+
+"Cawn't please Darby," says he, "no matter wot. Fawncy the
+blighter'd feel better wif two legs, if one was Boche. It's a fair
+crime sendin' 'im hover the river wif only one."
+
+I was sure thankful when that burial fatigue was over, and early in
+the forenoon we started back to rest.
+
+Rest, did I say? Not that trip. We were hardly back to Mametz and
+down to breakfast when along came an order to fall in for a
+carrying party. All that day we carried boxes of Millses up to the
+dump that was by High Wood, three long miles over hard going. Being
+a corporal had its compensations at this game, as I had no carrying
+to do; but inasmuch as the bombs were moved two boxes to a man, I
+got my share of the hard work helping men out of holes and lending
+a hand when they were mired.
+
+Millses are packed with the bombs and detonators separate in the
+box, and the men are very careful in the handling of them. So the
+moving of material of this kind is wearing.
+
+Another line of man-killers that we had to move were "toffy
+apples." This quaint toy is a huge bomb, perfectly round and
+weighing sixty pounds, with a long rod or pipe which inserts into
+the mortar. Toffy apples are about the awkwardest thing imaginable
+to carry.
+
+This carrying stunt went on for eight long days and nights. We
+worked on an average sixteen hours a day. It rained nearly all the
+time, and we never got dried out. The food was awful, as the
+advance had been so fast that it was almost impossible to get up
+the supplies, and the men in the front trenches had the first pick
+of the grub. It was also up to us to get the water up to the front.
+The method on this was to use the five-gallon gasoline cans.
+Sometimes they were washed out, oftener they weren't. Always the
+water tasted of gas. We got the same thing, and several times I
+became sick drinking the stuff.
+
+When that eight days of carrying was over, we were so fed up that
+we didn't care whether we clicked or not. Maybe it was good mental
+preparation for what was to come, for on top of it all it turned
+out that we were to go over the top in another big attack.
+
+When we got that news, I got Dinky out and scolded him. Maybe I'd
+better tell you all about Dinky before I go any farther. Soldiers
+are rather prone to superstitions. Relieved of all responsibility
+and with most of their thinking done for them, they revert
+surprisingly quick to a state of more or less savage mentality.
+Perhaps it would be better to call the state childlike. At any rate
+they accumulate a lot of fool superstitions and hang to them. The
+height of folly and the superlative invitation to bad luck is
+lighting three fags on one match. When that happens one of the
+three is sure to click it soon.
+
+As one out of any group of three anywhere stands a fair chance of
+"getting his", fag or no fag, the thing is reasonably sure to work
+out according to the popular belief. Most every man has his unlucky
+day in the trenches. One of mine was Monday. The others were
+Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.
+
+Practically every soldier carries some kind of mascot or charm. A
+good many are crucifixes and religious tokens. Some are coins.
+Corporal Wells had a sea shell with three little black spots on
+it. He considered three his lucky number. Thirteen was mine. My
+mascot was the aforesaid and much revered Dinky. Dinky was and is a
+small black cat made of velvet. He's entirely flat except his head,
+which is becomingly round with yellow glass eyes. I carried Dinky
+inside my tunic always and felt safer with him there. He hangs at
+the head of my bed now and I feel better with him there. I realize
+perfectly that all this sounds like tommyrot, and that superstition
+may be a relic of barbarism and ignorance. Never mind! Wellsie
+sized the situation up one day when we were talking about this very
+thing.
+
+"Maybe my shell ayen't doin' me no good," says Wells. "Maybe Dinky
+ayen't doin' you no good. But 'e ayen't doin' ye no 'arm. So 'ang
+on to 'im."
+
+I figure that if there's anything in war that "ayen't doin' ye no
+'arm", it is pretty good policy to "'ang on to it."
+
+It was Sunday the eighth day of October that the order came to move
+into what was called the "O.G.I.", that is, the old German first
+line. You will understand that this was the line the Boches had
+occupied a few days before and out of which they had been driven in
+the Big Push. In front of this trench was Eaucort Abbaye, which had
+been razed with the aid of the tanks.
+
+We had watched this battle from the rear from the slight elevation
+of High Wood, and it had been a wonderful sight to see other men go
+out over the top without having ourselves to think about. They had
+poured out, wave after wave, a large part of them Scotch with their
+kilted rumps swinging in perfect time, a smashing barrage going on
+ahead, and the tanks lumbering along with a kind of clumsy majesty.
+When they hit the objective, the tanks crawled in and made short
+work of it.
+
+The infantry had hard work of it after the positions were taken, as
+there were numerous underground caverns and passages which had to
+be mopped out. This was done by dropping smoke bombs in the
+entrances and smoking the Boches out like bees.
+
+When we came up, we inherited these underground shelters, and they
+were mighty comfortable after the kipping in the muck. There were
+a lot of souvenirs to be picked up, and almost everybody annexed
+helmets and other truck that had been left behind by the Germans.
+
+Sometimes it was dangerous to go after souvenirs too greedily. The
+inventive Hun had a habit of fixing up a body with a bomb under it
+and a tempting wrist watch on the hand. If you started to take the
+watch, the bomb went off, and after that you didn't care what time
+it was.
+
+I accumulated a number of very fine razors, and one of the
+saw-tooth bayonets the Boche pioneers use. This is a perfectly
+hellish weapon that slips in easily and mangles terribly when it is
+withdrawn. I had thought that I would have a nice collection of
+souvenirs to take to Blighty if I ever got leave. I got the leave
+all right, and shortly, but the collection stayed behind.
+
+The dug-out that Number 10 drew was built of concrete and was big
+enough to accommodate the entire platoon. We were well within the
+Boche range and early in the day had several casualties, one of
+them a chap named Stransfield, a young Yorkshireman who was a very
+good friend of mine. Stransie was sitting on the top step cleaning
+his rifle and was blown to pieces by a falling shell. After that we
+kept to cover all day and slept all the time. We needed it after
+the exhausting work of the past eight days.
+
+It was along about dark when I was awakened by a runner from
+headquarters, which was in a dug-out a little way up the line, with
+word that the platoon commanders were wanted. I happened to be in
+command of the platoon, as Mr. Blofeld was acting second in command
+of the company, Sergeant Page was away in Havre as instructor for a
+month, and I was next senior.
+
+I thought that probably this was merely another detail for some
+fatigue, so I asked Wells if he would go. He did and in about half
+an hour came back with a face as long as my arm. I was sitting on
+the fire step cleaning my rifle and Wellsie sank dejectedly down
+beside me.
+
+"Darby," he sighed hopelessly, "wot th' blinkin' 'ell do you think
+is up now?"
+
+I hadn't the faintest idea and said so. I had, however, as the
+educated Bones used to say "a premonition of impending disaster."
+As a premonitor I was a success. Disaster was right.
+
+Wellsie sighed again and spilled the news.
+
+"We're goin' over th' bleedin' top at nine. We don't 'ave to carry
+no tools. We're in the first bloomin' wave."
+
+Going without tools was supposed to be a sort of consolation for
+being in the first wave. The other three waves carry either picks
+or shovels. They consolidate the trenches after they have been
+taken by the first wave. That is, they turn the trench around,
+facing the other way, to be ready for a counter attack. It is a
+miserable job. The tools are heavy and awkward, and the last waves
+get the cream of the artillery fire, as the Boche naturally does
+not want to take the chance of shelling the first wave for fear of
+getting his own men. However, the first wave gets the machine-gun
+fire and gets it good. At that the first wave is the preference. I
+have heard hundreds of men say so. Probably the reason is that a
+bullet, unless it is explosive, makes a relatively clean wound,
+while a shell fragment may mangle fearfully.
+
+Wells and I were talking over the infernal injustice of the
+situation when another runner arrived from the Sergeant Major's,
+ordering us up for the rum issue. I went up for the rum and left
+Wells to break the news about going over.
+
+I got an extra large supply, as the Sergeant Major was good
+humored. It was the last rum he ever served. I got enough for the
+full platoon and then some, which was a lot, as the platoon was
+well down in numbers owing to casualties. I went among the boys
+with a spoon and the rum in a mess tin and served out two tots
+instead of the customary one. After that all hands felt a little
+better, but not much. They were all fagged out after the week's
+hard work. I don't think I ever saw a more discouraged lot getting
+ready to go over. For myself I didn't seem to care much, I was in
+such rotten condition physically. I rather hoped it would be my
+last time.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE LAST TIME OVER THE TOP
+
+
+A general cleaning of rifles started, although it was dark. Mine
+was already in good shape, and I leaned it against the side of the
+trench and went below for the rest of my equipment. While I was
+gone, a shell fragment undid all my work by smashing the breech.
+
+I had seen a new short German rifle in the dug-out with a bayonet
+and ammo, and decided to use that. I hid all my souvenirs, planning
+to get them when I came out if I ever came out. I hadn't much nerve
+left after the bashing I had taken a fortnight before and didn't
+hold much hope.
+
+Our instructions were of the briefest. It was the old story that
+there would probably be little resistance, if any. There would be a
+few machine guns to stop us, but nothing more. The situation we had
+to handle was this: A certain small sector had held on the attacks
+of the few previous days, and the line had bent back around it.
+All we had to do was to straighten the line. We had heard this old
+ghost story too often to believe a word of it.
+
+Our place had been designated where we were to get into extended
+formation, and our general direction was clear. We filed out of the
+trench at eight-thirty, and as we passed the other platoons,--we
+had been to the rear,--they tossed us the familiar farewell hail,
+"The best o' luck, mytie."
+
+We soon found ourselves in the old sunken road that ran in front of
+Eaucort Abbaye. At this point we were not under observation, as a
+rise in the ground would have protected us even though it had been
+daylight. The moon was shining brilliantly, and we knew that it
+would not be anything in the nature of a surprise attack. We got
+into extended formation and waited for the order to advance. I
+thought I should go crazy during that short wait. Shells had begun
+to burst over and around us, and I was sure the next would be mine.
+
+Presently one burst a little behind me, and down went Captain Green
+and the Sergeant Major with whom he had been talking. Captain
+Green died a few days later at Rouen, and the Sergeant Major lost
+an arm. This was a hard blow right at the start, and it spelled
+disaster. Everything started to go wrong. Mr. Blofeld was in
+command, and another officer thought that he was in charge. We got
+conflicting orders, and there was one grand mix-up. Eventually we
+advanced and went straight up over the ridge. We walked slap-bang
+into perfectly directed fire. Torrents of machine-gun bullets
+crackled about us, and we went forward with our heads down, like
+men facing into a storm. It was a living marvel that any one could
+come through it.
+
+A lot of them didn't. Mr. Blofeld, who was near me, leaped in the
+air, letting go a hideous yell. I ran to him, disregarding the
+instruction not to stop to help any one. He was struck in the
+abdomen with an explosive bullet and was done for. I felt terribly
+about Mr. Blofeld, as he had been a good friend to me. He was the
+finest type of officer of the new English army, the rare sort who
+can be democratic and yet command respect. He had talked with me
+often, and I knew of his family and home life. He was more like an
+elder brother to me than a superior officer. I left Mr. Blofeld and
+went on.
+
+The hail of bullets grew even worse. They whistled and cracked and
+squealed, and I began to wonder why on earth I didn't get mine. Men
+were falling on all sides and the shrieks of those hit were the
+worst I had heard. The darkness made it worse, and although I had
+been over the top before by daylight this was the last limit of
+hellishness. And nothing but plain, unmixed machine-gun fire. As
+yet there was no artillery action to amount to anything.
+
+Once again I put my hand inside my tunic and stroked Dinky and said
+to him, "For God's sake, Dink, see me through this time." I meant
+it too. I was actually praying,--to my mascot. I realize that this
+was plain, unadulterated, heathenish fetish worship, but it shows
+what a man reverts to in the barbaric stress of war.
+
+By this time we were within about thirty yards of the Boche parapet
+and could see them standing shoulder to shoulder on the fire step,
+swarms of them, packed in, with the bayonets gleaming. Machine
+guns were emplaced and vomiting death at incredibly short intervals
+along the parapet. Flares were going up continuously, and it was
+almost as light as day.
+
+We were terribly outnumbered, and the casualties had already been
+so great that I saw we were in for the worst thing we had ever
+known. Moreover, the next waves hadn't appeared behind us.
+
+I was in command, as all the officers and non-coms so far as I
+could make out had snuffed. I signalled to halt and take cover, my
+idea being to wait for the other waves to catch up. The men needed
+no second invitation to lie low. They rolled into the shell holes
+and burrowed where there was no cover.
+
+I drew a pretty decent hole myself, and a man came pitching in on
+top of me, screaming horribly. It was Corporal Hoskins, a close
+friend of mine. He had it in the stomach and clicked in a minute or
+two.
+
+During the few minutes that I lay in that hole, I suffered the
+worst mental anguish I ever knew. Seeing so many of my closest
+chums go west so horribly had nearly broken me, shaky as I was when
+the attack started. I was dripping with sweat and frightfully
+nauseated. A sudden overpowering impulse seized me to get out in
+the open and have it over with. I was ready to die.
+
+Sooner than I ought, for the second wave had not yet shown up, I
+shrilled the whistle and lifted them out. It was a hopeless charge,
+but I was done. I would have gone at them alone. Anything to close
+the act. To blazes with everything!
+
+As I scrambled out of the shell hole, there was a blinding,
+ear-splitting explosion slightly to my left, and I went down. I did
+not lose consciousness entirely. A red-hot iron was through my
+right arm, and some one had hit me on the left shoulder with a
+sledge hammer. I felt crushed,--shattered.
+
+My impressions of the rest of that night are, for the most part,
+vague and indistinct; but in spots they stand out clear and vivid.
+The first thing I knew definitely was when Smith bent over me,
+cutting the sleeve out of my tunic.
+
+"It's a Blighty one," says Smithy. That was some consolation. I was
+back in the shell hole, or in another, and there were five or six
+other fellows piled in there too. All of them were dead except
+Smith and a man named Collins, who had his arm clean off, and
+myself. Smith dressed my wound and Collins', and said:
+
+"We'd better get out of here before Fritz rushes us. The attack was
+a ruddy failure, and they'll come over and bomb us out of here."
+
+Smith and I got out of the hole and started to crawl. It appeared
+that he had a bullet through the thigh, though he hadn't said
+anything about it before. We crawled a little way, and then the
+bullets were flying so thick that I got an insane desire to run and
+get away from them. I got to my feet and legged it. So did Smith,
+though how he did it with a wounded thigh I don't know.
+
+The next thing I remember I was on a stretcher. The beastly thing
+swayed and pitched, and I got seasick. Then came another crash
+directly over head, and out I went again. When I came to, my head
+was as clear as a bell. A shell had burst over us and had killed
+one stretcher bearer. The other had disappeared. Smith was there.
+He and I got to our feet and put our arms around each other and
+staggered on. The next I knew I was in the Cough Drop dressing
+station, so called from the peculiar formation of the place. We had
+tea and rum here and a couple of fags from a sergeant major of the
+R.A.M.C.
+
+After that there was a ride on a flat car on a light railway and
+another in an ambulance with an American driver. Snatches of
+conversation about Broadway and a girl in Newark floated back, and
+I tried to work up ambition enough to sing out and ask where the
+chap came from. So far I hadn't had much pain. When we landed in a
+regular dressing station, the M.O. gave me another going over and
+said,
+
+"Blighty for you, son." I had a piece of shrapnel or something
+through the right upper arm, clearing the bone and making a hole
+about as big as a half dollar. My left shoulder was full of
+shrapnel fragments, and began to pain like fury. More tea. More
+rum. More fags. Another faint. When I woke up the next time,
+somebody was sticking a hypodermic needle into my chest with a shot
+of anti-lockjaw serum, and shortly after I was tucked away in a
+white enameled Red Cross train with a pretty nurse taking my
+temperature. I loved that nurse. She looked sort of cool and holy.
+
+I finally brought up in General Hospital Number 12 in Rouen. I was
+there four days and had a real bath,--a genuine boiling out. Also
+had some shrapnel picked out of my anatomy. I got in fairly good
+shape, though still in a good deal of dull pain. It was a glad day
+when they put a batch of us on a train for Havre, tagged for
+Blighty. We went direct from the train to the hospital ship,
+_Carisbrook Castle_. The quarters were good,--real bunks, clean
+sheets, good food, careful nurses. It was some different from the
+crowded transport that had taken me over to France.
+
+There were a lot of German prisoners aboard, wounded, and we
+swapped stories with them. It was really a lot of fun comparing
+notes, and they were pretty good chaps on the whole. They were as
+glad as we were to see land. Their troubles were over for the
+duration of the war.
+
+Never shall I forget that wonderful morning when I looked out and
+saw again the coast of England, hazy under the mists of dawn. It
+looked like the promised land. And it was. It meant freedom again
+from battle, murder, and sudden death, from trenches and stenches,
+rats, cooties, and all the rest that goes to make up the worst of
+man-made inventions, war.
+
+It was Friday the thirteenth. And don't let anybody dare say that
+date is unlucky. For it brought me back to the best thing that can
+gladden the eyes of a broken Tommy. Blighty! Blighty!! Blighty!!!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+BITS OF BLIGHTY
+
+
+Blighty meant life,--life and happiness and physical comfort. What
+we had left behind over there was death and mutilation and bodily
+and mental suffering. Up from the depths of hell we came and
+reached out our hands with pathetic eagerness to the good things
+that Blighty had for us.
+
+I never saw a finer sight than the faces of those boys, glowing
+with love, as they strained their eyes for the first sight of the
+homeland. Those in the bunks below, unable to move, begged those on
+deck to come down at the first land raise and tell them how it all
+looked.
+
+A lump swelled in my throat, and I prayed that I might never go
+back to the trenches. And I prayed, too, that the brave boys still
+over there might soon be out of it.
+
+We steamed into the harbor of Southampton early in the afternoon.
+Within an hour all of those that could walk had gone ashore. As we
+got into the waiting trains the civilian populace cheered. I, like
+everybody else I suppose, had dreamed often of coming back sometime
+as a hero and being greeted as a hero. But the cheering, though it
+came straight from the hearts of a grateful people, seemed, after
+all, rather hollow. I wanted to get somewhere and rest.
+
+It seemed good to look out of the windows and see the signs printed
+in English. That made it all seem less like a dream.
+
+I was taken first to the Clearing Hospital at Eastleigh. As we got
+off the train there the people cheered again, and among the
+civilians were many wounded men who had just recently come back.
+They knew how we felt.
+
+ [Illustration: CORPORAL HOLMES WITH STAFF NURSE AND ANOTHER
+ PATIENT, AT FULHAM MILITARY HOSPITAL, LONDON, S.W.]
+
+The first thing at the hospital was a real honest-to-God bath. _In
+a tub. With hot water!_ Heavens, how I wallowed. The orderly helped
+me and had to drag me out. I'd have stayed in that tub all night if
+he would have let me.
+
+Out of the tub I had clean things straight through, with a neat
+blue uniform, and for once was free of the cooties. The old
+uniform, blood-stained and ragged, went to the baking and
+disinfecting plant.
+
+That night all of us newly arrived men who could went to the
+Y.M.C.A. to a concert given in our honor. The chaplain came around
+and cheered us up and gave us good fags.
+
+Next morning I went around to the M.O. He looked my arm over and
+calmly said that it would have to come off as gangrene had set in.
+For a moment I wished that piece of shrapnel had gone through my
+head. I pictured myself going around with only one arm, and the
+prospect didn't look good.
+
+However, the doctor dressed the arm with the greatest care and told
+me I could go to a London hospital as I had asked, for I wanted to
+be near my people at Southall. These were the friends I had made
+before leaving Blighty and who had sent me weekly parcels and
+letters.
+
+I arrived in London on Tuesday and was taken in a big Red Cross
+motor loaned by Sir Charles Dickerson to the Fulham Hospital in
+Hammersmith. I was overjoyed, as the hospital was very near
+Southall, and Mr. and Mrs. Puttee were both there to meet me.
+
+The Sister in charge of my ward, Miss Malin, is one of the finest
+women I have met. I owe it to her care and skill that I still have
+my good right arm. She has since married and the lucky man has one
+of the best of wives. Miss Malin advised me right at the beginning
+not to submit to an amputation.
+
+My next few weeks were pretty awful. I was in constant pain, and
+after the old arm began to come around under Miss Malin's treatment
+one of the doctors discovered that my left hand was queer. It had
+been somewhat swollen, but not really bad. The doctor insisted upon
+an X-ray and found a bit of shrapnel imbedded. He was all for an
+operation. Operations seemed to be the long suit of most of those
+doctors. I imagine they couldn't resist the temptation to get some
+practice with so much cheap material all about. I consented this
+time, and went down for the pictures on Lord Mayor's Day. Going to
+the pictures is Tommy's expression for undergoing an anesthetic.
+
+I was under ether two hours and a half, and when I came out of it
+the left hand was all to the bad and has been ever since. There
+followed weeks of agonizing massage treatments. Between treatments
+though, I had it cushy.
+
+My friends were very good to me, and several Americans entertained
+me a good deal. I had a permanent walking-out pass good from nine
+in the morning until nine at night. I saw almost every show in the
+city, and heard a special performance of the Messiah at Westminster
+Abbey. Also I enjoyed a good deal of restaurant life.
+
+London is good to the wounded men. There is entertainment for all
+of them. A good many of these slightly wounded complain because
+they cannot get anything to drink, but undoubtedly it is the best
+thing for them. It is against the law to serve men in the blue
+uniform of the wounded. Men in khaki can buy all the liquor they
+want, the public houses being open from noon to two-thirty and from
+six P.M. to nine-thirty. Treating is not allowed. Altogether it
+works out very well and there is little drunkenness among the
+soldiers.
+
+I eventually brought up in a Convalescent Hospital in Brentford,
+Middlesex, and was there for three weeks. At the end of that time I
+was placed in category C 3.
+
+The system of marking the men in England is by categories, A, B,
+and C. A 1, 2, and 3 are for active service. A 4 is for the
+under-aged. B categories are for base service, and C is for home
+service. C 3 was for clerical duty, and as I was not likely to
+become efficient again as a soldier, it looked like some kind of
+bookkeeping for me for the duration of the war.
+
+Unless one is all shot to pieces, literally with something gone, it
+is hard to get a discharge from the British army. Back in the early
+days of 1915, a leg off was about the only thing that would produce
+a discharge.
+
+When I was put at clerical duty, I immediately began to furnish
+trouble for the British army, not intentionally, of course, but
+quite effectively. The first thing I did was to drop a typewriter
+and smash it. My hands had spells when they absolutely refused to
+work. Usually it was when I had something breakable in them. After
+I had done about two hundred dollars' damage indoors they tried me
+out as bayonet instructor. I immediately dropped a rifle on a
+concrete walk and smashed it. They wanted me to pay for it, but the
+M.O. called attention to the fact that I shouldn't have been put at
+the work under my category.
+
+ [Illustration: CORPORAL HOLMES WITH COMPANY OFFICE FORCE, AT
+ WINCHESTER, ENGLAND, A WEEK PRIOR TO DISCHARGE.]
+
+They then put me back at bookkeeping at Command Headquarters,
+Salisbury, but I couldn't figure English money and had a bad habit
+of fainting and falling off the high stool. To cap the climax, I
+finally fell one day and knocked down the stovepipe, and nearly set
+the office afire. The M.O. then ordered me back to the depot at
+Winchester and recommended me for discharge. I guess he thought it
+would be the cheapest in the long run.
+
+The adjutant at Winchester didn't seem any too pleased to see me.
+He said I looked as healthy as a wolf, which I did, and that they
+would never let me out of the army. He seemed to think that my
+quite normal appearance would be looked upon as a personal insult
+by the medical board. I said that I was sorry I didn't have a leg
+or two gone, but it couldn't be helped.
+
+While waiting for the Board, I was sent to the German Prison Camp
+at Winnal Downs as corporal of the permanent guard. I began to fear
+that at last they had found something that I could do without
+damaging anything, and my visions of the U.S.A. went a-glimmering.
+I was with the Fritzies for over a week, and they certainly have it
+soft and cushy.
+
+They have as good food as the Tommies. They are paid ninepence a
+day, and the work they do is a joke. They are well housed and kept
+clean and have their own canteens, where they can buy almost
+anything in the way of delicacies. They are decently treated by the
+English soldiers, who even buy them fags out of their own money.
+The nearest thing I ever saw to humiliation of a German was a few
+good-natured jokes at their expense by some of the wits in the
+guard. The English know how to play fair with an enemy when they
+have him down.
+
+I had about given up hope of ever getting out of the army when I
+was summoned to appear before the Travelling Medical Board. You can
+wager I lost no time in appearing.
+
+The board looked me over with a discouraging and cynical suspicion.
+I certainly did look as rugged as a navvy. When they gave me a
+going over, they found that my heart was out of place and that my
+left hand might never limber up again. They voted for a discharge
+in jig time. I had all I could do to keep from howling with joy.
+
+It was some weeks before the final formalities were closed up. The
+pension board passed on my case, and I was given the magnificent
+sum of sixteen shillings and sixpence a week, or $3.75. I spent the
+next few weeks in visiting my friends and, eventually, at the 22nd
+Headquarters at Bermondsey, London, S.C., received the papers that
+once more made me a free man.
+
+The papers read in part, "He is discharged in consequence of
+paragraph 392, King's Rules and Regulations. No longer fit for
+service." In another part of the book you will find a reproduction
+of the character discharge also given. The discharged man also
+receives a little silver badge bearing the inscription, "For King
+and Empire, Services Rendered." I think that I value this badge
+more than any other possession.
+
+Once free, I lost no time in getting my passport into shape and
+engaged a passage on the _St. Paul_, to sail on the second of June.
+Since my discharge is dated the twenty-eighth of May, you can see
+that I didn't waste any time. My friends at Southall thought I was
+doing things in a good deal of a hurry. The fact is, I was fed up
+on war. I had had a plenty. And I was going to make my get-away
+before the British War Office changed its mind and got me back in
+uniform. Mrs. Puttee and her eldest son saw me off at Euston
+Station. Leaving them was the one wrench, as they had become very
+dear to me. But I had to go. If Blighty had looked good, the
+thought of the U.S.A. was better.
+
+My passage was uneventful. No submarines, no bad weather, nothing
+disagreeable. On the eighth day I looked out through a welter of
+fog and rain to the place where the Statue of Liberty should have
+been waving a greeting across New York harbor. The lady wasn't
+visible, but I knew she was there. And even in a downpour equal to
+anything furnished by the choicest of Flanders rainstorms, little
+old New York looked better than anything I could imagine, except
+sober and staid old Boston.
+
+That I am at home, safe and free of the horrors of war, is to me a
+strange thing. I think it comes into the experience of most of the
+men who have been over there and who have been invalided out of the
+service. Looking back on the awfulness of the trenches and the
+agonies of mind and body, the sacrifice seems to fade into
+insignificance beside the satisfaction of having done a bit in the
+great and just cause.
+
+Now that our own men are going over, I find myself with a very deep
+regret that I cannot go too. I can only wish them the best of luck
+and rest in confidence that every man will do his uttermost.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+SUGGESTIONS FOR "SAMMY"
+
+
+I cannot end this book without saying something to those who have
+boys over there and, what is more to the point, to those boys who
+may go over there.
+
+First as to the things that should be sent in parcels; and a great
+deal of consideration should be given to this. You must be very
+careful not to send things that will load your Sammy down, as every
+ounce counts in the pack when he is hiking, and he is likely to be
+hiking any time or all the time.
+
+In the line of eatables the soldier wants something sweet. Good
+hard cookies are all right. I wish more people in this country knew
+how to make the English plum pudding in bags, the kind that will
+keep forever and be good when it is boiled. Mainly, though,
+chocolate is the thing. The milk kind is well enough, but it is apt
+to cause overmuch thirst. Personally I would rather have the plain
+chocolate,--the water variety.
+
+Chewing gum is always in demand and is not bulky in the package.
+Send a lot of it. Lime and lemon tablets in the summertime are
+great for checking thirst on the march. A few of them won't do any
+harm in any parcel, summer or winter.
+
+Now about smoking materials. Unless the man to whom the parcel is
+to be sent is definitely known to be prejudiced against cigarettes,
+don't send him pipe tobacco or a pipe. There are smokers who hate
+cigarettes just as there are some people who think that the little
+paper roll is an invention of the devil. If any one has a boy over
+there, he--or she--had better overcome any possible personal
+feeling against the use of cigarettes and send them in preference
+to anything else.
+
+From my own experience I know that cigarettes are the most
+important thing that can be sent to a soldier. When I went out
+there, I was a pipe smoker. After I had been in the trenches a week
+I quit the pipe and threw it away. It is seldom enough that one has
+the opportunity to enjoy a full pipe. It is very hard to get
+lighted when the matches are wet in bad weather, which is nearly
+always. Besides which, say what you will, a pipe does not soothe
+the nerves as a fag does.
+
+Now when sending the cigarettes out, don't try to think of the
+special brand that Harold or Percival used when he was home. Likely
+enough his name has changed, and instead of being Percy or Harold
+he is now Pigeye or Sour-belly; and his taste in the weed has
+changed too. He won't be so keen on his own particular brand of
+Turkish. Just send him the common or garden Virginia sort at five
+cents the package. That is the kind that gives most comfort to the
+outworn Tommy or Sammy.
+
+Don't think that you can send too many. I have had five hundred
+sent to me in a week many times and have none left at the end.
+There are always men who do not get any parcels, and they have to
+be looked out for. Out there all things are common property, and
+the soldier shares his last with his less fortunate comrade.
+Subscribe when you get the chance to any and all smoke funds.
+
+Don't listen to the pestilential fuddy-duds who do not approve of
+tobacco, particularly the fussy-old-maids. Personally, when I hear
+any of these conscientious objectors to My Lady Nicotine air their
+opinions, I wish that they could be placed in the trenches for a
+while. They would soon change their minds about rum issues and
+tobacco, and I'll wager they would be first in the line when the
+issues came around.
+
+One thing that many people forget to put in the soldier's parcel,
+or don't see the point of, is talcum powder. Razors get dull very
+quickly, and the face gets sore. The powder is almost a necessity
+when one is shaving in luke-warm tea and laundry soap, with a
+safety razor blade that wasn't sharp in the first place. In the
+summer on the march men sweat and accumulate all the dirt there is
+in the world. There are forty hitherto unsuspected places on the
+body that chafe under the weight of equipment. Talc helps. In the
+matter of sore feet, it is a life saver.
+
+Soap,--don't forget that. Always some good, pure, plain white
+soap, like Ivory or Castile; and a small bath towel now and then.
+There is so little chance to wash towels that they soon get
+unusable.
+
+In the way of wearing apparel, socks are always good. But, girlie,
+make 'em right. That last pair sent me nearly cost me a court
+martial by my getting my feet into trench-foot condition. If you
+can't leave out the seams, wear them yourself for a while, and see
+how you like it.
+
+Sleeveless sweaters are good and easy to make, I am told. They
+don't last long at the best, so should not be elaborate. Any
+garment worn close to the body gets cooty in a few weeks and has to
+be ditched. However, keep right on with the knitting, with the
+exception of the socks. If you're not an expert on those, better
+buy them. You may in that way retain the affection of your
+sweetheart over there.
+
+Knitted helmets are a great comfort. I had one that was fine not
+only to wear under the tin hat but to sleep in. I am not keen on
+wristlets or gloves. Better buy the gloves you send in the shops.
+So that's the knitted stuff,--helmets, sweaters, and mufflers and,
+for the expert, socks.
+
+Be very moderate in the matter of reading matter. I mean by that,
+don't send a lot at a time or any very bulky stuff at all.
+
+If it is possible to get a louse pomade called Harrison's in this
+country, send it, as it is a cooty killer. So far as I know, it is
+the only thing sold that will do the cooty in. There's a fortune
+waiting for the one who compounds a louse eradicator that will kill
+the cooty and not irritate or nearly kill the one who uses it. I
+shall expect a royalty from the successful chemist who produces the
+much needed compound.
+
+For the wealthier people, I would suggest that good things to send
+are silk shirts and drawers. It is possible to get the cooties out
+of these garments much easier than out of the thick woollies. There
+are many other things that may be sent, but I have mentioned the
+most important. The main thing to remember is not to run to bulk.
+And don't forget that it takes a long time for stuff to get
+across.
+
+Don't overlook the letters,--this especially if you are a mother,
+wife, or sweetheart. It is an easy thing to forget. You mustn't.
+Out there life is chiefly squalor, filth, and stench. The boy gets
+disgusted and lonesome and homesick, even though he may write to
+the contrary. Write to him at least three times a week. Always
+write cheerfully, even although something may have happened that
+has plunged you into the depths of despair. If it is necessary to
+cover up something that would cause a soldier worry, cover it up.
+Even lie to him. It will be justified. Keep in mind the now famous,
+war song, "Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag and smile,
+smile, smile." Keep your own packed up and don't send any over
+there for some soldier to worry over.
+
+Just a few words to the men themselves who may go. Don't take
+elaborate shaving tackle, just brush, razor, soap, and a small
+mirror. Most of the time you won't need the mirror. You'll use the
+periscope mirror in the trenches. Don't load up on books and
+unnecessary clothing. Impress it upon your relatives that your
+stuff, tobacco and sweets, is to come along in small parcels and
+often and regularly. Let all your friends and relatives know your
+address and ask them to write often. Don't hesitate to tell them
+all that a parcel now and again will be acceptable. Have more than
+one source of supply if possible.
+
+When you get out there, hunt up the Y.M.C.A. huts. You will find
+good cheer, warmth, music, and above all a place to do your
+writing. Write home often. Your people are concerned about you all
+the time. Write at least once a week to the one nearest and dearest
+to you. I used to average ten letters a week to friends in Blighty
+and back here, and that was a lot more than I was allowed. I found
+a way. Most of you won't be able to go over your allowance. But do
+go the limit.
+
+Over there you will find a lot of attractive girls and women. Most
+any girl is attractive when you are just out of the misery of the
+trenches. Be careful of them. Remember the country has been full of
+soldiers for three years. Don't make love too easily. One of the
+singers in the Divisional Follies recently revived the once popular
+music-hall song, "If You Can't Be Good Be Careful." It should
+appeal to the soldier as much as "Smile, smile, smile", and is
+equally good advice. For the sake of those at home and for the sake
+of your own peace of mind come back from overseas clean.
+
+After all it is possible to no more than give hints to the boys who
+are going. All of you will have to learn by experience. My parting
+word to you all is just, "The best of luck."
+
+
+
+
+GLOSSARY OF ARMY SLANG
+
+
+All around traverse - A machine gun placed on a swivel to turn
+in any direction.
+
+Ammo - Ammunition. Usually for rifles, though occasionally used
+to indicate that for artillery.
+
+Argue the toss - Argue the point.
+
+Back of the line - Anywhere to the rear and out of the danger
+zone.
+
+Barbed wire - Ordinary barbed wire used for entanglements. A
+thicker and heavier military wire is sometimes used.
+
+Barrage - Shells dropped simultaneously and in a row so as to
+form a curtain of fire. Literal translation "a barrier."
+
+Bashed - Smashed.
+
+Big boys - Big guns or the shells they send over.
+
+Big push - The battles of the Somme.
+
+Billets - The quarters of the soldier when back of the line.
+Any place from a pigpen to a palace.
+
+Bleeder or Blighter - Cockney slang for fellow. Roughly
+corresponding to American "guy."
+
+Blighty - England. East Indian derivation. The paradise looked
+forward to by all good soldiers,--and all bad ones too.
+
+Blighty one - A wound that will take the soldier to Blighty.
+
+Bloody - The universal Cockney adjective. It is vaguely
+supposed to be highly obscene, though just why nobody seems to
+know.
+
+Blooming - A meaningless and greatly used adjective. Applied to
+anything and everything.
+
+Bomb - A hand grenade.
+
+Bully beef - Corned beef, high grade and good of the kind, if
+you like the kind. It sets hard on the chest.
+
+Carry on - To go ahead with the matter in hand.
+
+Char - Tea. East Indian derivation.
+
+Chat - Officers' term for cootie; supposed to be more delicate.
+
+Click - Variously used. To die. To be killed. To kill. To draw
+some disagreeable job, as: I clicked a burial fatigue.
+
+Communication trench - A trench leading up to the front trench.
+
+Consolidate - To turn around and prepare for occupation a
+captured trench.
+
+Cootie - The common,--the too common,--body louse. Everybody
+has 'em.
+
+Crater - A round pit made by an underground explosion or by a
+shell.
+
+Cushy - Easy. Soft.
+
+Dixie - An oblong iron pot or box fitting into a field kitchen.
+Used for cooking anything and everything. Nobody seems to know why
+it is so called.
+
+Doggo - Still. Quiet. East Indian derivation.
+
+Doing in - Killing.
+
+Doss - Sleep.
+
+Duck walk - A slatted wooden walk in soft ground.
+
+Dud - An unexploded shell. A dangerous thing to fool with.
+
+Dug-out - A hole more or less deep in the side of a trench
+where soldiers are supposed to rest.
+
+Dump - A place where supplies are left for distribution.
+
+Entrenching tool - A sort of small shovel for quick digging.
+Carried as part of equipment.
+
+Estaminet - A French saloon or cafe.
+
+Fag - A cigarette.
+
+Fatigue - Any kind of work except manning the trenches.
+
+Fed up - Tommy's way of saying "too much is enough."
+
+Firing step - A narrow ledge running along the parapet on which
+a soldier stands to look over the top.
+
+Flare - A star light sent up from a pistol to light up out in
+front.
+
+Fritz - An affectionate term for our friend the enemy.
+
+Funk hole - A dug-out.
+
+Gas - Any poisonous gas sent across when the wind is right.
+Used by both sides. Invented by the Germans.
+
+Goggles - A piece of equipment similar to that used by
+motorists, supposed to keep off tear gas. The rims are backed with
+strips of sponge which Tommy tears off and throws the goggle frame
+away.
+
+Go west - To die.
+
+Grouse - Complain. Growl. Kick.
+
+Hun - A German.
+
+Identification disc - A fiber tablet bearing the soldier's
+name, regiment, and rank. Worn around the neck on a string.
+
+Iron rations - About two pounds of nonperishable rations to be
+used in an emergency.
+
+Knuckle knife - A short dagger with a studded hilt. Invented by
+the Germans.
+
+Lance Corporal - The lowest grade of non-commissioned officer.
+
+Lewis gun - A very light machine gun invented by one Lewis, an
+officer in the American army.
+
+Light railway - A very narrow-gauge railway on which are pushed
+little hand cars.
+
+Listening post - One or more men go out in front, at night, of
+course, and listen for movements by the enemy.
+
+Maconochie - A scientifically compounded and well-balanced
+ration, so the authorities say. It looks, smells, and tastes like
+rancid lard.
+
+M.O. - Medical Officer. A foxy cove who can't be fooled with
+faked symptoms.
+
+Mess tin - A combination teapot, fry pan, and plate.
+
+Military cross - An officer's decoration for bravery.
+
+Military medal - A decoration for bravery given to enlisted
+men.
+
+Mills - The most commonly used hand grenade.
+
+Minnies - German trench mortar projectiles.
+
+Napper - The head.
+
+Night 'ops - A much hated practice manoeuvre done at night.
+
+No Man's Land - The area between the trenches.
+
+On your own - At liberty. Your time is your own.
+
+Out or over there - Somewhere in France.
+
+Parados - The back wall of a trench.
+
+Parapet - The front wall of a trench.
+
+Patrol - One or more men who go out in front and prowl in the
+dark, seeking information of the enemy.
+
+Periscope - A boxlike arrangement with two mirrors for looking
+over the top without exposing the napper.
+
+Persuader - A short club with a nail-studded head.
+
+Pip squeak - A German shell which makes that kind of noise when
+it comes over.
+
+Push up the daisies - To be killed and buried.
+
+Ration party - A party of men which goes to the rear and brings
+up rations for the front line.
+
+Rest - Relief from trench service. Mostly one works constantly
+when "resting."
+
+Ruddy - Same as bloody, but not quite so bad.
+
+Sandbag - A bag which is filled with mud and used for building
+the parapet.
+
+Sentry go - Time on guard in the front trench, or at rest at
+headquarters.
+
+Shell hole - A pit made by the explosion of a shell.
+
+Souvenir - Any kind of junk picked up for keepsakes. Also used
+as a begging word by the French children.
+
+Stand to - Order for all men to stand ready in the trench in
+event of a surprise attack, usually at sundown and sunrise.
+
+Stand down - Countermanding "stand to."
+
+Stokes - A bomb weighing about eleven pounds usually thrown
+from a mortar, but sometimes used by hand.
+
+Strafing - One of the few words Tommy has borrowed from Fritz.
+To punish.
+
+Suicide club - The battalion bombers.
+
+Tin hat - Steel helmet.
+
+Wave - A line of men going over the top.
+
+Whacked - Exhausted. Played out.
+
+Whiz-bang - A German shell that makes that sort of noise.
+
+Wind up or windy - Nervous. Jumpy. Temporary involuntary fear.
+
+Wooden cross - The small wooden cross placed over a soldier's
+grave.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's A Yankee in the Trenches, by R. Derby Holmes
+
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