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diff --git a/13279-0.txt b/13279-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3e4adc7 --- /dev/null +++ b/13279-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4643 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13279 *** + + [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 + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13279 *** |