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diff --git a/old/55261-h/55261-h.htm b/old/55261-h/55261-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 26c892a..0000000 --- a/old/55261-h/55261-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11720 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="9en_GB"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - Nothing of Importance: a record of eight months at the front with a Welsh battalion, October, 1915, to June, 1916, by John Bernard Pye Adams.--a Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <style type="text/css"> - -a {text-decoration: none} -a:hover {color: red} -a:visited {color: gray} - -small { - font-style: normal; - font-size: small} - -body { - padding: 4px; - margin: auto 10%} - -p { - text-align: justify} - -.small { - font-size: small} - -.medium { - font-size: medium} - -.large { - font-size: large} - -.x-large { - font-size: x-large} - -.xx-large { - font-size: xx-large} - -h1, h2 { - page-break-before: always} - -h1, h2, h3 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - font-weight: normal; - clear: both; - margin: 2em auto 1em auto} - -.author { - display: block; - text-align: right; - margin: auto 10px} - -p.drop:first-letter { - float: left; - clear: left; - font-size: 300%; - line-height: 70%; - padding: 2px 6px 0 6px} - -p.drop { - text-indent: -6px} - -.uppercase { - text-transform: uppercase} - -hr { - padding: 0; - border: none; - border-top: medium double #8c8c8c; - color: #8c8c8c; - text-align: center;} - -hr:after { - content: "§"; - display: inline-block; - position: relative; - top: -0.7em; - font-size: 1.2em; - padding: 0 0.25em; - background: #fff;} - -hr.tb { - width: 45%; margin: 2em 27.5%;} - -hr.chap { - width: 65%; margin: 2em 17.5%;} - -/* Tables */ -.list-top td{ - vertical-align: top; - text-indent: -1em; - padding-left: 1.2em} - -.toc3col td:first-child{ - text-align: right; - vertical-align: top} - -.table { - display: table; - margin: auto} - -.tcell { - vertical-align: middle; - padding: 5px; - display: table-cell} - -.tcell p { - margin: auto 0.5em} - -.trow { - display: table-row} - -table { - margin: 2em auto} - -th { - padding: 5px} - -td { - vertical-align: middle;} - -.tdr { - text-align: right} - -.tdc { - text-indent: 0; - padding: 0; - text-align: center} - -.bbox { - padding: 5px; - border: solid 1px} - -/* End Tables */ - -.copy { - font-size: small; - text-align: center} - -.smcap { - font-style: normal; - font-variant: small-caps} - -.caption { - text-align: center} - -/* Images */ -img { - border: none; - max-width: 100%} - -.figcenter { - clear: both; - display: table; - margin: 1em auto; - text-align: center} - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - color: #004200; - position: absolute; - right: 5px; - font-style: normal; - font-weight: normal; - font-size: small; - text-align: right; -} /* page numbers */ - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transnote { - background-color: #E6E6FA; - border: #000 solid 1px; - color: black; - margin: 1em auto; - padding: 1em} - -@media handheld { -p.drop:first-letter { - float: left; - clear: left} -} - -/* Poetry */ - -.poetry { - display: table; - margin: 1em auto; - text-align: center} - -.poem { - margin: auto; - display: inline-block; - text-align: left} - -.poem .stanza { - margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em} - .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 0.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -Project Gutenberg's Nothing of Importance, by John Bernard Pye Adams - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Nothing of Importance - A record of eight months at the front with a Welsh - battalion, October, 1915, to June, 1916 - -Author: John Bernard Pye Adams - -Release Date: August 4, 2017 [EBook #55261] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NOTHING OF IMPORTANCE *** - - - - -Produced by MWS, Wayne Hammond and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img id="cover" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_i">i</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ii">ii</span></p> - -<h1>NOTHING OF IMPORTANCE</h1> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img id="i_frontis" src="images/i_frontis.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">J B P Adams</p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_iii">iii</span></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 class="xx-large"> -NOTHING<br /> -OF IMPORTANCE<br /> -<br /> -<span class="large table">A RECORD OF EIGHT MONTHS AT THE<br /> -FRONT WITH A WELSH BATTALION<br /> -OCTOBER, 1915, TO JUNE, 1916</span><br /> -<br /> -<span class="medium">BY</span><br /> -<span class="x-large">BERNARD ADAMS</span><br /> -<br /> -<span class="small">WITH A PORTRAIT AND THREE MAPS</span><br /> -<br /> -<span class="large table">METHUEN & CO. LTD.<br /> -36 ESSEX STREET W.C.<br /> -LONDON</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_iv">iv</span></h2> - -<p class="copy"><i>First Published in 1917</i> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">v</span></p> - -<p class="caption"> -TO<br /> -<span class="large">T. R. G.</span><br /> -WHO TAUGHT ME HOW TO THINK<br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_vi">vi</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">vii</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="IN_MEMORIAM"><span class="smcap"><i>IN MEMORIAM</i></span><br /> - -BERNARD ADAMS</h2> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">John Bernard Pye Adams</span> was born on -November 15th, 1890, at Beckenham, Kent. -From his first school at Clare House, Beckenham, -he obtained an entrance scholarship to -Malvern, where he gained many Classical and -English prizes and became House Prefect. In -December, 1908, he won an open Classical scholarship -at St John’s College, Cambridge, where he -went into residence in October, 1909. He was -awarded in 1911 Sir William Browne’s gold medals -(open to the University) for a Greek epigram and -a Latin ode, and in 1912 he won the medal for the -Greek epigram again, and graduated with a First -Class in the Classical Tripos. In his fourth year he -read Economics.</p> - -<p>On leaving Cambridge he was appointed by the -India Office to be Warden and Assistant Educational -Adviser at the Hostel for Indian Students at -Cromwell Road, South Kensington. “He threw -himself,” writes Dr. T. W. Arnold, <small>C.I.E.</small>, Secretary -of Indian Students, “with the enthusiasm of his -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">viii</span> -ardent nature into the various activities connected -with 21 Cromwell Road, and endeared himself both -to the Indian students and to his colleagues.” -Adams was always a quiet man, but his high -abilities, despite his unobtrusiveness, could not be -altogether hidden; and in London, as in Cambridge, -his intellect and his gift for friendship had their -natural outcome. Mr. E. W. Mallet, of the India -Office, bears testimony to “the very high value -which we all set on his work. He had great gifts -of sympathy and character, strength as well as -kindliness, influence as well as understanding; -and these qualities won him—in the rather difficult -work in which he helped so loyally and well—a -rare and noticeable measure of esteem.” On -his side, he felt that the choice had been a right -one; he liked his work, and he learned a great deal -from it.</p> - -<p>His ultimate purpose was missionary work in -India, and the London experience brought him -into close touch with Indians from every part of -India and of every religion.</p> - -<p>In November, 1914, he joined up as lieutenant -in the Welsh regiment with which these pages -deal, and he obtained a temporary captaincy in the -following spring. When he went out to the front -in October, 1915, he resumed his lieutenancy, but -was very shortly given charge of a company, a -position which he retained until he was wounded -in June, 1916, when he returned to England. He -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">ix</span> -only went out to the front again on January 31st -of this year. In the afternoon of February 26th he -was wounded while leading his men in an attack -and died the following day in the field hospital.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>These few sentences record the bare landmarks -of a career which, in the judgment of his friends, -would have been noteworthy had it not been so -prematurely cut short. For instance, here is what -his friend, T. R. Glover, of St John’s, wrote in -<i>The Eagle</i> (the St John’s College magazine) and -elsewhere:</p> - -<p>“Bernard Adams was my pupil during his -Classical days at St John’s, and we were brought -into very close relations. He remains in my mind -as one of the very best men I have ever had to teach—best -every way, in mind and soul and all his -nature. He had a natural gift for writing—a -natural habit of style; he wrote without artifice, -and achieved the expression of what he thought -and what he felt in language that was simple and -direct and pleasing. (A College Prize Essay of his -of those days was printed in <i>The Eagle</i> (vol. xxvii, -47-60)—on Wordsworth’s <i>Prelude</i>.) He was a -man of the quiet and reserved kind, who did not -talk much, for whom, perhaps, writing was a more -obvious form of utterance than speech.</p> - -<p>It was clear to those who knew him that he -put conscience into his thinking—he was serious, -above all about religion, and he was honest with -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">x</span> -himself. Other people will take religion at secondhand; -he was of another type. He thought things -out quietly and clearly, and then decided. His -choice of Economics as a second subject at Cambridge -was dictated by the feeling that it would -prepare him for his life’s work in the Christian -ministry. There was little hope in it of much -academic distinction—but that was not his object. -A man who had thought more of himself would have -gone on with Classics, in the hope (a very reasonable -one) of a Fellowship. Adams was not working -for his own advancement. The quiet simple way -in which, without referring to it, he dismissed -academic distinction, gives the measure of the -man—clear, definite, unselfish, and devoted. His -ideal was service, and he prepared for it—at Cambridge, -and with his Indian students in London.</p> - -<p>When the war came he had difficulties of decision -as to the course he should pursue. Like others -who had no gust for war, and no animosity against -the enemy, he took a commission, not so much to -fight <i>against</i> as to fight <i>for</i>; the principles at stake -appealed to him, and with an inner reluctance -against the whole business he went into it—once -again the quiet, thought-out sacrifice.”</p> - -<p>In this phase of his career his characteristic conscientiousness -was shown by the thoroughness and -success with which he performed his military duties -“He is a real loss to the regiment,” wrote a senior -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xi">xi</span> -officer; “everybody who knew him had a very high -opinion of his military efficiency.”</p> - -<p>As is so often the case, a quiet and reserved -manner hid a brave heart. When it came to personal -danger he impressed men as being unconscious -of it. “I never met a man who displayed -coolly more utter disregard for danger.” And in -this spirit he led his men against the enemy—and -fell. From the last message that he gave the nurse -for his people, “Tell them I’m all right,” it is clear -that he died with as quiet a mind and as surrendered -a will as he lived.</p> - -<p>“What we have lost who knew him,” writes Mr. -Glover, “these lines may hint—I do not think we -really know the extent of our loss. But we keep -a great deal, a very great deal—<i>quidquid ex illo -amavimus, quidquid mirati sumus, manet mansurumque -est</i>. Yes, that is true; and from the first -my sorrow (it may seem an odd confession) was for -those who were not to know him, whose chance was -lost, for the work he was not to do. For himself, if -ever a man lived his life, it was he; twenty-five or -twenty-six years is not much, perhaps, as a rule, -but here it was life and it was lived to some purpose; -it told and it is not lost.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xii">xii</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiii">xiii</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> - -<table class="toc3col"> - <tr> - <td><small>CHAPTER</small></td> - <td /> - <td class="tdr small">PAGE</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td /> - <td><a href="#PREFACE"><span class="smcap">Preface</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">xv</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>I.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_I"><span class="smcap">First Impressions</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">1</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>II.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_II"><span class="smcap">Cuinchy and Givenchy</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">19</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>III.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_III"><span class="smcap">Working-Parties</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">42</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>IV.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><span class="smcap">Rest</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">64</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>V.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_V"><span class="smcap">On the March</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">87</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VI.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><span class="smcap">The Bois Français Trenches</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">96</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VII.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><span class="smcap">More First Impressions</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">117</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VIII.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><span class="smcap">Sniping</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">133</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>IX.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><span class="smcap">On Patrol</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">154</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>X.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_X">“<span class="smcap">Whom the gods love</span>”</a></td> - <td class="tdr">163</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XI.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">“<span class="smcap">Whom the gods love</span>”—(<i>continued</i>).</a></td> - <td class="tdr">181</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XII.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><span class="smcap">Officers’ Servants</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">195</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XIII.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><span class="smcap">Mines</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">212</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XIV.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><span class="smcap">Billets</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">229</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XV.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">“<span class="smcap">A certain Man drew a Bow at a Venture</span>”</a></td> - <td class="tdr">256</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVI.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><span class="smcap">Wounded</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">268</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVII.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><span class="smcap">Conclusion</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">294</td> - </tr></table> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiv">xiv</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="MAPS">MAPS</h2> - -<table class="toc3col"> - <tr> - <td /> - <td /> - <td class="tdr small">FACING PAGE</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>I.</td> - <td><a href="#i_009"><span class="smcap">Béthune and La Bassée, Neighbourhood of</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">9</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>II.</td> - <td><a href="#i_097"><span class="smcap">Fricourt and Neighbourhood</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">97</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>III.</td> - <td><a href="#i_103a"><span class="smcap">The Trenches near Fricourt</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">103</td> - </tr></table> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="ILLUSTRATION">ILLUSTRATION</h2> - -<table> - <tr> - <td><a href="#i_frontis"><span class="smcap">Portrait of Author</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">Frontispiece</td> - </tr></table> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xv">xv</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="PREFACE">PREFACE</h2> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">“Then</span>,” said my friend, “what <i>is</i> this war -like? I ask you if it is this, or that; and -you shake your head. But you will not -satisfy me with negatives. I want to know the -truth; what <i>is</i> it like?”</p> - -<p>There was a long silence.</p> - -<p>“Express that silence; that is what we want to -hear.”</p> - -<p>“The mask of glory,” I said, “has been stripped -from the face of war.”</p> - -<p>“And we are fighting the better for that,” continued -my friend.</p> - -<p>“You see that?” I exclaimed. “But of course -you do. We know it, and you at home know it. -And you want to know the truth?”</p> - -<p>“Of course,” was the reply.</p> - -<p>“I do not say that what you have read is not -true,” said I; “but I do say that I have read -nothing that gives a complete or proportioned -picture. I have not yet found a perfect simile for -this war, but the nearest I can think of is that of a -pack of cards. Life in this war is a series of events so -utterly different and disconnected, that the effect -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvi">xvi</span> -upon the actor in the midst of them is like receiving -a hand of cards from an invisible dealer. There are -four suits in the pack. Spades represent the dullness, -mud, weariness, and sordidness. Clubs stand -for another side, the humour, the cheerfulness, the -jollity, and good-fellowship. In diamonds I see the -glitter of excitement and adventure. Hearts are -a tragic suit of agony, horror, and death. And to -each man the invisible dealer gives a succession of -cards; sometimes they seem all black; sometimes -they are red and black alternately; and at times -they come red, red, red; and at the end is the ace -of hearts.”</p> - -<p>“I understand,” said my friend. “And now tell -me your hand.”</p> - -<p>“It was a long hand,” I replied; “I think I had -better try and write it down in a book. I have never -written a book. I wonder how it would pan out? -At first my hand was chiefly black with a sprinkling -of diamonds; later I received more diamonds, but -the hearts began to come as well; at last the -hearts seemed to be squeezing out the clubs and -diamonds. There were always plenty of spades.”</p> - -<p>There was another silence.</p> - -<p>“There was one phrase,” I resumed, “in the -daily communiqués that used to strike us rather -out there;” it was, “Nothing of importance to -record on the rest of the front.” I believe that a -hundred years hence this phrase will be repeated in -the history books. There will be a passage like -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvii">xvii</span> -this: “Save for the gigantic effort of Germany -to break through the French lines at Verdun, -nothing of importance occurred on the western -front between September, 1915, and the opening -of the Somme offensive on the 1st of July, 1916.” -And this will be believed, unless men have learnt -to read history aright by then. For the river of -history is full of waterfalls that attract the day -excursionist—such as battles, and laws, and the -deaths of kings; whereas the spirit of the river is -not in the waterfalls. There are men who were -wounded in the Somme battle, who had only seen -a few weeks of war. I have yet to see a waterfall; -but I have learned something of the spirit of the -deep river in eight months of “nothing of importance.”</p> - -<p>This, then, is the book that I have written. It -is the spirit of the war as it came to me, first in big -incoherent impressions, later as a more intelligible -whole. Perhaps it will seem that the first chapters -are somewhat light in tone and inclined to gloss -over the terrible side of War. But that is just -what happens; at first, the interest and adventure -are paramount, and it is only after a time, only after -all the novelty has worn away, that one gets the -real proportion. If the first chapters do not bite -deep, remember that this was my experience. -This book does not claim to be always sensational -or thrilling. One claim only I make for it: from -end to end it is the truth. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xviii">xviii</span></p> - -<p>The events recorded are real and true in every -detail. I have nowhere exaggerated; for in this -war there is nothing more terrible than the truth.</p> - -<p>All the persons mentioned are also real, though -I have thought it better to give them pseudonyms.</p> - -<p><i>January, 1917.</i> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xix">xix</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xx">xx</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">1</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 class="xx-large">NOTHING OF IMPORTANCE</h2> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_I"><span class="xx-large">NOTHING OF IMPORTANCE</span><br /> - -<img src="images/hr.jpg" alt="" /><br /> - -CHAPTER I<br /> - -FIRST IMPRESSIONS</h2> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">“Good-bye!”</span></p> - -<p>“Good-bye. Don’t forget to send me -that Hun helmet!”</p> - -<p>“All right! Good-bye!”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The train had long ago recovered from the shock -of its initial jerk; a long steady grinding noise came -up from the carriage wheels, as though they had -recovered breath and were getting into their stride -for Folkestone, regardless of the growing clatter of -the South-Eastern rhythm;—if, indeed, so noble a -word may be used for the noise made by the wheels -as they passed over the rail-joints of this distinguished -line.</p> - -<p>“Don’t believe it’s a good thing having one’s -people to see you off,” said Terry, whose people had -accompanied him in large numbers to Charing Cross.</p> - -<p>“They <i>will</i> come, though,” remarked Crowley -very wisely. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">2</span></p> - -<p>“I tried to persuade my people not to come,” said -I; “but they think you like it, I suppose. I would -certainly rather say good-bye at home, and have no -one come to the station.”</p> - -<p>And so I started off my experience of “the great -adventure” with a “lie direct”: but it does not -weigh very heavily upon my conscience.</p> - -<p>Six of us sat in a first-class carriage on the morning -of the 5th of October, 1915: for months we -had been together in a reserve battalion waiting to -go out to the front, and now at last we had received -marching orders, and were bound for Folkestone, -and thence for France. For which battalion of our -regiment any or all of us twelve officers were -destined, we had no knowledge whatever; but even -the most uncongenial pair of us would, I am sure, -have preferred each other’s company to that of -complete strangers. I, at any rate, have never in -my life felt more shy and self-conscious and full of -stupid qualms: unless, indeed, it was on the occasion, -ten months before, when I had stood shaking -in front of a platoon of twenty men!</p> - -<p>The last few days I had gone about feeling as -though the news that I was going to the front were -printed in large letters round my cap. I felt that -people in the railway carriages, and in the streets, -were looking at me with an electric interest; and -the necessary (and unnecessary!) purchases, as well -as the good-byes, were of the kind to make one feel -placed upon a pedestal of importance! Now, in -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">3</span> -company with five other officers in like predicament, -I felt already that I had climbed down a step from -that pedestal; in fact, the whole experience of the -first few days was one of a steady reduction from -all-importance to complete insignificance!</p> - -<p>As soon as we had recovered from the silence that -followed my remarks upon the disadvantages of -prolonged valedictions, we commenced a critical -survey of our various properties and accoutrements. -Revolvers leapt from brand new holsters; feet were -held up to show the ideal trench-nails; flash lamps -and torches, compasses, map-cases, pocket medicine-cases, -all were shown with an easy confidence of -manner that screened a sinking dread of disapprobation. -The prismatic compass was regarded rather -as a joke by some of us; its use in trench warfare -was a doubtful quantity; yet there were some of us -who in the depths of our martial wisdom were half -expecting that the Battle of Loos was the prelude -of an autumn campaign of open-country warfare. -There was only one man whose word we took for -law in anything, and that was Barrett. He had -spent five days in the trenches last December; he -had then received his commission in our battalion. -He was the “man from the front.” And I noticed -with secret misgivings that he had not removed the -badges of rank from his arm, or sewed his two stars -upon his shoulder-straps; he had not removed his -bright buttons, and substituted for them leather -ones such as are worn on golfing-jackets; and in -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">4</span> -his valise, he told us, he had his Sam Browne -belt.</p> - -<p>“But you never wear Sam Brownes out there,” -I said: “all officers now dress as much as possible -like the men.”</p> - -<p>That was so, we were informed; but officers used -to wear them in billets, when they were out of the -firing-line.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Crowley, “we could get them sent -out, I expect.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said I; “I expect they would arrive -safely.”</p> - -<p>But this infantile conversation is not worthy of -record! Suffice to say we knew nothing about war, -and were just beginning to learn that fact!</p> - -<p>The first check to our enthusiasm was at Folkestone. -We reported to the railway transport officer, -whom we then regarded as a little demi-god; he -told us to report in time for the boat at a certain -hour. This we did, signed our names with a feeling -of doing some awful and irrevocable deed, and then -were told to wait another three hours: there was -no room for us on this boat! We retired to an hotel -with a feeling that perhaps after all there was no -such imperious shouting for our help over in France, -such as we had all, I think (save only Barrett, who -was cynical and pessimistic!) secretly imagined.</p> - -<p>Darkness came ere we started. The crossing did -not seem long, and I stood up on deck with Barrett -most of the time. Two destroyers followed a little -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">5</span> -astern, one on either side; and there were lights -right across the Channel. We were picked out by -searchlights more than once, although all lights were -forbidden on board. I felt that I was now fair game -for the Germans; and it was exciting to think that -they would give anything to sink me! At last I was -in for “the great adventure.”</p> - -<p>At Boulogne we had to wait a long time on a -dismal quay and in a drizzling rain to interview an -irritated and sleepy railway transport officer. -After a long, long queue had been safely negociated -we were given tickets to ——; and then again we -had to wait quite an hour on the platform. Some of -our party were excited at their first visit to a foreign -soil; but their enthusiasm abated when at the -buffet they were charged exorbitant prices and -their English money was rejected as “dam fool -money.”</p> - -<p>Then there came a long jerky journey through -the night in a crowded carriage. (As I am out for -confessions, I will here state that I did not think -this could be an ordinary passenger train, and I -wondered vaguely who these men and women were -who got in and out of other carriages!) At Étaples -there was a still longer wait, and a still longer queue; -but, fortunately, my signature had not lengthened. -I remember sitting tired and dazed on the top of a -valise, and asking Barrett what the time was.</p> - -<p>“Three forty-five!”</p> - -<p>“What a time to arrive!” I replied. But in war -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">6</span> -three forty-five is as good a time as any other, I -was soon to discover.</p> - -<p>We walked to a camp a mile distant from the -station; our arrival seemed quite unlooked for, and -a quartermaster-sergeant had to be procured, by -the officer who was our guide, in order to gain access -to the tent that contained the blanket stores. -Wearily, at close on five o’clock, we fell asleep on -the boarded bottom of a bell-tent.</p> - -<p>It must have been about 10 a.m. on the 6th when -we turned out and found ourselves in a sandy -country; behind us was a small ridge, crowned by -a belt of fir trees; the sun was well up and shone -warm on the face as we washed and shaved in the -open. The feeling of camp was exhilarating, and I -was in good spirits.</p> - -<p>But two blows immediately damped my ardour -most effectively. When I learned that I was posted -to our first battalion, and I alone of all of us twelve, -the thought of my arrival among the regulars, with -no experience, and not even an acquaintance, far -less a friend, was distinctly chilling! To add to my -discomfiture there befell a second misfortune: my -valise was nowhere to be seen!</p> - -<p>Indeed, the rest of the day was chiefly occupied -in searching for my valise, but to no purpose whatever. -I did not see it until ten days later, when by -some miracle it appeared again! I can hardly -convey the sense of depression these two facts cast -over me the next few days; the interest and novelty -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">7</span> -of my experiences made me forget for short periods, -but always there would return the thought of my -arrival alone into a line regiment, and with the -humiliating necessity of borrowing at once. Unknown -and inexperienced I could not help being; -but as a fool who lost all his property the first day, -I should not cut a brilliant figure!</p> - -<p>We obtained breakfast at an <i>estaminet</i> by the -station; omelettes, rolls and butter, and <i>café noir</i>. -I bought a French newspaper, and thought how -finely my French would improve under this daily -necessity; but I soon found that one could get the -Paris edition of the <i>Daily Mail</i>, and my French is -still as sketchy as ever! I remember watching the -French children and the French women at the doors -of the houses, and wondering what they thought of -this war on their own soil; I knew that the wild -enthusiasms of a year ago had died down; I did not -expect the shouting and singing, the souvenir-hunting, -and the generous impulses that greeted our -troops a year ago; but I felt so vividly myself the -fact that between me and the Germans lay only a -living wall of my own countrymen, that I could not -help thinking these urchins and women must feel it -too! The very way in which they swept the doorsteps -seemed to me worth noting at the moment.</p> - -<p>In the course of my wild peregrinations over the -camp in search of my valise, I came upon a group of -Tommies undergoing instruction in the machine-gun. -Arrested by a familiar voice, I recognised as instructor -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">8</span> -a man I had known very well at Cambridge! -He recognised me at the same moment, and in a few -seconds we parted, after an invitation from him to -dinner that evening; he was on “lines of communication” -work, he told me.</p> - -<p>Sitting in his tent after Mess, I was amazed at the -apparent permanence of his abode; shelves, made -out of boxes; novels, an army list, magazines, maps; -bed, washstand, candlesticks, a chair; baccy, and -whisky and soda! It was all so snug and comfortable. -I was soon to find myself accumulating a very -similar collection in billets six miles behind the firing-line, -and taking most of it into the trenches! I -remember being impressed by the statement that -the cannonade had been heard day after day since -the 25th, and still more impressed by references to -“the plans of the Staff!”</p> - -<p>I left Étaples early on the morning of the 7th, -after receiving instructions, and a railway warrant -for “Chocques,” from a one-armed major of the -Gordons. Of our original twelve only Terry and -Crowley remained with me; with a young Scot, -we had a grey-upholstered first-class carriage to -ourselves.</p> - -<p>In the train I commenced my first letter home; -and I should here like to state that the reason for -the inclusion in these first chapters of a good many -extracts from letters is that they do really represent -my first vague, rather disconnected, impressions, -and are therefore truer than any more coherent -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">9</span> -account I might now give. First impressions of -people, houses, places, are always interesting; I -hope that the reader will not find these without -interest, even though he may find them at times -lacking in style.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<p class="author small"><i>To face page 9</i></p> -<img id="i_009" src="images/i_009.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">MAP I.</p> -</div> - -<p>“I am now in the train. We are passing level-crossings -guarded by horn-blowing women; the -train is strolling leisurely along over grass-grown -tracks, and stopping at platformless stations. It is -very hot. At midday I shall be about ten miles from -the firing-line, and I expect the cannonade will be -pretty audible. I feel strangely indifferent to things -now, though I have the feeling that all this will be -stamped indelibly on my memory.” How well I -remember the thrill of excitement when I found the -name Chocques on my map, quite close to the -firing-fine! And as we got nearer, and saw R.A.M.C. -and cavalry camps, and talked to Tommies guarding -the line, saw aeroplanes, and yes! a captive balloon, -excitement grew still greater! At last we reached -Chocques, and the railway transport officer calmly -informed us that we had another four miles to go. -He brilliantly suggested walking. But an A.S.C. -lorry was there, and in we climbed, only to be ejected -by the corporal! Eventually we tramped to Béthune -with <i>very</i> full packs in a hot sun.</p> - -<p>Walking gave us opportunity for observation; -and that road was worth seeing to those who had -not seen it before. There were convoys of A.S.C. -lorries, drawn up (or “parked”) in twenties or -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">10</span> -thirties alongside the road, each with its mystical -marking, a scarlet shell, a green shamrock, etc., -painted on its side; Red Cross ambulances passed, -impelling one to turn back and look in them, sometimes -containing stretcher-cases (feet only visible), -or sitting cases with bandaged head or arm in sling. -Then there were motor-cars with Staff officers; -motor-cars with youthful officers in immaculate -Sam Brownes and “slacks”; and as we drew -nearer Béthune, we saw canteens with Tommies -standing and lounging outside, small squads of men, -English notices, and boards with painted inscriptions, - -<span class="table"> - <span class="trow"> - <span class="tcell">such as</span> - <span class="tcell tdc bbox">BILLETS.<br /> - Officers—2<br /> - Men—30</span> - <span class="tcell">or</span> - <span class="tcell tdc bbox"> - H.Q.<br /> - 117th Inf. Bde.</span> - </span> -</span> - -and in the distance loomed the square tower of the -cathedral, which I thought then to be a decapitated -spire.</p> - -<p>And so we came into the bustle of a French city.</p> - -<p>I had never heard of Béthune before. As the -crow flies it is about five to six miles from the front -trenches. The shops were doing a roaring trade, -and I was amazed to see chemists flaunting auto-strop -razors, stationers offering “Tommy’s writing-pad,” -and tailors showing English officers’ uniforms -in their windows, besides all the goods of a large and -populous town. We were very hungry and tired, -and fate directed us to the famous tea-shop, where, -at dainty tables, amid crowds of officers, we obtained -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">11</span> -an English tea! I was astounded; so were we all. -To think that I had treasured a toothbrush as a -thing that I might not be able to replace for months! -Here was everything to hand. Were we really within -six miles of the Germans? Yet officers were discussing -“the hot time we had yesterday”; while -“we only came out this morning,” or “they whizz-banged -us pretty badly last night,” were remarks -from officers redolent of bath and the hairdresser! -Buttons brilliantly polished, boots shining like -advertisements, swagger-canes, and immaculate -collars, gave the strangest first impression of -“active service” to us, with our leather equipment, -packs, leather buttons, and trench boots!</p> - -<p>“Old Barrett was right about the Sam Brownes,” -I said to Terry, vainly trying to look at my ease.</p> - -<p>“Let’s look at your map,” he answered. Then, -after a moment:</p> - -<p>“Oh, we’re not far from the La Bassée Canal. -I’ve heard of that often enough!”</p> - -<p>“So have I,” I replied. “Is La Bassée ours or -theirs?”</p> - -<p>“Ours, of course”; but he borrowed the map -again to make sure!</p> - -<p>Refreshed, but feeling strangely “out” of everything, -we eventually found our way to the town -major. Here my letter continues:</p> - -<p>“I was told an orderly was coming in the evening -to conduct me to the trenches, to my battalion! -Suddenly, however, we were told to go off—seven of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">12</span> -us in the same division—to our brigades in a motor-lorry. -So we are packed off. I said good-bye to -Crowley and Terry. This was about 7 p.m. We -went rattling along till within a short distance of -our front trenches. There was a lot of cannonading -going on around and behind us, and star-shells -bursting continuously, with Crystal-Palace-firework -pops; we could hear rifles cracking too. At length -we got to where the lorry could go no further, and -we halted for a long time at a place where the houses -were all ruins and the roofs like spiders’-webs, with -the white glare of the shells silhouetting them -against the sky. The houses had been shelled -yesterday, but last night no shells were coming our -way at all. My feelings were exactly like they are -in a storm—the nearer and bigger the flashes and -bangs the more I hoped the next would be really big -and really near.” Of course, all this cannonade was -<i>our</i> artillery; at the time we were quite muddled up -as to what it all was! The snarling bangs were the -18-pounders quite close to us, about one thousand -yards behind our front line; the cracking bullets -were spent bullets, though it sounded to us as if they -were from a trench about twenty yards in front of -us! Nothing is more confusing at first than the -different sounds of the different guns. I think -several of us would have been ready to say we had -been under shell-fire that night! The “star-shells” -should be more accurately described as “flares” -or “rockets.” But to continue my letter: -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">13</span></p> - -<p>“Well, the next few hours were a strange mixture -of sensations. We could nowhere find our brigades, -and after <i>ten hours</i> in the lorry we landed here at a -place sixteen miles back from the firing line; here -our division had been located by a signaller, whom -we had consulted when we stopped by the cross-roads! -We were left by the lorry at 5.0 a.m. at a -field ambulance station ‘close to H.Q.,’ where we -slept wearily till 8.0, to awake and find ourselves -miles from our division, which is really, I believe, quite -near where we had been in the firing-line! Now we -are sitting in a big old château awaiting a telephone-message; -we are in a dining-room, walls peeling, -and arm-chairs reduced to legless deformities! It -is a jolly day: sun, and the smell of autumn.” I -shall not forget that long ride. I was at the back, -and could see out; innumerable villages we passed; -innumerable mistakes we made; innumerable stops, -innumerable enquiries! But always there was the -throbbing engine while we halted, and the bump -and rattle as we plunged through the night. Eight -officers and seven valises, I think we were; one or -two were reduced to grumbling; several were -asleep; a few, like myself, were awake, but all -absolutely tired out. It was too uncomfortable to -rest, cramped up among bulky valises and all sorts -of sprawling limbs! Once, at about four o’clock, we -halted at a house with a light in the window, and -found a miner just going off to work. An old woman -brewed some very black coffee, and we hungrily -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">14</span> -devoured bits of bread and butter, coffee, and -cognac; while the old woman, fat and smiling, -gabbled incessantly at us! A strange weird picture -we must have made, some of us in kilts and bonnets, -standing half-awake in the flickering candle-light.</p> - -<p>We were at the Château all the morning. “The -R.A.M.C. fellows were very decent to us; gave us -breakfast (eggs, bread and butter, and tinned jam) -and also lunch (bully-beef, cheese, bread and butter, -and beer). These were eaten off the dining-room -table in style. I explored the Château during the -morning; just a big ordinary empty house inside; -outside, it is white plaster, with steep slate roofs, -and a few ornamental turrets. The garden is mostly -taken up with lines of picketed horses; outside the -orchards and enclosures the country is bare and flat; -it is a mining district, and pyramids of slag stand up -all over the plain.”</p> - -<p>I cannot do better than continue quoting from -these first letters of mine; of course, I did not -mention places by name:</p> - -<p>“Well, at 2.0 p.m. the same old lorry and corporal -turned up and took us back to Béthune. I gather -he got considerable ‘strafing’ for last night’s performance, -although I think he was not given clear -enough instructions. Then, with seven other officers, -we were sent off again in daylight, and dropped by -twos and threes at our various Brigade Headquarters. -Our “Brigade H.Q.” was in one of the -few houses left standing. Here I reported, and was -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">15</span> -told that an orderly would take me to my battalion -transport. In half an hour the orderly arrived on a -bicycle, and by 6.0 p.m. I was only half a mile from -our transport. We were walking along, when suddenly -there was a scream like a rocket, followed by a -big bang, and the sound of splinters falling all about. -I expected to see people jump into ditches; but -they stood calmly in the street, women and all, and -watched, while several shells (whizz-bangs, I -believe)”—No, dear innocence, <span class="smcap">High-explosive -Shrapnel</span>—“burst just near the road about a -hundred yards ahead. We were four miles back -from the firing-line. It was just the ‘evening hate,’ -I expect. It didn’t last long. Just near us was one -of our own batteries firing intermittently.”</p> - -<p>This was my first experience of being under fire. -I hadn’t the least idea what to do. The textbooks, -I believe, said “Throw yourself on the ground.” I -therefore looked at my orderly; but he was ducking -behind his bicycle, which I am sure is not recommended -by any manual of military training! I -ducked behind nothing, copying him. This all took -place in the middle of the road. But when I saw -women opening the doors of their houses and standing -calmly looking at the shells, ducking seemed out -of the question; so we both stood and watched the -bursting shells. Then the salvo ceased, and I, thinking -I must show some sort of a lead, suggested that -we should proceed. But my orderly, wiser by -experience, suggested waiting to see if another salvo -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">16</span> -were forthcoming. After ten minutes, however, it -was clear that the Germans had finished, and we -resumed our journey in peace.</p> - -<p>My letter continues: “At the transport I had a -very comfortable billet. The quartermaster and -two other new officers and myself had supper in an -upstairs room. The quartermaster seemed very -pessimistic, and told us a lot about our losses. We -turned in at ten o’clock, and I slept well. It was -‘very quiet’; that is to say, only intermittent -bangs such as have continued ever since the beginning -of the war, and will continue to the end thereof!</p> - -<p>“October 9th. This morning a cart took us at nine -o’clock to within about a mile of the firing-line, -putting us down at the corner of a street that has -been renamed ‘H—— Street.’ The country was -dead flat; the houses everywhere in ruins, though -some were untouched and still inhabited. Thence -an orderly conducted us to H.Q., where we reported -to the Adjutant and the C.O. (who is quite young -by the way); they were in the ground-floor room -of a house, to which we came all the way from -H—— Street along a communication trench about -seven feet deep. These trenches were originally dug -by the French, I believe. I was told I was posted to -‘D’ Company, so another orderly took me back -practically to H—— Street, which must be six or -seven hundred yards behind the firing-line. ‘D’ -is in reserve; I am attached to it for the present. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">17</span> -There are two other officers in it, Davidson and -Symons. Both have only just joined.”</p> - -<p>So at last I was fairly lodged in my battalion. I -had been directed, dumped, shaken, and carried, -in a kindly, yet to me most amazingly haphazard, -way to my destination, and there I found myself -quite unexpected, but immediately attached somewhere -until I should sort myself out a little and find -my feet. I had a servant called Smith. In the afternoon -I went with Davidson to supervise a working -party, which was engaged in paving a communication -trench with tiles from the neighbouring houses. -In the evening I set to and wrote letters. I will close -this chapter with yet one more quotation:</p> - -<p>“Now I am in the ground-room of one of the few -standing houses in H—— Street. Next door is a -big ‘École des filles,’ which I am quite surprised to -find empty! Really the way the people go about -their work here is amazing. Still, I suppose to carry -on a girls’ school half a mile from the Boche is just -beyond the capacity of even their indifference! -I’ve already got quite used to the <i>noise</i>. There are -two guns just about forty yards away, that keep on -firing with a terrific bang! I can see the flashes just -behind me. I think the noise would worry you, -if you heard these blaring bangs at the end of the -back garden, which is just about the distance this -battery is from me! We are messing here in this -room; half a table has been propped up, and three -chairs discovered and patched up for us. All the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">18</span> -windows facing the enemy have been blocked up -with sand-bags. I sleep here to-night. If the house -is shelled, I shall flee to the dug-out twenty yards -away. Orders have not yet come, but I believe we -go back to billets to-morrow.</p> - -<p>A free issue of ‘Glory Boys’ cigarettes has just -arrived: two packets for each officer and man. -Please don’t forget to send my Sam Browne belt.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">19</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II<br /> - -CUINCHY AND GIVENCHY</h2> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">Throughout</span> October and November our -battalion was in the firing-line. This meant -that we spent life in an everlasting alternation -between the trenches and our billets behind, -just far enough behind, that is, to be out of the -range of the light artillery; always, though, liable -to be called suddenly into the firing-line, and never -out of the atmosphere of the trenches. Always -before us was dangled a promised “rest,” and -always it was being postponed. Rumours were -spread, dissected, laughed at, and eventually -treated with bored incredulity. The battalion had -had no rest, I believe, since May. Men, and especially -N.C.O.‘s, who had been out since October, -1914, were tired out in body and spirit.</p> - -<p>With the officers and certain new drafts of men, -it was different. We came out enthusiastic and -keen. On the whole, I thoroughly enjoyed those -first two months. I am surprised now to see how -much detail I wrote in my letters home. Everything -was fresh, everything new and interesting. -And things were on the whole very quiet. We had -a few casualties, but underwent no serious bombardment. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">20</span> -And, most important to us, of course, -we had no casualties among the officers.</p> - -<p>Givenchy and Cuinchy are two small villages, -north and south, respectively, of the La Bassée -Canal, which runs almost due east and west between -La Bassée and Béthune. Givenchy stands on a -slight rise in the flattest of flat countries. A church -tower of red brick must have been the most noticeable -feature as one walked in pre-war days from -the suburbs of Béthune along the La Bassée road. -Cuinchy is a village straggling along a road. Both -are as completely reduced to ruins as villages can -be, the firing-line running just east of them. Between -them flows the great sluggish canal.</p> - -<p>During an afternoon in Béthune one could do all -the shopping one required, and get a hair-cut and -shampoo as well. Expensive cocktails were obtainable -at the local bar; there was also a famous tea-shop. -We were billeted in one of the small villages -around. Sometimes we only stayed one night at -a billet: there was always change, always movement. -Sometimes I got a bed; often I did not; but -a valise is comfortable enough, when once its tricks -are mastered. Anyhow it is “billets” and not -“trenches,” that is the point; a continuous night’s -rest in pyjamas, the facilities of a bath, very often -a free afternoon and evening, and no equipment and -revolver to carry night and day! It was in billets -the following letters were written, which are really -the best description of my life at this period. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">21</span></p> - -<p>“19th October, 1915. Our battalion went into -the trenches on the 14th and came out on the 17th. -Our company, ‘B,’ was in support. The front line -was about 300 yards ahead, and we held the second -line, everything prepared to meet an attack in case -the enemy broke through the first line. Half-way -between our first and second lines was a kind -of redoubt, to be held at all costs. Here you are:</p> - -<div> -<img class="figcenter" id="i_021a" src="images/i_021a.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">The arrows indicate the direction in which the fire-trenches point.</p> -</div> - -<p>The line here forms a big salient, so that we often -used to get spent bullets dropping into the redoubt, -from right behind, it seemed. Here, another -drawing will show what I mean:</p> - -<div> -<img class="figcenter" id="i_021b" src="images/i_021b.jpg" alt="" /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">22</span></div> - -<p>The dotted line is the German front trench. If -the enemy A fires at the English B, the bullet -will go on and fall at about C, who is facing in the -direction of the arrow, in the support line. So C -has to look out for <i>enfilading spent bullets</i>.</p> - -<p>For three days and nights I was in command of -this redoubt, isolated, and ready with stores, ammunition, -water, barbed wire and pickets, bombs, -and tools, to hold out a little siege for several days -if necessary. I used to leave it to get meals at -Company H.Q. in the support line; otherwise, -I had always to be there, ready for instant action. -No one used to get more than two or three hours’ -<i>consecutive</i> sleep, and I could never take off boots, -equipment, or revolver.</p> - -<p>Here is a typical scene in the redoubt.</p> - -<p><i>Scene.</i> A dug-out, 6´ × 4´ × 4´: smell, earthy.</p> - -<p><i>Time.</i> 2.30 a.m.</p> - -<p>I awake and listen. Deathly stillness.</p> - -<p><i>A voice.</i> ‘What’s the time, kid?’</p> - -<p><i>Another voice.</i> ‘Dunno. About 2 o’clock, I -reckon.’</p> - -<p>‘Past that.’</p> - -<p>Long silence.</p> - -<p>‘Rum job, this, ain’t it, kid?’</p> - -<p>‘Why?’</p> - -<p>‘Well, I reckon if the —— Huns were coming -over, we’d know it long afore they got ’ere. I -reckon we’d ’ear the boys in front firing.’</p> - -<p>Long pause. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">23</span></p> - -<p>‘I dunno. ’Spose there’s some sense in it, else -we wouldn’t be ’ere.’</p> - -<p>Silence.</p> - -<p>‘—— cold on this —— fire step. Guess it’s time -they relieved us.’</p> - -<p>Long silence.</p> - -<p>‘Don’t them flares look funny in the mist?’</p> - -<p>‘Yus, I guess old Fritz uses some of them every -night. Hullo, there they go again. ’Ear that -machine-gun?’</p> - -<p>Long pause, during which machine-guns pop, and -snipers snipe merrily, and flares light up the sky. -Trench-mortars begin behind us ‘whizz-sh-sh-sh-h-h’—silence—‘<small>THUD</small>.’ -Then the Germans reply, -sending two or three over which thud harmlessly -behind. The invisible sentries have now become -clearly visible to me as I look out of my dug-out. -Two of them are about ten yards apart standing -on the fire-platform. Theirs is the above dialogue.</p> - -<p>With a sudden <i>thud</i>, a trench-mortar shell drops -fifteen yards behind us.</p> - -<p>‘Hullo, Fritz is getting the wind up.’</p> - -<p>‘Getting the wind up’ is slang for getting -nervous: this stolid comment from a sentry is -typical of the attitude adopted towards ‘Fritz’ -(the German) when he starts shelling or finding. -He is supposed to be a bit jumpy! It seems -hard to realise that Fritz is really trying to kill -these sentries: the whole thing seems a weird, -strange play. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">24</span></p> - -<p>I make an effort, and crawl out of the dug-out. -The ‘strafing’ has died down. Only occasional -flares climb up from the German lines, and ‘pop,’ -‘pop’ in the morning mist. I go round the sentries, -standing up by them and looking over the parapet. -It is cold and raw, and the sentries are looking forward -to the next relief. Ah! there is the corporal -on trench duty coming. I can hear him routing -out the snoring relief.</p> - -<p>‘Ping-g-g-g’ goes a stray bullet singing by—a -ricochet by its sound.</p> - -<p>‘A near one, sir.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, Evans. Safer in the front line.’</p> - -<p>‘I guess it is, sir.’</p> - -<p>Then, the sentries changed, I turn back again -to my dug-out. Sleeping with revolvers and -equipment requires some care of position.</p> - -<p>‘Half-past four, sir,’ comes after a pause and -some sleep.</p> - -<p>Out I get, and everybody ‘stands to’ arms -for an hour, each man taking up the position -allotted to him along the fire-platform. Gradually -it gets light. Some brick-stacks grow out of the -mist in front, and ruined cottages loom up in the -rear, and what was a church. The fire-platform -being here pretty high, one can look back over the -parados over bare flat country, cut up by trenches -and run to waste terribly. ‘Parados,’ by the way, -is the name given to the back of a trench; here is -a drawing in section: -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">25</span></p> - -<div> -<img class="figcenter" id="i_025" src="images/i_025.jpg" alt="" /> -<table> - <tr> - <td>A. Bottom of trench.</td> - <td>C. Parapet.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>B. Fire-step.</td> - <td>D. Parados.</td> - </tr> -</table></div> - -<p>At 5.30 ‘Stand down and clean rifles’ is the order -given; and the cleaning commences—a process as -oft-repeated as ‘washing up’ in civilised lands, and -as monotonous and unsatisfactory, for a few hours -later the rifles are a bit rusty and muddy again, and -need another inspection.</p> - -<p>7.30. ‘Tell Sergeant Summers I’m going down -to Company Headquarters.’</p> - -<p>‘Very good, sir.’ Then I take a long mazy -journey down the communication trench, which is -six feet deep at least, and mostly paved with bricks -from a neighbouring brick-field. There are an -amazing lot of mice about the trenches, and they -fall in and can’t get out. Most of them get squashed. -Frogs too, which make a green and worse mess than -the mice. Our C.O. always stops and throws a frog -out if he meets one. Tommy, needless to say, is -not so sentimental. These trenches have been -built a long time, and grass-stalks, dried scabious, -and plantain-stalks grow over the edges, which -must make them very invisible from above. ‘H—— -Street,’ ‘L—— Lane,’ ‘C—— Road,’ ‘P—— Lane’ -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">26</span> -are traversed, and so into ‘S—— Street,’ where, in -the cellar of what was once a house, are two hungry -officers already started on bacon and eggs, coffee -(with condensed milk), and bread and tinned jam. -We are lucky with three chairs and a table. A -newspaper makes an admirable tablecloth, and a -bottle a good candlestick, and there is room in a -cellar to stand up. Breakfast done, a shave is -manipulated, Meadows, my servant, getting ready -my tackle and producing a mug of hot water.</p> - -<p>9.30 finds me back in the redoubt and starting -a ‘working party’ on repairing a communication -trench and generally improving the trenches. Working -parties are unpopular; Tommy does not believe -in improving trenches he may never see again. And -so the day goes on. Sentries change and take their -place, sitting gazing into a scrap of mirror. Ration -parties come up with dixies carried on wooden -pickets, and the pioneer generally cleans up, -sprinkling chloride of lime about in white showers, -which seems as plentiful as the sand of the seashore, -and the odour of which clings to the trenches, -as the smell of seaweed does to the beach.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The redoubt was in the Cuinchy trenches, and that -old cellar was really a delightful headquarters. The -first time we were in it we found a cat there; on -the second occasion the same cat appeared with -three lusty kittens! These used to keep the place -clear of rats and get sat on every half-hour or so. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">27</span> -I soon learned to get used to smoke; on one occasion -the smoke from our brazier became so thick -that Gray, the cook, threatened to resign. For all -the smoke gathers at the top of a dug-out and seems -impossibly suffocating to anyone first entering; -yet it is often practically clear two or three feet from -the ground, so that when lying or sitting one does -not notice the smoke at all; but a new-comer gets -his eyes so stung that it seems impossible that anyone -can live in the dug-out at all! (Gray, by the -way, was not allowed to resign.)”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Here follows a letter describing the front trenches -at Givenchy:</p> - -<p>“7th November. On the 29th we marched off -at 9.0 and halted at 11.0 for dinner. Luckily it -was fine, and the piled arms, the steaming dixies, -and the groups of men sitting about eating and -smoking formed a pleasant sight. Our grub was -put by mistake on the mess-cart which went straight -on to the trenches! Edwards, however, our Company -mess-president, came up to the scratch with -bread, butter, and eggs. Tea was easily procured -from the cookers. Then off we went to our H.Q. -There we got down into the communication trench, -and in single file were taken by guides into our -part of the trenches: these guides were sent by -the battalion we were relieving. I told you that all -the trenches have names (which are painted on -boards hung up at the trench corners). The first -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">28</span> -thing done was to post sentries along our company -front: until this was done the outgoing battalion -could not ‘out-go.’ Each man has his firing position -allotted to him, and he always occupies it at ‘stand -to’ and ‘stand down.’ We were three days and -three nights in the trenches. Each officer was on -duty for eight hours, during which he was responsible -for a sector of firing-line and must be actually in the -front trench. My watch was 12 to 4, a.m. and p.m. -Work that out with ‘stand to’ in the morning and -also in the evening and you will see that consecutive -sleep is not easy! On paper 6-12 (midnight) -looks good; but then, remember, dinner at 7.0 or -7.30 according to the fire, while you may have to -turn out any time if you are being shelled at all. -For instance, one night I was just turning in early -at 7.0, when a mine went up on our right, and -shelling and general ‘strafing’ kept me out till -9.30, after which I couldn’t sleep! So at midnight -I was tired when I started my four hours, turned -in at 4.0, out again for ‘stand to,’ 8.0 breakfast, -9.0 rifle inspection, and so it goes on! That is -why you can appreciate <i>billets</i>, and bed from 9.0 -to 7.0 if you want it.</p> - -<p>Imagine a cold November night—with a ground -fog. What bliss to be roused from a snug dug-out -at midnight, and patrol the Company’s line for four -interminable hours. It is deathly quiet. Has the -war stopped? I stand up on the fire-step beside -the sentry and try to see through the fog. ‘Pip-pip-pip-pip-pip’ -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">29</span> -goes a machine-gun. So the war’s -still on.</p> - -<p>‘Cold?’ I ask a sentry. ‘Only me feet, sir.’ -‘Why don’t you stamp your feet, then?’ This -being equivalent to an order, Tommy stamps -feebly a few times until made to do so energetically. -Unless you <i>make</i> him stamp, he will not stamp; -would infinitely prefer to let his feet get cold as ice. -Of course, when you have gone into the next bay, -he immediately stops. Still, that is Tommy.</p> - -<p>I gaze across into No Man’s Land. I can just -see our wire, and in front a collection of old tins—bully -tins, jam tins, butter tins—paper, old bits of -equipment. Other regiments always leave places -so untidy. You clean up, but when you come into -trenches you find the other fellows have left things -about. You work hard repairing the trenches: -the relieving regiment, you find on your return, -has done ‘damn all,’ which is military slang for -‘nothing.’ And all other regiments, it seems, have -the same complaint.</p> - -<p>‘Swish.’ A German flare rocket lights up everything. -You see our trenches all along. Everything -is as clear as day. You feel as conspicuous as a -cromlech on a hill. But the enemy can’t see you, -fog or no fog, if you only keep still. The light has -fallen on the parapet this time, and lies sizzling on -the sand-bags. A flicker, and it is gone; and in the -fog you see black blobs, the size and shape of the -dazzling light you’ve just been staring at. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">30</span></p> - -<p>‘Crack—plop.’ ‘Crack—plop.’ A couple of -bullets bury themselves in the sand-bags, or else -with a long-drawn ‘ping’ go singing over the -top. Why the sentries never get hit seems extraordinary. -I suppose a mathematician would by -combination and permutation tell you the chances -against bullets aimed ‘at a venture’ hitting sentries -exposing one-fourth of their persons at a given -elevation at so many paces interval. Personally I -won’t try, as my whole object is to keep awake till -four o’clock. And then I shall be too sleepy. Only -remember, it is night and the sentries are invisible.</p> - -<p>‘Tap—tap—tap.’ ‘There’s a wiring party out, -sir. I’ve heard ’em these last five minutes.’ Undoubtedly -there are a few men out in No Man’s -Land, repairing their wire. I tell the sentries near -to look out and be ready to fire, and then I send off -a ‘Very’ flare, fired by a thick cartridge from a -thick-barrelled brass pistol. It makes a good row, -and has a fair kick, so it is best to rest the butt -on the parapet and hold it at arm’s length. Even -so it leaves your ears singing for hours. The first -shot was a failure—only a miserable rocket tail which -failed to burst. The second was a magnificent shot. -It burst beautifully, and fell right behind the party, -two Germans, and silhouetted them, falling and -burning still incandescent on the ground behind. -A volley of fire followed from our waiting sentries. -I could not see if the party were hit; most of the -shots were fired after the light had died out. Anyhow, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">31</span> -the working party stopped. The two figures -stood quite motionless while the flare burned.</p> - -<p>The Germans opposite us were very lively. One -could often hear them whistling, and one night they -were shouting to one another like anything. They -were Saxons, who are always at that game. No -one knows exactly what it means. It was quite -cold, almost frosty, and the sound came across -the 100 yards or so of No Man’s Land with a strange -clearness in the night air. The voices seemed unnaturally -near, like voices on the water heard from -a cliff. ‘Tommee—Tommee. Allemands bon—Engleesh -bon.’ ‘We hate ze <i>Kron</i>prinz.’ (I can -hear now the nasal twang with which the ‘Kron’ -was emphasised.) ‘D—— the Kaiser.’ ‘Deutschland -<i>unter</i> Alles.’ I could hear these shouts most -distinctly: the same sentences were repeated again -and again. They shouted to one another from one -part of the line to another, generally preceding -each sentence by ‘Kamerad.’ Often you heard -loud hearty laughter. As ‘Comic Cuts’ (the name -given to the daily Intelligence Reports) sagely -remarked, ‘Either this means that there is a spirit -of dissatisfaction among the Saxons, or it is a ruse -to try and catch us unawares, or it is mere foolery.’ -Wisdom in high places!</p> - -<p>Really it was intensely interesting. ‘Come -over,’ shouted Tommy. ‘We—are—not—coming—over,’ -came back. Loud clapping and laughter -followed remarks like ‘We hate ze <i>Kron</i>prinz.’ -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">32</span> -Then they would yodel and sing like anything. -Tommy replied with ‘Tipperary.’ They sang, -‘God save the King,’ or rather their German -equivalent of it, to the familiar tune. Then, ‘Abide -with us’ rose into the night air and starlight. -This went on for an hour and a half; though almost -any night you can hear them shout something, -and give a yodel— - -<span class="figcenter"> -<img id="i_032" src="images/i_032m.jpg" alt="" /> -</span> - -It is the strangest thing I have ever experienced. -The authorities now try and stop our fellows answering. -The <i>entente</i> of last Christmas is not to be repeated! -One of the officers in our battalion has -shown me several German signatures on his pay-book -(he was in the ranks then), given in friendly -exchange in the middle of No Man’s Land last -Christmas Day.</p> - -<p>I have had my baptism of mud now. It tires me -to think of it, and I have not the effort to write -fully about it! The second time we were in these -trenches the mud was two feet deep. Even our -Company Headquarters, a cellar, was covered with -mud and slime. Paradoses and communication -trenches had fallen in, and the going was terrible. -The sticky mud yoicked one’s boots off nearly, and -it felt as if one’s foot would be broken in extricating -it. We all wore gum-boots, of blue-black rubber, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">33</span> -that come right up to the waist like fishermen’s -waders. But the mud is everywhere, and we get -our arms all plastered with it as we literally “reel -to and fro” along the trench, every now and again -steadying ourselves against slimy sand-bags. One -or two men actually got stuck, and had to be helped -out with spades; one fellow lost heart and left one -of his gum-boots stuck in the mud, and turned up -in my platoon in a stockinged foot, of course plastered -thick with clay! We worked day and night. -Gradually the problem is being tackled. Trench-boards, -or ‘mats,’ are the best, like this: - -<span> -<img class="figcenter" id="i_033" src="images/i_033.jpg" alt="" /> -</span> - -They are put along the bottom of the trench, the -long ‘runners’ resting on bricks taken from ruined -houses, so as to raise the board and allow drainage -underneath. If possible, a deep sump-pit is dug -under the centre of the board. (The shaded part -represents the sump-pit: the dotted lines are the -sides of the trench; the whole drawing in plan.)”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Weariness. Mud. The next experience (not -mentioned in my letter) was Death. On our immediate -right was “C” Company. Here our -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">34</span> -trench runs out like this __Ʌ_, more or less, -and the opposite trenches are very close together. -Consequently it is a great place for “mining -activity.” One evening we put up a mine; -the next afternoon the Germans put up a countermine, -and accompanied it with a hail of trench-mortars. -I was on trench duty at the time, -and had ample opportunity of observing the genus -trench-mortar and its habits. One can see them -approaching some time before they actually fall, -as they come from a great height (in military terms, -“with a steep trajectory”), and one can see them -revolving as they topple down. Then they fall -with a <i>thud</i>, and black smoke comes up and mud -spatters all about. Most of them were falling in -our second line and support trenches. I was patrolling -up and down our front trench. We were -“standing to” after the mine, and for half an hour -it was rather a “hot shop.” I was delighted to -find that I rather enjoyed it: seeing one or two of -the new draft with the “wind up” a bit steadied -me at once. I have hardly ever since felt the -slightest nervousness under fire. It is mainly -temperament. Our company had four casualties: -one in the front trench, the three others in the -platoon in support. “C” Company suffered more -heavily. At 6.0 Edwards came on duty, and I was -able to go in quest of two bombers who were said -to be wounded. Getting near the place I came on -a man standing half-dazed in the trench. “Oh, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">35</span> -sirrh,” he cried, in the burring speech of a true -Welshman. “A terench-mohrterh hass fall-en -ericht in-ter me duck-out.” For the moment I felt -like laughing at the man’s curious speech and look, -but I saw that he was greatly scared: and no -wonder. A trench mortar had dropped right into the -mouth of his dug-out, and had half buried two of his -comrades. We were soon engaged in extricating them. -Both had bad head wounds, and how he escaped is a -miracle. I helped carry the two men out and over -the debris of flattened trenches to Company Headquarters. -So, for the first time I looked upon two -dying men, and some of their blood was on my -clothes. One died in half an hour—the other early -next morning. It was really not my job to assist: -the stretcher-bearers were better at it than I, yet -in this first little bit of “strafe” I was carried away -by my instinct, whereas later I should have been -attending to the living members of my platoon, and -the defence of my sector. I left the company -sergeant-major in difficulties as to whether Randall, -the man who had so miraculously escaped, and -who was temporarily dazed, should be returned -as “sick” or “wounded.”</p> - -<p>Another death that came into my close experience -was that of a lance-corporal in my platoon. I had -only spoken to him a quarter of an hour before, -and on returning found him lying dead on the fire-platform. -He had been killed instantaneously by -a rifle grenade. I lifted the waterproof sheet and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">36</span> -looked at him. I remember that I was moved, -but there was nothing repulsive about his recumbent -figure. I think the novelty and interest of -these first casualties made them quite easy to bear. -I was so busy noticing details: the silence that -reigned for a few hours in my platoon; the details -of removing the bodies, the collecting of kit, etc. -These things at first blunted my perception of the -vileness of the tragedy; nor did I feel the cruelty -of war as I did later.</p> - -<p>Weariness. Mud. Death. So it was with great -joy that we would return to billets, to get dry and -clean, to eat, sleep, and write letters; to drill, and -carry out inspections. Company drill, bayonet-fighting, -gas-helmet drill, musketry, and lectures -were usually confined to the morning and early -afternoon. We thought that we had rather an -overdose of lecturing from our medical officer (the -M.O.) on sanitation and the care of the feet. “Trench -feet,” one lecture always began, “is that state produced -by excessive cold or long standing in water -or liquid mud.” We soon got to know too much, -we felt, about the use of whale-oil and anti-frostbite -grease, the changing of socks and the rubbing and -stamping of feet. We did get rather “fed up” -with it; yet I believe we had only one case of -trench feet in our battalion throughout the winter; -so perhaps it was worth our discomfort of attending -so many lectures! Our C.O.’s lectures on trench -warfare were always worth hearing: he was so -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">37</span> -tremendously keen and such a perfect and whole-hearted -soldier.</p> - -<p>A chapter might be written on billet-life. Here -are a few more extracts from letters:</p> - -<p>“Oct. 13th. All day long this little inn has -shaken from top to bottom: there is one battery -about a hundred yards away that makes the whole -house rattle like the inside of a motor-bus. The -Germans might any time try and locate the battery, -and a shell would reduce the house to ruins. Yet -the old woman here declares she will not leave the -house as long as she lives!</p> - -<p>It is a strange place, this belt of land behind the -firing-line. The men are out of the trenches for -three days, and it is their duty, after perhaps a -running parade before breakfast and two or three -hours’ drill and inspection in the morning, to rest -for the remainder of the day. In the morning you -will see all the evolutions of company drill carried -out in a small meadow behind a strip of woodland; -in the next field an old man and woman are unconcernedly -hoeing a cabbage-patch; then behind here -are a battalion’s transport lines, with rows of horses -picketed. Along the road an A.S.C. convoy is -passing, each lorry at regulation distance from the -next. In the afternoon you will see groups of -Tommies doing nothing most religiously, smoking -cigarettes, writing letters home. From six to eight -the <i>estaminets</i> are open, and everyone flocks to -them to get bad beer. They are also open an hour -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">38</span> -at midday, and then the orderly officer, accompanied -by the provost-sergeant, produces an electric -silence with ‘Any complaints?’ It does not pay -an <i>estaminet</i>-keeper to dilute his beer too much, -or else he will lose his licence.</p> - -<p>I often wonder if these peasants think much. -Think they must have done at the beginning, when -their men were hastily called up. But now, after -fifteen months of war? It is the children, chiefly, -who are interested in the aeroplanes, shining like -eagles silver-white against the blue sky; or in the -boom from the battery across the street. But for -their mothers and grandparents these things have -settled into their lives; they are all one with the -canal and the poplar trees. If a squad starts drilling -on their lettuces, they are tremendously alert; but -as for these other things, they are not interested, -only unutterably tired of them. And after awhile -you adopt the same attitude. The noise of the guns -is boring and you hardly look up at an aeroplane, -unless it is shrapnelled by the ‘Archies’ (anti-aircraft -guns); then it is worth watching the pin-prick -flashes dotting the sky all round it, leaving little -white curls of smoke floating in the blue.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>That billet was close to the firing-line. Here is -a letter from a village, eight miles back:</p> - -<p>“20th Oct., 1915. We came out here on Monday. -The whole division marched out together. -It was really an impressive sight, over a mile of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">39</span> -troops on the march. Perfect order, perfect arrangement. -Where the road bent you could often see -the column for a mile in front, a great snake curling -along the right side of the road. Occasionally an -adjutant would break out of the line to trot back -and correct some straggling; or a C.O. would emerge -for a gallop over the adjacent ploughland.</p> - -<p>Our company is billeted in a big prosperous farm. -The men are in a roomy barn and look very comfortable. -We are in a big room, on the right as you -enter the front door of the farm: on a tiled floor -stands a round table with an oilcloth cover, originally -of a bright red pattern, but now subdued by constant -scrubbings to the palest pink with occasional -scarlet dottings. There are big tall windows, a -wardrobe and sideboard, a big chimney-place fitted -with a coke stove, and on the walls hang three very -dirty old prints. The only war touch (beside our -scattered possessions) is a picture from a French -Illustrated of <i>L’Assaut de Vermelles</i>. Outside is a -yard animated by cows, turkeys, geese, chicken, -and ducks: also a donkey and a peacock, not to -mention the usual dogs and cats. At 5 a.m. I am -awakened by an amazing chorus.</p> - -<p>The ‘patron’ is a strong, competent man, with -many fine buxom daughters, who do the farm work -with great capacity and energy. Henriette with a -pitchfork is strength and grace in action. Tommy -is much in awe of her. She hustles the pigs relentlessly. -The sons are at the war. Etienne and Marcelle, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">40</span> -aged ten and eight respectively, complete the -family; with Madame, of course, who makes inimitable -coffee; and various grandparents who -appear in white caps and cook and bake all day.</p> - -<p>I have just ‘paid out’—all in five and twenty-franc -notes. ‘In the field’ every man has his own -pay book which the officer must sign, while the -company quartermaster-sergeant sees that his acquittance -roll is also signed by Tommy. We had -a small table and chair out in the yard, and in an -atmosphere of pigs and poultry I dealt out the blue-and-white -oblongs which have already in many -cases been converted into bread. For that is where -most of the pay money goes, there and in the -<i>estaminets</i>. The bread ration is always small, the -biscuit ration overflowing. Bully beef, by the way, -is simply ordinary corned beef. I watched cooking -operations yesterday, and saw some fifty tins cut -in half with an axe, clean hewn asunder, and the -meat deftly hoicked with a fork into the field-kitchen, -or ‘cooker,’ which is a range and boiler -on wheels. This was converted into a big stew, and -served out into dixies (camp kettles) and so to the -men’s canteens.</p> - -<p>This afternoon our company practised an attack -over open country. I was surprised to find the men -so well trained. I had imagined that prolonged -trench-warfare would have made them stale. The -country is <i>very</i> flat. There are no hedges. The -only un-English characteristics are the poplar rows, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">41</span> -the dried beans tied round poles like mother-gamp -umbrellas, and the wayside chapels and crucifixes.</p> - -<p>Yesterday afternoon Edwards and I got in a little -revolver practice just near; and afterwards we -had an energetic game of hockey, with sticks and -an empty cartridge-case.”</p> - -<p>Altogether, billet life was very enjoyable. On -November 1st Captain Dixon joined our battalion -and took over “B” Company. For over four -months I worked under the most good-natured and -popular officer in the battalion. We were always -in good spirits while he was with us. “I can’t -think why it is,” he used to say, “I’m not at all a -jolly person, yet you fellows are always laughing; -and in my old regiment it was always the same!” -He was a fearful pessimist, but a fine soldier. His -delight used to be to get a good fire blazing in -billets, sit in front of it with a novel, and then -deliver a tirade against the discomfort of war! -The great occasion used to be when the arch-pessimist, -our quartermaster, was invited to dinner. -Then Edwards, the Mess president, would produce -endless courses, and the two pessimists would warm -to a delightful duologue on the fatuity of the Staff, -the Army, and the Government.</p> - -<p>“By Jove, we are the biggest fools on this -earth!” Dixon would say at last.</p> - -<p>“We’re fools enough to be led by fools,” Jim -Potter would reply.</p> - -<p>And somehow we were all more cheerful than ever! -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">42</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III<br /> - -WORKING-PARTIES</h2> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">“Fall</span> in the brick-party.”</p> - -<p>The six privates awoke from a state of -inert dreaming, or lolling against the barn -that flanked the gateway of battalion headquarters, -to stand in two rows of three and await orders. At -last the A.S.C. lorry had turned up, an hour late, and -while it turned round I despatched one of the -privates to our transport to get six sand-bags. By -the time he returned the lorry had performed its -about-wheel, and, all aboard, myself in front and -the six behind, we are off for C——.</p> - -<p>We pass through Béthune. As we approach -through the suburbs, we rattle past motor despatch -riders, A.S.C. lorries, Red Cross carts, columns of -transport horses being exercised, officers on horse-back, -officers in motor-cars, small unarmed fatigue -parties, battalions on the march; then there are -carts carrying bricks, French postmen on bicycles, -French navvies in blue uniforms repairing the road, -innumerable peasant traps, coal waggons, women -with baskets, and children of course everywhere. -“Business as usual”—yet, but for a line of men -not so many miles away the place would be a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">43</span> -desolate ruin like the towns and villages that chance -has doomed to be in the firing-line.</p> - -<p>So I moralise. Not so the Tommies, sprawling -behind, inside the lorry, and caring not a jot for -anything save that they are on a “cushy” or soft -job, as the rest of the battalion are doing four hours’ -digging under R.E. supervision. A good thing to be -a Tommy, to be told to fall in here or there, and not -to know whether it is for a bayonet-charge, or a job -of carting earth!</p> - -<p>“Bang—Bang-bang.” We are nearing the firing-line, -having left Béthune, where military police -stand at every corner directing the traffic with flags, -one road “up,” another “down”: we are once -more within the noisy but invisible chain of batteries. -“Lorries 6 miles per hour.” The shell-holes in the -road, roughly filled with stones, would make quicker -going impossible anyhow. We are entering C——, -and I keep an eagle eye open for ruined houses, and -soon stop by a house with two walls and half a roof. -Out come the six Tommies and proceed to fill a sand-bag -each with bricks and empty it into the lorry. -The supply is inexhaustible, and in half an hour the -A.S.C. corporal refuses to take more, declaring we -have the regulation three-ton load, so I stop work -and prepare to depart.</p> - -<p>The corporal, however, has heard of a sister-lorry -near by, which has unfortunately slipped into -a ditch and, so to speak, sprained its ankle. Though -extraordinarily unromantic in appearance, the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">44</span> -corporal shows himself imbued with a spirit of -knight errantry, and, having obtained my permission -to rescue the fair damsel, sets off for what -he declares cannot take more than ten minutes. -As I thought the process would take probably more -like twenty minutes, I let the men repair to a house -on the opposite side of the road, where was a rather -more undamaged piece of roof than usual (it was now -raining), and myself explored the place I happened -to be in.</p> - -<p>Occasionally, at home one comes across a deserted -cottage in the country; a most desolate spirit pervades -the place. Imagine, then, what it is like in -these villages half a mile or a mile behind what has -been the firing-line for now twelve months. A few -steps off the main road brought me into what had -formerly been a small garden belonging to a farm. -There had been a red-brick wall all along the north -side with fruit trees trained along it. Now, the wall -was mostly a rubble-heap, and the fruit trees dead. -One sickly pear tree struggled to exist in a crumpled -sort of heap, but its wilted leaves only added to the -desolation of the scene. An iron gate, between red -brick pillars, was still standing, strangely enough; -but the little lawn was run to waste, and had a -crater in the middle of it about five feet across, -inside of which was some disintegrating animal, -also empty tins, and other refuse. Trees were -broken, weeds were everywhere. I tried to reconstruct -the place in my imagination, but it was a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">45</span> -chaotic tangle. I came across a few belated raspberries, -and picked one or two; they were tasteless -and watery. Rubbish and broken glass were -strewn everywhere. It was a dreary sight in the -grey rain; the only sign of life a few chattering -blue-tits.</p> - -<p>The house was an utter ruin, only a ground-room -wall left standing; some of the outhouses had not -suffered so much, but all the roofs were gone. I -saw a rusty mangle staring forlornly out of a heap -of débris; and a manger and hayrack showed what -had been a stable. The pond was just near, too, and -gradually I could piece together the various elements -of the farm. Who the owners were I vaguely -wondered; perhaps they will return after the war; -but I doubt if they could make much of the old -ruins. These villages will most likely remain a -blighted area for years, like the villages reclaimed -by the jungle. Already the virginia creeper and -woodbine are trying to cover the ugliness....</p> - -<p>The Tommies meanwhile had been smoking Gold -Flakes, and one or two had also been exploring; one -had discovered a child’s elementary botany book, and -was studying the illustrations when I came up. Our -combined view now was “Where is the lorry?” -and this view held the field, with increasing curiosity, -annoyance, and vituperation, for one solid hour and -a half. It was dinner-time, and a common bond of -hunger held us, until at last in exasperation I -marched half the party in quest of our errant conveyance. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">46</span> -I was thoroughly annoyed with the -gallant corporal. Three-quarters of a mile away I -found the two lorries. My little corporal had rescued -his lorn princess, but she, being a buxom wench, had -brought her rescuer into like predicament! And so -we came up just in time to see the rescue of <i>our</i> lorry -from the treacherous ditch! I felt I could not curse, -especially as the little corporal had winded himself -somehow in the stomach during the last bout. It -had been a feeble show; yet there was the lorry, -and in it the bricks, on to which the fellows climbed -deliberately as men who recover a lost prize. And -so we arrived at our transport (the bricks were for a -horse-stand in a muddy yard) at half-past two; -after which I dismissed the party to its belated -dinner.</p> - -<p>The above incident hardly deserves a place in a -chapter headed “working-parties,” being in almost -every respect different from any other I have ever -conducted. I think the “working-party” is realised -less than anything else in this war by those who -have not been at the front. It does not appeal to -the imagination. Yet it is essential to realise, if one -wants to know what this war is like, the amount of -sheer dogged labour performed by the infantry in -digging, draining, and improving trenches.</p> - -<p>The “working-party” usually consists of seventy -to a hundred men from a company, with either one -or two officers. The Brigadier going round the -trenches finds a communication trench falling in, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">47</span> -and about a foot of mud at the bottom. “Get a -working-party on to this at once,” he says to his -Staff Captain. The Staff Captain consults one of -the R.E. officers, and a note is sent to the Adjutant -of one of the two battalions in billets: “Your -battalion will provide a working party of ... -officers ... full ranks (sergeants and corporals) -and ... other ranks to-morrow. Report to Lt. -..., R.E., at ... at 5.0 p.m. to-morrow for work -on ... Trench. Tools will be provided.” The -Staff Captain then dismisses the matter from his -head. The Adjutant then sends the same note to -one or more of the four company commanders, detailing -the number of men to be sent by the companies -specified by him. (He is scrupulously careful -to divide work equally between the companies, by -the way.) The company commander on receiving -the note curses volubly, declares it a “d—d shame -the hardest worked battalion in the brigade can’t -be allowed a moment’s rest, feels sure the men will -mutiny one of these days,” etc., summons the -orderly, who is frowsting in the next room with the -officers’ servants, and says, “Take this to the -sergeant-major,” after scribbling on the note -“Parade outside Company H.Q. 3.30 p.m.,” and -adding, as the orderly departs, “Might tell the -quartermaster-sergeant I want to see him.” Meanwhile -the three subalterns are extraordinarily -engrossed in their various occupations, until the -company commander boldly states that it is -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">48</span> -“rotten luck, but he supposes as So-and-so took -the last, it is So-and-so’s turn, isn’t it?” and details -the officers; if they are new officers he tells them -the sergeants will know exactly what to do, and if -they are old hands he tells them nothing whatever. -The “quarter” (company quartermaster-sergeant) -then arrives, and is told the party will not be back, -probably, till 10.0 p.m., and will he make sure, -please, that hot soup is ready for the men on return, -and also dry socks if it turns out wet; he is then -given a drink, and the company commander’s work -is finished.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the company sergeant-major has -received the orders from the orderly, and summons -unto him the orderly-sergeant, and from his -“roster,” or roll, ticks off the men and N.C.O.’s to -be warned for the working party. This the orderly-sergeant -does by going round to the various barns -and personally reading out each man’s name, and -on getting the answer, saying, “You’re for working -party, 3.15 to-day.” The exact nature of the -remarks when he is gone are beyond my province. -Only, as an officer taking the party, one knows that -at 3.25 p.m. the senior sergeant calls the two lines -of waiting “other ranks” to attention, and with a -slap on his rifle, announces “Working-party present, -Sir,” as you stroll up. Working-parties are dressed -in “musketry order” usually—that is to say, with -equipment, but no packs; rifles and ammunition, -of course, and waterproof sheets rolled and fastened -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">49</span> -to the webbing belt. The officer then tells the -sergeant to “stand them easy,” while he asks one -or two questions, and looks once more at “orders” -which the senior sergeant has probably brought on -parade, and at 3.30, with a “Company-Shern! -Slo-o-ope hip! Right-in-fours: form-fórs! Right! -By the right, Quick <i>march</i>!” leads off his party, -giving “March at <i>ease</i>, march-easy!” almost in one -breath as soon as he rounds the corner. Then there -is a hitching of rifles to the favourite position, and a -buzz of remarks and whistles and song behind, -while the sergeant edges up to the officer or the -officer edges back to the sergeant, according to their -degree of intimacy, and the working-party is on its -way.</p> - -<p>One working-party I remember very well. We -were in billets at ——, and really tired out. It was -Nov. 6th, and on looking up my letters I find -our movements for the last week had been as -follows:</p> - -<table class="list-top"> - <tr> - <td rowspan="3">Oct. 29th.</td> - <td>9.0 a.m. Moved off from billets.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>12.0 midday. Lunch.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>3.0 p.m. Arrived in front trenches.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Oct. 30th.</td> - <td>Front trenches.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Oct. 31st.</td> - <td>Front trenches.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td rowspan="2">Nov. 1st.</td> - <td>Relieved at 3.0 p.m. (The Devons were very late relieving us, owing to - bad rain and mud.)</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>5.30 p.m. Reached billets.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">50</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Nov. 2nd.</td> - <td>Rain all day. Morning spent by men - in trying to clean up. Afternoon, - baths.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td rowspan="2">Nov. 3rd.</td> - <td>9.0 a.m. Started off for trenches again. It had rained incessantly. - Mud terrible.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>1.0 p.m. Arrived in front trenches.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Nov. 4th.</td> - <td>Front trenches. Rained all day.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Nov. 5th.</td> - <td>2.30 p.m. Relieved late again. Mud colossal. Billets 5.0 p.m.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td rowspan="2">Nov. 6th.</td> - <td>Morning. Cleaning up. Inspection by C.O.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Afternoon. <span class="smcap">Sudden and unexpected - Working-Party.</span> 3.0 p.m.—11.0 p.m.!!</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p>Yet I thoroughly enjoyed those eight hours, I -remember. There were, I suppose, about eighty -N.C.O.’s and men from “B” Company. I was in -charge, with one other officer. We halted at a place -whither the “cooker” had been previously despatched, -and where the men had their tea. Luckily -it was fine. The men sat about on lumps of trench-boards -and coils of barbed wire, for the place was an -“R.E. Dump,” where a large accumulation of R.E. -stores of all description was to be found. I apologised -to the R.E. officer for keeping him a few -minutes while the men finished their tea; he, however, -a second-lieutenant, was in no hurry whatever, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">51</span> -it seemed, and waited about a quarter of an hour -for us. Then I fell the men in, and they “drew -tools,” so many men a pick, so many a shovel (the -usual proportion is one pick, two shovels), and we -splodged along through whitish clay of the stickiest -calibre in the gathering twilight. An R.E. corporal -and two R.E. privates had joined us mysteriously -by now, as well as the second-lieutenant, and crossing -H—— Street we plunged down into a communication -trench, and started the long mazy grope. -The R.E. corporal was guide. The trench was all -paved with trench-mats, but these were not “laid,” -only “shoved down” anyhow; consequently they -wobbled, and one’s boot slipped off the side into -squelch, rubbing the ankle. Continually came up -the message from behind, “Lost touch, Sir!” -This involved a wait—one, two minutes—until the -“All-up” or “All-in” came up. (One hears it -coming in a hoarse whisper, and starts before it -actually arrives. Infinite patience is necessary. -R.E. officers are sometimes eager to go ahead; but -once lose the last ten men at night in an unknown -trench, and it may take three hours to find them.) -The other officer was bringing up the rear.</p> - -<p>At last we reached our destination, and the R.E. -officer and myself told off the men to work along the -trench. This particular work was clearing what is -known as a “berm,” that is, the flat strip of ground -between the edge of the trench and the thrown-up -earth, each side of a C.T. (communication trench). -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">52</span></p> - -<p>When a trench is first dug, the earth is thrown up -each side; the recent rains were, however, causing -the trenches to crumble in everywhere, and the -weight of the thrown-up earth was especially the -cause of this. Consequently, if the earth were -cleared away a yard on each side of the trench, and -thrown further back, the trench would probably be -saved from falling in to any serious extent, and the -light labour of shovelling dry earth a yard or so back -would be substituted for the heart-breaking toil of -throwing sloppy mud or sticky clay out of a trench -higher than yourself.</p> - -<p> -<img class="figcenter" id="i_052" src="images/i_052.jpg" alt="" /> -</p> - -<p>The work to be done had been explained to the -sergeants before we left our starting-point. As we -went along, the R.E. officer told off men at ten or -five yards’ interval, according to the amount of earth -to be moved. Each man stopped when told off, and -the rest of the company passed him. Sergeants and -corporals stopped with their section or platoon, and -got the men started as soon as the last man of the -company had passed. At last up came the last man, -sergeant, and the other officer, and together we went -back all along. The men were on top (that is why -the working-party was a night one); sometimes -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">53</span> -they had not understood their orders and were doing -something wrong (a slack sergeant would then -probably have to be routed out and told off). The -men worked like fun, of course, it being known, to -every one’s joy, that this was a piece-job, and that -we went home as soon as it was finished. There was -absolute silence, except the sound of falling earth, -and an occasional chink of iron against stone; or a -swish, and muttered cursings, as a bit of trench fell -in with a slide, dragging a man with it; for it is not -always easy to clear a yard-wide “berm” without -crumbling the trench-edge in. One would not think -these men were “worn out,” to see them working -as no other men in the world can work; for nearly -every man was a miner. The novice will do only -half the work a trained miner will do, with the same -effort.</p> - -<p>Sometimes I was appealed to as to the “yard.” -Was this wide enough? One man had had an unlucky -bit given him with a lot of extra earth from a -dug-out thrown on to the original lot. So I redivided -the task. It is amazing the way the time -passes while going along a line of workers, noticing, -talking, correcting, praising. By the time I got to -the first men of the company, they were half-way -through the task.</p> - -<p>At last the job was finished. As many men as -space allowed were put on to help one section that -somehow was behind; whether it was bad luck in -distribution or slack work no one knew or cared. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">54</span> -The work must be finished. The men wanted to -smoke, but I would not let them; it was too near -the front trenches. And then I did a foolish thing, -which might have been disastrous! The R.E. -corporal had remained, though the officer had left -long ago. The corporal was to act as guide back, -and this he was quite ready to do if I was not quite -sure of the way. I, however, felt sure of it, and as -the corporal would be saved a long tramp if he could -go off to his dug-out direct without coming with us, -I foolishly said I had no need of him, and let him go. -I then lost my way completely. We had never been -in that section before, and none of the sergeants -knew it. We had come from the “R.E. Dump,” -and thither we must return, leaving our tools on the -way. But I had been told to take the men to the -Divisional Soup Kitchen first, which was about -four hundred yards north of X, the spot where we -entered the C.T. and which I was trying to find. -For all I knew I was going miles in the wrong direction. -My only guide was the flares behind, which -assured me I was not walking to the Germans but -away from them. The unknown trenches began to -excite among the sergeants the suspicion that all was -not well. But I took the most colossal risk of stating -that I knew perfectly well what I was doing, and -strode on ahead.</p> - -<p>There was silence behind after that, save for -splashings and splodgings. My heart misgave me -that I was coming to undrained trenches of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">55</span> -worst description, or to water-logged impasses! -Still I strode on, or waited interminable waits for the -“All up” signal. At last we reached houses, grim -and black, new and awfully unknown. I nearly -tumbled down a cellar as a sentry challenged. I was -preparing for humble questions as to where we were, -the nearest way to X, and a possible joke to the -sergeant (this joke had not materialised, and seemed -unlikely to be of the easiest), when I recovered myself -from the cellar, mounted some steps, and found -myself on a road beside a group of Tommies emerging -from the Soup Kitchen! My star (the only one -visible, I believe, that inky night) had led me there -direct! I said nothing, as every one warmed up in -spirits as well as bodies with that excellent soup; -and no one ever knew of the quailings of my heart -along those unknown trenches! To lead men wrong -is always bad; but when they are tired out it is unpardonable, -and not quickly forgotten. As it was, -canteens were soon brimming with thick vegetable -soup, filled from a bubbling cauldron with a mighty -ladle. In the hot room men glistened and perspired, -while a regular steam arose from muddied boots and -puttees; every one, from officer to latest joined -private, was sipping with dangerous avidity the -boiling fluid. Many charges have been laid against -divisional staffs, but never a complaint have I heard -against a soup kitchen! So in good spirits we -tramped along, and dumped our tools in the place -where we had found them. “Clank-clank, clank,” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">56</span> -as spade fell on spade. Then, “You may smoke” -was passed down. The sergeant reported “All -correct, Sir!” and we tramped along in file. Soon -the bursts of song were swallowed up in a great -whistling concert, and we were all merry. The fit -passed, and there was silence; then came the singing -again, which developed into hymns, and that took -us into our billets. Here we were greeted with the -most abominable news of réveillé at 5.0 a.m., but I -think most of the men were too sleepy to hear it; -we two officers deplored our fate while eating a -supper set out for us in a greenhouse, our temporary -mess-room!</p> - -<p>That is a working-party: interesting as a first -experience to an officer; but when multiplied exceedingly, -by day, by night, in rain, mud, sleet, and -snow, carrying trench boards, filling sand-bags, -digging clay, bailing out liquid mud, and returning -cold and drenched, without soup—then, working-parties -became a monotonous succession of discomforts -that wore out the spirit as well as the -body.</p> - -<p>The last six nights before the promised rest were -spent in working-parties at Festubert. There the -ground was low and wet, and it was decided to build -a line of breastwork trenches a few hundred yards -behind the existing line, so that we could retire on -to dry ground in case of getting swamped out. For -six nights in succession we left billets at 10.0 p.m. -and returned by 4.0 a.m. The weather was the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">57</span> -coldest, it turned out eventually, that winter. It -started with snow; then followed hard frost for -four nights; and, last but not least, a thaw and -incessant sleet and rain. I have never before experienced -such cold; but, on the other hand, I have -never before had to stand about all night in a severe -frost (it was actually, I believe, from 10° to 15° -below freezing point). At 2.0 a.m. the stars would -glitter with relentless mirth, as the cold pierced -through two cardigans and a sheepskin waistcoat. -I have skated at night, but always to return -by midnight to fire and bed. Bed! At home -people were sleeping as comfortably as usual; a -few extra blankets, perhaps, or more coals in the -grate!</p> - -<p>I was out five nights of the six. Captain Dixon -was on leave, so we only had three officers in “B,” -and two had to go every night. Every night at 9.30 -the company would be fallen in and marched off to -the rendezvous, there, at 10.0, to join the rest of the -battalion. There was no singing; very little talking. -In parts the road was very bad, and we marched in -file. The road was full of shell-holes, and bad generally; -the ice crackled and tinkled in the ruts and -puddles; the frozen mud inclined you to stumble -over its ridges and bumps. It took us the best part -of an hour to reach our destination. The first night -we must have gone earlier than the other nights, as -I distinctly remember viewing by daylight those -most amazing ruins. There was a barrier across the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">58</span> -road just before you entered the village; (a barrier -is usually made like this— - -<span> -<img class="figcenter" id="i_058" src="images/i_058.jpg" alt="" /> -</span> - -you can defend the road without blocking it to -traffic; at the same time it cannot be rushed by -motor-cycles or armoured cars); then just opposite -were the few standing fragments of the church; -bits of wall and mullion here and there; and all -around tombstones leaning in every direction, -rooted up, shattered, split. There was one of the -crucifixes standing untouched in the middle of it all, -about which so much has been written; whether it -had fallen and been erected again I cannot say. -The houses were more smashed, crumpled, and -chaotic than even Cuinchy or Givenchy.</p> - -<p>I remember that corner very vividly, because at -that spot came one of the few occasions on which -I had the “wind up” a little. Why, I know not. -We were halted a few moments, when two whizz-bangs -shot suddenly into a garden about twenty -yards to our right, with a vicious “Vee-bm ... -Vee-bm.” We moved on, and just as we got round -the corner I saw two flashes on my left, and two -more shells hissed right over us and fell with the -same stinging snarl into the same spot, just twenty -yards <i>over</i> us this time. I was, luckily, marching at -the rear of the company at the time, as I ducked and -almost sprawled in alarm. For the next minute or -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">59</span> -two I was all quivery. I am glad to know what it -feels like, as I have never experienced since such an -abject windiness! I believe it was mainly due to -being so exposed on the hard hedgeless road; or, -perhaps that last pair did actually go particularly -near me. At any rate, such was my experience, and -so I record it.</p> - -<p> -<img class="figcenter" id="i_059" src="images/i_059.jpg" alt="" /> -</p> - -<p>At the entrance to the communication trench -R.E. officers told us off: “A” Company, “carrying -party”; “B” Company to draw shovels and picks -and “follow me.” Then we started off along about -a mile and a half of communication trenches. I -have already said that Festubert is a very wet -district, and it can easily be imagined that the -drainage problem is none of the easiest. This long -communication trench had been mastered by -trench-mats fastened down on long pickets which -were driven deep down into the mud. The result -was that the trench floor was raised about two feet -from the original bottom, and one walked along a -hollow-sounding platform over stagnant water. -The sound reminded me of walking along a wooden -landing-stage off the end of a pier. Every few -hundred yards were “passing points,” presumably -to facilitate passing other troops coming -in the other direction; but as I never had the -good fortune to meet the other troops at these -particular spots, though I did in many others, I -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">60</span> -cannot say they were particularly useful. Another -disadvantage about these water-logged trenches -was that the bad rains had made the water rise in -several places even over the raised trench-board -platform; others were fastened on top; but even -these were often not enough. And when the frost -came and froze the water on top of the boards, the -procession became a veritable cake-walk, humorous -no doubt to the stars and sky, but to the performers, -feeling their way in the thick darkness and ever -slipping and plunging a boot and puttee into the icy -water at the side, a nightmare of painful and jarring -experiences.</p> - -<p>There was one junction of trenches where one had -to cross a dyke full of half-frozen water; there was -always a congestion of troops here, ration-parties, -relieving-parties, and ourselves. All relieving had -to be done at night, as the trenches with their artificially -raised floors were no longer deep enough to -give cover from view. This crossing had to be -negociated in a most gingerly fashion, and several -men got wet to their waists when compelled to cross -while carrying an awkward-shaped hurdle. After -this, the trench was worse than ever; in parts it -was built with fire-steps on one side, and one could -scramble on to this and proceed on the dry for -awhile; but even here the slippery sand-bags would -often treacherously slide you back into the worst -part of the iced platform, and so gave but a doubtful -advantage. At last the open was gained; then -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">61</span> -came the crossing of the old German trench, full of -all kinds of grim relics from the spring fighting. -And so to our destination.</p> - -<p>On the open ground lay a tracing of white tape -like this— - -<span> -<img class="figcenter" id="i_061" src="images/i_061.jpg" alt="" /> -</span> - -forming a serpentine series of contacting squares; -in the blackness only two white-bordered squares -were visible from one position. Each man was given -a square to dig. I forget the measurements; about -two yards square, I think, and two feet deep. The -earth had to be thrown about eight yards back -against a breastwork of hurdles. These hurdles -were being brought up by the “carrying-parties” -and fastened by wires by the R.E’s; the R.E. -officers had, of course, laid our white tapes for us -previously. Eventually the sentries will stand -behind the hurdle breastwork with a water-ditch -ten yards in front of them, which obstacle will be -suitably enhanced by strong wire entanglements.</p> - -<p>But all this vision of completion is hid from the -eyes of Private Jones, who only knows he has his -white-taped square to dig. Arms and equipment -are laid carefully on the side of the trench furthest -from the breastwork; and nothing can be heard -but the hard breathing and the shovelling and scraping -of the “other ranks.” For two hours those men -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">62</span> -worked their hardest; indeed, it was much the best -job to have on those cold nights. I did more digging -then than I have ever done before or since. “Come -on, Davies, you’re all behind,” and for ten minutes -I would do an abnormal amount of shovelling, until, -out of breath, I would hand the boy back his shovel, -and tell him to carry on, while all aglow I went -along the line examining the progress of the work. -We had quite a number of bullets singing and cracking -across, and there were one or two casualties -every night. Sometimes flares would pop over, and -every one would freeze into static posture; but on -the whole things were very quiet, the enemy doubtless -as full of water as ourselves.</p> - -<p>That intense cold! Yet I did not know then that -it is far worse being on sentry in the frost than -marching and digging. And I am not sure that the -last night, when it rained incessantly, was not worse -than all the rest. We had a particularly bad piece -of ground that night, pitted with shell-holes, full of -frozen water: you were bound to fall in one at last, -and get wet to the waist; but even if you did escape -that sticky humiliation, the driving sleet and rain -were bad enough in themselves. That was a night -when I found certain sergeants sheltered together -in a corner; and certain other sergeants in the -middle of their men and the howling gale. I soon -routed the former out, but did not forget; and have -since discovered how valuable a test of the good and -the useless N.C.O. is a working party in the rain. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">63</span></p> - -<p>Never have I longed for 2.0 a.m. as I did that -night! My feet were wet, my body tired, my whole -frame shivering with an approaching cold. The -men could do nothing any longer in that stinking -slush (for these old shell-holes of stagnant water -were, to say the least of it, unsavoury!). I was so -heavy with sleep I could scarce keep my eyes open. -But when at last the order came from our second-in-command -“Cease work,” I was filled with a dogged -energy that carried me back to billets in the best of -spirits, though I actually fell asleep as I marched -behind the company, and bumped into the last four, -when they halted suddenly half-way home! And -so at four o’clock the men tumbled upstairs to -breakfast and braziers (thanks to a good quartermaster-sergeant). -I drank Bovril down below, and -then, in pyjamas, sweaters, and innumerable -blankets, turned in till 11.0 a.m. Next afternoon -we left Rue de l’Epinette and halted at a village on -the road to Lillers, whence we were to train to “a -more northern part of the line,” and enjoy at last -our long-earned rest. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">64</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV<br /> - -REST</h2> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">Rumours</span> were rife again, and mostly -right this time. “The C.O. knew the part -we were going to: a chalk country ... -rolling downs ... four or five weeks’ rest ... field -training thirty miles from the firing-line.” Chalk -downs! To a Kentish man the words were magic, -after the dull sodden flats of Flanders. I longed -for a map of France, but could not get hold of one. -As we marched to Lillers I looked at the flat straight -roads and the ditches, at the weary monotony, -uninspired by hill or view, at the floods on the roads, -and the uninteresting straightness of the villages; -and I felt that I was at the end of a chapter. Any -change must be better than this. And chalk! -chalk! short dry turf, and slopes with purple -woods! I had forgotten these things existed.</p> - -<p>I forget the name of the village where we halted -for two nights. I had a little room to myself, -reached by a rickety staircase from the yard. One -shut the staircase door to keep out the yard. Here -several new officers joined us, Clark being posted -to our company, and soon I began to see my last -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">65</span> -two months as history. For we began to tell our -adventures to Clark, who had never been in the -firing-line! Think of it! He was envious of our -experiences! So I listened in awe and heard a -tale develop, a true tale, the tale of the night -the mine went up. It was no longer a case of -disputing how many trench-mortars came over, but -telling an interested audience that trench-mortars -<i>did</i> come over! Clark had never seen one. And -I listened agape to hear myself the hero of a -humorous story. When the mine went up, I had -come out of my dug-out rather late and asked if -anything had happened. This tale became elaborated: -I was putting my gloves on calmly, it seems, -as I strolled out casually and asked if anyone had -heard a rather loud noise! And so stories crystallised, -a word altered here and there for effect, but -true, and as past history quite interesting.</p> - -<p>The move was made the occasion, by our C.O., -of very elaborate and careful operation orders. No -details were left to chance, and a conference of -officers was called to explain the procedure of -getting a battalion on a train and getting it off -again. As usual, the officers’ valises had to be -ready at a very early hour, and the company mess-boxes -packed correspondingly early. Edwards, I -think, was detailed as O.C. loading-party. Everything -like this was down in the operation orders. -The adjutant had had a time of it.</p> - -<p>Certainly the entraining went like clockwork, and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">66</span> -once more I was seated in a grey-upholstered -corridor carriage; the men were in those useful -adaptable carriages inscribed “Chevaux 10. Hommes -30.” Our Tommies were evidently a kind of centaur -class, for they went in by twenties. As far as I -can remember, we entrained at 10.0 a.m.; we -arrived at a station a few miles from Amiens at -9.0 p.m. A slow journey, but I felt excited like a -child. I must keep going to the corridor to put -my head out of the window. It was a sparkling, -nippy air; the smell of the steam, the grit of the -engine—these were things I had forgotten; and -soon there were rolling plains, hills, clustering -villages. The route, through St. Pol, Doullens, -and Canaples, is ordinary enough, no doubt; and -so, too, the gleam of white chalk that came at last. -But if you think that ordinary things cannot be -wonderful beyond measure, then go and live above -ground and underground in Flanders for two months -on end in winter; then, perhaps, you will understand -a little of my good spirits.</p> - -<p>It was quite dark when we arrived. Then for -three and a half hours we waited in a meadow outside -the station, arms piled, the men sitting about -on their waterproof sheets. Meanwhile the transport -detrained, a lengthy business. Tea was produced -from those marvellous field-kitchens. The -night was cold, though, and it was too damp to -sit down. For hours we stood about, tired. Then -came the news that our six-mile march would be -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">67</span> -more like double six; that the billets had been -altered!... At half-past twelve we marched off. -It was starlight, but pretty dark. Eighteen miles -we marched, reaching Montagne at half-past seven; -every man was in full marching kit, and most of -them carried sandbagfuls of extras. It was a big -effort, especially as the men had done nothing in -the nature of a long march for months. Well I -remember it—the tired silence, the steady tramp, -along the interminable road. Sometimes the band -would strike up for a little, but even bands tire, -and cannot play continuously. Mile after mile of -hard road, and then the hedges would spring up -into houses, and from the opened windows would -gaze down awakened women. Hardly ever was a -light shown in any house. Then the village would -be left behind, and men shifted their packs and -exchanged a sand-bag, unslung a rifle from one -shoulder to the other, and settled down to another -stretch, wondering if the next village would be -the last.</p> - -<p>So it went on interminably all through the winter -night. Once we halted in a village, and I sat on -a doorstep with O’Brien discussing methods of -keeping our eyes open. Edwards had been riding -the horse, and had nearly tumbled off asleep. At -another halt, half-way up a hill, I discovered a -box of beef lozenges and distributed it among No. 6 -platoon. All the last ten miles I was carrying a -rifle and a sand-bag. Sergeant Callaghan had the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">68</span> -same, besides all his own kit. Sergeant Andrews -kept on as steady as a rock. There were falterers, -but we kept them in; only in the last two miles -did one or two drop out. And all the while I was -elated beyond measure; partly at seeing men like -Ginger Joe, with his dry wit flashing, and Tudor, -with his stolid power; but partly, too, at the -climb uphill, the swing down, mysterious woods, -and the unmistakable trunks of pines. And all -the time we were steadily climbing; we must be -upon a regular tableland.</p> - -<p>Dawn broke, and it got lighter and lighter—and -so we entered Montagne. The quartermaster had -had a nice job billeting at 2.0 a.m., but he had done -it, and the men dropped on to their straw, into -outhouses, anywhere. The accommodation seemed -small and bad, but that could be arranged later. -To get the men in, that was the main thing. One -old woman fussed terribly, and the men looked like -bayoneting her! We soon got the men in somehow. -Then for our own billets. We agreed to have -a scratch breakfast as soon as it could be procured. -Meanwhile I went to the end of the village and -found myself on the edge of the tableland; before -me was spread out a great valley, with a poplar-lined -road flung right across it; villages were -dotted about; there were woods, and white ribbon -by-roads. And over it all glowed the slant morning -sun. I was on the edge of a chalky plateau; it -was all just as I had imagined. I slept from 11.0 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">69</span> -a.m. to 7.0 p.m., when I got up for a meal at which -we were all short-tempered! And at 9.0 p.m. -I retired again to sleep till 7.0 next morning.</p> - -<p>Montagne—How shall I be able to create a picture -of Montagne? As I look back at all those eight -months, the whole adventure seems unreal, a dream; -yet somehow those first few days in the little village -had for me a dream-like quality, unlike any other -time. I think that then I felt that I was living in -an unreality; whereas at other times life was real -enough; and it is only now, afterwards, that these -days are gradually melting through distance into -dreams. At any rate, if the next few pages are -dull to the reader, let him try and weave into them -a sort of fairy glamour, and imagine a kind of spell -cast over everything in which people moved as in -a dream.</p> - -<p>First, there was the country itself. The next -day (after a day’s sleep and a night’s on top of it) -was, if I remember right, rather wet, and we had -kit inspection in billets, and tried to eke out the -hours by gas-helmet drill, and arm-drill in squads -distributed about the various farmyards and barns. -Then Captain Dixon decided to take the company -out on a short route march, and as it was raining -very steadily we took half the company with <i>two</i> -waterproof sheets per man. One sheet was thrown -round the shoulders in the usual way; the other -was tied kilt-wise round the waist. The result was -an effective rainproof, if unmilitary-looking dress! -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">70</span> -We set off and soon came to a large wood with a -broad ride through it.</p> - -<p>Along this ride we marched, two-deep now, and -I at the rear as second-in-command. Here I felt -most strongly that strange glamour of unreality. -It was but three months ago, and I was in the heart -of Wales, yet such was the effect of a few months -that I looked on everything with the most exuberant -sense of novelty. The rain-beads on the red-brown -birch trees; the ivy; the oaks; the strange stillness -in the thick wood after the gusts of wind and -slashes of rain; especially the sounds—chattering -jays, invisible peeping birds, the squelching of boots -on a wet grass track—everything reminded me of -a past world that seemed immeasurably distant, -of past winters that had been completely forgotten. -Then we emerged into a wide clearing along the -edge of the wood, full of stunted gorse and junipers. -Long coarse grass grew in tussocks that matted -under foot; and now I could see the whole company -straggling along in front of me, slipping and -sliding about on the wet grass in their curious kilt-like -costumes, some of which were now showing -signs of uneasiness and tending to slip in rings to -the ground. Everyone was very pleased with life. -A halt was called at length, and while officers discussed -buying shot-guns at Amiens, or stalking the -wily hare with a revolver, Tommy, I have reason -to believe, was planning more effective means of -snaring Brer rabbit. Next day in orders appeared -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">71</span> -an extract from corps orders <i>re</i> prohibition of poaching -and destruction of game. It was all part of -the dream that we were surprised, almost shocked, -at this unwarranted exhibition of property rights! -Not that there was much game about, anyhow.</p> - -<p>The next day we did an advance guard scheme, -down in the plain. It was a crisp winter day, and -I remember the great view from the top of the hill, -on the edge of the plateau as you leave Montagne. -It was all mapped out, with its hedgeless fields, -its curling white roads, and its few dark triangles -and polygons of fir woods. But we had not long -to see it, for we came into observation then (so -this dream game pretended!) and were soon in -extended order working our way along over the -plain. It all came back to one, this “open warfare” -business, the advancing in short rushes, the flurried -messages from excited officers to stolid platoon-sergeants, -the taking cover, the fire-orders, the -rattling of the bolts, the lying on the belly in a -ploughed field; and yes! the spectator, old man -or woman, gazing in stupid amazement at the -khaki figures rushing over his fields. Then came -the assault, bayonets fixed, and the C.O.’s whistle, -ending the game for that day. “Game,” that was -it: it is all a game, and when you get tired you -go home to a good meal, and discuss the humour -of it, and probably have a pow-wow in the evening -in which the O.C. “A” is asked why he went off -to the left, the real answer being that he lost -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">72</span> -direction badly, but the actual answer given explaining -the subtlety of a detour round a piece of -dead ground! Which is the dream? this, or the -mud-slogging in the trenches and the interminable -nights?</p> - -<p>For, every night we went to bed! Think of it! -Every night! Always that bed, that silence, that -priceless privacy of sleep! I had a rather cold -ground-floor billet with a door that would not shut; -yet it was worth any of your beds at home! And -I should be here for a month, perhaps six weeks! -I wrote for my basin and stand, for books, for all -sorts of things. I felt I could accumulate, and -spread myself. It was like home after hotels! -For always we had been moving, moving; even -our six days out were often in two or even three -different billets.</p> - -<p>So, too, with our mess. The dream here consisted -of a jolly little parlour that was the envy of all -the other company messes. As usual, the rooms -led into one another, the kitchen into the parlour, -the parlour into a bedroom; I might almost continue, -and say the bedroom into a bed! For the -four-poster, when curtained off, is a little room in -itself. It was a good billet, but best of all was -Madame herself. Suffice it to say she would not -take a penny for use of crockery; and she would -insist on us making full use of everything; she -allowed all our cooking to be done in her kitchen; -and on cold nights she would insist on our servants -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">73</span> -sitting in the kitchen, though that was her only -sitting-room. Often have I come in about seven -o’clock to find our dinner frizzling merrily on the -fire under the supervision of Gray, the cook, while -Madame sat humbly in the corner eating a frugal -supper of bread and milk, before retiring to her -little room upstairs. Ah, Madame! there are many -who have done what you have done, but few, I -think, more graciously. If we tried to thank her -for some extra kindness, she had always the same -reply “You are welcome, M. l’Officier. I have -heard the guns, and the Germans passed through -Amiens; if it were not for the English, where -should we be to-day?”</p> - -<p>So we settled down for our “rest,” for long -field days, lectures after tea, football matches, and -week-ends; I wrote for my Field Service Regulations, -and rubbed up my knowledge of outposts -and visual training. But scarcely had I been a -week at Montagne when off I went suddenly, on a -Sunday morning, to the Third Army School. I -had been told my name was down for it, a few days -before, but I had forgotten all about it, when I -received instructions to bicycle off with Sergeant -Roberts; my kit and servant to follow in a limber. -I had no idea what the “Third Army School” -was, but with “note-book, pencil, and protractor” -I cycled off at 11.0 a.m. “to fields and pastures -new.”</p> - -<p>Most people, I imagine, have had the following -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">74</span> -experience. They have a great interest in some -particular subject, yet they have somehow not got -the key to it. They regret that they were never -taught the elements of it at school; or it is some -new science or interest that has arisen since their -schooldays, such as flying or motoring. They are -really ashamed of asking questions; and all books -on the subject are technical and presuppose just -that elementary knowledge that the interested -amateur does not possess. Then suddenly he -comes on a book with those delicious phrases in -the preface promising “to avoid all technical -details,” apologising for “what may seem almost -childishly elementary,” and containing at the end -an expert bibliography. These are the books -written by very wise and very kind men, and -because they are worth so much they usually cost -least of all!</p> - -<p>Such was my delightful experience at the Army -School. I will confess to a terrible ignorance of -my profession—I did not know how many brigades -made up a division; “the artillery” were to me -vague people whom the company commander rang -up on the telephone, and who appeared in gaiters in -Béthune; a bomb was a thing I avoided with a -peculiar aversion; and as to the general conduct -of the war I was the most ignorant of pawns. The -wildest things were said about Loos; the <i>Daily -Mail</i> had just heard of the Fokker, and I had not -the remotest idea whether we were hopelessly outclassed -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">75</span> -in the air, or whether perhaps after all -there were people “up top” who were not so -surprised or disconcerted at the appearance of the -Fokker as the Northcliffe Press. Moreover, I had -been impressed with the reiteration of my C.O., -that my battalion was the finest in the Army, -and that my division was likewise the best. Yet -I had always felt that there were other good -battalions, and that “K.’s Army” was, to say the -least of it, in a considerable majority when compared -with the contemptible little original which -I had had the luck to join!</p> - -<p>Imagine my delight, then, at finding myself one -of over a hundred captains and senior subalterns -representing their various battalions. Regulars, -Territorials, and Kitcheners, we were all there -together; one’s vision widened like that of a boy -first going to school. Here at least was a great -opportunity, if only the staff was good. And any -doubt on that question was instantly set at rest -by the Commandant’s opening address, explaining -that the instructors were all picked men with a -large experience in this war, that in the previous -month’s course mostly subalterns had been sent and -this time it had been the aim to secure captains -only (oh! balm in Gilead this!) and that apologies -were due if some of the lectures and instructions -were elementary; that bombing experts, for -instance, must not mind if the bombing course -started right at the very beginning, as it had been -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">76</span> -found in the previous course that it was wrong to -presume <i>any</i> military knowledge to be the common -possession of all officers in the school. Those who -understood my simile of the expert’s kind book to -the amateur will understand that there were few -of us who did not welcome such a promising bill -of fare.</p> - -<p>I do not intend to say much about the instruction -at the Army School—a good deal of what I -learnt there is unconsciously embodied in the rest -of this book—but it is the spirit of the place that -I want to record. I can best describe it as the -opposite of what is generally known as academic. -Theories and text-books about the war were at a -discount: here were men who had been through -the fire, every phase of it. It was not a question -of opinions, but of facts. This came out most -clearly in discussions after the lectures; a point -would be raised about advancing over the open: -“We attacked at St. Julien over open ground -under heavy fire, and such and such a thing was -our experience” would at once come out from -someone. And there was no scoring of debating -points! We were all out to pool our knowledge -and experience all the time.</p> - -<p>The Commandant inspired in everyone a most -tremendous enthusiasm. His lectures on “Morale” -were the finest I have ever heard anywhere. “Put -yourself in your men’s position on every occasion; -continually think for them, give them the best -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">77</span> -possible time, be in the best spirits always;” “long -faces” were anathema! No one can forget his -tale of the doctor who never laughed, and whom -he put in a barn and taught him how to! “‘Hail -fellow well met’ to all other officers and regiments” -was another of his great points. “Give ’em a -d—d good lunch—a <i>d—d</i> good lunch.” “Get a -good mess going.” “Ask your Brigadier into lunch -in the trenches: <i>make</i> him come in.” “Concerts?—plenty -of concerts in billets.” “An extra tot of -rum to men coming off patrol.” All this was a -“good show.” But long faces, inhospitality, men -not cheerful and singing, officers not seeing that their -men get their dinners, after getting into billets, -before getting their own; officers supervising -working-parties by sitting under haystacks instead -of going about cheering the men; brigadiers not -knowing their officers; poor lunches—all these -things were a “bad show, a d—d bad show!” -These lectures were full of the most delicious -anecdotes and thrilling stories, and backed up by -a huge enthusiasm and a most emphatic practice -of his preaching. We had a concert every Wednesday, -and every Saturday the four motor-buses took -the officers into Amiens, and the sergeants on -Sundays—week-ends were in fact “good shows.”</p> - -<p>Then there were the lectures. The second week, -for instance, was a succession of lectures on the -Battle of Loos. These lectures used to take place -after tea, and the discussion usually lasted till -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">78</span> -dinner. First was a lecture by an infantry major -of the Seventh Division (who needless to say had -been very much in it!). Then followed one by -an artillery officer, giving his version of it; then -followed an R.E. officer. There was nothing hidden -away in a corner. It was all facts, facts, facts. -An enlarged map of our own and the German -trenches was most fascinating to us who had for -the most part never handled one before. I remember -the Major’s description of the fighting in the -Quarries; it was one of the most vivid bits of -narrative I have ever heard. Then there were other -fascinating lectures—Captain Jefferies, the big -game hunter, on Sniping: the Commandant again -on Patrol work and discipline, and Dealing with -prisoners: two lectures from the Royal Flying -Corps, perhaps most fascinating of all.</p> - -<p>We drilled hard with rifles: we took a bombing -course and threw live bombs: we went through -the gas, and had a big demonstration with smoke -bombs: we went to a squadron of the R.F.C., -inspected the sheds, saw the aeroplanes, and had -anything we liked explained: we went out in -motor-buses and carried out schemes of attack and -defence: we did outpost schemes: drew maps: -dug trenches and revetted them. In short, there -was very little we did not do at the School.</p> - -<p>It was, in fact, a “good show.” The School was -in a big white château on the main road—a new -house built by the owner of a factory. The village -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">79</span> -really lies like a sediment at the bottom of a basin, -with houses clustering and scrambling up the sides -along the high road running out of it east and west, -getting thinner and fewer up the hill, to disappear -altogether on the tableland. The jute factory was -working hard night and day: we used to have -hot baths in the long wooden troughs that are used -for dyeing long rolls of matting, and I know no -hot baths to equal those forty-footers!</p> - -<p>Needless to say, we took advantage of our commandant’s -arrangement for free ‘bus rides into -Amiens every Saturday. Christmas Day falling on -a Saturday, we all had a Christmas dinner at the -Hôtel de l’Univers. This, needless to say, was a -“good show.” It was a pity, though, that turkey -had been insisted on, as turkey with salad, minus -sausages, bread-sauce, and brussels sprouts did not -seem somehow the real thing; the chef had jibbed -at sausages especially! Better at Rome to have -done completely as Rome does. After all we cannot -give the French much advice in cooking or in war. -Otherwise the dinner was good, and unlike our -folk at home we had a merry Christmas.</p> - -<p>Of course I went to see the Cathedral that Ruskin -has claimed to be the most perfect building in the -world; indeed, each Saturday found me there; -for like all true beauty the edifice does not attract -merely by novelty but satisfies the far truer test -of familiarity. Yet I confess to a thrill on first -entering that dream in stone, which could not come -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">80</span> -a second time. For down in the mud I had forgotten, -in the obsession of the present, man’s dreams -and aspirations for the future. Now, here again -I was in touch with eternal things that wars do -not affect. I remember once at Malvern we had -been groping and choking in a thick fog all day; -then someone suggested a walk, and three of us -ventured out and climbed the Beacon. Half-way -up the fog began to thin, and soon we emerged -into a clear sunshine. Below lay all the plain -wrapped in a great level blanket of white fog; -here and there the top of a tall tree or a small -hill protruded its head out of the mist and seemed -to be laughing at its poor hidden companions; -and in a cloudless blue the sun was smiling at -mankind below who had forgotten his very existence. -So in Amiens Cathedral I used to get my head out -of the thick fog of war for a time, and in that -stately silence recover my vision of the sun.</p> - -<p>The cathedral is a building full of all the freshness -of spring. I was at vespers there on Christmas -afternoon, and was then impressed by the wonderful -lightness of the building: so often there is gloom -in a cathedral, that gives a heavy feeling. But -Amiens Cathedral is perfectly lighted, and in the -east window glows a blue that reminded me of -viper’s bugloss in a Swiss meadow. My imagination -flew back to the building of the cathedral, -and to the brain that conceived it, and beyond -that again to the tradition that through long years -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">81</span> -moulded the conception; and behind all to the -idea, the ultimate birth of this perfect creation. -And one seemed to be straining almost beyond -humanity, to see the first spring flowers looking up -in wonder at the sky. The stately pillars were -man’s aspiration towards his Creator, the floating -music his attempt at praise.</p> - -<p>Yet it was only as I left the building that I -found the key to the full understanding of this -perfect expression of an idea. Round the chancel -is a set of bas-reliefs depicting a saint labouring -among his people. But what people! They live, -they speak! The relief is so deep, that some of -the figures are almost in the round, and several -come outside the slabs altogether. They are the -people of mediæval Amiens; they are the very -people who were living in the town while their -great cathedral rose stone by stone to be the wonder -of their city, the pride of all Picardy. Almost -grotesque in their vivid humanity, they are the -same people who walk outside the cathedral to-day. -The master-artist, greater in his dreams than his -fellow men, was yet blessed with that divine sense -of humour that made him love them for their quaint -smallnesses! So in Amiens I felt a double inspiration: -there was man’s offering of his noblest and -most beautiful to his Creator, and there was also -the reminder, in the saint among the Amiens -populace, that God’s answer was not a proud bend -of the head as He deigned to accept the offering -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">82</span> -of poor little man, but a coming down among -them, a claiming of equality with them, even -though they refuse still to realise their divinity, -and choose to live in a self-made suffering and to -degrade themselves in a fog of war.</p> - -<p>All too quickly the month went by. The enthusiasm -and interest of everybody grew in a steady -crescendo, and no one, I am sure, will ever forget -the impression left by the Major-General who was -deputed to come and “tell us one or two things” -from the General Staff. In a quiet voice, with a -quiet smile, he compared our position with that -of a year ago; told us facts about our numbers -compared with the enemy’s; our guns compared -with his; the real position in the air, the temporary -superiority of the Fokker that would vanish completely -and finally in a month or so; in everything -we were now superior except heavy trench-mortars, -and in a month or so we should have a big supply -of them too, and a d—d sight heavier! And we -could afford to wait. One got the impression that -all our grousings and doubtings were completely -out of date, that up at the top now was a unity -of command that had thought everything out and -could afford to wait. Later on I forgot this impression, -but I remember it so well now. Even through -Verdun we could afford to wait. We had all the -cards now. There was a sort of breathless silence -throughout this quiet speech. And when it ended -with a “Good luck to you, gentlemen,” there was -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">83</span> -applause; but one’s chief desire was to go outside -and shout. It was a bonfire mood: best of all -would have been a bonfire of <i>Daily Mails</i>!</p> - -<p>We returned to our units on Sunday, 9th January, -1916, by motor-bus, which conveyed us some sixty -or seventy miles, when we were dropped, Sergeant -Roberts, myself, and Lewis, my servant. Leaving -Lewis with my valise, we walked in the moonlight -up to Montagne, where I got the transport officer -to send a limber for my valise. “O’Brien on leave” -was the first thing I grasped, as I tried to acclimatise -myself to my surroundings. Leave! My three -months was up, so I ought to get leave myself in -a week or so; in a few days in fact. My first -leave! The next week was rosy from the prospect. -My second impression was like that of a poet full -of a great sunset and trying to adjust himself to -the dry unimaginative remarks of the rest of the -community who have relegated sunsets to perdition -during dinner. For every one was so dull! They -groused, they maligned the Staff, they were pessimistic, -they were ignorant, oh! profoundly -ignorant; they were in fact in a state of not -having seen a vision! I could not believe then -that the time would come when I, too, should -forget the vision, and fix my eyes on the mud! -Still, for the moment, I was immensely surprised, -though I was not such a fool as to start at once -on a general reform of everyone, starting with the -Brigadier. For under the Commandant’s influence -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">84</span> -one felt ready to tell off the Brigadier, if he didn’t -get motor-’buses to take your men to a divisional -concert instead of saying the men must march three -miles to it. But, as I say, I restrained myself.</p> - -<p>A week of field days, of advance guards and -attacks in open order, of battalion drill, company -drill, arm-drill, gas-helmet drill; lectures in the -school in the evening, and running drill before -breakfast. Yet all the time I felt chafing to get -back into the firing-line. I felt so much better -equipped to command my men. I wanted to -practise all my new ideas. Then my leave came -through.</p> - -<p>Leave “comes through” in the following manner. -The lucky man receives an envelope from the -orderly room, in the corner of which is written -“Leave.” Inside is an “A” Form (Army Form -C 2121) with this magic inscription: “Please note -you will take charge of —— other ranks proceeding -on leave to-morrow morning, 17th inst. They will -parade outside orderly room at 7.0 a.m. sharp.” -Then follow instructions as to where to meet the -’bus. “Take charge!” If you blind-folded those -fellows they would find their way somehow by -the quickest route to Blighty! The officer is then -an impossible person to live with. He is continually -jumping about, upsetting everybody, getting -sandwiches, and discussing England, looking at the -paper to see “What’s on” in town, talking, being -unnecessarily bright and cheery. He is particularly -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">85</span> -offensive in the eyes of the man just come back -from leave. Still, it is his day; abide with him -until he clears off! So they abode with me until -the evening, and next morning Oliver and I started -off in the darkness with our four followers. As we -left the village it was just beginning to lighten a -little, and we met the drums just turning out, cold -and sleepy. As we sprang down the hill, leaving -Montagne behind us, faintly through the dawn we -heard réveillé rousing our unfortunate comrades to -another Monday morning!</p> - -<p>Then came the long, long journey that nobody -minds really, though every one grumbles at it. -At B—— an hour’s halt for omelettes and coffee -and bread and jam, while the Y.M.C.A. stall supplied -tea and buns innumerable. B—— will be a station -known for all time to thousands. “Do you remember -B——?” we shall ask each other. “Oh! yes. -Good omelettes one got there.” Then the port, -and fussy R.T.O’s again. Why make a fuss, when -everyone is magnetised towards the boat? Under -the light of a blazing gas-jet squirting from a -pendant ball, we crossed the gangway.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>There were men of old time who fell on their -native earth and kissed it, on returning after exile. -We did not kiss the boards of Southampton pier-head, -but we understood the spirit that inspired that -action as we steamed quietly along the Solent over -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">86</span> -a grey and violet sea. There were mists that -morning, and the Hampshire coast was grey and -vague; but steadily the engine throbbed, and we -glided nearer and nearer, entered Southampton -Water, and at last were near enough to see houses -and fields and people. People. English women.</p> - -<p>We disembarked. But what dull people to meet -us! Officials and watermen who have seen hundreds -of leave-boats arrive—every day in fact! The last -people to be able to respond to your feelings. Still, -what does it matter? There is the train, and an -English First! Some one started to run for one, -and in a moment we were all running!...</p> - -<p>But you have met us on leave. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">87</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V<br /> - -ON THE MARCH</h2> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">On</span> this leave I most religiously visited -relations and graciously received guests. -For one thing, I felt it my duty to dispel -all this ignorant pessimism that I found rolling -about in large chunks, like the thunder in <i>Alice in -Wonderland</i>. I exacted apologies, humble apologies -from them. “How can we help it?” they pleaded. -“We have no means of knowing anything except -through the papers.”</p> - -<p>“No, I suppose you can’t help it,” I would -reply, and forgive them from my throne of optimism. -Eight days passed easily enough.</p> - -<p>After dinner sometimes comes indigestion: people -enjoy the one and not the other. So after leave -comes the return from leave, the one in Tommy-French -<i>bon</i>, the other <i>no bon</i>. I hope I do not -offend by calling the state of the latter a mental -indigestion! It was with a kind of fierce joy that -we threw out our bully and biscuits to the crowds -of French children who lined the railway banks -crying out, “Bullee-beef,” “Biskeet.” The custom -of supplying these rations on the leave train has -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">88</span> -long since been discontinued now, but in those -days the little beggars used to know the time of -the train to a nicety, and must have made a good -trade of it.</p> - -<p>As soon as I got back to Montagne I heard a -“move” was in the air, and I was delighted. I was -fearfully keen to get back into the firing-line again. -I was full of life, and in the mood for adventure. -I started a diary. Here are some extracts.</p> - -<p>“29th January, 1916. Lewis (my servant) -brought in a bucket of water this morning which -contained 10% of mud. As the mud dribbled -on to the green canvas of my bath during the end -of the pouring, he saw it for the first time. Apparently -the well is running dry.... He managed -to get some clean water at length and I had a great -bath. Madame asked me as I went in to breakfast -why I whistled getting up that morning. I tried -to explain that I was in good spirits. It was an -exhilarating morning; outside was a great cawing of -rooks, and the slant sunlight lit up everything with -a rich colour; the mouldy green on the twigs of -the apple trees was a joy to see. Later in the day -I noticed how all this delicious morning light had -gone.</p> - -<p>“7 p.m. Orders have just come in for the move -to-morrow. Loading party at 6.0 a.m. under -Edwards, who is inwardly fed up but outwardly -quite pleased. Valises to be ready by 6.45 a.m. -Dixon grouses as usual at orders coming in late. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">89</span> -These moves always try the tempers of all concerned. -O’Brien and Edwards are now on the rustle, collecting -kit. We have accumulated rather a lot of -papers, books, tins of ration, tobacco, etc.”</p> - -<p>Madame was genuinely sorry to see us go. We -gave her a large but beautiful ornament for her -mantelpiece, suitably inscribed. The dear soul was -overwhelmed, and drew cider from a cellar hitherto -unknown to us, which she pressed on our servants -as well as on us. We made the fellows drink it, -though they were not very keen on it!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“30 Jan., 1916. Montagne—Vaux-en-Amienois. -I found myself suddenly detailed as O.C. rear party, -in lieu of Edwards, who has to remain in Montagne -and hand over to the incoming battalion. At 9.30 -three A.S.C. lorries arrived, and we loaded up. I -had about forty men for the job. It was good to see -these boys heaving up rolls of many-coloured -blankets, which filled nearly two lorries; the third -was packed with a mixture of boilers, dixies, brooms, -spades, lamps, etc. The leather and skin waistcoats -had to be left behind for a second journey: -I left the shoemaker-sergeant and four men with -these to await the return of one of the lorries. As -we worked a fog rolled up, which was to stay all day. -Edwards meanwhile saw to it that all the odd coal -and wood left at the transport was taken to our good -Madame; this much annoyed the groups of women -who peered like vultures from the doorways, ready -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">90</span> -to squabble over the pickings as soon as the last of -us had departed.</p> - -<p>Farewell to Montagne. All the fellows were dull. -Even Sawyer the smiling, who had been prominent -with his cheery face in the loading-up, was silent -and dull. No life. No spirit. A mournful lot, save -for the plum-pudding dog that galloped ahead and -on either flank, smelling and pouncing and tossing -his mongrel ears in delight. He belonged to one -of the men, a gift from a warm-hearted daughter -of France.</p> - -<p>A dull lot, I say. I rallied them. I persuaded. -I whistled, hoping to put a tune into their dull -hearts; and as we swung downhill into Riencourt -they began to sing. It was but a sorry thin sort of -singing though, like a winter sunshine; there was -no power behind it, no joy, no spontaneity. Suddenly, -however, as we came into the village, there -was a company of the Warwicks falling in, and -everyone sang like fury. Baker, one of the last -draft, was the moving spirit. But he is young to -this life, and later on, when the fog had entered -their souls again, he said he could not well sing with -a pack on. Yet is not that the very time to sing, is -not that the very virtue of singing, the conquest -of the poor old body by the indomitable spirit?</p> - -<p>It was a fifteen-mile march. At the third halt -I gave half an hour for the eating of bread and -cheese. Then was the hour of the plum-pudding -hound; also appeared a sort of Newfoundland -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">91</span> -collie, very big in the hind-quarters, and very dirty -as well as ill-bred. Between them they made rich -harvest of crusts and cheese. We sat on a bank -along the road, but after half an hour we were all -getting cold in the raw air, and I fell them in again, -and we got on our way. Soon they warmed up -and whistled and sang for a quarter of an hour; -then silence returned, and eyes turned to the ground -again. This march began to tell on the older men. -Halford fell out, and I sent Corporal Dewey to bring -him along, hastily scribbling the name of our -destination on a slip torn from my field-message -book, and giving it to him. Then Riley fell out, -and Flynn. I began to dread the appearance of -Sergeant Hayman from the rear, to tell me of some -one else. They were men, these, who had been -employed on various jobs; the older and weaker -men. There was no skrim-shanking, for there was -no Red Cross cart behind us. But no one else fell -out; the pace was steady and they were as fit as -anything, these fellows. Then happened an incident. -We had just turned off the main Amiens -road, and come to a forked road. I halted a moment -to make sure of the way by the map, and while I did -so apparently some sergeant from a regiment -billeted in the village there told Sergeant Hayman -that the battalion had taken the left road. The way -was to the right, and as I struck up a steep hill, -Sergeant Hayman ran up and told me the battalion -(which had started nearly two hours before us) -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">92</span> -had gone to the left. ‘I’m going to the right, sergeant,’ -said I. And the sergeant returned to the -rear. Up, up, up. Grind, grind, grind. I began to -hear signs of doubt behind. ‘Did you hear that? -Said the battalion went t’other way,’ and so on. -‘Ain’t ’e got a map all right?’ from a believer. -‘Three kilos more,’ I said at the next stop. But -some of the fellows had got it into their heads, I -could see, that we were wrong. I studied the map; -there was no doubt we were all right. Yet a mistake -would be calamitous, as the men were very -done. Ah! a kilo-stone! ‘Two kilos to ——,’ a -place not named on the map at all. This gave me -a qualm; and behind came the usual mispronunciations -of this annoying village on the stone. -But lo! on the left came a turning as per map. -Round we swung, downhill, and suddenly we were -in a village. Another qualm as I saw it full of Jocks. -The doubters were just beginning to realise this -fact, when we turned another corner, and almost -fell on top of the C.O.! In five minutes we were -in billets....”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The next day we marched to the village of Querrieux. -There I heard the guns again after two -months.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“31st January. This evening was full of the -walking tour spirit, the spirit of good company. -We were billeted at a farmhouse, and the farmer -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">93</span> -showed Captain Dixon and me all round his farm. -He was full of pride in everything; of his horses first -of all. There were three in the first stable, sleek and -strong; then we saw <i>la mère</i>, a beautiful mare in -foal; then lastly there was ‘Piccaninny,’ a yearling. -All the stables were spotlessly clean, and the animals -well kept. But to see him with his lambs was best -of all. The ewes were feeding from racks that ran -all along both sides of the sheds, and his lantern -showed two long rows of level backs, solid and uniform -and dull; while in the middle of the shed -was a jocund company of close-cropped lambs, -frisking, pushing, jostling, or pulling at their dams; -as lively and naughty a crew as you could imagine. -‘Ah! <i>voleur</i>,’ cried our friend, picking up a lamb -that was stealing a drink from the wrong tap, and -pointing to its dam at the other end of the shed; he -fondled and stroked it like a puppy, making us -hold it, and assuring us it was not <i>méchant</i>!</p> - -<p>At 7.0 we had our dinner in the kitchen. The -farmer, his wife, and the <i>domestique</i> (a manservant, -whose history I will tell in a few minutes) had just -finished, and were going to clear off; but we asked -them to stay and let us drink their health in whiskey -and soda. The farmer said this was wont to make -the <i>domestique</i> go ‘zigzag’; for himself, he would -drink, not for the inherent pleasure of the whiskey, -which was a strong drink to which he was unused, -he being of the land of light wines, but to give us -pleasure! So the usual healths were given in -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">94</span> -Old Orkney and Perrier. Then we were told the -history of the <i>domestique</i>, which brought one very -close to the spirit in which France is fighting. He -had eight children in Peronne, barely ten miles the -other side of the line. Called up in September, 1914, -he was in the trenches until March, 1915, when he -was released on account of his eight children. But -by then the living line had set between them in -steel and blood, and never a word yet has he heard -of his wife and eight children, the youngest of whom -he left nine days old! There are times when our -cause seems clouded with false motives; but there -seemed no doubt on this score to-night, as we -watched this man in his own land, creeping up, as -it were, as near as possible to his wife and children -and home, and yet barred from his own village, and -without the knowledge even that his own dear ones -were alive. The farmer told us he had gone half -crazed. Yet he had a fine face, though furrowed -with deep lines down his forehead. ‘Ten minutes -in the yard with the Germans—ah! what would -he do!’ And vividly he drew his hand across his -throat. But the Germans would never go back: -that was another of his opinions. No wonder he -told us he doubted the <i>bon Dieu</i>: no wonder he -sometimes went zigzag.</p> - -<p>The farmer was well educated, and had very intelligent -views on the war; one son was a captain; -the other was also serving in some capacity. The -wife made us good coffee, but got very sleepy. I -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">95</span> -learnt she rose every morning at 4.0 a.m. to milk -the cows.</p> - -<p>To-night we can hear the guns. There seems a -considerable liveliness at several parts of the line, -and strange rumours of the Germans breaking -through, which I do not believe. To-morrow we -shall be within the shell-zone again.”</p> - -<p>“Feb. 1st. To-day we marched to Morlancourt -and are spending the night in huts. It is very cold, -and we have a brazier made out of a biscuit tin, -but it smokes abominably. We are busy getting -trench-kit ready for the next day. From outside the -hut I can see star-lights, and hear machine-guns -tapping. It thrills like the turning up of the footlights.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>And it was a long act. The curtain did not fall -till June. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">96</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI<br /> - -THE BOIS FRANÇAIS TRENCHES</h2> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">This</span> is a chapter of maps, diagrams, and -technicalities. There are people, I know, -who do not want maps, to whom maps -convey practically nothing. These people can skip -this chapter, and (from their point of view) they -will lose nothing. The main interest of life lies in -what is done and thought, and it does not much -matter exactly where these acts and thoughts take -place. Maps are like anatomy: to some people it -is of absorbing interest to know where our bones, -muscles, arteries and all the rest of our interior -lie; to others these things are of no account whatever. -Yet all are alike interested in human people. -And so, quite understanding (I think you are really -very romantic in your dislike of maps: you associate -them with the duller kind of history, and examination -papers!), I bid you mapless ones farewell till -page 117, promising you (again) that you shall lose -nothing.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Now to work. We understand each other, we -map-lovers. The other folk have gone on to the -next chapter, so we can take our time. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">97</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<p class="author small"><i>To face page 97</i></p> -<img id="i_097" src="images/i_097.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">MAP II.</p> -<p class="caption small">TRENCH LINE —·—·—·—·—·—</p> -</div> - -<p>Now look at Map II. The River Ancre runs down -west of the Thiepval ridge, through Albert, and then -in a south-westerly course through Méricourt-l’abbé -down to Corbie, where it joins the Somme on its -way to Amiens. On each side of the Ancre is high -ground of about 100 metres. The high ground -between the Ancre and the Somme forms a long -tableland. There is no ridge, it is just high flat -country, from three hundred and thirty to three -hundred and forty feet, cultivated and hedgeless. -Now look at Fricourt. It is a break in this high -ground running on the left bank of the Ancre, and -this break is caused by a nameless tributary of that -river, that joins it just west of Méaulte. And now -you will see that this little streamlet was for over -a year and a half the cause of much thought and -labour to very many men indeed: for this stream -formed the valley in which Fricourt lies; and right -across this valley, just south of that unimportant -little village, ran for some twenty months or so -the Franco-German and later the Anglo-German -lines.</p> - -<p>Now look at the dotted line (—·—·) which represents -the trenches. From Thiepval down to Fricourt -they run almost due north and south; then they run -up out of the valley on to the high ground at Bois -Français (a small copse, I suppose, once; I have -never discovered any vestige of a tree-stump among -the shell-holes), and then abruptly run due east. -It is as though someone had appeared suddenly on -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">98</span> -the corner of the shoulder at Bois Français, and -pushed them off, compelling them to make a détour. -After five miles they manage to regain their direction -and run south again.</p> - -<p>It is these trenches at Bois Français that we held -for over four months. I may fairly claim to know -every inch of them, I think! It is obvious that if -you are at Bois Français, and look north, you have -an uninterrupted view not only of both front lines -running down into Fricourt valley, but of both -lines running up on to the high ground north of -Fricourt, and a very fine view indeed of Fricourt -itself, and Fricourt wood. It is also quite clear that -from their front lines north of Fricourt the Germans -had a good view of <i>our</i> front lines and communications -in the valley; but of Bois Français and our -trenches east of it they had no enfilade view, as all -our communications were on the reverse slope of -this shoulder of high ground. So as regards observation -we were best off. Moreover, whereas they -could not possibly see our support lines and communications -at Bois Français, we could get a certain -amount of enfilade observation of their trenches -opposite from point 87, where was a work called -Boute Redoubt and an artillery observation post.</p> - -<p>The position of the artillery immediately becomes -clear, when the lie of the ground is once grasped. -For field artillery enfilade fire is far most effective, -as the trajectory is lower than that of heavy artillery. -That is to say, a whizz-bang (the name given to an -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">99</span> -18-lb. shell) more or less skims along the ground -and comes <i>at</i> you; whereas howitzers fire up in -the air, and the shell rushes down on top of you. -To be explicit at the risk of boring:—</p> - -<p>If a battery of eighteen-pounders can fire up a -trench like this:— - -<span class="figcenter"> -<img id="i_099a" src="images/i_099a.jpg" alt="" /> -</span> - -it has far more effect against the nine men in that -trench than if it fires like this: - -<span class="figcenter"> -<img id="i_099b" src="images/i_099b.jpg" alt="" /> -</span></p> - -<p>The same applies of course to howitzers, but as -howitzers drop shells down almost perpendicularly, -they can be used with great effect traversing along -a trench, that is to say, getting the exact range of -the trench in sketch (<i>b</i>), and dropping shells methodically -from right to left, or left to right, so many to -each fire-bay, and dodging about a bit, and going -back on to a bit out of turn so that the enemy cannot -tell where the next coal-box is coming. Oh! it is -a great game this for the actors, but not for the -unwilling audience.</p> - -<p>So you can see now why a battery of field artillery -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">100</span> -was stationed in the gully called Gibraltar, and -another just west of Albert (at B): each of these -batteries could bring excellent enfilade fire on to -the German trenches. There was another battery -that fired from the place I have marked C, and -another at D. The howitzers lived in all sorts of -secret places, as far back as Morlancourt some of -them. One never worried about them. They knew -their own business. Once, in June, on our way into -the trenches we halted close by a battery at E, -and I looked into one of the gun-pits and saw the -terrible monster sitting with its long nose in the -air. And I saw the great shells (it was a 9·6) waiting -in rows. But I felt like an interloper, and fled at -the approach of a gunner. All these howitzers you -see firing on the Somme films, we never saw or -thought about; only we loved to hear their shells -whistling and “griding” (if there is no such word, -I cannot help it: there is an “r” and a “d” in -the sound anyway!) over our head, and falling -“crump,” “crump,” “crump” along the German -support trenches. There were a lot of batteries in -the Bois des Tailles; the woods were full of them, -and grew fuller and fuller. I do not know what they -all were.</p> - -<p>As one brigade contains four battalions, we almost -invariably had two battalions in the line, and two -“in billets.” So it was usually “six days in and -six days out.” During these six days out we also -invariably supplied four working-parties per company, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">101</span> -which lasted nine hours from the time of -falling in outside company headquarters to dismissing -after marching back. Still, it was “billets.” -One slept uninterruptedly, and with equipment and -boots off. Now we were undeniably lucky in being -invariably (from February to June, 1916) billeted -in Morlancourt, which, as you can see from the map, -is situated in a regular cup with high ground all -round it. I have put in the 50-metre contour line -to show exactly how the roads all run down into it -from every quarter. It was a cosy spot, and a very -jolly thing after that long, long weary grind up -from Méaulte at the end of a weary six days in, to -look down on the snug little village waiting for you -below. For once over the hill and “swinging” -down into Morlancourt, one became, as it were, -cut off from the war suddenly and completely. It -was somewhat like shutting the door on a stormy -night: everything outside was going on just the -same, but with it was shut out also a wearing, -straining tension of body and mind.</p> - -<p>Yes, we were very lucky in being billeted at Morlancourt. -It was just too far off to be worth shelling, -whereas Bray was shelled regularly almost every -day. So was Méaulte. And there were brigades -billeted in both Bray and Méaulte. There were -troops in tents in the Bois des Tailles, and this too -was sometimes shelled.</p> - -<p>Now just look, please, at the two thick lines, -which represent alternative routes to the trenches. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">102</span> -We were always able to relieve by day, thanks to -the rolling nature of the country. (Where the line -is dotted, this represents a trench.) We always used -to go by the route through Méaulte at one time, -until they took to shelling the road at the point I -have marked Z; whether they could see us from -an observation post up la-Boiselle way, or whether -they spotted us by observation balloon or aeroplane, -one cannot say. But latterly we always used the -route by the Bois des Tailles and Gibraltar. In -both cases we had to cross the high ground S.W. -of point 71 by trench, but on arrival at that point -we were again in a valley and out of observation. -All along this road were a series of dug-outs, and -here were companies in reserve, R.E. headquarters, -R.A.M.C. dressing-station, field kitchens, stores, -etc. And here the transport brought up rations -every evening viâ Bray. One could walk about -here, completely secure from view; but latterly -they took to shelling it, and it was not a healthy -spot then. It was also enfiladed occasionally by -long-range machine-gun fire. But on the whole it -was a good spot, and one had a curious sensation -being able to walk about on an open road within a -thousand yards of the Germans. The dug-outs -called “71 North” were the best. The bank -sloped up very steeply from the road, thus protecting -the dug-outs along it from anything but shell-fire -of very high trajectory. And this the Germans -never used. However, one did not want to walk -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">103</span> -too far along the road, for it led round the corner -into full view of Fricourt at X. There was a trench -at the side of the road that ought to be hopped -down into, but it could easily be missed, and there -was no barrier across the road! I saw a motor-cyclist -dash right along to the corner once, and -return very speedily when he found himself gazing -full view at Fricourt!</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<p class="author small"><i>To face page 103</i></p> -<img id="i_103a" src="images/i_103a.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">MAP III.</p> -<img id="i_103b" src="images/i_103b.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Map III is an enlargement of the area in Map II, -and gives details of our trenches and the German -trenches opposite. I wish I could convey the sense -of intimacy with which I am filled when I look at -this map. It is something like the feelings I should -ascribe to a farmer looking at a map of his property, -every inch of which he knows by heart; every -field, every copse, every lane, every hollow and hill -are intimate things to him. With every corner he -has some association; every tree cut down, every -fence repaired, every road made up, every few -hundred yards of shaw grubbed up, every acre of -orchard enclosed and planted—all these he can call -back to memory at his will. So do I know every -corner, every turning in these trenches; every -traverse has its peculiar familiarity, very often -its peculiar history. This traverse was built the -night after P——’s death; this trench was dug -because “75 Street” was so marked down by the -enemy rifle-grenades; another was a terrible straight -trench till we built those traverses in it; another -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">104</span> -was a morass until we boarded it. How well I -remember being half buried by a canister at the -corner of “78 Street”; and the night the mine -blew in all the trench between the Fort and the -Loop; what an awful dug-out that was at Trafalgar -Square; how we loathed the straightness of Watling -Street. And so on, <i>ad infinitum</i>. We were in those -trenches for over four months, and I know them as -one knows the creakings of the doors at home, the -subtle smell of the bath-room, the dusty atmosphere -of the box-room, or the lowness of the cellar door. -Particularly intimate are the recollections of dug-outs, -with their good or bad conveniences in the -way of beds and tables, their beams that smote you -on the head as regularly as clockwork, or their -peculiarly musty smell. One dug-out invariably -smelt of high rodent; another of sand-bag, nothing -but sand-bag.</p> - -<p>From February, then, to June we kept on going -into these trenches drawn on Map III, and then -back to Morlancourt for rest and working-parties, -all as regular as clockwork. Once or twice the actual -front line held by our battalion was altered, so that -I have been in the trenches all along from the -Cemetery (down in the valley) to the end of the -craters opposite Danube Trench. But every time -except twice my company held part of the trench -between 83 B (the end of the craters) and the Lewis -gun position to the right of 76 Street. The usual -distribution of the battalion was as follows:— -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">105</span></p> - -<table> - <tr> - <td>A</td> - <td>Company.</td> - <td>From 80 A to L. G. (Lewis gun) on right of 76.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>B</td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td>Maple Redoubt.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>C</td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td>71 North.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>D</td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td>L. G. on right of 76 to 73 Street.</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<blockquote> - -<p>(After three days A and B, and C and D, -relieved each other.)</p></blockquote> - -<table> - <tr> - <td>Battalion Headquarters,<br /> - Headquarter Bombers,<br /> - M.O. and H.Q. Stretcher-bearers<br /> - R.S.M.</td> - <td>Maple Redoubt.</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p>Maple Redoubt was what is known as a “strong -point.” In case of an enemy attack piercing our -front line, the company in Maple Redoubt held out -at all costs to the last man, even if the enemy got -right past and down the hill. There was a dug-out -which was provisioned full up with bully-beef and -water (in empty petrol cans) ready for this emergency. -There was a certain amount of barbed-wire -put out in front of the trenches to N., W., and E.; -and there were two Lewis-gun positions at A and -B. Really it was not a bad little place, although -the “Defences of Maple Redoubt” were always -looked on by us as rather more of a big joke than -anything. No one ever really took seriously the -thought of the enemy coming over and reaching -Maple Redoubt. Raid the front line he was liable -to do at any moment; but attack on such a big -scale as to come right through, no, no one really -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">106</span> -ever (beneath the rank of battalion commander, -anyway) worried about that. Still, if he did, there -was the redoubt anyway; and there was another -called “Redoubt A” on the hill facing us, as one -looked from Maple Redoubt across the smoke -rising from dug-outs which could just not be seen -under the bank at 71 North. Here was rumoured -to be bully-beef and water also, and the Machine-gun -Corps had some positions in it which they visited -occasionally; but even a notice “No one allowed -this way,” failed to tempt me to explore its interior. -One saw it, traced out on the hill, from -Maple Redoubt, and there I have no doubt it still -is, with its bully-beef intact and its water a little -stale!</p> - -<p>So much for Maple Redoubt. In case of attack, -as I have said, it was a strong point that must -hold out at all costs, while the company at 71 North -came up to Rue Albert, and would support either -of the front companies as the C.O. directed. The -front companies of course held the front line to the -last man. Meanwhile, the two battalions in billets -would be marching up from Morlancourt, to the -high ground above Redoubt A (that is, just east of -D on Map II). Up there were a series of entrenched -“works,” known as the “intermediate line.” (The -“second line” ran a little north of point 90, N.E. -of Morlancourt. But no one took <i>that</i> seriously, -anyway.) The battalions marching up from billets -might have to hold these positions, or, what was -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">107</span> -more likely, be ordered to counter-attack immediately. -Such was the defence scheme.</p> - -<p>“Six days in billets: three days in support. -Not particularly hard, that sounds,” I can hear -someone say. I tried to disillusion people in an -earlier chapter about the easiness of the “rest” in -billets, owing to the incessant working-parties. -These were even more incessant during these four -months. Let me say a few words then, also, about -life in support trenches. I admit that for officers -it was not always an over-strenuous time; but -look at Tommy’s ordinary programme:—</p> - -<p>This would be a typical day, say, in April.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>4 a.m. Stand to, until it got light enough to clean -your rifle; then clean it.</p> - -<p>About 5 a.m. Get your rifle inspected, and turn -in again.</p> - -<p>6.30 a.m. Turn out to carry breakfast up to -company in front line. (Old Kent Road very -muddy after rain. A heavy dixie to be carried -from top of Weymouth Avenue, up viâ Trafalgar -Square, and 76 Street to the platoon holding -the trench at the Loop.)</p> - -<p>7.45 a.m. Get your own breakfast.</p> - -<p>9 a.m. Turn out for working-party; spend -morning filling sandbags for building traverses -in Maple Redoubt.</p> - -<p>11.30 a.m. Carry dinner up to front company. -Same as 6.30 a.m.</p> - -<p>1 p.m. Get your own dinner. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">108</span></p> - -<p>1 to 4 p.m. (With luck) rest.</p> - -<p>4 p.m. Carry tea up to front company.</p> - -<p>5 p.m. Get your own tea.</p> - -<p>5.15 to 7.15 p.m. (With luck) rest.</p> - -<p>7.15 p.m. Clean rifle.</p> - -<p>7.30 p.m. Stand to. Rifle inspected.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Jones puts his big ugly boot out suddenly, -just after you have finished cleaning rifle, and -upsets it. Result—mud all over barrel and -nose-cap.</p></blockquote> - -<p>8.30 p.m. Stand down. Have to clean rifle again -and show platoon sergeant.</p> - -<p>9 p.m. Turn out for working-party till 12 midnight -in front line.</p> - -<p>12 midnight. Hot soup.</p> - -<p>12.15 a.m. Dug-out at last till</p> - -<p>4 a.m. Stand to.</p></blockquote> - -<p>And so on for three days and nights. This is -really quite a moderate programme: it is one that -you would aim at for your men. But there are -disturbing elements that sometimes compel you to -dock a man’s afternoon rest, for instance. A couple -of canisters block Watling Street; you <i>must</i> send -a party of ten men and an N.C.O. to clear it at once: -or you suddenly have to supply a party to carry -“footballs” up to Rue Albert for the trench-mortar -man. The Adjutant is sorry; he could not -let you know before; but they have just come up -to the Citadel, and must be unloaded at once. So -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">109</span> -you have to find the men for this on the spur of -the moment. And so it goes on night and day. -Oh, it’s not all rum and sleep, is life in Maple -Redoubt.</p> - -<p>Three days and nights in support, and then comes -the three days in the front line.</p> - -<p>Now we will take it that “B” Company is holding -from 80 A to the Lewis-gun position to the right -of 76 Street. You will notice at once that almost -the whole of No Man’s Land in front of this sector -of trenches is a chain of mine craters. No one can -have much idea of a crater until he actually sees -one. I can best describe it as a hollow like a quarry -or chalk hole about fifty yards in diameter and some -forty or fifty feet deep. (They vary in size, of -course, but that is about the average.) The sides, -which are steepish, and vary in angle between -thirty and sixty degrees, are composed of a very -fine thin soil, which is, in point of fact, a thick -sediment of powdered soil that has returned to -earth after a tempestuous ascent into the sky. A -large mine always causes a “lip” above the ground -level, which appears in section somewhat like -this:— - -<span class="figcenter"> -<img id="i_109" src="images/i_109.jpg" alt="" /> -</span></p> - -<p>There is usually water in the bottom of the -deeper craters. When a series of craters is formed, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">110</span> -running into one another, you get a very uneven -floor that appears in lengthwise section thus:— - -<span class="figcenter"> -<img id="i_110a" src="images/i_110a.jpg" alt="" /> -</span></p> - -<p>The dotted line is the ground level: the uneven -line is the course that would be taken by a man -walking along the bottom of the chain of craters, -and keeping in the centre. Actually, of course, -(on patrol) one would not keep in the centre where -the crater contained water, but would skirt the -water by going to one side of it. The “bridges” -are important, as they are naturally the easiest -way across the craters; a bombing patrol, for -instance, could crawl over a bridge, without having -to go right down to the bottom level, and (which -is more important) will not have a steep climb up -over very soft and spongy soil. These bridges are -the “lips” of the larger craters where they join -the smaller; looking at a crater-chain <i>in plan</i> -X is a “bridge,” whereas Y and Z are “lips” -rising above ground level.</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<img id="i_110b" src="images/i_110b.jpg" alt="" /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">111</span></p> - -<p>This crater-chain being understood, the system -of sentries is easily grasped. Originally, before -mining commenced, our front line ran (roughly) -from left to right along Rue Albert up 80 A Street -and along to the top of 76 Street in a straight line. -Then began the great game of mining under the -enemy parapet and blowing him up; and its corollary -countermining, or blowing up the enemy’s -mine galleries before he reached your parapet. -Such is the game as played underground by the -tunnelling companies, R.E. To the infantry belongs -the work (if not blown up) of consolidating the -crater, whether made by your or an enemy mine, -that is to say, of seizing your side of the crater and -guarding it by bombing-posts in such a way as to -prevent the enemy from doing anything except -hold his side of the crater.</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<img id="i_111" src="images/i_111.jpg" alt="" /></p> - -<p>For instance, take a single crater, caused by us -blowing up the German gallery before it reaches -our parapet. If we do nothing, the enemy digs a -trench into the crater at A, and can get into the -crater any time he likes and bomb our front line, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">112</span> -and return to his trench unseen. This, of course, -never happens, as we dig a sap into the crater from -our side, and the result is stale-mate; each side -can see into the crater, so neither can go into it.</p> - -<p>That is all. 83 B, 81 A, the Matterhorn sap, -the Loop, the Fort—they are all saps up to crater-edges, -in some cases joined up along the edge (as -between 83 B and 83 A, or at the Loop and the -Fort.) And these saps are held by bombing-posts. -Where there are no craters in front (as, for instance, -between the Fort and the Loop), there the trench is -held by sentry groups in the ordinary way. The -most important bombing-posts are at the “bridges,” -which are the points that most want guarding.</p> - -<p>Each platoon has so many posts to “find” men -for. No. 5 Platoon has three posts between the -Lewis-gun position and the top of 76 Street; No. 6 -finds two in the Fort and one between the Fort -and the Loop; there is another post before you -reach the Loop, found by No. 7, who also finds -two in the Loop itself; while No. 8 finds the -Matterhorn post and the top of 80 A. All these -posts are composed of one bomber, who has a box -of bombs with him and his rifle without bayonet -fixed, and one bayonet man. There is no special -structure about a “post”: it is just the spot in -the trench where the sentries are placed. Sometimes -one or two posts could be dispensed with by -day, if one post could with a periscope watch the -ground in front of both. The sentry groups are -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">113</span> -relieved every two hours by the platoon N.C.O. -on trench duty. There is always an N.C.O. on trench -duty, going the rounds of his sentry groups, in every -platoon; and one officer going round the groups -in the company. Thus is secured the endless chain -of unwinking eyes that stretches from Dunkirk to -Switzerland.</p> - -<p>There were two Lewis guns to every company. -One had a position at the Fort, covering the ground -between the Fort and the Loop; the other was -just to the right of 80 A, where it had a good position -sweeping the craters. The Lewis-gun teams found -their sentries independently of the platoons, and -had their dug-outs. A nice compact little affair -was a Lewis-gun team; always very snug and self-contained.</p> - -<p>Company Headquarters were at Trafalgar Square, -though later we changed to a dug-out half-way up -76 Street. Each platoon had a dug-out about fifty -yards behind the front line, and as far as possible -one arranged to get the men a few hours’ sleep in -them every day; but only a certain percentage at a -time. There were four stretcher-bearers and two -signallers also at Trafalgar Square. Also a permanent -wiring-party had its quarters here, a corporal -and five men; they made up “concertina” -or “gooseberry” wire by day, and were out three -or four hours every night putting it out. They were, -of course, exempt from other platoon duties. Each -platoon had a pioneer to attend to sanitary arrangements, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">114</span> -and other odd jobs such as fetching up soup; -and each platoon had an orderly ready to take -messages. At Company Headquarters, besides the -officers’ servants, were the company orderly, and -company officers’ cook. An officer on trench duty -was accompanied by his servant as orderly.</p> - -<p>This was the distribution of the company in the -front line. Every morning from 9 to 12 all men -not on sentry worked at repairing and improving -the trenches; and the same for four hours during -the night. Work done to strengthen the parapet -can only be done by night. Every night wire was -put out. Every night a patrol went out. Every -day one “stood to” arms for an hour before dawn, -and an hour after dusk. And day and night there -was an intermittent stinging and buzzing of black-winged -instruments between the opposing trenches. -Of shells I have already spoken; next in deadliness -were rifle-grenades, which are bombs with a rod -attachment that is put down the barrel of an ordinary -rifle. Four of these rifles are stood in a rack -fixed to the ground, and fired by a string from a -few yards away, at a very high trajectory. They -are a very deadly weapon, as you cannot see them -dropping on to you. Then there is a multiform -genus called “trench-mortar,” being projectiles of -all kinds and shapes lobbed over from close range. -The canister was the most loathed. It was simply -a tin oil-can, the size of a lady’s muff (large); one -heard a thud, and watched the beast rising, rising, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">115</span> -then stationary, it seemed, in mid-air, and then -come toppling down, down, down on top of one -with a crash—three seconds’ silence—and then a -most colossal explosion, blowing everything in its -vicinity to atoms. These canisters were loathed by -the men with a most personal and intense aversion. -Yet they were really not nearly so dangerous as -rifle-grenades, as one had time to dodge them very -often, unless enfiladed in a communication trench. -They were, moreover, very local in their effects. A -shell has splinters that spread far and wide; a -trench-mortar is a clumsy monster with a thin -skin, no splinters, and an abominable, noisy, vulgar -way of making the most of itself. “Sausages” -were another but milder form of the vulgar trench-mortar; -aerial torpedoes were daintier people with -wings, who looked so cherubic as they came sailing -over, that one almost forgot their deadly stinging -powers; they, too, were a species of trench-mortar.</p> - -<p>It is natural to write lightly of these things; yet -they were no light matters. They were the instruments -of death that took their daily toll of lives. -In this chapter describing the system and routine -of ordinary trench warfare, I have tried to prepare -the canvas for several pictures I have drawn in -bold bare lines; now I am putting in a wash of -colour, the atmosphere of Death.</p> - -<p>Sometimes we forgot it in the interest of the -present activity; sometimes we saw it face to face, -without a qualm; but always it was there with -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">116</span> -its relentless overhanging presence, dulling our -spirits, wearing out our lives. The papers are -always full of Tommy smiling: Bairnsfather has -immortalised his indomitable humour. Yes, it is -true. We laugh, we smile. But for an hour of -laughter, there are how many hours of weariness, -strain, and grim agony! It is great that Tommy’s -laughter has been immortalised; but do not forget -that its greatness lies in this, that it was uttered -beneath the canopy of ever-impending Death. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">117</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII<br /> - -MORE FIRST IMPRESSIONS</h2> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">It</span> must not be imagined that I at once grasped -all the essential details of our trench system, -as I have tried to put them concisely in the -preceding chapter. On the contrary, it was only -very gradually that I accumulated my intimate -knowledge of our maze of trenches, only by degrees -that I learnt the lie of the land, and only by personal -patrolling that I learnt the interior economy -of the craters. At first the front line, with its loops -and bombing-posts, and portions “patrolled only,” -its sand-bag dumps, its unexpected visions of -R.E.’s scurrying like bolted rabbits from mine-shafts, -its sudden jerk round a corner that brought -you in full view of the German parapet across a -crater that made you gaze fascinated several -seconds before you realised that you should be -stooping low, as here was a bad bit of trench that -wanted deepening <i>at once</i> and had not been cleared -properly after being blown in last night—all this, -I say, was at first a most perplexing labyrinth. -It was only gradually that I solved its mysteries, -and discovered an order in its complexity. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">118</span></p> - -<p>I will give a few more extracts from my diary, -some of which seem to me now delightfully naïve! -Here they are, though.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“2nd Feb., 1916. In the trenches. Everything -very quiet. We are in support, in a place called -Maple Redoubt, on the reverse slope of a big ridge. -Good dug-outs (<i>sic</i>), and a view behind, over a big -expanse of chalk-downs, which is most exhilarating. -A day with blue sky and a tingle of frost. Being -on the reverse slope, you can walk about anywhere, -and so can see everything. Have just been up in -the front trenches, which are over the ridge, and a -regular, or rather very irregular, rabbit-warren. -The Boche generally only about thirty to forty -yards away. The trenches are <i>dry</i>, that is the -glorious thing. <span class="smcap">Dry.</span> Just off to pow-wow to the -new members of my platoon.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Here I will merely remark that the “good” -dug-out in which we were living was blown in by -a 4·2 shell exactly four days later, killing one -officer and wounding the other two badly. With -regard to the state of the trenches, it was dry -weather, and “when they were dry they were dry, -and when they were wet they were wet!”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“3rd Feb. Another beautiful February morning. -Slept quite well, despite rats overhead. -O’Brien and Dixon awfully dull and heavy; can’t -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">119</span> -think why. Everything outside is full of life; -there is a crispness in the air, and a delightful sharp -shadow and light contrast as you look up Maple -Redoubt.</p> - -<p>Meditations on coldness, and how it unmans—on -hunger, and how it weakens—on the art of -feeding and warming, and how women realise this, -while men do not usually know there is any art in -keeping house at all!</p> - -<p>Meditations, too, on the stupidity, slowness, and -clumsiness of officers’ servants.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Dixon’s snores make me bucked with life; so, -too, this same clumsiness of the servants. Lewis -came in just now. ‘Why are you waiting, Lewis?’ -I asked. ‘I thought Watson was waiting to-day.’ -(This after a great strafing of servants for general -stupidity and incompetence.) ‘None of the others -dared come in, sir,’ he replied, in his high piping -voice, and a broad grin on his face. Oh! they are -good fellows! Why be fed up with life? Why -long faces? Long faces, these are the bad things -of life, the things to fight against....”</p> - -<p>So did my vision of the Third Army School bear -fruit, I see now!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“Philosophy from the trenches. Does it cover -everything? Does it explain the fellows I passed -this morning being carried to the Aid Post, one -with blood and orange iodine all over his face, and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">120</span> -the other wounded in both legs? It always comes -as a surprise when the bombs and shells produce -wounds and death....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Watched a mine go up this evening—great -yellow-brown mass of smoke, followed by a beautiful -under-cloud of orange-pink that steamed up in -a soft creamy way. No firing and shelling followed -as at Givenchy....</p> - -<p>Take over from ‘A’ to-morrow morning.</p> - -<p>10 p.m. Great starlight. Jupiter and Venus -both up, and the Great Bear and Orion glittering -hard and clean in the steely sky. I wish I had a -Homer. I am sure he has just one perfect epithet -for Orion on a night like this. I shall read Homer -in a new light after these times. I begin to understand -the spirit of the Homeric heroes; it was all -words, words, words before. Now I see. Billet -life—where is that in the <i>Iliad</i>? In the tents, of -course. And the eating and drinking, the ‘word -that puts heart into men,’ the cool stolid facing -of death, all those gruesome details of wounds and -weapons, all is being enacted here every day exactly -as in the Homeric age. Human nature has not -altered.</p> - -<p>And did not Homer tell, too, how utterly ‘fed -up’ they were with it all? Can one not read -between the lines and see, besides the glamour of -physical courage, the strain, the weariness, the -‘fed-upness’ of them all! I think so. ‘Νόστος’ is -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">121</span> -a word I remember so well. They were all longing -for the day of their return. As here, the big fights -were few and far between; and as here, there were -the months and years of waiting.</p> - -<p>And on them, too, the stars looked down, winking -alike at Greeks and Trojans; just as to-night -thousands of German and British faces, dull-witted -or sharp, sour-faced or smiling, sad or happy, are -gazing up and wondering if there is any wisdom in -the world yet.</p> - -<p>Four thousand years ago? And all the time -the stars in the Great Bear have been hurtling -apart at thousands of miles an hour, and the human -eye sees no difference. No wonder they wink -at us....</p> - -<p>And our mothers, and wives ... the women-folk—Euripides -understood their views on war. -Ten years they waited....</p> - -<p><i>Must</i> go to bed. D—— these scuffling rats.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Frequently I found my thoughts flying back -through the years, and more especially on starlit -nights, or on a breathless spring evening, to the -Greeks and Romans. Life out here was so primitive; -so much a matter of eating and drinking, -and digging, and sleeping, and so full of the elements, -of cold, and frost, and wind, and rain; -there were so many definite and positive physical -goods and bads, that the barrier of an unreal -civilisation was completely swept away. Under -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">122</span> -the stars and in a trench you were as good as any -Homeric warrior; but you were little better. And -so you felt you understood him. And here I will -add that it was especially at sunset that the passionate -desire to live would sometimes surge up, -so intense, so clamorous, that it swept every other -feeling clean aside for the time.</p> - -<p>But to return to Maple Redoubt, or rather to -Gibraltar, where the next entry in my diary was -written.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“6th Feb. Rather an uncomfortable dug-out -in Gibraltar. Yesterday was a divine day. I sat -up in ‘the Fort’ most of the day, watching the -bombardment. Blue sky, on the top of a high -chalk down; larks singing; and a real sunny dance -in the air. We watched four aeroplanes sail over, -amid white puffs of shrapnel; and a German -’plane came over. I could see the black crosses very -plainly with my glasses. Most godlike it must have -been up there on such a morning. I felt very pleased -with life, and did two sketches, one of Sawyer, -another of Richards....</p> - -<p>A dull thud, and then ‘there goes another,’ -shouts someone. It reminds me of Bill the lizard -coming out of the chimney-pot in <i>Alice in Wonderland</i>. -Everyone gazes and waits for the crash! -Toppling through the sky comes a big tin oil-can, -followed immediately by another; both fall and -explode with a tremendous din, sending up a fifty-foot -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">123</span> -spurt of black earth and flying débris, while -down the wind comes the scud of sand-bag fluff -and the smell of powder. This alternated with the -4·2’s, which come over with a scream and wait -politely a second or two before bursting so inelegantly.” -(I seem to have got mixed up a bit here: -it was usually the canisters that “waited.”)</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“The mining is a great mystery to me at present. -One part of the trench is only patrolled, as the -Boche may ‘blow’ there at any moment. I must -say it is an uncomfortable feeling, this liability to -sudden projection skywards! The first night I -had a sort of nightmare all the time, and kept -waking up, and thinking about a mine going up -under one. The second night I was too tired to -have nightmares.</p> - -<p>The rats <i>swarm</i>. I woke up last night, and -saw one sitting on Edwards, licking its whiskers. -Then it ran on to the box by the candle. It was -a pretty brown fellow, rather attractive, I thought. -I felt no repulsion whatever at sight of it....</p> - -<p>The front trenches are a <i>maze</i>. I cannot disentangle -all the loops and saps; and now we are -cut off from ‘C,’ as the front trench is all blown in; -one has to have a connecting patrol that goes viâ -Rue Albert. A very weird affair. The only consolation -is that the Boche would be <i>more</i> lost if he -got in!</p> - -<p>I cannot help feeling that ‘B’ company has -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">124</span> -been very lucky. We were in Maple Redoubt, -Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday; everything -was quite quiet with us, but ‘D’ had seven casualties -in the front trench. On Friday we relieved -‘A,’ and all Saturday the enemy bombarded a spot -just behind our company’s left, putting over 4·2’s -and canisters all day long from 9.0 a.m. onwards, -and absolutely smashing up our trenches there. -Then Trafalgar Square has been rather a hot shop: -two of our own whizz-bangs fell short there, and -several rifle grenades fell <i>very</i> close—also, splinters -of the 4·2’s came humming round, ending with little -plops quite close. O’Brien picked up a large -splinter that fell in the trench right outside the -dug-out. Again, at ‘stand-down,’ when Dixon, -Clark, Edwards, and I were standing talking together -at the top of 76 Street, two canisters fell most -alarmingly near us, about ten yards behind, covering -us with dirt. Yet we have not had a single casualty.</p> - -<p>To-day we were to have been relieved by the -Manchesters at midday, but this morning at ‘stand -to’ we heard the time had been altered to 8.0 a.m. -‘B’ was duly relieved, and No. 5 Platoon had just -changed gum-boots, while 6, 7, and 8 were sitting -at the corner of Maple Redoubt enthralled in the -same process, when over came two canisters, one -smashing in Old Kent Road, down which we had -just come, and the other falling right into an ‘A’ -Company dug-out, twenty yards to my left, killing -two men and wounding three others, one probably -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">125</span> -mortally. And now I have just had the news that -the Manchester have had twenty-three casualties -to-day, including three officers, their R.S.M., and -a company sergeant-major.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>As I read some of these sentences, true in every -detail as they are, I cannot help smiling. For it -was no “bombardment” that took place on our -left all day; it was merely the Germans potting -one of our trench-mortar positions! And Trafalgar -Square was really very quiet, that first time in. -But what I notice most is the way in which I record -the fall of <i>individual</i> canisters and rifle grenades, -even if they were twenty yards away! Never a -six days in, latterly, that we did not have to clear -Old Kent Road and Watling Street two or three -times; and we used to fire off a hundred rifle -grenades a day very often, and received as many -in return always. And the record of casualties one -did not keep. We <i>were</i> lucky, it is true. Once, and -once only, after, did “B” Company go in and -come out without a casualty. Those first two days -in Maple Redoubt, when “everything was quiet,” -were the most deceitful harbingers of the future that -could have been imagined. “Why long faces?” -I could write. The Manchesters had a ruder but -a truer introduction to the Bois Français trenches, -and especially to Maple Redoubt. For the dug-outs -were abominable; not one was shell-proof; -and there was no parados or traverse for a hundred -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">126</span> -and fifty yards. The truth of the matter was -that these trenches had been some of the quietest -in the line; for some reason or other, when -our Division took them over, they immediately -changed face about, and took upon themselves the -task of growing in a steady relentless crescendo into -one of the hottest sectors in the line.</p> - -<p>On the 22nd of February the Germans raided our -trenches on the left opposite Fricourt. They did -not get much change out of it. I can remember at -least four raids close on our left or right during -those four months; they never actually came -over on our front, but we usually came in for the -bombardment. The plan is to isolate the sector -to be raided by an intense bombardment on that -sector, and on the sectors on each side; to “lift” -the barrage, or curtain of fire, at a given moment off -the front line of the sector raided “what time” -(as the old phrase goes) they come over, enter the -trench, if they can, make a few prisoners, and get -back quickly. All the while the sectors to right -and left are being bombarded heavily. It was this -isolating bombardment that our front line was -receiving, while we were left unmolested in 71 -North. All this I did not know at the time. Here -is my record of it.</p> - -<p>“25 Feb., 1916. It is snowing hard. We are in -a very comfortable tubular dug-out in 71 North. -This dug-out is the latest pattern, being on the -twopenny-tube model; very warm, and free from -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">127</span> -draughts. It is <i>not</i> shell-proof, but then shells -never seem to come near here.</p> - -<p>Let me try and record the raid on our left on -the 22nd, before I forget it.</p> - -<p>The Manchesters were in the front line and -Maple Redoubt. During the afternoon the Boche -started putting heavies on to Maple Redoubt, -and the corner of Canterbury Avenue. ‘Bad -luck on the Manchesters again,’ we all agreed—and -turned in for tea. There was a wonderful -good fire going.</p> - -<p>‘By Jove, they are going it,’ I said, as we sat -down and Gray brought in the teapot. Thud! -Thud! Thud—thud! We simply had to go out -and watch. Regular coal-boxes, sending up great -columns of mud, and splinters humming and -splashing right over us, a good hundred yards or -more. ‘Better keep inside,’ from Dixon.</p> - -<p>We had tea, and things seemed to quiet down.</p> - -<p>Then about six o’clock the bombardment got -louder, and our guns woke up like fun. ‘Vee-bm -... vee-bm’ from our whizz-bangs going over, -and then the machine-guns began on our left. -Simultaneously, in came Richards (Dixon’s servant) -with an excited air. ‘Gas,’ he exclaimed. -Instinctively, I felt for my gas helmet. Meanwhile -Dixon had gone outside. ‘Absurd,’ he said in a -quiet voice. ‘The wind’s wrong. Who brought -that message?’</p> - -<p>Then up came a telephone orderly. I heard -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">128</span> -him running on the hard road. ‘Stand to,’ he said -breathlessly, and Dixon went off to the ’phone -with him. Nicolson appeared in a gas helmet. -I was looking for my pipe, but could not find it. -Then at last I went out without it.</p> - -<p>Outside it was getting dark. It was a fairly -nippy air. The bombardment was going strong. -All the sky was flickering, and our guns were -screaming over. ‘Crump, crump,’ the Boche -shells were bursting up by Maple Redoubt. ‘Scream, -scream,’ went our guns back; and right overhead -our big guns went griding.</p> - -<p>All this I noticed gradually. My first impression -was the strong smell of gas helmets in the -cold air. The gas alarm had spread, and some -of the men had their helmets on. I felt undecided. -I simply did not <i>know</i>, whether the men should -wear them or not. What was happening? I -wished Dixon would come back. Ah! there he -was. What news?</p> - -<p>‘I can’t get through,’ he said, ‘but we shall get -a message all right if necessary.’</p> - -<p>‘What’s happening?’ I asked. ‘Do you think -they are coming over.’</p> - -<p>‘No. It won’t last long, I expect. Still, just -let’s see if the men have got their emergency rations -with them.’</p> - -<p>A few had not, and were sent into the dug-outs -for them. Gas helmets were ordered back into -their satchels. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">129</span></p> - -<p>‘No possibility of gas,’ said Dixon; ‘wind’s -dead south.’</p> - -<p>I was immensely bucked now. There was a -feeling of tenseness and bracing-up. I felt the -importance of essentials—rifles and bayonets in -good order—the men fit, and able to run. This -was the real thing, somehow.</p> - -<p>I made Lewis go in and get my pipe. I found -I had no pouch, and stuffed loose baccy in my -pocket.</p> - -<p>I realised I had not thought out what I would -do in case of attack. I did not know what was -happening. I was glad Dixon was there....</p> - -<p>It was great, though, to hear the continuous -roar of the cannonade, and the machine-guns -rapping, not for five minutes, but all the time. -That I think was the most novel sound of all. No -news. That was a new feature. A Manchester -officer came up and said all their communications -were cut with the left.</p> - -<p>I was immensely bucked, especially with my -pipe. Our servants were good friends to have -behind us, and Dixon was a man in his element. -The men were all cool. ‘Germans have broken -through,’ I heard one man say. ‘Where?’ said -someone rather excitedly. ‘In the North Sea,’ -was the stolid reply.</p> - -<p>At last the cannonade developed into a roar -on our left, and we realised that any show was -there, and not on our sector. Then up came the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">130</span> -quartermaster with some boots for Dixon and me, -and we all went into the dug-out, where was a -splendid fire. And we stayed there, and certain -humorous remarks from the quartermaster suddenly -turned my feelings, and I felt that the tension -was gone, the thing was over; and that -outside the bombardment was slackening. In half -an hour it was ‘stand down’ at 7.40.</p> - -<p>I was immensely bucked. I knew I should be -all right now in an attack. And the cannonade -at night was a magnificent sight. Of course we -had not been shelled, though some whizz-bangs -had been fired fifty yards behind us just above -‘Redoubt A,’ trying for the battery just over the -hill.</p> - -<p>My chief impression was, ‘This is the real thing.’ -You must know your men. They await clear -orders, that is all. It was dark. I remember -thinking of Brigade and Division behind, invisible, -seeing nothing, yet alone knowing what was happening. -No news, that was interesting. An entirely -false rumour came along, ‘All dug-outs blown in -in Maple Redoubt.’</p> - -<p>I had sent Evans to Bray to try and buy coal: -he returned in the middle of the bombardment -with a long explanation of why he had been unable -to get it.</p> - -<p>‘Afterwards,’ I said. Somehow coal could wait.</p> - -<p>All the while I have been writing this, there is -a regular blizzard outside.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">131</span></p> - -<p>Such is my record of my first bombardment. -The Manchesters, who were in the front line, -suffered rather heavily, but not in Maple Redoubt. -No dug-outs were smashed in at all there, though -Canterbury Avenue was blocked in two places, -and Old Kent Road in one. The Germans came -over from just north of Fricourt, but only a very -few reached our trenches, and of them about a -dozen were made prisoners, and the rest killed. -It was a “bad show” from the enemy point of -view.</p> - -<p>And now I will leave my diary. These first impressions -are interesting enough, but later the -entries became more and more spasmodic, and -usually introspective. The remaining chapters -are not exactly, though very nearly, chronological. -From February 6th to March 8th I was Sniping -and Intelligence officer to the battalion. Chapters -VIII, IX, and XII describe incidents in that period. -Then on March 8th Captain Dixon was transferred -as Second-in-Command to our ——th Battalion, -and on that date I took over the command of -“B” Company, which I held until I was wounded -on the 7th of June. These were the three months -in which I learnt the strain of responsibility as -well as the true tragedy of this war.</p> - -<p>During all these four months I was fortunate -in having as a commanding officer a really great -soldier. The C.O. had inaugurated his arrival by -a vigorous emphasis of the following principle: -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">132</span> -“No Man’s Land belongs to <i>US</i>; if the Boche -dare show his face in it, he’s going to be d—d sorry -for it. We are top-dogs, and if there is any strafing, -the last word must always be ours.” Such was -the policy of the man behind me during those -four months. Meanwhile, from eight to midnight -every night, trenches were being deepened, the -parapet thickened, and fire-steps and traverses being -put in the front line, which had hitherto been a -maze of hasty improvisations; barbed wire was -put out at an unprecedented pace, and patrols were -going out every night. If things went wrong, there -was the devil to pay; but if things went well, one -was left entirely unmolested; and if there was a -bombardment on, the orders came quick and clear. -And any company commander will know that those -three qualities in a commanding officer are worth -almost anything. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">133</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII<br /> - -SNIPING</h2> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">The</span> snow was coming down in big white -flakes, whirling and dancing against a grey -sky. I shivered as I looked out from the -top of the dug-out steps in Maple Redoubt. It was -half-past seven, a good hour since the snipers had -reported to me before going to their posts. It was -quite dark then, for a sniper must always be up on -his post a good hour before dawn to catch the -enemy working a few minutes too late. It is so -easy to miss those first faint glimmerings of twilight -when you are just finishing off an interesting piece -of wiring in “No Man’s Land.” I speak from -experience. For so a sniper got me.</p> - -<p>“U—u—u—gh,” I shuddered, “it’s no good -keeping the men on in this”; so, putting my -whiskey-bottle full of rum in my haversack, I set -off up Old Kent Road to visit my posts and withdraw -the men <i>pro tem</i>. I expected to find the -fellows unutterably cold, shrivelled up, and bored. -To my surprise, at No. 1 post Thomas and Everton -were in a state of huge excitement, eyes glowing, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">134</span> -and faces full of life. There seemed to be a great -rivalry, too, for the possession of the rifle. For the -snipers always worked in pairs: a man cannot gaze -out at the opposing lines with acute interest for -more than about half an hour on end; so I used to -work them by pairs, and give them shifts according -to the weather. In summer you could put a pair on -for four hours, and they would work well, taking -half-hour shifts; but in cold weather two hours was -quite enough.</p> - -<p>“We’ve got them, sir,” from 75 Thomas; “they -was working in the trench over there—by all them -blue sand-bags, sir—four of them, sir——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and I saw him throw up his arms, sir,” -put in Everton, excited for the first time I have ever -seen him, and trying to push Thomas out of the box, -and have another look. But Thomas would not be -pushed.</p> - -<p>“Splendid,” I said: “by Jove, that’s good work. -Can I see?” But it was snowing hard, and I could -see very little. I tried the telescope. “Put it right -up to your eye, sir,” said Thomas, forgetting that I -had myself taught him this in billets as he vainly -tried to see through it holding it about four inches -from his face, and declaring that he could see everything -just as well with his own eyes!</p> - -<p>“Yes, I think I see where you mean,” said I; “up -by that sand-bag dump. There’s a mine-shaft there, -and they were probably some of their R.E.’s piling -up sand-bags, or emptying them out. I believe that -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">135</span> -is what they usually do now, fill the sand-bags below -in their galleries, bring them up, empty them, and -use the same ones again.”</p> - -<p>Thomas and Everton gaped at this. It had not -occurred to them to consider that the Boche had -R.E.’s. They were of the unimaginative class of -snipers, who “saw, did, and reported,” and on the -whole I preferred them to those who saw, and immediately -“concluded.” For their conclusions -were usually wrong. To men like Thomas I was, -I think, looked upon as one who had some slightly -supernatural knowledge of the German lines; he -did not realise that by careful compass-bearings I -knew the exact ground visible from his post, and -that my map of the German lines, showing every -trench as revealed by aeroplane photographs, was -accurate to a yard. He was like a retriever, who -keeps to heel, noses out his bird with unerring skill, -and brings it in with the softest of mouths; yet the -cunning and strategy he leaves to his master, who -is decidedly his inferior in nose and mouth. So 75 -Thomas could see and shoot far better than I; -but it was I who thought out the strategy of the -shoot.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said I, as I doled out a rather more liberal -rum ration than usual, “that’s d—— good work, -anyway. Two you got, you say? Not sure about -the second? Anyway you had two good shots, and -remember what I told you, a sniper only shoots to -kill. So two it’s going to be, anyhow.” (They both -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">136</span> -grinned at this, which was the nearest they could -get to a wink.) “I’m very pleased about it. Now -it’s not much good staying up here in this thick snow, -so you can go off till I send word to your dug-out -for you to go on again.”</p> - -<p>I turned to go away, thinking that the other posts, -rumless, and in all probability quarryless, must be -in a state of exasperating coldness by now. But -Thomas and Everton did not move. There was -something wanted.</p> - -<p>“Well, what is it?”</p> - -<p>“Please sir, can we stay on here a bit? P’raps -one of those R.E. fellows may come back for something.”</p> - -<p>“Good heavens, yes,” I said, “stay on as long as -you like,” and smiled as I made off to my other posts. -(Later I used to get the snipers to report to me coming -off their posts, and get their rum ration then; -as I found it gave a bad appearance and damaged -the reputation of the snipers when people saw me -going about with the nose of a bottle of “O.V.H.” -whiskey sticking out of my haversack!) There, -as I expected, I found the men blue and bored.</p> - -<p>“You can’t see nothing to-day, sir, at all,” was -the sentence with which I was immediately greeted. -Even the rum seemed to inspire very little outward -enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>“You can go off to your dug-outs till I send for -you,” I replied, carefully corking the bottle and not -looking at them while I spoke: “if you like,” I -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">137</span> -added after a pause, looking up. But the post was -empty.</p> - -<p>That afternoon I was up on No. 1 post, with a -sniper who was new to the work. It was still freezing, -but the snow-clouds had cleared right away, -and the wind had dropped. There was a tingle in -the air; everything was as still as death; the sun -was shining from a very blue sky, and throwing -longer and longer shadows in the snow as the afternoon -wore on. It was a valuable afternoon, the -enemy’s wire showing up very clearly against the -white ground, and I was showing the new sniper -how to search the trench systematically from left to -right, noting the exact position of anything that -looked like a loophole, or steel-plate, and especially -the thickness of the wire, what kind, whether it was -grey and new, or rusty-red and old; whether there -were any gaps in it, and where. All these things a -sniper should note every morning when he comes on -to his post. Gaps are important, as patrols must -come out through gaps, and the Lewis gunners -should know these, and be ready to fire at them if a -patrol is heard thereabouts in No Man’s Land. -Similarly, old gaps closed up must be reported.</p> - -<p>It was very still. “Has the war stopped?” -one felt inclined to ask. No, there is the sound of -shells exploding far away on the right somewhere; -in the French lines it must be, somewhere about -Frise. Then a “phut” from just opposite, and a -long whining “we’oo—we’oo—we’oo—we’-oo ... -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">138</span> -bzung,” and a rifle-grenade burst with a snarl about -a hundred yards behind. Then another, and -another, and another. “They’re trying for Trafalgar -Square,” said I. No. 1 post was a little to the -right of the top of 76 Street. I waited. There were -no more. It was just about touch and go whether -we replied. If they went on up to about a dozen, the -chances were that the bombing-corporal in charge -of our rifle-grenade battery would rouse himself, and -loose off twenty in retaliation. But, no. Perhaps -the German had repented him of the evil of desecrating -the peace of such an afternoon; or perhaps he -was just ranging, and had an observer away on the -flank somewhere to watch the effect of his shooting. -Anyway he did not fire again, and the afternoon -slumber was resumed, till the evening “strafe” -came on in due course.</p> - -<p>“I can see something over on the left, sir. It is -a man’s head, sir! Look!”</p> - -<p>I looked. Yes!</p> - -<p>“No,” I almost shouted. “It’s a dummy head. -Just have a look. And don’t, whatever you do, -fire.”</p> - -<p>Sure enough, a cardboard head appeared over the -front parapet opposite, with a grey cap on. Slowly -it disappeared. Without the telescope it would -have been next to impossible to see it was not a man. -Again it appeared, then slowly sank out of view. It -was well away on the left, just in front of where the -“R.E.’s” had been hit at dawn. For this post was -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">139</span> -well-sited, having an oblique field of vision, as all -good sniping-posts should. That is to say, they -should be sited something like this: - -<span> -<img class="figcenter" id="i_139" src="images/i_139.jpg" alt="" /> -</span></p> - -<p>The ideal is to have all your posts in the supports, -and <i>not</i> in the front line, and at about three hundred -yards from the enemy front line. Of course if the -ground slopes <i>away</i> behind you, you cannot get -positions in the supports unless there are buildings -to make posts in. By getting an <i>oblique</i> view, you -gain two advantages:</p> - -<p>(<i>a</i>) If A gets a shot at C, C’s friends look out for -“that d——d sniper opposite,” and look in the -direction of B, who is carefully concealed from direct -view.</p> - -<p>(<i>b</i>) A’s loophole is invisible from direct observation -by D, as it is pointing slantwise at C.</p> - -<p>All this I now explained to my new sniper.</p> - -<p>“But why not smash up his old dummy, sir? -Might put the wind up the fellow working it.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">140</span></p> - -<p>“No,” I explained. “Look at the paper again. -(I had drawn it out for him, as I have on the previous -page.) Thomas shot at those R.E.’s this morning, -don’t you see? He was here (B), and they’re at D. -Now they’re trying to find <i>you</i>, or the man who shot -their pal; and you can bet anything you like they’ve -got a man watching either at C or right away on the -left to spot you if you fire at the dummy. No. Lie -doggo, and see if you can spot that man on the flank. -He’s probably got a periscope.”</p> - -<p>“Can’t see him, sir,” at length.</p> - -<p>“No. Never mind; he’s probably far too well -concealed. Always remember the Boche is as clever -as you, and sometimes cleverer.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, but he wants me to shoot, sir, and I won’t,” -came the cheery answer. “What about smashing -up his old dummy?” I reminded him. His face -fell. He had forgotten his old un-sniper-like self -already. “Never mind,” said I. “Now when -Thomas and Everton come up here, mind you tell -them all about the dummy; and tell Thomas from -me that the Boche doesn’t spend his time dummy-wagging -for nothing. Probably it was an R.E. -sergeant.”</p> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>“Swis-s-sh—báng. Swis-s-sh—báng.”</p> - -<p>“That settles it,” said I, as I scrambled hastily -down into the trench, preceded by the sniper I had -with me that day as orderly. I more or less pushed -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">141</span> -him along for ten yards—then halted; we faced -each other both very much out of breath and -“blowy.” The whole place was reeking with the -smell of powder, and the air full of sand-bag fluff.</p> - -<p>“That settles it,” I repeated: “I always thought -that was a rotten post; and I object to being whizz-banged. -‘A sniper’s job is to see and not be seen.’ -Isn’t that right, Morris?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,” replied Morris, adding with a sad lack -of humour “They must have seen us, sir!”</p> - -<p>“Exactly: they did. And they weren’t very far -off hitting one of us into the bargain. As I say, -that settles it. We’ll leave that post for ever and -ever; and to-night we’ll build a new one that they -<i>won’t</i> see.”</p> - -<p>At ten o’clock that night we were well at work. -Just on the one hundred metre contour line there -was a small quarry, at the west end of which had -been the too conspicuous post where the Boche had -spotted us. Every loophole must by its very nature -be “spottable”; but when the natural ground is -so little disturbed that it looks exactly the same as -it did before the post was made, then indeed this -“spottability” is so much reduced that it verges on -invisibility. So, leaving the old post exactly as -before, we were building a new one about twenty -yards to the west of it.</p> - -<p>There was a disused support trench running west -from the Quarry, and this suited my purpose admirably. -It ran just along the crest of the hill, and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">142</span> -commanded even a better view of Fricourt than the -Quarry itself. Moreover, there was enough earth -thrown up in front of the trench to enable us to fix -in the steel-plate (at an angle of 45°: this increases -its impenetrability) on ground level, without the top -protruding above the top of the earth. The soil in -front was not touched at all until the plate was fixed -in, and then enough was carefully scooped away -from the front of the actual loophole to secure a fair -field of view. The earth in front of the loophole is -then exactly like a castle wall, with a splay window. -If you think of a Norman castle you will know -exactly what I mean. The loophole represents the -inch-wide aperture in the inner side of the splay. -Similarly an embrasure is built behind the loophole, -with room for one man to stand and fire, and the -second man to sit by him. A rainproof shelter of -corrugated iron is placed over this embrasure, and -covered over with earth; this prevents it being -spotted by aeroplane; also it makes the place habitable -in the rain. Here is a section of a typical sniper’s -post: - -<span> -<img class="figcenter" id="i_142" src="images/i_142.jpg" alt="" /> -</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">143</span></p> - -<p>“Click, click click” went the pick into the chalk, -cutting room for the embrasure; there was a tinny -sound as some of the loose surface soil came away -with a spurt, spilling on to the two sheets of corrugated -iron waiting to go on to the roof. Added to -this were the few quiet whispers, such as “Where’s -that sand-bag?” or “Is this low enough, sir?”, -and the heavy breathing of Private Evans as he -returned from the Quarry after emptying his sand-bag. -For all the chalk cut away had to be carried -to the Quarry and emptied there; new earth on the -top there would not give any clue to those gentlemen -in Fricourt Wood who put the smell of powder in -my nostrils a few hours back.</p> - -<p>It was a darkish night, but not so dark but -what you could see the top of the trench. There -are very few nights when the sky does not show -lighter than the trench-sides. There are a few, -though, especially when it is raining; and they -are bad, very bad. But that night I could just -distinguish the outline of the big crater-top, half-right, -and follow the near skyline along the German -parapet down into Fricourt valley. I was -gazing down into that silent blackness, when a -machine-gun started popping; I could see the -flashes very clearly from my position. Somewhere -in Fricourt they must be.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the post was nearly finished; the -corrugated iron was being fixed to the wooden upright, -and Jones was on the parapet sprinkling earth -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">144</span> -over it. The others were deepening the trench from -the Quarry to the post.</p> - -<p>“That’s the machine-gun that goes every night, -sir,” said Jones. “Enfilading, that’s what it is.”</p> - -<p>“Pop—pop—pop,” answered the machine-gun.</p> - -<p>“Look here, Jones,” said I. “You know No. 5 -post, opposite Aeroplane Trench?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir!”</p> - -<p>“Well, go down there, and see if you can see the -flashes from there; and if you can, mark it down. -See?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir!” and he had his equipment on in no -time, and was starting off when I called him back.</p> - -<p>“Be very careful to mark your own position,” -I warned him. “You know what I mean.”</p> - -<p>He knew, and I knew that he knew.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, I stuck an empty cartridge case in the -parados behind my head and waited.</p> - -<p>Five flashes spat out again, and “pop—pop—pop—pop—pop” -came up out of the valley: and -between me and them in the parapet I stuck a -second cartridge case——</p> - -<p>I looked at my watch. It was half-past twelve. -The post was finished, and the trench deep enough -to get along, crawling anyway.</p> - -<p>“Cease work.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The next day was so misty that you could see -practically nothing over five hundred yards, and the -new post was useless. The following day it had -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">145</span> -frozen again, and an inch of snow lay on the ground. -It was a sunny morning, and from the new post all -Fricourt lay in full view before me. How well I -remember every detail of that city of the dead! In -the centre stood the white ruin of the church, still -higher than the houses around it, though a stubby -stump compared to what it must have been before -thousands of shells reduced it to its present state. -All around were houses; roofless, wall-less skeletons -all of them, save in a few cases, where a red roof still -remained, or a house seemed by some magic to be -still untouched. On the extreme right was Rose -Cottage, a well-known artillery mark; just to its -left were some large park-gates, with stone pillars, -leading into Fricourt Wood; and just inside the -wood was a small cottage—a lodge, I suppose. The -extreme northern part of the village was invisible, -as the ground fell away north of the church. I -could see where the road disappeared from view; -then beyond, clear of the houses, the road reappeared -and ran straight up to the skyline, a mile -further on. A communication trench crossed this -road: (I remember we saw some men digging there -one morning). With my glasses I could see every -detail; beyond the communication trench were -various small copses, and tracks running over the -field; and on the skyline, about three thousand -yards away, was a long row of bushes.</p> - -<p>And just to the left of it all ran the two white lace-borders -of chalk trenches, winding and wobbling -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">146</span> -along, up, up, up until they disappeared over the -hill to La Boiselle. Sometimes they diverged as -much as three hundred yards, but only to come in -together again, so close that it was hard to see which -was ours and which the German. Due west of -Fricourt church they touched in a small crater -chain.</p> - -<p>It was a fascinating view. I could not realise -that there lay a <i>French</i> village; I think we often -forgot that we were on French soil, and not on a -sort of unreal earth that would disappear when the -war was over; especially was No Man’s Land a kind -of neutral stage, whereon was played the great game. -To a Frenchman, of course, Fricourt was as French -as ever it had been. But I often forgot, when I -watched the shells demolishing a few more houses, -that these were not German houses deserving of -their fate. Perhaps people will not understand this: -it is true, anyway.</p> - -<p>I was drawing a sketch of the village, when lo! -and behold! coolly walking down the road into -Fricourt came a solitary man. I had to think -rapidly, and decide it must be a German, because -the thing was so unexpected; I could not for the -moment get out of my head the unreasonable idea -that it might be one of our own men! However, -I soon got over that.</p> - -<p>“Sight your rifle at two thousand yards,” said I -to Morgan, who was with me. “Now, give it to -me.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">147</span></p> - -<p>Carefully I took aim. I seemed to be holding the -rifle up at an absurd angle. I squeezed, and -squeezed——</p> - -<p>The German jumped to one side, on to the grass -at the side of the road, and doubled for all he was -worth out of sight into Fricourt! Needless to say, -I did not see him again to get another shot!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“They’ve been using that road last night, sir,” -said 58 Morgan, while I was taking a careful bearing -on my empty cartridge case. (A prismatic compass -is invaluable for taking accurate cross-bearings.)</p> - -<p>“Yes,” I said. “Why yes, of course, they must -have used it last night. I never thought of that. -Good. We’ll get the artillery on there to-night, -and upset their ration-carts.”</p> - -<p>This pleased the fancy of Sniper 58 Morgan, and -a broad grin came over his face at the thought of the -Boche losing his breakfast.</p> - -<p>“Maybe, sir, we’ll see the sausages on the road -to-morrow morning.”</p> - -<p>For which thought I commended him not a little: -a sense of humour is one of the attributes of a good -sniper, just as rash conclusions are not.</p> - -<p>I then went down to No. 5 Post, where Jones was -awaiting me, according to arrangement. There I -took a second bearing, and retired to my dug-out to -work out the two angles on the map. “From map -to compass add: from compass to map subtract” -I repeated to myself, and disposed of the magnetic -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">148</span> -variation summarily. Then with the protractor I -plotted out the angles. “Exactly. The small house -with the grey roof standing out by itself on the left. -So that’s where you live, my friend, is it?”</p> - -<p>Once more I was up at the new post, scrutinising -the grey-roofed house with the telescope. After a -long gaze, I almost jumped. I gave the telescope to -Morgan. He gazed intently for a moment.</p> - -<p>Then, “Is that a hole, sir, over the door, in the -shadow, like ...?”</p> - -<p>“It is,” I answered</p> - -<p>That night the machine-gun started popping as -usual, when suddenly a salvo of whizz-bangs -screamed over, and H.E.’s joined in the game. All -round and about the little grey-roofed house flickered -the flashes of bursting shells. Then the enemy -retaliated, and for a quarter of an hour “a certain -liveliness prevailed.” Then came peace. But there -was no sound all night of a machine-gun popping -from Fricourt village; on the other hand, our -machine-guns had taken up the tune, with short -bursts of overhead fire, searching for those Boche -ration carts. And in the morning the grey-roofed -cottage appeared with two tiles left on the right-hand -bottom corner of the roof, and the front wall -had a huge gap in it big enough to act as a mouth -for fifty machine-guns. Only Morgan was disappointed: -all marks of the sausages had been -cleared away before dawn! After all, are not the -Germans pre-eminently a tidy people? -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">149</span></p> - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>Private Ellis had hard blue eyes that looked at -you, and looked, and went on looking; they always -reminded me of the colour of the sea when a north -wind is blowing and the blue is hard and bright. I -have seen two other pairs of eyes like them. One -belonged to Captain Jefferies, the big game shooter, -who lectured on Sniping at the Third Army School. -The other pair were the property of a sergeant I met -this week for the first time. “Are you a marksman?” -I asked him. “Yes, sir! Always a marksman, -sir.”</p> - -<p>There is no mistaking those eyes. They are the -eyes of a man who has used them all his life, and -found them grow steadier and surer every year. -They are essentially the eyes of a man who can -watch, watch, watch all day, and not get tired of -watching; and they were the eyes of my best -sniper.</p> - -<p>For Private Ellis had all the instincts of a cunning -hunter. I had no need to tell him to keep his telescope -well inside the loophole, lest the sun should -catch on the glass; no need to remind him to stuff -a bit of sand-bag in the loophole when he left the -post unoccupied. He never forgot to let the sand-bag -curtain drop behind him as he entered the box, -to prevent light coming into it and showing white -through a loophole set in dark earth. There was no -need either to make sure that he understood the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">150</span> -telescopic sights on his rifle; and there was no need -to tell him that the Boches were clever people. He -never under-estimated his foe.</p> - -<p>It was a warm day in early March. Private Ellis -was in No. 5 Box, opposite Aeroplane Trench. This -post was very cunningly concealed. Our front -trench ran along a road, immediately behind which -was a steep chalk bank, the road having originally -been cut out of a rather steep slope. You will see -the lie of the ground clearly enough on Map III. -Just about five yards behind this bank was cut a -deep narrow trench, and in this trench were built -several snipers’ posts, with loopholes looking out of -the chalk bank. These loopholes were almost impossible -to see, as they were very nearly indistinguishable -from the shadows in the bank. Anyone -who has hunted for oyster-catchers’ eggs on a -pebbly beach knows that black and white is the -most protective colour scheme existing. And so -these little black loopholes were almost invisible -in the black and white of the chalk bank.</p> - -<p>All the morning Private Ellis had been watching -out of the corner of his eye a little bit of glass shining -in Aeroplane Trench. Now Aeroplane Trench (as -you will also see from the map) was a sap running -out from the German front trench into a sunken -road. From the centre sap two little branch saps -ran up and down the road, and then slightly forward; -the whole plan of it rather resembled an aeroplane -and gave it its name. In it to-day was a Boche with -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">151</span> -a periscopic rifle; and it was this little bit of glass -at the top of the periscope, and the nose of the rifle-barrel -that Private Ellis was watching. Every now -and again the glass and nose-cap would give a little -jump, and “plop” a bullet would bury itself in our -front parapet. One of our sentries had had his periscope -smashed during the morning, I was informed -by a company commander with rather the air of -“What’s the use of you and your snipers, if you -can’t stop them sniping us?” I told Ellis about -the periscope, to which he replied: “It won’t break -us, I guess, sir—twopenn’orth of new glass for a periscope. -It’s heads that count.” In which remark -was no little wisdom.</p> - -<p>“Crack—plop,” and after a long interval another -“Crack—zin—n—n—g,” as a bullet ricocheted off -a stone, and went away over the ridge and fell with -a little sigh somewhere in the ground right away -beyond Redoubt A. So it went on all the afternoon, -while the sun was warming everyone up and one -dreamed of the summer, and warm days, dry -trenches, and short nights. Ellis had gone off -rather reluctantly at midday, and the other relief -was there. There was a slumbrous sensation about -that brought on the feeling that there was no one -really in the enemy trenches at all. Yet there was -the little glass eye looking at us: it reminded one of -a snake in the grass. It glittered, unblinking.</p> - -<p>At about six o’clock I again visited the post. -Ellis was back there, and watching as keenly as ever. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">152</span></p> - -<p>“No luck?” I remarked. “I’m afraid your -friend is too wily for you; he’s not going to put his -head over, when he can see through a periscope as -well.”</p> - -<p>Still Private Ellis said little, but his eye was as -clear and keen as ever; and still the periscope -remained.</p> - -<p>“We must shell him out to-morrow,” I said, and -went off.</p> - -<p>At half-past seven we had “stood down,” and I -was messing with “B” Company, when I heard a -voice at the top of the dug-out, and the servant who -was waiting—Lewis, I think it was—said a sniper -wanted to see me.</p> - -<p>“Tell him to come down.”</p> - -<p>Private Ellis appeared at the door. Not a muscle -in his body or face moved, but his eyes were glowing -and glittering. “Got him, sir,” was all he said.</p> - -<p>“What?” I cried. “Got that Boche in Aeroplane -Trench? By Jove, tell us all about it.”</p> - -<p>And so to the accompaniment of a whiskey and -Perrier he told us exactly what happened. It was -not till well after “stand-to,” it appeared, that any -change had occurred in Aeroplane Trench. Then -the periscope had wobbled and disappeared below -ground. Then there had been another long wait, -and the outline of the sunken road had begun to get -faint. Then slowly, very slowly, a pink forehead -had appeared over the top, and as slowly disappeared. -I wish I had been there to watch Ellis -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">153</span> -then. I can imagine him coolly, methodically -sighting his rifle on the trench-edge, and waiting. -“I had to wait another minute, sir; then it appeared -again, the whole head this time. He thought -it was too dark to be seen ... Oh, he won’t worry -us any more, sir! I saw one of his arms go up, and -I thought I could see him fall against the back of -the trench. But it was getting so dark, I couldn’t -have seen him five minutes later at all.”</p> - -<p>And if Ellis couldn’t, who could?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Next day, and for many days, there was no sniping -from Aeroplane Trench. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">154</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX<br /> - -ON PATROL</h2> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">“Hullo</span>, Bill!” from Will Todd, as he -passed me going up 76 Street.</p> - -<p>“Hullo,” I answered, “where are you -off to?”</p> - -<p>“Going on patrol,” was the reply. “Oh, by -the way, you probably know something about this -rotten sap opposite the Quarry. I’m going out to -find out if it’s occupied at night or not.”</p> - -<p>“Opposite the Quarry?” said I. “Oh, yes, -I know it. We get rather a good view of it from -No. 1 Post.”</p> - -<p>“That post up on the right here? Yes, I was -up there this afternoon, but you can’t see much -from anywhere here. The worst of it is I was going -with 52 Jones; only his leave has just come through. -You see, I’ve never been out before. I’m trying a -fellow called Edwards, but I don’t know him.”</p> - -<p>“If you can’t get Edwards,” I said suddenly, -“I’ve a good mind to come out with you. Meet me -at Trafalgar Square, and let me know.”</p> - -<p>As Will disappeared, I immediately repented of -my offer, repented heartily, repented abjectly. I -had never been on patrol, and a great sinking feeling -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">155</span> -came over me. I hoped with all my might that -Edwards would be bubbling over with enthusiasm -for patrolling. I was afraid. With all the indifference -to shells and canisters that was gradually -growing upon me, I had never been out into No -Man’s Land. And yet I had volunteered to go out, -and at the time of doing so I felt quite excited at -the prospect. “Fool,” I said to myself.</p> - -<p>“Edwards doesn’t seem at all enthusiastic about -it,” said Will. “Will you really come out?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, rather. I’m awfully keen to go. I’ve -never been before, either. How are you going?”</p> - -<p>We exchanged views on how best to dress and -carry our revolvers, which instantly assumed a new -interest.</p> - -<p>“What time are you going out?”</p> - -<p>“Eight o’clock.”</p> - -<p>It was a quarter to already.</p> - -<p>In the dug-out I was emptying my pockets, -taking off my equipment, and putting on a cap-comforter. -I had my compass with me, and put -it in my pocket. I looked on the map and saw -that the sap was practically due north of the -Quarry. And I took a nip of brandy out of my -flask. Will had gone to arrange with Captain -Robertson about warning the sentries. I was alone, -and still cursing myself for this unnecessary adventure. -When I was ready, I stodged up 76 Street -to the Quarry. It was certainly a good night, very -black. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">156</span></p> - -<p>When I saw Will and Captain Robertson together -on the fire-step peering over, I felt rather bucked -with myself. Hitherto I had felt like an enthusiastic -bather undressing, nearly everyone else -having decided it was not warm enough to bathe; -now it was as if I suddenly found that they were -watching me as I ran down the beach, and I no -longer repented of my resolution. Next moment -I was climbing up on to the slimy sandbag wall, -and dropping over the other side. I was surprised -to find there was very little drop at all. There -was an old ditch to be crossed, and then we came -to our wire, which was very thin at this point. -While Will was cursing, and making, it seemed to -me, rather an unnecessary rattling and shaking of -the wire (you know how wire reverberates if you -hit a fence by the road), I looked back at our own -parapet. I felt it would be a good thing to see -on one’s return; again, it struck me how low it -was, regarded from this side; I saw a head move -along the top of it. This made me jump. Already -our trench seemed immeasurably far off.</p> - -<p>I looked in front again, as the noise of Will’s -wire-rattling had ceased. In fact he was clean -out of sight. This made me jump again, and I -hurried on. It was “knife-rest” wire (see next -page).</p> - -<p>I stepped over it, and my foot came down on to -more wire, which rattled with a noise that made -me stand stock still awaiting something to happen. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">157</span> -I felt like a cat who has upset a tablecloth and all -the tea things. I stood appalled at the unexpected -clatter. But really it was hardly audible to <i>our</i> -sentries, much less to the Germans at least a -hundred and twenty yards away.</p> - -<p> -<img class="figcenter" id="i_157" src="images/i_157.jpg" alt="" /> -</p> - -<p>At last I got through and flopped down. Immediately -Will’s form showed up dark in front of -me. When I was standing up, I had been unable -to see him against the black ground. We lay about -a minute absolutely quiet, according to arrangement.</p> - -<p>I had fairly made the plunge now, and I felt -like the bather shaking his hair as he comes up -for the first time, and shouting out how glorious -it is. I was elated. The feel of the wet grass was -good under my hands; the silence was good; the -immense loneliness, save for Will’s black form, was -good; and a slight rustle of wind in the grass was -good also. I just wanted to lie, and enjoy it. I -hoped Will would not go on for another minute. -But soon he began to crawl.</p> - -<p>Have you done much crawling? It is slow work. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">158</span> -You take knee-steps, and they are not like footsteps: -they are not a hundred and twenty to the -hundred yards They are more like fifty to ten -yards, I should think. Anyway it seemed endless. -The end of the sap was, to be precise, just one -hundred and twenty-five yards from our front -trench. Yet when I had gone, I suppose, forty -yards, I expected to be on it any minute. Will -must be going wrong. I thought of the map. -Could we be going north-east instead of north? -Will halted. I nearly bumped into his right foot, -which raised itself twice, signalling a halt. I took -out my compass, and looked at it. I shaded it -with my hand, the luminous arrow seemed so -bright: “rather absurd,” I thought immediately, -“as if the Boches could possibly see it from the -trench.” But we were going straight enough. -Then the figure in front moved on, and I came -up to where he had halted. It was the edge of a -big shell-hole, full of water; I put my left hand -in up to the wrist, I don’t know why.</p> - -<p>Still the figure crawled on, with a sort of hump-backed -sidle that I had got to know by now. It -was interminable this crawling....</p> - -<p>“Swis—s—sh.” A German flare shot up from -ever so close. It seemed to be falling right over us. -Then it burst with a “pop.” I had my head down -on my arms, but I could squint out sideways. It -seemed impossible we should not be seen; for -there, hardly twenty yards away, was the German -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">159</span> -wire, as clear as anything. Meanwhile the flare -had fallen behind us. Would it never go out? -I noticed the way the blades of grass were lit up -by it; and there was an old tin or something.... -I started as a rat ran across the grass past me. -I wondered if it were a German rat, or one of -ours.</p> - -<p>Then at last the flare went out, and the blackness -was intense. For a while longer we lay still -as death; then I saw Will’s foot move again. I -listened intently, and on my right I heard a metallic -sound. Quite close it was; it sounded like the -clank of a dixie. I peered hard in the direction of -the sound. Faintly I could distinguish earth above -the ground-line. I had not looked to my right -when the flare went up, and realised, as Will -already had done, that we were out as far as the -end of the sap. It was perhaps ten yards off, due -right. I lay with my ear cocked sideways to catch -the faintest sound. Clearly there was someone in -the sap. But there was a wind swishing in the -grass, and I could not hear anything more. Then -my tense attitude relaxed, and I gradually sank -my chin on my arm. I felt very comfortable. I -did not want to move....</p> - -<p>“Bang!!” and then a flame spat out; then came -that gritty metallic sound I had heard before, and -another “Bang!” I kept my head down and -waited for the next, but it did not come. Then I -heard a most human scroopy cough, which -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">160</span> -also sounded <i>very</i> near. The “bangs” were -objectionably near; I literally shrank from them. -To tell the truth, I had the “wind up” a bit. -Those bullets seemed to me vicious personal spits -that were distinctly unpleasant and near; and I -wanted to get away from so close a proximity to -them. I remembered a maxim of some famous -General to the intent that if you are afraid of the -enemy, the best thing was to remember that in all -probability he was just as afraid of you. The -maxim did not seem to apply somehow here. At -the first “bang” I had thought we were seen; -but I now realised that the sentry was merely -blazing off occasional shots, and that the bullets -had just plopped into our parapet.</p> - -<p>Then Will turned round, and I did the same. -Our business was certainly ended, for there was -no doubt about the sap being occupied. Then I -heard a thud behind us, and looking up saw the -slow climbing trail of a canister blazing up into -the sky; up it mounted, up, up, up, hovered a -moment, then turned, and with a gathering impetus -blazed down somewhere well behind our front -trench.</p> - -<p>“Trafalgar Square,” I thought, as I lay doggo, -for the blaze lit up the sky somewhat.</p> - -<p>“Bomp.” The earth shook as the canister -exploded.</p> - -<p>“Thud,” and the process was repeated exactly -as before, ending in another quaking “Bomp!” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">161</span></p> - -<p>I enjoyed this. It was rather a novel way of -seeing canisters, and moreover a very safe way.</p> - -<p>Two more streamed over.</p> - -<p>Then our footballs answered, and burst with a -bang in the air not so <i>very</i> far over into the German -lines. The trench-mortar fellow was evidently -trying short fuses, for usually our trench-mortar -shells burst on percussion.</p> - -<p>Then in the distance I heard four bangs, and -the Boche 4·2’s started, screaming over at Maple -Redoubt. I determined to move on.</p> - -<p>Then suddenly came four distant bangs from -the right of our lines (as we faced them), and with -“wang—wang ... wang—wang” four whizz-bangs -burst right around us, with most appalling -flickers. “Bang—bang ... bang—bang” in the -distance again, and I braced every muscle tightly, -as you do when you prepare to meet a shock. -Behind us, and just in front, the beastly things -burst. I lay with every fibre in my body strained -to the uttermost. And yet I confess I enjoyed -the sensation!</p> - -<p>There was a lull, and I began crawling as fast -as I could. I stopped to see if Will was following. -“By God,” I heard, “let’s get out of this.” So -I was thinking! Then as I went on I saw the edge -of a crater. Where on earth?</p> - -<p>I halted and pulled out my compass. Due south -I wanted. I found I was bearing off to the right -far too much, so with compass in hand I corrected -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">162</span> -my course. Some crawling this time! It was not -long before we could see wire in the distance. Then -I got up and ran. How I got through that wire -I don’t know; I tore my puttees badly, and must -have made a most unnecessary rattling. After -which I fell into the ditch.</p> - -<p>“Thank heaven you’re all right,” was the greeting -from Captain Robertson. “I was just coming out -after you. Those d—d artillery fellows. I sent -down at once to ’phone to them to stop....”</p> - -<p>And so on. I hardly heard a word. I was so -elated, I could not listen. As we went back to -Trafalgar Square for dinner, I heard them warning -the sentries “The patrol’s in.” I looked up at the -sandbag parapet. “In,” I thought. “One does -not realise what ‘in’ is, till one’s been out.”</p> - -<p>I have been out several times later. I never had -any adventures much. But always, before going -out, I felt the shivers of the bather; and always, -after I came in, a most splendid glow. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">163</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X<br /> - -“WHOM THE GODS LOVE”</h2> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">“No</span> officer wounded since we came out in -October,” said Edwards: “we’re really -awfully lucky, you know.”</p> - -<p>“For heaven’s sake, touch wood,” I cried.</p> - -<p>We laughed, for the whole of our establishment -was wood. We were sitting on a wooden seat, leaning -our hands against wooden uprights, eating off -a wooden table, and resting our feet on a wooden -floor. Sometimes, too, we found splinters of wood -in the soup—but it was more often straw. For this -dining-room in Trafalgar Square was known sometimes -as the “Summer-house” and sometimes as the -“Straw Palace.” It was really the maddest so-called -“dug-out” in the British lines, I should -think; I might further add, “in any trench in -Europe.” For the French, although they presumably -built it in the summer days of 1915 when the -Bois Français trenches were a sort of summer-rest -for tired-out soldiers, would never have tolerated -the “Summer-house” since the advent of the -canister-age. As for the Boche, he would have -merely stared if anyone had suggested him using it -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">164</span> -as a Company Headquarters. “But,” he would -have said, “it is not shell-proof.”</p> - -<p>Exactly. It would not have stood even a whizz-bang. -A rifle-grenade would almost certainly have -come right through it. As for a canister or H.E., -it would have gone through like a stone piercing -wet paper. But it had been Company Headquarters -for so long—it was so light and, being -next door to the servants’ dug-out, so convenient—that -we always lived in it still; though we slept -in a dug-out a little way down Old Kent Road, -which was certainly whizz-bang—if not canister—proof.</p> - -<p>At any rate, here were Edwards and myself, -drinking rather watery ox-tail soup out of very -dinted tin-plates—the spoons were scraping noisily -on the metal; overhead, a rat appeared out of the -straw thatch, looked at me, blinked, turned about, -and disappeared again, sending a little spill of earth -on to the table.</p> - -<p>“Hang these rats,” I exclaimed, for the tenth -time that day.</p> - -<p>Outside, it was brilliant moonlight: whenever -the door opened, I saw it. It was very quiet. Then -I heard voices, the sound of a lot of men, moving in -the shuffling sort of way that men do move at night -in a communication trench.</p> - -<p>The door flew open, and Captain Robertson looked -in.</p> - -<p>“Hullo, Robertson; you’re early!” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">165</span></p> - -<p>It was not much past half-past seven.</p> - -<p>“You’ve got those sand-bags up by 78 Street?” -he said, sitting down.</p> - -<p>“Yes, 250 there, and 250 right up in the Loop. -The rest I shall use on the Fort. Oh! by the way, -you know we are strafing at 12.5? We just had a -message up from Dale. I shall knock off at 11.45 -to-night!”</p> - -<p>“I’ll see how we get on. I want to finish that -traverse. Righto. I’m just drawing tools and going -up now.”</p> - -<p>“See you up there in a few minutes.”</p> - -<p>And the muttering stream of “A” Company filed -past the dug-out, going up to the front line. The -door swung open suddenly, and each man looked in -as he went by.</p> - -<p>“Shut the door,” I shouted. Our plates themselves -somehow suddenly looked epicurean.</p> - -<p>Soon after eight I was up in the front line. It was -the brightest night we had had, and ideal for sand-bag -work. The men were already at it. There was -a certain amount of inevitable talking going on, -before everyone got really started. We were working -on the Fort, completing two box dug-outs that -we had half put in the night before; also, we were -thickening the parapet, between the Fort and the -Loop, and building a new fire-step.</p> - -<p>“Can’t see any b—— sand-bags here,” came from -one man.</p> - -<p>“We’ll have to pick this, sir,” from another. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">166</span></p> - -<p>“Where’s Mullens gone off to?” sharply from a -sergeant.</p> - -<div> -<img class="figcenter" id="i_166" src="images/i_166.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">Good sand-bag work.</p> -</div> - -<p>But for the most part the moonlight made everything -straightforward, and there was only the spitting -sound of picks, the heavy, smothered noise of -men lifting sand-bags, or the “slap, slap” of others -patting them into a wall with the back of a shovel, -that broke the stillness. On the left “A” Company -were working full steam ahead, heightening the -parapet and building a big traverse at the entrance -to the Matterhorn sap. “Robertson’s traverse” -we always called it afterwards. He got his men -working in a long chain, passing filled sand-bags -along from a big miners’ sand-bag dump, the accumulation -of months of patient R.E. tunnelling. -These huge dumps rose up in gigantic piles where-ever -there was a shaft-head; and they were a windfall -to us if they were anywhere near where we were -working. On this occasion quite a thousand must -have been passed along and built into that traverse, -and the parapet there, by the Matterhorn. It was -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">167</span> -fascinating work, passing these dry, small sacks -as big as medium-sized babies, only as knobby and -angular under their outer cover as a baby is soft and -rounded. Meanwhile the builders laid them, like -bricks, alternate “headers” and “stretchers.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>And so the work went on under the moon.</p> - -<p>“Davies,” I cried, in that low questioning tone -that might well be called “trench voice.” It is not -a whisper; yet it is not a full, confident sound. If -a man speaks loudly in the front trench, you tell him -to remember the Boche is a hundred yards away; -if he whispers in a hoarse voice that sounds a little -nervy, you tell him that the Boche’s ears are not a -hundred yards long. The result is a restrained and -serious-toned medium.</p> - -<p>“Sirr,” answered a voice close beside me, in a -pitch rather louder than the usual trench-voice. -Davies always spoke clear and loud. He was my -orderly.</p> - -<p>“Oh! there you are.” Like a dog he had got -tired of standing, and while I stood watching the -fascinating progress of the erection of a box dug-out -under Sergeant Hayman’s direction, he was sitting -on the fire-step immediately behind me. Had he -been a collie, his tongue would have been out, and he -would have yawned occasionally; or his nose might -even have been between his paws. Now he jumped -up, giving a hitch to his rifle that was slung over his -left shoulder. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">168</span></p> - -<p>“I’m going round the sentries,” I said.</p> - -<p>Davies said nothing, but followed about two paces -behind, stopping when I stopped, and gazing at me -silently when I got up on the fire-step to look over.</p> - -<p>The low-ground in the quarry was very wet, and -the trench there two feet deep in water, so it was -temporarily abandoned, and the little trench out of -76 Street by No. 1 Sniping Post was my way to -No. 5 Platoon. It was a very narrow bit of trench, -and on a dark night one kept knocking one’s thighs -and elbows against hard corners of chalk-filled sand-bags. -To-night it was easy in the white moonlight. -It was really not a trench at all, but a path behind -a sand-bag dump. Behind was the open field. -There was no parados.</p> - -<p>All correct on the two posts in No. 5. It seemed -almost unnecessary to have two posts on such a -bright night. The outline of the German parapet -looked clear enough. Surely the sentries must be -almost visible to-night? Right opposite was the -dark earth of a sap-head. Our wire looked very -near and thin.</p> - -<p>“Everything all right?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir!”</p> - -<p>I saw the bombs lying ready in the crease between -two sand-bags that formed the parapet top. The -pins were bent straight, ready for quick drawing. -The bomber was all right; and there was not much -wrong with his pal’s bayonet, that glistened in the -moonlight. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">169</span></p> - -<p>As usual, I went beyond our right post, until I -was met by a peering, suspicious head from the left-hand -sentry of “C” Company.</p> - -<p>“Who’s that?” in a hoarse low voice, as the -figure bent down off the fire-step.</p> - -<p>“All right. Officer. ‘B’ Company.”</p> - -<p>Then I passed back along the trench to the top of -76 Street; and so on, visiting all the sentries up to -80 A trench, and disturbing all the working-parties.</p> - -<p>“Way, please,” I would say to the hindquarters -of an energetic wielder of the pick.</p> - -<p>“Hi! make way there!” Davies would say in -a higher and louder voice when necessary. Then the -figure would straighten itself, and flatten itself -against the trench, while I squeezed past between -perspiring man and slimy sand-bag. This “passing” -was an eternal business. It was unavoidable. -No one ever said anything, or apologised. No one -ever grumbled. It was like passing strap-hangers -in the crowded carriage of a Tube. Only it went on -day and night.</p> - -<p>Craters by moonlight are really beautiful; the -white chalk-dust gives them the appearance of snow-mountains. -And they look much larger than they -really are. On this occasion, as I looked into them -from the various bombing-posts, it needed little -imagination to suppose I was up in the snows of the -Welsh hills. There was such a death-like stillness -over it all, too. The view from the Matterhorn was -across the widest and deepest of all the craters, and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">170</span> -I stood a long time peering across that yawning -chasm at the dark, irregular rim of German sand-bags. -I gazed fascinated. What was it all about? -The sentry beside me came from a village near -Dolgelly: was a farmer’s boy. He, too, was gazing -across, hardly liking to shuffle his feet lest he broke -the silence.</p> - -<p>“Good God!” I felt inclined to exclaim. “Has -there ever been anything more idiotic than this? -What in the name of goodness are you and I doing -here?”</p> - -<p>So I thought, and so I believe he was thinking.</p> - -<p>“Everything all right?” was all I said, as I -jumped back into the trench.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,” was all the answer.</p> - -<p>About ten o’clock I went back to Trafalgar -Square. There I heard that Thompson of “C” -Company had been wounded. From what I could -gather he had been able to walk down to the dressing-station, -so I concluded he was only slightly hit. But -it came as rather a shock, and I wondered whether -he would go to “Blighty.”</p> - -<p>At eleven I started off for the front trench again, -viâ Rue Albert and 78 Street. There was a bit of a -“strafe” on. It started with canisters; it had now -reached the stage of whizz-bangs as well. I thought -little of it, when “woo—woo—woo—woo,” and the -Boche turned on his howitzers. They screamed -over to Maple Redoubt.</p> - -<p>A pause. Then again, and they screamed down -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">171</span> -just in front of us, evidently after the corner of -78 Street. I did not hesitate, but pushed on. The -trench was completely blocked. Rue Albert was -revetted with wood and brushwood, and it was all -over the place. Davies and I climbed over with -great difficulty, the whole place reeking with powder.</p> - -<p>“Look out, sir!” came from Davies, and we -crouched down. There was a colossal din while -shells seemed all round us.</p> - -<p>“All right, Davies?” And we pushed on. At -last here was 78 Street, and we turned up to find -another complete block in the trench. We again -scrambled over, and met “A” Company wiring-party, -returning for more wire.</p> - -<p>“The trench is blocked,” said I, “but you can -get over all right.”</p> - -<p>We passed in the darkness.</p> - -<p>Again “Look out!” from Davies, and we cowered. -Again the shells screamed down on us, and burst -just behind.</p> - -<p>“Good God!” I exclaimed, “those wirers!”</p> - -<p>Davies ran back.</p> - -<p>There was another block in the trench, but no -sign of any men. They were well away by now! -But the shell had fallen between us and them before -they reached the block in 78 Street!</p> - -<p>Out of breath we arrived at the top of 78 Street, -to find “A” Company just getting going again -after a hot quarter of an hour. Luckily they had -had no casualties. All was quiet now, and the moon -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">172</span> -looked down upon the workers as before. A quarter -past eleven.</p> - -<p>I worked my way along to the Fort and found -there a sentry rather excited because, he said, he -had seen exactly the spot from which they had fired -rifle-grenades in the strafing just now. I got him to -point out the place. It was half-left, and as I looked, -sure enough I saw a flash, and a rifle-grenade whined -through the air, and fell with a snarl behind our -trench.</p> - -<p>“Davies,” I said, “get Lance-Corporal Allan to -come here with the Lewis gun.”</p> - -<p>Davies was gone like a flash.</p> - -<p>The Lewis guns had only recently become company -weapons, and were still somewhat of a novelty. -The Lewis gunners were rather envied, and also -rather “downed” by the sergeant-major for being -specialists. But this they could not help; and they -were, as a matter of fact, the best men in my -company.</p> - -<p>Allan arrived, with one of the team carrying two -spare drums of ammunition. We pointed out the -spot, and he laid his gun on the parapet, with the -butt against his shoulder, and his finger on the -trigger, and waited.</p> - -<p>“Flash!”</p> - -<p>“There he is, sir!” from the sentry.</p> - -<p>“Drrrrrr-r-r-r” purred the Lewis gun, then -stopped. Then again, ending with another jerk. -There was a silence. We waited five minutes. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">173</span></p> - -<p>“I’ll just empty the magazine, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Dr-r-r-r-r.”</p> - -<p>Lance-Corporal Allan took off the drum, and -handed it to the other Lewis gunner. Then he -handed down the gun, and we talked a few minutes. -He was very proud of his gun. After a time I -sent him back, and made my way along to “A” -Company.</p> - -<p>There I found Robertson. We talked. A tremendous -lot of work had been done, and the big -traverse was practically finished.</p> - -<p>“I’m knocking off now,” said I. It was a quarter -to twelve, and I went along with the “Cease work” -message.</p> - -<p>“All right,” said Robertson, “I’m just going to -have another look at my wirers. I’ll look in as I go -down.”</p> - -<p>By the time I had reached the top of 76 Street, -the trench was full of the clank of the thermos dixies, -and the men were drinking hot soup. The pioneers -had just brought it up. I stopped and had a taste. -It was good stuff. As I turned off down the trench, -I heard the Germans start shelling again on our left, -but they stopped almost directly. I thought nothing -of it at the time.</p> - -<p>It was just midnight when I reached Trafalgar -Square and bumped into Davidson coming round -the corner.</p> - -<p>“I was looking for you,” said he. “You’ve -heard about Tommy?” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">174</span></p> - -<p>“Yes,” I answered. “But he’s not badly hit, is -he?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you haven’t heard. He died at eleven -o’clock.”</p> - -<p>Died! My God! this was something new. -Briefly, tersely, Davidson told me the details. He -had been hit in the mouth while working on the -parapet, and had died down at the dressing station. -I looked hard at Davidson, as we stood together in -the moonlight by the big island traverse at Trafalgar -Square. Somehow I felt my body tense; my teeth -were pressed together; my eyes did not want to -blink. Here was something new. I had seen death -often: <i>it</i> was nothing new. But it was the first -time it had taken one of us. I wondered what Davidson -felt; he knew Thompson much better than I. -Yet I knew him well enough—only a day or so ago -he had come to our billet in the butcher’s shop, and -we had talked of him afterwards—and now—dead——</p> - -<p>All this flashed through my brain in a second. -Meanwhile Davidson was saying,</p> - -<p>“Well, I’m just going off for this strafe,” when I -heard men running down a trench.</p> - -<p>“Quick! Stretcher-bearers. The Captain’s hit,” -came from someone in a low voice. The stretcher-bearers’ -dug-out was just by where we were standing, -and immediately I heard a stir inside, and a head -looked out from the waterproof sheet that acted as -curtain in front of it. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">175</span></p> - -<p>“Is it a stretcher-case?” a voice asked.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” was the reply, and without more ado two -stretcher-bearers turned out and ran up 76 Street -after the orderly. At that moment there was a thud, -and a blazing trail climbed up the sky from the left.</p> - -<p>“D——,” I muttered. “We must postpone this -strafe. Davidson, we’ll fix up later, see? Only no -firing now.” As Davidson disappeared to his gun-position, -I ran to the telephone.</p> - -<p>“Trench-mortar officer,” I said. “Quick!”</p> - -<p>But there is no “quick” about a signaller. He -is always there, and methodically, without haste or -flurry, he takes down and sends messages. There is -no “quickness”; yet there is no delay. If the -world outside pulses and rocks under a storm of -shells, in the signallers’ dug-out is always a deep-sea -calm. So impatiently I watched the operator beat -his little tattoo on the buzzer; looked at his face, -as the candle-light shone on it, with its ears hidden -beneath the receiver-drums, and its head swathed -by the band that holds them over the ears. In the -corner, the second signaller sat up and peered out of -his blanket, and then lay down again.</p> - -<p>“Zx? Is there an officer there? Hold on a -minute, please. The officer’s at the gun, sir; will -you speak to the corporal?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.” I already had the receiver to my ear.</p> - -<p>“Is that the trench-mortar corporal? Well, go -and tell Mr. Macfarlane, will you, to stop firing at -once, and not to start again till he hears from Mr. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">176</span> -Adams. Right. Right. Thanks.” This last to the -signaller as I left the dug-out.</p> - -<p>“Thud!” and another football blazed through -the sky.</p> - -<p>Macfarlane was the officer in charge of the trench-mortar -guns of our sector. I knew him well. -Davidson was in charge of the Stokes gun, which is -a quick-firing trench-mortar gun. Macfarlane’s -shells were known as “footballs,” but as they had -a handle attached they looked more like hammers -as they slowly curved through the air.</p> - -<p>We had arranged to “strafe” a certain position -in the German support line at five minutes after -midnight. But I wanted to stop it before retaliation -started. The doctor had gone up the front line, -and Robertson would be brought down any minute.</p> - -<p>Outside I met Brock. He said little, but it was -good to have him there. A long while it seemed, -waiting. I started up 76 Street. No sooner had I -started than I heard footsteps coming down, and to -make room I went back. I was preparing to say -some cheery word to Robertson, but when I saw -him he was lying quite still and unconscious. I -stopped the little doctor.</p> - -<p>“Is he bad, Doc?”</p> - -<p>“Well, old man, I can hardly say. He’s got a -fighting chance,” and he went on. Slowly I heard -the stretcher-bearers’ footsteps growing fainter and -fainter, and there was silence. Thank God! those -footballs had stopped now! -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">177</span></p> - -<p>Did I guess that Robertson too was mortally -wounded? I cannot say—only my teeth were set, -and I felt very wideawake. In a minute both -Davidson and Macfarlane came up, Davidson down -76 Street, and Macfarlane from Rue Albert. I told -Macfarlane all about it, and as I did so my blood -was up. I swore hard at the devils that had done -this; and we agreed on a “strafe” at a quarter to -one.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I stood alone at Trafalgar Square. There was a -great calm sky, and the moon looked down at me. -Then with a “thud” the first football went up. -Then the Stokes answered.</p> - -<p>“Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!” Up they -sailed into the air all together, and exploded with a -deafening din.</p> - -<p>“Thud—thud!”</p> - -<p>“Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!”</p> - -<p>Then the Boche woke up. Two canisters rose, -streamed, and fell, dropping slightly to my right.</p> - -<p>But still our trench-mortars went on. Two more -canisters tried for Davidson’s gun.</p> - -<p>I was elated. “This for Thompson and Robertson,” -I said, as our footballs went on methodically.</p> - -<p>Then the whizz-bangs began on Trafalgar Square.</p> - -<p>I went to the telephone.</p> - -<p>“Artillery,” I said briefly. “Retaliate C 1 -Sector.”</p> - -<p>And then our guns began. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">178</span></p> - -<p>“Scream, scream, scream” they went over.</p> - -<p>“Swish—swish” answered the Boche whizz-bangs.</p> - -<p>“Phew,” said Sergeant Tallis, the bombing-sergeant, -as he looked out of his dug-out.</p> - -<p>“More retaliation,” I said to the signaller, and -stepped out again.</p> - -<p>A grim exaltation filled me. We were getting our -own back. I did not care a straw for their canisters -or whizz-bangs. It pleased me to hear Sergeant -Tallis say “Phew.” My blood was up, and I did -not feel like saying “Phew.”</p> - -<p>“The officer wants to know if that is enough,” said -the telephone orderly, who had come out to find me.</p> - -<p>“No,” I answered; “I want more.”</p> - -<p>The Boche was sending “heavies” over on to -Maple Redoubt. I would go on until he stopped. -My will should be master. Again our shells screamed -over. There was no reply.</p> - -<p>Gradually quiet came back.</p> - -<p>Then I heard footsteps, and there was Davidson. -His face was glowing too.</p> - -<p>“How was that?” he asked.</p> - -<p>How was that? He had fired magnificently, -though the Boche had sent stuff all round him. -How was that?</p> - -<p>“Magnificent! We’ve shut them up.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve got six shells left. Shall I blaze them off?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no!” said I; “I think we’ve avenged -Tommy.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">179</span></p> - -<p>His face hardened.</p> - -<p>“Good night, Bill!”</p> - -<p>But I did not feel like sleep. I still stood at the -corner, waiting for I knew not what.</p> - -<p>“Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!” went the -Stokes gun. There was a pause, and “bang, bang, -bang, bang, bang!” came the sound of them bursting. -There was a longer pause.</p> - -<p>“Bang!” I watched the spark floating through -the sky.</p> - -<p>“Bang!” came the sound back from the German -trench.</p> - -<p>I waited. There was no answer. And for the -first time that night I fancied the moon smiled.</p> - -<h3>[<i>Copy</i>]<br /> - -<span class="smcap">Daily Summary. C 1. (Left Company)</span><br /> - -6 p.m. 18.3.16—3.30 p.m. 19.3.16</h3> - -<p>(a) <i>Operations.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>11.0 p.m. Enemy fired six rifle-grenades -from F10/5. The approximate position of the -battery was visible from the <span class="smcap">Fort</span>, and Lewis -gun fire was brought to bear on it, which immediately -silenced it.</p> - -<p>11.30 p.m. Enemy fired several trench-mortar -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">180</span> -shells and H.E. shells on junction of -78 Street and <span class="smcap">Rue Albert</span> (F10/6), a few falling -in our front line trench by the <span class="smcap">Matterhorn</span>. -No damage was done to our trenches.</p> - -<p>12.45 p.m. Our T.M. Battery fired 12 footballs, -and our Stokes gun 32 shells at enemy’s -front line trench in F10/5. The enemy sent a -few canisters over, but then resorted to H.E.’s. -Our artillery retaliated. Our Stokes gun continued -to fire until enemy was silent, no reply -being sent to our last 6 shells.</p> - -<p>7.45 a.m. Enemy fired several rifle-grenades -and bombs. Our R.G.’s retaliated with 24 -R.G.’s.</p></blockquote> - -<p>(b) <i>Progress of Work.</i></p> - -<table> - <tr> - <td>F 10/6</td> - <td>{ 30 yards of parapet thickened two feet.<br /> - { 25 yards of fire-step built.<br /> - {20 coils of wire put out.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>F 10/5</td> - <td> - { 20 yards of parapet thickened two feet.<br /> - { 2 dug-outs completed.<br /> - {20 yards of fire-step built.</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p class="author"> -<span class="smcap">J. B. P. Adams</span>, Lt.,<br /> -O.C. “B” Coy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">181</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI<br /> - -“WHOM THE GODS LOVE”—(<i>continued</i>)</h2> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">As</span> I write I feel inclined to throw the whole -book in the fire. It seems a desecration to -tell of these things. Do I not seem to be -exulting in the tragedy? Should not he who feels -deeply keep silent? Sometimes I think so. And -yet it is the truth, word for word the truth; so I -must write it.</p> - -<p>In the Straw Palace next morning Davidson and -I were sitting discussing last night, when the doctor -looked in. He started talking about Vermorel -sprayers (the portable tins shaped like large oval -milk-cans, filled with a solution useful for clearing -dug-outs after a gas attack). One of these was -damaged, and I had sent down a note to the M.O. -about it.</p> - -<p>“How’s Robertson?” I asked at once.</p> - -<p>“He died this morning, Bill—three o’clock this -morning.”</p> - -<p>“Good God,” I said.</p> - -<p>“Pretty ghastly, isn’t it? Two officers like that -in one night. The C.O. is awfully cut up about it.”</p> - -<p>“Robertson dead?” said Davidson.</p> - -<p>And so we talked for some minutes. The old -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">182</span> -doctor was used to these things. He had seen so -many officers fall out of line. But to us this was -new, and we had not gauged it yet. You might have -thought from his quiet jerky sentences that the -doctor was almost callous. You would have been -wrong.</p> - -<p>“Well, I must get on,” he said at last. “So -long, Bill. Send that Vermorel sprayer down, will -you, and I’ll see to it, and you’ll have it back to-night, -probably.”</p> - -<p>“Righto.” And the doctor and his orderly disappeared -down the Old Kent Road.</p> - -<p>Davidson and I talked alone.</p> - -<p>“It must be pretty rotten being an M.O.,” he -remarked.</p> - -<p>Then the “F.L.O.” came in. He is the “Forward -liaison officer,” an artillery officer who lives up with -the infantry and facilitates co-operation between -the two. At the same moment came a cheery -Scotch voice outside, and Macfarlane, the “football” -officer, looked in.</p> - -<p>“Come oot a’ that!” he cried. “Sittin’ indoors -on a fine mornin’.”</p> - -<p>“Come in,” we said.</p> - -<p>But his will prevailed, and we all came out into -the sunshine. I had not seen him since last night’s -little show. Now he was being relieved by another -officer for six days, and I was anxious to know -what sort of a man was his successor. But Macfarlane -did not know much about him yet. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">183</span></p> - -<p>“Anyway,” said I, “if he’ll only fire like you, -we don’t mind.”</p> - -<p>“Och!” grunted Macfarlane. “What’s the use -of havin’ a gun, and no firin’ it? So long as I get -ma footballs up, I’ll plunk them over aw recht.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” I added. “The Boche doesn’t approve -of your sort.”</p> - -<p>For there were other sorts. There was the trench-mortar -officer who was never to be found, but who -left a sergeant with instructions not to fire without -his orders; there was the trench-mortar officer -who “could not fire except by Brigade orders”; -there was the trench-mortar officer who was “afraid -of giving his position away”; there was the trench-mortar -officer who “couldn’t get any ammunition -up, you know; they won’t give it me; only too -pleased to fire, if only ...”; there was the trench-mortar -officer who started firing on his own, without -consulting the company commander, just when you -had a big working-party in the front trenches; -and lastly there were trench-mortar officers like -Davidson and Macfarlane.</p> - -<p>“Cheero, then,” we said, as Macfarlane went off. -“Look us up. You know our billet? We’ll be out -to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>Then we finished our consultation and divided off -to our different jobs.</p> - -<p>All that day I felt that there was in me something -which by all rights should have “given”: -these two deaths should have made me feel different: -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">184</span> -and yet I was just the same. As I went round the -trench, with Davies at my heels, talking to platoon-sergeants, -examining wire through my periscope, -all in the ordinary way exactly as before, I forgot -all about Tommy and Robertson. Even when I came -to the place where Robertson had been hit, and -saw the blood on the fire-step, and some scraps of -cotton wool lying about, I looked at it as you might -look at a smashed egg on the pavement, curiously, -and then passed on. “Am I indifferent to these -things, then?” I asked myself. I had not realised -yet that violent emotion very rarely comes close -upon the heels of death, that there is a numbness, -a blunting of the spirit, that is an anodyne to pain. -I was ashamed of my indifference; yet I soon saw -that it was no uncommon thing. Besides, one had -to “carry on” just the same. There was always a -silence among the men, when a pal “goes west”; -so now Edwards and I did not talk much, except -to discuss the ordinary routine.</p> - -<p>I did not get much rest that day. In the afternoon -came up a message from the adjutant that -we were exploding a mine opposite the Matterhorn -at 6.30; our trench was to be cleared from 80 <small>A</small> -to the bombing-post on the left of the Loop inclusive. -Edwards and I were the only officers in -the company, so while he arranged matters with -the Lewis-gun teams, I went off to see about getting -the trench cleared. I had just sent off the “daily -summary,” my copy of which is reproduced on -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">185</span> -page 179. As I came back along 78 Street, I met -Davidson again. He was looking for a new site -for his gun, so as to be able to get a good fire to -bear on the German lines opposite the Matterhorn. -I went with him, and together we found a place -behind the big mine-dump to the left of 78 Street, -and close to one of our rifle-grenade batteries. As -he went off to get his corporal and team to bring -the gun over and fix it in position, he said something -in a rather low voice.</p> - -<p>“What?” I shouted. “Couldn’t hear.”</p> - -<p>He came back and repeated it.</p> - -<p>“Oh,” I said. “Sorry. Yes, all right. I expect -I’ll hear from the Adjutant. Thanks.”</p> - -<p>What he said was that there would be a funeral -that night at nine o’clock. Thompson and Robertson -were being buried together. He thought I -would like to know.</p> - -<p>It was close on half-past six, and getting dark. -The trenches were cleared, and I was waiting at -the head of two platoons that strung out along 78 -Street and behind the Loop. Rifles had been inspected; -the men had the S.A.A. (small arms -ammunition) and bomb boxes with them, ready to -take back into the trench as soon as the mine had -gone up. I looked at my watch.</p> - -<p>“Another minute,” I said.</p> - -<p>Then, as I spoke, the earth shook; there was a -pause, and a great black cloud burst into the air, -followed by a roar of flames. I got up on the fire-step -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">186</span> -to see it better. It is a good show, a mine. -There was the sound of falling earth, and then -silence.</p> - -<p>“Come on,” I said, and we hurried back into the -trench. Weird and eerie it looked in the half-light; -its emptiness might have been years old. -It was undamaged, as we had expected; only there -was loose earth scattered all over the parapet and -fire-step.</p> - -<p>Then hell broke loose, a crashing, banging, flashing -hell that concentrated on the German front line -directly opposite. It seemed like stirring up an -ant’s nest, and then spraying them with boiling -water as they ran about in confusion!</p> - -<p>“Bang—bang—bang—bang—bang,” barked -Davidson’s gun.</p> - -<p>“Thud,” muttered the football-thrower.</p> - -<p>“Wheep! Wee-oo, wee-oo, wee-oo,” went the -rifle grenades. And all this splendid rain burst with -a glorious splash just over the new crater. It was -magnificent shooting, and half of us were up on -the fire-step watching the fireworks.</p> - -<p>Then the Boche retaliated, with canisters and -whizz-bangs, and “heavies” for Maple Redoubt; -and then our guns joined the concert. It was “hot -shop” for half an hour, but at last it died down -and there was a great calm. Some of the men were -in the trenches for the first time, and had not -relished the proceedings overmuch! They were -relieved to get the order “Stand down!” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">187</span></p> - -<p>There were several things to be done, working-parties -to be arranged, final instructions given to -a patrol, Lewis gunners to be detailed to rake the -German parapet opposite the Matterhorn all night. -A platoon sergeant was worried about his sentries; -he had not enough men, having had one or two -casualties; and I had to lend him men from a -more fortunate platoon. It was quite dark, and -nearly half-past seven by the time I got back to -Trafalgar Square. Edwards had started dinner, -as he was on trench duty at eight o’clock. The -sergeant-major was on duty until then.</p> - -<p>Davidson looked in on his way down to Maple -Redoubt.</p> - -<p>“I say, your Stokes were bursting top-hole. We -had a splendid view.”</p> - -<p>“They weren’t going short, were they?” he -asked.</p> - -<p>“No. Just right. The fellows were awfully -bucked with it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, good. You can’t see a bit from where we -are, and the corporal said he thought they were -going short. But I’d worked out the range and was -firing well over 120, so I carried on. I’m going down -to have dinner with O’Brien. I think we’ve done -enough to-night.”</p> - -<p>Then I saw that he was tired out.</p> - -<p>“Rather a hot shop?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said in his casual way. “They were -all round us. Well, cheero! I shan’t be up till -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">188</span> -about ten, I expect, unless there’s anything -wanted.”</p> - -<p>“Cheero!”</p> - -<p>“It’s no joke firing that gun with the Boche -potting at you hard with canisters,” I said to -Edwards, as Davidson’s footsteps died away.</p> - -<p>“He’s the bravest fellow in the regiment,” said -Edwards, and we talked of the time when the gun -burst in his face as he was firing it, and he told his -men that it had been hit by a canister, to prevent -their losing confidence in it. I saw him just afterwards: -his face was bleeding. It was no joke being -Stokes officer; the Germans hated those vicious -snapping bolts that spat upon them “One, two, -three, four, five,” and always concentrated their -fire against his gun. But they had not got him.</p> - -<p>“No, he’s inside,” I heard Edwards saying. -“Bill. Telephone message.”</p> - -<p>The telephone orderly handed me a pink form. -Edwards was outside, just about to go on trench -duty. It was eight. I went outside. It was bright -moonlight again. Grimly, I thought of last night.</p> - -<p>“Look here,” I said. “There’s this funeral at -nine o’clock. I’ve just got this message. One -officer from each company may go. Will you go? -I can’t very well go as O.C. Company.” And I -handed him the pink form to see.</p> - -<p>So we rearranged the night duties, and Edwards -went off till half-past eight, while I finished my -dinner. Lewis was hovering about with toasted -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">189</span> -cheese and <i>café au lait</i>. As I swallowed these -glutinous concoctions, the candle flickered and -went out. I pushed open the door: the moonlight -flooded in, and I did not trouble to call for another -candle. Then I heard the sergeant-major’s voice, -and went out. We stood talking at Trafalgar -Square.</p> - -<p>“Shan’t be sorry to get relieved to-morrow,” I -said. I was tired, and I wondered how long the -night would take to pass.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, up the Old Kent Road I heard a man -running. My heart stopped. I hate the sound of -running in a trench, and last night they had run -for stretcher-bearers when Robertson was hit. I -looked at the sergeant-major, who was biting his -lip, his ears cocked. Round the corner a man bolted, -out of breath, excited. I stopped him; he nearly -knocked into us.</p> - -<p>“Hang you,” said I. “Stop! Where the -devil...?”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Davidson, sir ... Mr. Davidson is killed.”</p> - -<p>“Rot!” I said, impatiently. “Pull yourself -together, man. He’s all right. I saw him only -half an hour ago.”</p> - -<p>But as I spoke, something broke inside me. It -was as if I were straining, beating against something -relentless. As though by words, by the cry -“impossible” I could beat back the flood of conviction -that the man’s words brought over me. -Dead! I <i>knew</i> he was dead. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">190</span></p> - -<p>“Impossible, corporal,” I said. “What do you -mean?” For I saw now that it was Davidson’s -corporal who stood gazing at me with fright in his -eyes.</p> - -<p>He pulled himself together at last.</p> - -<p>“Killed, sir. It came between us as we were -talking. A whizz-bang, sir.”</p> - -<p>“My God!” I cried. “Where?”</p> - -<p>“Just at the bottom, sir”—the man jerked his -hand back down Old Kent Road. “We were just -talking, sir. My leave has come through, and he -was joking, and saying his would be through soon, -when ... oh, Jesus ... I was half blinded.... -I’ve not got over it yet, sir.” And the man was all -trembling as he spoke.</p> - -<p>“He was killed instantly?”</p> - -<p>“Ach!” said the man. He made a gesture with -his hands. “It burst right on him.”</p> - -<p>“Poor fellow,” I said. God knows what I meant. -“Send a man with him, sergeant-major,” I added, -and plunged up 76 Street.</p> - -<p>“Davidson,” I cried. “Davidson dead!”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was close on midnight, as I stood outside the -Straw Palace. Lewis brought me a cup of cocoa. -I drank it in silence, and ate a piece of cake. I -told the man to go to bed. Then, when he had disappeared, -I climbed up out of the trench, and sat, -my legs dangling down into it. Down in the trench -the moon cast deep black shadows. I looked around. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">191</span> -All was bathed in pale, shimmery moonlight. There -was a great silence, save for distant machine-gun -popping down in the Fricourt valley, and the very -distant sound of guns, guns, guns—the sound that -never stops day and night. I pressed on my right -hand and with a quick turn was up on my feet out -of the trench, on the hill-side; for I was just over -the brow, on the reverse slope, and out of sight of -the enemy lines. I took off my steel helmet and put -it on the ground, while I stretched out my arms -and clenched my hands.</p> - -<p>“So this is War,” I thought. I realised that my -teeth were set, and my mouth hard, and my eyes, -though full of sleep, wide open: silently I took -in the great experience, the death of those well-loved. -For of all men in the battalion I loved -Davidson best. Not that I knew him so wonderfully -well—but ... well, one always had to smile -when he came in; he was so good-natured, so -young, so delightfully imperturbable. He used to -come in and stroke your hair if you were bad-tempered. -Somehow he reminded me of a cat -purring; and perhaps his hair and his smile had -something to do with it? Oh, who can define what -they love in those they love?</p> - -<p>And then my mind went back over all the incidents -of the last few hours. Together we had -been through it all: together we had discussed -death: and last of all I thought how he had told -me of the funeral that was to be at 9 o’clock. And -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">192</span> -now he lay beside them. All three had been buried -at nine o’clock.</p> - -<p>“Dead. Dead,” said a voice within me. And -still I did not move. Still that numbness, that -dulness, that tightening across the brain and -senses. This, too, was something new. Then I -looked around me, across the moorland. I walked -along until I could see down over Maple Redoubt -and across the valley, where there seemed a slight -white mist; or was it only moonshine?</p> - -<p>Suddenly, “Strength.” I answered the voice. -“Strong. I am strong.” Every muscle in my -body was tingling at my bidding. I felt an iron -strength. All this tautness, this numbness, was -strength. I remembered last night, the feeling of -irresistible will-power, and my eyes glowed. I -thought of Davidson, and my eyes glistened: the -very pain was the birth of new strength.</p> - -<p>Then, even as the strength came, I heard a thud, -and away on the left a canister blazed into the air, -climbed, swooped, and rushed. And the vulgar -din of its bursting rent all the stillness of the night. -A second followed suit. And as it, too, burst, it -seemed a clumsy mocking at me, a mocking that -ran in echoes all along the still valley.</p> - -<p>“Strength,” it sneered. “Strength.”</p> - -<p>And all my iron will seemed beating against a -wall of steel, that must in the end wear me down -in a useless battering.</p> - -<p>“War,” I cried. “How can my will batter -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">193</span> -against war?” I thought of Davidson’s smiling -face; and then I thought of the blind clumsy -canister. And I felt unutterably weak and powerless. -What did it matter what I thought or did, -whether I was weak or strong? What power had -I against this irresistible impersonal machine; this -war? And I remembered how an hour or so ago -the trench-mortar officer had asked me whether I -wanted him to fire or not, and I had answered, -“Good God! Do as you d—d well like.” What -did it matter what he did? Yet, last night it had -seemed to matter everything.</p> - -<p>Slowly there came into my mind that picture -that later has come to mean to me the true expression -of war. Only slowly it came now, a -half-formed image of what my spirit alone understood.</p> - -<p>“A certain man drew a bow at a venture,” I -thought. What of those shells that I had called -down last night at my bidding, standing like a god, -intoxicated with power, and crying “Retaliate. -More retaliation.” Where did they fall? Were -other men lying as Davidson lay to-night? Had I -called down death? Had I stricken families? -Probably. Nay, more than probably. Certainly. -Death. Blind death. That was it. Blind death.</p> - -<p>And all the time above me was the white moon. -I looked at the shadows of my arms as I held them -out. Such shadows belonged to summer nights in -England ... in Kent.... Oh! why was everything -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">194</span> -so silent? Could nothing stop this utter -folly, this cruel madness, this clumsy death?</p> - -<p>And then, at last, the strain gave a little, and my -muscles relaxed. I went back and took up my -helmet.</p> - -<p>“Dead,” the voice repeated within me. And this -time my spirit found utterance:</p> - -<p>“Damn!” I said. “Oh damn! damn! Damn!”</p> - -<h3>[<i>Copy</i>]<br /> - -<span class="smcap">Special Report—C 1 Section (Left -Company)</span></h3> - -<p>The mine exploded by us opposite 80 A at 6.30 -p.m. last night has exposed about 20 yards of -German parapet. A working-party attempting to -work there about 12.30 a.m. and again at 2 a.m. -was dispersed at once by our rifle and Lewis-gun -fire. The parapet has been built up sufficiently to -prevent our seeing over it, sand-bags having been -put up from inside the trench. Our snipers are -closely watching this spot.</p> - -<p class="author"> -<span class="smcap">J. B. P. Adams</span>, Lieut.<br /> -O.C. “B” Coy.</p> - -<p>6.30 a.m. 20.3.16. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">195</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII<br /> - -OFFICERS’ SERVANTS</h2> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">“Poor</span> devils on sentry,” said Dixon. He -shut the door quickly and came over to -the fire. Outside was a thick blizzard, -and it was biting cold. He sat down on the bed -nearest the fire and got warm again.</p> - -<p>“Look here, Bill, can’t we possibly get any -coal?”</p> - -<p>“We sent a fellow into Bray,” I answered, -“but it’s very doubtful if he’ll get any. Anyway -we’ll see.”</p> - -<p>Tea was finished. The great problem was fuel. -There were no trees or houses anywhere near 71 -North. We had burnt two solid planks during the -day; these had been procured by the simple expedient -of getting a lance-corporal to march four -men to the R.E. dump, select two planks, and -march them back again. But by now the planks -had surely been missed, and it would be extremely -risky to repeat the experiment, even after dark. -So a man had been despatched to Bray to try and -purchase a sack of coal; also, I had told the Mess-sergeant -to try and buy one for us, and bring it up -with the rations. This also was a doubtful quantity. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">196</span> -Meanwhile, we had a great blaze going, and were -making the most of it.</p> - -<p>I was writing letters; Dixon was reading; Nicolson -was seeing to the rum ration; Clark was -singing, “Now Neville was a devil,” and showing -his servant Brady how to “make” a hammock. -Brady was a patient disciple, but his master had -slept in a hammock for the first time in his life the -night before and consequently was not a very clear -exponent of the art. Apparently certain things -that happened last night must be avoided to-night; -<i>how</i> they were to be avoided was left to Brady’s -ingenuity. Every attempt on his part to solve the -problems put before him was carefully tested by -Clark, and accepted or condemned according to its -merit under the strain of Clark’s body. At such -times of testing the strains of “Neville was a -devil” would cease. At last Brady hit on some -lucky adjustment, and the occupant pronounced -his position to be first rate. Then Brady disappeared -behind the curtain that screened the servants’ -quarters, and the song proceeded uninterruptedly, - -<span class="poetry"><span class="poem"><span class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Now Neville was a devil<br /></span> -<span class="i1">A perfect little devil”;<br /></span> -</span></span></span> - -and Clark rocked himself contentedly into a state -of restful slumber.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, behind the arras the retainers prepared -their masters’ meal. This dug-out was of -the “tubular” pattern, a succession of quarter -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">197</span> -circles of black iron riveted together at the top, -and so forming a long tube, one end of which was -bricked up and had a brick chimney with two -panes of glass on each side of it; the other led into -a small wooden dug-out curtained off. Here abode -five servants and an orderly. I should here state that -this dug-out was the most comfortable I have ever -lived in; as a matter of fact it was not a dug-out at -all, but being placed right under the steep bank at -71 North it was practically immune from shelling. -The brick chimney and the glass window-panes were -certainly almost unique: one imagined it must -have been built originally by the R.E.’s for their own -abode! Along the sides were four beds of wire-netting -stretched over a wooden frame with a layer -of empty sand-bags for mattress. In the centre was -a wooden table. Over this table, in air suspended, -floated Clark.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, as above stated, behind the arras the -retainers prepared their masters’ meal, with such-like -comments—</p> - -<p>“Who’s going for rations to-night?”</p> - -<p>“It’s Lewis’s turn to-night, and Smith’s.”</p> - -<p>“All right, sergeant.”</p> - -<p>“Gr-r-r” (unintelligible).</p> - -<p>“Where’s Dodger?”</p> - -<p>“Out chasing them hares. Didn’t you hear the -Captain say he’d be for it, if he didn’t get one?”</p> - -<p>“Gr-r-r. He won’t get any —— hares.”</p> - -<p>Here followed a pause, and a lot of noise of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">198</span> -plates and boxes being moved. Then there was a -continued crackling of wood, as the fire was made -up. Followed a lot of coughing, and muttering, -and “Phew!” as the smoke got too thick even for -that smoke-hardened crew.</p> - -<p>“Phew! Stop it. Jesus Christ.”</p> - -<p>More coughing, the door was opened, and soon -a cold draught sped into our dug-out. There was -but one door for both.</p> - -<p>“Shut that door!” I shouted.</p> - -<p>“Hi, Lewis, your bloke’s calling. Said, ‘Shut -that door.’”</p> - -<p>Then the door shut. More coughing ensued, but -the smoke was better, apparently, for it soon ceased. -We were each, by the way, “my bloke” to our -respective retainers.</p> - -<p>The conversation remained for some time at an -inaudible level, until I heard the door open again, -and a shout of “Hullo! Dodger. Coo! Jesus -Christ! He’s all right, isn’t he? There’s a job for -you, sergeant, cooking that bloke. Has the Captain -seen him? Hey! Look out of that! You’ll have -the blood all over the place. Get a bit of paper.”</p> - -<p>The “sergeant” (Private Gray) made no comments -on the prospect of cooking the “Dodger’s” -quarry, and the next minute Private Davies, -orderly, appeared with glowing though rather -dirty face holding up a large hare, that dripped gore -from its mouth into a scrunched-up ball of <i>Daily -Mail</i> held to its nose like a pocket-handkerchief. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">199</span></p> - -<p>“Look here, Dixon,” I said.</p> - -<p>“Devil’s alive,” exclaimed Dixon. “Then you’ve -got one. By Jove! Splendid! I say, isn’t he a -beauty?” And we all went up and examined him. -He was a hare of the first order. To-morrow he -should be the <i>chef d’œuvre</i> in “B” Company mess -at Morlancourt. For we went out of reserve into -billets the next morning.</p> - -<p>“How did you get him, Davies?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! easy enough, sir. I’ll get another if you -like. There’s a lot of them sitting out in the snow -there. I was only about fifty yards off. He don’t -get much chance with a rifle, sir.” (Here his voice -broke into a laugh.) “It’s not what you call much -sport for him, sir! I got this too, sir!”</p> - -<p>And lo! and behold! a plump partridge!</p> - -<p>“Oh! they’re as tame as anything, and you -can’t help getting them in this snow,” he said.</p> - -<p>At last the dripping hare was removed from the -stage to behind the scenes, and Davies joined the -smothered babel behind the arras.</p> - -<p>“Wonderful fellow, old Davies,” said Dixon.</p> - -<p>“By the way, Bill,” he added. “How about -getting the little doctor in to-night for a hand of -vingt-et-un? Can we manage it all right?”</p> - -<p>I was Mess-president for the time, Edwards -being away on a course.</p> - -<p>“Oh! yes,” I answered. “Rather. I’ll send -a note.”</p> - -<p>As I was writing a rather elaborate note (having -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">200</span> -nothing better to do) requesting the pleasure of the -distinguished presence of the medical officer, the -man who had been to Bray for coal came and -reported a fruitless errand. He seemed very depressed -at his failure, but cheered up when we gave -him a tot of rum to warm him up. (All rum, by -the way, is kept in the company officer’s dug-out; -it is the only way.)</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, the problem of fuel must be faced. -A log was crackling away merrily enough, but it -was the very last. Something must be done.</p> - -<p>“Davies,” I called out.</p> - -<p>“Sir?” came back in that higher key of his.</p> - -<p>He appeared at the door.</p> - -<p>“Are you going down for rations?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Well, look here. There’s a sack of coal <i>ordered</i> -from Sergeant Johnson, but I’m none too sure it’ll -come up to-night. I only ordered it yesterday. -But I want you to make sure you get it if it is there; -in fact you <i>must</i> bring it, whether it’s there or not. -See? If you don’t, you’ll be for it.”</p> - -<p>This threat Davies took for what it was worth. -But he answered:</p> - -<p>“I’ll get it, sir. I’ll bring something along -somehow.”</p> - -<p>And Davies never failed of his word.</p> - -<p>“Good! Do what you can.”</p> - -<p>Half an hour later he staggered in with a sack of -coal, and plumped it down, all covered with snow. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">201</span> -The fire was burning very low, and we were looking -at it anxiously. The sight of this new supply of -fuel was wonderful good to the eyes. So busy were -we in stoking up, that we forgot to ask Davies if -he had had any trouble in getting it. After all, it -did not matter much. There was the coal; that -was the point.</p> - -<p>Behind the curtain there was a great business. -Lewis and Brady had brought up the rations; -Gray was busy with a big stew, and Richards was -apparently engaged in getting out plates and knives -and forks from a box; Davies was reading aloud, -in the middle of the chaos, from the <i>Daily Mail</i>. -Sometimes the Mess-president took it into his head -to inspect the servants’ dug-out; but it was an -unwise procedure, for it took away the relish of the -meal, if you saw the details of its preparation. So -long as it was served up tolerably clean, one should -be satisfied.</p> - -<p>At half-past seven came in Richards to lay the -table. The procedure of this was first to take all -articles on the table and dump them on the nearest -bed. Then a knife, fork, and spoon were put to -each place, and a varied collection of tin mugs and -glasses arranged likewise; then came salt and -mustard in glass potted-meat jars; bread sitting -bareback on the newspaper tablecloth; and a -bottle of O.V.H. and two bottles of Perrier to crown -the feast. All this was arranged with a deliberate -smile, as by one who knew the exact value of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">202</span> -things, and defied instruction in any detail of laying -a table. Richards was an old soldier, and he had -won from Dixon at first unbounded praise; but he -had been found to possess a lot too much talk at -present, and had been sat on once or twice fairly -heavily of late. So now he wore the face of one who -was politely amused, yet, knowing his own worth, -could forbear from malice. He gave the table a -last look with his head on one side, and then departed -in silence.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the door flew open, and the doctor -burst in, shuddering, and knocking the snow off -his cap.</p> - -<p>“By Jove, Dicker,” he cried. “A bad night to -go about paying joy visits. But, by Jove, I’m jolly -glad you asked me. There’s the devil to pay up at -headquarters. The C.O.’s raving, simply. Some -blighter has pinched our coal, and there’s none to -be got anywhere. Good Lord, it’s too hot altogether. -I couldn’t stand Mess there to-night at any price. -I pity old Dale. The C.O.’s been swearing like a -trooper! He’s fair mad.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind,” he added after a pause. “I -think we’ve raised enough wood to cook the dinner -all right. See you’ve got coal all right.”</p> - -<p>I hoped to goodness Dixon wouldn’t put his foot -in it. But he rose to the occasion and said:</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes. We ordered some coal from Sergeant -Johnson. Come on, let’s start. Hi! Richards!”</p> - -<p>And Richards came in with the stew in a tin jug -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">203</span> -such as is used in civilised lands to hold hot water -of a morning. And so the doctor forgot the Colonel’s -rage.</p> - -<p>Late that night, after the doctor had gone, I -called Davies.</p> - -<p>“Davies,” I said, “where did you get that -coal?”</p> - -<p>“Off the ration cart, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Was it ours, do you think?”</p> - -<p>“Well, sir, I don’t somehow think it was. You -see, the ration cart came up, and the man driving -it was up by the horse—and I saw the bag o’ coal -there, like. So I said to Lewis, ‘Lewis, you see to -the rations. I’ll take the coal up quick!’ Then -I heard the man up by the horse say, ‘There’s -coal there for headquarters.’ ‘Oh, yes,’ I said, -‘that’s all right, but this here was ordered off -Sergeant Johnson yesterday,’ I said. And I made -off quick.”</p> - -<p>“Good Lord!” I exclaimed. “Was Sergeant -Johnson there?”</p> - -<p>“No,” answered Davies. “He came later. I -said to Lewis just now, ‘What about that coal?’ -And he said Sergeant Johnson came just after and -started kicking up some bit of a row, sir, about -some coal; but Lewis, he said he didn’t know -nothing about any coal, and the man at the horse -he didn’t know who I was, sir; it was quite dark, -you see, sir. Lewis said Sergeant Johnson got the -wind up a bit, sir, about losing the coal....” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">204</span></p> - -<p>“Look here Davies,” I remarked solemnly, “do -you realise that that coal was for headquarters ...”</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t say, sir,” began Davies.</p> - -<p>“But I can,” said I. “Look here, you must -just set a limit somewhere. I know I said you <i>must</i> -get some coal, somewhere. But I wasn’t exactly -thinking of bagging the C.O.’s coal. As a matter -of fact he was slightly annoyed, though doubtless -if he knew it was No. 14 Davies, “B” Company -orderly, he would abate his wrath. Do you realise -this is a very serious offence?”</p> - -<p>Davies’ mouth wavered. He could never quite -understand this method of procedure. He looked -at the blazing fire, and his eyes twinkled. Then he -understood.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,” he said.</p> - -<p>“All right,” I replied. “Don’t let it occur -again.”</p> - -<p>And it never did—at least, not headquarters coal.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>We did not get back to Morlancourt till nearly -half-past three the next day. Things were not -going well in our billet at the butcher’s shop. -Gray, the cook, and two of the servants had been -sent on early to get the valises from the quartermaster’s -stores, and to have a meal ready. We -arrived to find no meal ready, and what was worse, -the stove not lit. Coal could not be had from the -stores, was the statement that greeted us.</p> - -<p>“What the blazes do you mean?” shouted -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">205</span> -Dixon. We were really angry as well as ravenous; -for it was freezing hard, and the tiles on the floor -seemed to radiate ice-waves.</p> - -<p>“Have you asked Madame if she can lend us a -little to go on with?” I queried.</p> - -<p>No, they had not asked Madame.</p> - -<p>Then followed a blaze of vituperation, and -Richards was sent at the double into the kitchen. -Soon Madame appeared, with sticks and coal, -and lit the fire. We watched the crackles, too cold -to do anything else. The adjoining room, where -Dixon and I slept, was an ice-house, also tiled. -It was too cold to talk even.</p> - -<p>“C’est froid dans les tranchés,” said I in execrable -French.</p> - -<p>“Mais oui, m’sieur l’officier,” said Madame, -deeply sympathising.</p> - -<p>I thought of the blazing fire in 71 North, but it -was too cold to say anything more. What matter -if Madame imagined us standing in a foot of snow? -So we should have been for the most part had we -been in the line the last two days, instead of in -reserve.</p> - -<p>Soon it began to get less icy, and the stove looked -a little less of the blacklead order. It was a kitchen-range -really, with a boiler and oven; but the -boiler was rather leaky. Now, as the coal blazed up, -life began to ebb back again.</p> - -<p>Confound it! The stove was smoking like fury. -Pah! The flues were all full of soot. Dixon was -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">206</span> -rather an expert on stoves, and said that all that -was needed was a brush. Where had all the servants -disappeared to? Why wasn’t someone there? -I opened the door into our bedroom—a cold blast -struck me in the face. In the middle of the room, -unopened, sat our two valises, like desert islands in -a sea of red tiles.</p> - -<p>“Hang it all, this is the limit,” I said, and ran -out into the street, and into the next house, where -the servants’ quarters were. And there, in the -middle of a pile of half-packed boxes, stood Gray, -eating a piece of bread. Now I discovered afterwards -that the boxes had just been brought in by -Cody and Lewis, that Davies and Richards had gone -after the coal, and were at that moment staggering -under the weight of it on their way from the stores, -and that Gray could not do anything more, having -unpacked the boxes, until the coal came. But I -did not grasp these subtle details of the interior -economy of the servants’ hall, and I broke out into -a real hot strafe. Why should Gray be standing -there eating, while the officers shivered and starved?</p> - -<p>I returned to Dixon, and found Clark and Nicolson -there; and together we all fumed. Then in -came the post-corporal with an accumulation of -parcels, and we stopped fuming.</p> - -<p>“By Jove,” I exclaimed, a few minutes later. -“The hare. I had forgotten le—what is it, lièvre, -lèvre? I forget. Never mind. Lewis, bring the -hare along, and ask Madame in your best manner -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">207</span> -if she would do us the honour of cooking it for us. -To-night, now.”</p> - -<p>Presently Madame came in, with Lewis standing -rather sheepishly behind. She delivered a tornado -of very fluent French: “eau-de-vie,” “eau-de-vie,” -was all I could disentangle.</p> - -<p>“Eau-de-vie?” I asked her. “Pourquoi eau-de-vie?”</p> - -<p>“Brandy,” explained Dixon.</p> - -<p>“I know that,” said I (who did not know that -eau-de-vie was brandy?)</p> - -<p>“Brandy,” said Dixon, “to cook the hare with. -That’s all she wants. Oui, oui, Madame. Eau-de-vie. -Tout de suite. The doctor’s got brandy. -Send Lewis along to the doctor to ask him to dinner, -and borrow a little brandy.”</p> - -<p>So Lewis was despatched, and returned with a -little brandy, but the doctor could not come.</p> - -<p>“Never mind,” we said.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile some tea was on the table, and bully -and bread and butter; there was no sugar, however. -Richards smiled and said the rats had eaten -it all in 71 North, but Davies was buying some. -Whenever anything was missing, these rats had -eaten it, just as they were responsible for men’s -equipment and packs getting torn, and their -emergency rations lost. In many cases the excuse -was quite a just one; but when it came to rats -running off with canteen lids, our sympathy for the -rat-ridden Tommy was not always very strong. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">208</span></p> - -<p>To-day, a new reason was found for the loss of -three teaspoons.</p> - -<p>“Lost in the scuffle, sir, the night of the raid,” -was the answer given to the demand for an explanation.</p> - -<p>“What scuffle?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Why, the box got upset, sir, the night of the -raid when we all stood to in a bit of a hurry, sir.”</p> - -<p>I remembered there had been some confusion -and noise behind the arras that night when the -Germans raided on the left; apparently all the -knives and forks had fallen to the ground and -several had snapped under the martial trampling -of feet when our retainers stood to arms. For many -days afterwards when anything was lost, one’s -anger was appeased by “Lost in the scuffle, sir.” -At last it got too much of a good thing.</p> - -<p>“Why this new teapot, Davies?” I said a few -days later.</p> - -<p>“The old one was lost in the scuffle, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Look here,” I said. “We had the old one -yesterday, and this morning I saw it broken on -Madame’s manure heap. Here endeth ‘lost in the -scuffle.’ See? Go back to rats.”</p> - -<p>“Very good, sir.”</p> - -<p>That night, about ten o’clock, when Clark, Nicolson, -and Brownlow (who had been our guest) had -gone back to their respective billets, Dixon and I -were sitting in front of the stove, our feet up on -the brass bar that ran along the top-front of it, on -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">209</span> -a comfortable red-plush settee. This settee made -amends for very many things, such as: a tile -floor; four doors, one of which scraped most -excruciatingly over the tiles, and another being -glass-panelled allowed in much cold air from the -butcher’s shop; no entry for the servants save -either through the butcher’s shop or through the -bedroom viâ the open window; very little room to -turn round in, when we were all there; a smell of -stale lard that permeated the whole establishment; -and finally, the necessity of moving the settee every -time Madame or Mam’selle wanted to get to either -the cellar or the stairs.</p> - -<p>But now all these disabilities were removed, -everyone else having gone off to bed, and Dixon and -I were talking lazily before turning in also. I had -a large pan of boiling water waiting on the top of -the range, and my canvas bath was all ready in the -next room.</p> - -<p>“Ah! the discomfort of it!” ejaculated Dixon. -“The terrible discomfort of it all!”</p> - -<p>“How they are pitying us at home,” I replied. -“‘Those rabbit holes! I can’t think how you keep -the water out of them at all!’ Can’t you hear -them? ‘And isn’t that bully beef most horribly -tough and hard! Ugh! I couldn’t bear it.’” I -tried to imitate a lady’s voice, but it was not a -great success. I was out of practice.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Dixon, thinking of the extraordinarily -good jugged hare produced by Madame. Then -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">210</span> -his thoughts turned to Davies, the hunter who was -responsible for the feast.</p> - -<p>“Wonderful fellow, old Davies,” he added. “In -fact they’re all good fellows.”</p> - -<p>“He’s a shepherd boy,” I said. “Comes from -Blaenau Festiniog, a little village right up in the -Welsh mountains. I know the place. A few years -ago he was a boy looking after sheep out on the -hills all day; a wide-eyed Welsh boy, with a sheepdog -trotting behind him. He’s rather like a sheepdog -himself, isn’t he?”</p> - -<p>“Gad, he’s a wonderful fellow. But they all -are, you know, Bill. Look at your chap, Lewis; -great clumsy red-faced fellow, with his piping voice, -that sometimes gets on your nerves.”</p> - -<p>“He’s too lazy at times,” I broke in; “but he’s -honest, dead honest. He was a farm hand! Good -heavens, fancy choosing a fellow out of the farmyard -to act as valet and waiter! I remember the -first time he waited! He was so nervous he nearly -dropped everything, and his face like that fire! -O’Brien said he was tight!”</p> - -<p>“Richards talks a jolly sight too much, sometimes—but -after all what does it matter? They -try their best; and think how we curse them! -Look at the way I cursed about that stove this -afternoon: as soon as anything goes wrong, we -strafe like blazes, whether it’s their fault or not. -A fellow in England would resign on the spot. But -they don’t care a damn, and just carry on. This -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">211</span> -cursing’s no good, Bill. Hang it all, they’re doing -their bit same as we are, and they have a d—d -sight harder time.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think they worry much about the -strafing,” I said. “It’s part of the ordinary routine. -Still, I agree, we do strafe them for thousands of -things that aren’t their fault.”</p> - -<p>“They’re a sort of safety-valve,” he answered -with a laugh. “I don’t know how it is, one would -never dream of cursing the men like we do these -fellows. You know as well as I do, Bill, the only -way to run a company is by love. It’s no earthly -use trying to get the men behind you, by cursing -them day and night. I really must try and stop -cursing these servants. After all, they’re the best -fellows in the world.”</p> - -<p>“The men curse all right,” I said, “when they -don’t get their food right. I guess we’re all animal, -after all. It’s merely a method of getting things -done quickly. Besides, you know perfectly well -you won’t be able to stop blazing away when there’s -no fire or food. It creates an artificial warmth.”</p> - -<p>“D—d artificial,” laughed he.</p> - -<p>There was a silence.</p> - -<p>“By Jove, Bill,” he said at last, getting up to go -to bed. “When’s this war going to end?”</p> - -<p>To which I made no reply, but moved my bath -out of the icy bedroom and dragged it in front of -the fire. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">212</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII<br /> - -MINES</h2> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">“The</span> Colonel wants to speak to O.C. ‘B,’ -sir.” It was midday.</p> - -<p>“It’s about that wire,” said Edwards. -“But we couldn’t get any more out without -stakes.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t expect it’s about the wire,” I said, -as I hurried out of the Straw Palace. “The C.O. -knows we can’t get the stakes.”</p> - -<p>No, it was nothing to do with the wire.</p> - -<p>“Just a minute, sir,” said the telephone orderly. -“Hi! Headquarters. Is that you, George? O.C. -‘B’s’ here now. Just a minute, sir.”</p> - -<p>A pause, followed by:</p> - -<p>“Commanding Officer, sir,” and I was handed -the receiver.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,” I said. “This is Adams.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! that you, Adams? Well, look here—about -this mine going up to-night. Got your map -there? Well, the mining officer is here now, and -he says.... Look here, you’d better come down -here now. Yes, come here now.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">213</span></p> - -<p>“Very good, sir,” but the C.O. had rung off with -a jerk, and only a singing remained in my ears.</p> - -<p>“Got to go down and explain in person why the -officer in charge of ‘B’ Company wirers did not -get out twenty coils last night,” I said to Edwards -as I hurried off down Old Kent Road. “The C.O.’s -in an ‘I gave a distinct order’ mood. Cheero!”</p> - -<p>On entering the Headquarters’ dug-out in Maple -Redoubt, I found the C.O. engaged in conversation -with an artillery officer: there had been another -raid last night on the left, and our artillery had -sent a lot of stuff over. This was the subject under -discussion.</p> - -<p>“I think you did d—d well,” said the C.O. as -the officer left. “Well, Adams, I thought it would -be easiest if you came down. Here’s our friend -from the underworld, and he’ll explain exactly -what he’s going to do”; and I saw the R.E. -officer for the first time. He had been standing -in the gloom of the further end of the dug-out.</p> - -<p>“Look here,” began the Colonel, as he laid out -the trench map on the table. “<i>Here</i> is where we -blow to-night at 6.0” (and he made a pencil dot -in the middle of the grass of No Man’s Land midway -between the craters opposite the Loop and -the Fort. See Map III). “And here, all round -here” (he drew his pencil round and round in a -blacker and yet blacker circle) “is roughly where -the edge of the crater will come. Isn’t that right, -Armstrong?” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">214</span></p> - -<p>“Yes,” was the reply, “the crater edge won’t -come right up to the front trench, but I don’t -want anyone in the front trench, as it will probably -be squeezed up in one or two places.”</p> - -<p>“Exactly,” said the Colonel. “Do you think -this blow will completely connect up the two craters -on either side?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, certainly,” was the answer. “There’s no -question of it. You see, we’ve put in” (here followed -figures and explosives incomprehensible to the lay -mind). “It’ll be the biggest mine we’ve ever blown -in this sector.”</p> - -<p>“A surface mine, I suppose?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Almost certainly,” said the R.E. officer. “You -see, their gallery is only ten feet above ours, and -they might blow any minute. But they’re still -working. We wanted to get another twenty feet -out before blowing, but it isn’t safe. Anyway, we -are bound to smash up all their galleries there -completely, though I doubt if we touch their -parapet at all.” He spoke almost impatiently, as -one who talks of things that have been his main -interest for weeks, and tries to explain the whole -thing in a few words. “But,” he added, “I don’t -want any men in that trench.”</p> - -<p>The mining officers always presumed that the -infantry clung tenaciously like limpets to their -trench, and had to be very carefully removed in -case a mine was going up. As a matter of fact, -the infantry always made a rule of clearing the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">215</span> -trench half as far again as the mining officer -enjoined, and were always inclined to want to -depart from the abhorred spot long before the -time decided upon!</p> - -<p>“That’s clear enough,” said the Colonel. “Then -from <i>here</i> to <i>here</i> (and he made pencil blobs where -I have marked A and B on Map III) we will clear -the trench. Get your Lewis guns placed at these -two points (A and B), ready to open fire as soon -as the mine has gone up. And get your bombers -ready to seize the crater edge as soon as it’s dark -enough. You’ll want to have some tools and sand-bags -ready, and your wirers should have plenty -of gooseberries and all the stakes we can get you. -Right.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>As I went up 76 Street at half-past five, I realised -that I had been rushing about too much, and had -forgotten tea. So I sent Davies back and told him -to bring up a mug of tea and something to eat. -No sooner had he disappeared than I met a party -of six R.E.’s, the two leading men carrying canaries -in cages. They held them out in front, like you -hold out a lantern on a muddy road, and they -were covered from head to foot in white chalk-dust. -They were doing a sort of half-run down -the trench, known among the men as the “R.E. -step.” It is always adopted by them if there is -any “strafing” going on, or on such occasions as -the present, when the charge has been laid, the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">216</span> -match lit, and the mine-shaft and galleries, canaries -and all, evacuated. (The canaries are used to -detect gas fumes, not as pets.)</p> - -<p>When I reached the Fort, I found No. 7 Platoon -already filing out of the trench area that had been -condemned as dangerous.</p> - -<p>“You’re very early, Sergeant Hayman,” I said.</p> - -<p>I looked at my watch.</p> - -<p>“Oh, all right,” I added, “it’s twenty to six; -very well. Have you got all the bomb boxes and -S.A.A. out?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir. Everything’s clear.”</p> - -<p>“Very well, then. All those men not detailed -as tool and sand-bag party can get in dug-outs, -ready to come back as soon as I give orders. There -will probably be a bit of ‘strafing.’”</p> - -<p>“Very good, sir.”</p> - -<p>The Lewis-gun team emerged from its dug-out -twenty yards behind the Fort, in rather a snail-like -fashion. I arranged where the N.C.O. and -two men should stand, just at the corner of the -Fort, but in the main trench (at B in map). The -rest of the team I sent back to its burrow. -Edwards had made all arrangements for the other -team.</p> - -<p>Ten to six. It was a warm evening early in -April, and there was a deathly calm. These hushes -are hateful and unnatural, especially at “stand to” -in the evening. In the afternoon an after-dinner -slumber is right and proper, but as dusk creeps -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">217</span> -down it is well known that everyone is alive and -alert, and a certain visible expression is natural -and welcome. This evening silence is like the pause -between the lightning and the thunder; worst of -all is the stillness after the enemy has blown a -mine at “stand to,” for ten to one he is going to -blow another at “stand down.”</p> - -<p>The sun set in a blaze of red, and in the south the -evening star glowed in a deepening blue. What will -have happened by the time the day has returned -with its full light and sense of security?</p> - -<p>“Here you are, sir,” I heard suddenly at my -elbow, and found my mug of tea, two large pieces -of bread and butter and cake, presented by Davies -on a box-lid salver.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know if this is enough, sir. Lewis -he wanted me to bring along a pot o’ jam, sir. -But I said Mr. Adams he won’t have time for all -that.”</p> - -<p>“I should think not. Far too much as it is. -Here, put the cake on the fire-step, and take hold -of this notebook, will you?” And so, with the -mug in one hand, and a piece of bread and butter -in the other, Scott found me as he came along at -that moment, looking, as he told me afterwards, -exactly like the Mad Hatter in <i>Alice in Wonderland</i>.</p> - -<p>“What’s the time?” I enquired, munching hard.</p> - -<p>“I make it two minutes to six,” said Scott.</p> - -<p>“Go up a shixo’-clock,” I said, taking a very big -mouthful indeed. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">218</span></p> - -<p>“Who put the sugar in this tea?” I asked -Davies a minute later.</p> - -<p>“I did,” said Davies.</p> - -<p>“Far too much. I shall never get you fellows -to understand ...”</p> - -<p>But the sentence was not finished. There was a -faint “Bomp” from goodness knows where, and -a horrid shudder. The earth shook and staggered, -and I set my legs apart to keep my balance. It -felt as if the whole ground were going to be tilted -up. The tea splashed all over the fire-step as I -hastily put it down. Then I looked up. There -was nothing. What had happened? Was it a -camouflet after all? Then, over the sandbags -appeared a great green meadow, slowly, taking its -time, not hurrying, a smooth curved dome of grass, -heaving up, up, up, like a rising cake; then, like -a cake, it cracked; cracked visibly with bursting -brown seams; still the dome rose, towering ten, -twenty feet up above the surrounding level; and -then with a roar the black smoke hurtled into the -air, followed by masses of pink flame creaming up -into the sky, giving out a bonfire heat and lighting -up the twilight with a lurid glare! Then we all -ducked to avoid the shower of mud and dirt and -chalk that pattered down like hail.</p> - -<p>“Magnificent,” I said to Scott.</p> - -<p>“Wonderful,” he answered.</p> - -<p>“The mud’s all in your tea, sir,” said Davies.</p> - -<p>“Dr—r-r-r-r-r,” rattled the Lewis guns. The -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">219</span> -Lewis gunners with me had been amazed rather -than thrilled by the awful spectacle, but were now -recovered from the shock, and emptying two or -three drums into the twilight void. I was peering -over into a vast chasm, where two minutes ago had -been a smooth meadow full of buttercups and -toadstools.</p> - -<p>Suddenly I found Sergeant Hayman at my elbow.</p> - -<p>“The trench is all fallen in, sir. You can’t get -along at all.” And so the night’s work began.</p> - -<p>At 1.0 a.m. I was lying flat down on soft spongy -grass atop of a large crater-lip quite eight feet -higher than the ground level. Beside me lay two -bombers and a box of bombs: we were all peering -out into a space that seemed enormous. Suddenly -a German starlight rocketed up, and as it burst -the great white bowl of the crater jumped into -view. Then a few rifle-shots sang across the gulf. -There followed a deeper darkness than before. -Behind me was a wiring-party not quite finished; -also the sound of earth being shovelled by tired -men. A strong working-party of “A” Company -had been engaged for four hours clearing the trench -that had been squeezed up; all available men of -“B” Company not on sentry had been digging a -zigzag sap from the trench to the post on the -crater-lip where I lay. Two other pairs of bombers -lay out on the crater edge to right and left; behind -me the wirers had run out a thin line of stakes -and barbed wire behind the new crater; this wire -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">220</span> -passed over the sap, which would not be held by -day. One wirer had had a bullet through the leg, -but we had suffered no other casualties. Another -hour, and I should be off duty. Altogether, a good -show.</p> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>I was reading <i>Blackwood’s</i> in a dug-out in Maple -Redoubt. It was just after four, and I was lying -on my bed. Suddenly the candle flickered and -went out. I had to get up to ring the bell, and -when I did get up, the bell did not ring, so I went -out and called Lewis. The bell, by the way, was -an arrangement of string from our dug-out to the -servants’ next door.</p> - -<p>“Bring me a candle,” I said, as Lewis appeared, -evidently flushed and blear-eyed from sleep. “I -don’t know where you keep them. I can’t find one -anywhere.”</p> - -<p>Lewis fished under the bed and discovered a -paper packet of candles, and lit one. “By the by,” -I added, “tell the pioneer servant (this was Private -Davies, my orderly) to fix up that bell, will you? -And I think we’ll be ready for tea as soon as you -can get it. What do you say, Teddy? Hullo, -Clark! What are you doing here? Come in and -have tea.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks, I will,” said Clark, who had just come -down Park Lane. “I was coming to invite myself, -as a matter of fact.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">221</span></p> - -<p>“Good man,” we said. Clark was no longer of -“B” Company, having passed from Lewis-gun -officer to the Brigade Machine-gun Corps. So we -did not see very much of him.</p> - -<p>At that moment Sergeant-Major Brown arrived -and stood at the door. He saluted.</p> - -<p>“Come in, sergeant-major.”</p> - -<p>“The tea’s up, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, all right,” I said. “I’ll go. Don’t wait -if tea comes in, Edwards. But I shan’t be a -minute.”</p> - -<p>As I went along with that tower of strength, -the company sergeant-major, followed by an orderly -carrying two rum jars produced from under my -bed, I discussed the subject of working-parties for -the night, and other such dull details of routine. -Also we discussed leave. His dug-out was at the -corner of Old Kent Road and Park Lane, and there -I found the “Quarter” (Company Sergeant-Major -Roberts) waiting with the five dixies of hot tea, -just brought up on the ration trolley from the -Citadel.</p> - -<p>Sergeant Roberts saluted, and informed me that -all was correct. Then the sergeant-major spilled -the contents of the two jars into the five dixies, -and as he did so the ten orderlies, two from each -platoon, and two Lewis gunners, made off with the -dixies. Then I made off, but followed by Sergeant -Roberts with several papers to sign, and five pay -books in which entries had to be made for men -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">222</span> -going on leave. One signed the pay-book, and -also a paper to the quartermaster authorising him -to pay 125 francs (the usual sum) to the undermentioned -men, out of the company balance which -was deposited with him on leaving billets. I signed -everything Sergeant Roberts put before me, almost -without question.</p> - -<p>“Well, Clark,” I said, as we sat down to a tea -of hot buttered toast, jam and cake. “How goes -it?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve just been down a mine-shaft with that -R.E. officer, I forget his name—the fellow with -the glasses.”</p> - -<p>“I know,” I replied; “I don’t know his name -either, but it doesn’t matter. Did you go right -down, and along the galleries? How frightfully -interesting. I always mean to go, but somehow -don’t. Well, what about it?”</p> - -<p>“By Jove,” said Clark. “It’s wonderful. It’s -all as white as snow, dazzling white. I never -realised that before, although you see these R.E.’s -coming out all covered with white chalk-dust. -First of all you go down three or four ladders; -it’s awfully tricky work at the sort of halts on the -way down, because there’s a little platform, and -very often the ladder goes down a different side -of the shaft after one of these halts; and if you -don’t notice, you lower your foot to go on down -the same side as you were going before, and there’s -nothing there. The first time I did this and looked -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">223</span> -down and saw a dim light miles below, it quite -gave me a turn. It’s a terrible long way down, -and of course you go alone; the R.E. officer went -first, and got ahead of me.”</p> - -<p>“Have some more tea, and go on.”</p> - -<p>“Well, down there it’s fearfully interesting. I -didn’t go far up the gallery where they’re working, -because you can’t easily pass along; but the R.E. -officer took me along a gallery that is not being -worked, and there, all alone, at the end of it was -a man sitting. He was simply sitting, listening. -Then I listened through his stethoscope thing ...”</p> - -<p>“I know,” I interposed. It is an instrument like -a doctor’s stethoscope, and by it you can hear -underground sounds a hundred yards away as -clearly as if they were five yards off.</p> - -<p>“... and I could hear the Boche working as -plainly as anything. Good heavens, it sounded -about a yard off. Yet they told me it was forty -yards. By Jove, it was weird. ‘Pick ... pick -... pick.’ I thought it must be our fellows really, -but theirs made a different sound, and not a bit -the same. But, you know, that fellow sitting there -alone ... as we went away and left him, he looked -round at us with staring eyes just like a hunted -animal. To sit there for hours on end, listening. -Of course, while you hear them working, it’s all -right, they won’t blow. But if you <i>don’t</i> hear them! -My God, I wouldn’t like to be an R.E. It’s an -awful game.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">224</span></p> - -<p>“By Jove,” said Edwards. “How fearfully -interesting! Is it cold down there?”</p> - -<p>“Fairly. I really didn’t notice.”</p> - -<p>“I must go down,” I said. “We always laugh -at these R.E.’s for looking like navvies, and for -going about without gas-helmets or rifles. But -really they are wonderful men. It’s awful being -liable to be buried alive any moment. Somehow -death in the open is far less terrible. Ugh! Do -you remember that R.E., Teddy, we saw running -down the Old Kent Road? It was that night the -Boche blew the mine in the Quarry. Jove, Clark, -that was a sight. I was just going up from Trafalgar -Square, when I heard a running, and there was -a fellow, great big brawny fellow, naked to the -waist, and <i>grey</i> all over; and someone had given -him his equipment and rifle in a hurry, and he’d -got his equipment over his bare skin! The men -were fearfully amused. ‘R.E.,’ they said, and -smiled. But, by God, there was a death look in -that man’s eyes. He’d been down when the Boche -blew their mine, and as near as possible buried -alive. No, it’s a rotten game.”</p> - -<p>As I spoke, the ground shuddered, and the tea-things -shook.</p> - -<p>“There <i>is</i> a mine,” we all exclaimed together.</p> - -<p>“I wonder if it’s ours, or theirs,” said Edwards.</p> - -<p>“I saw Hills, this afternoon,” I answered, “and -he said nothing about a mine. I’m sure he would -have, if we had been going to send one up. No, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">225</span> -I bet that’s a Boche mine. Good thing you’re -out of it, Clark. Oh, don’t go. Well, cheero! if -you must. Look us up oftener. Good luck!”</p> - -<p>Clark departed, and I resumed <i>Blackwood’s</i>.</p> - -<p>“I say, Edwards,” said I, after a while. “This -stuff of Ian Hay’s is awfully good. This about -the signallers is <i>top-hole</i>. You can simply smell -it!”</p> - -<p>“After you with it,” was the reply.</p> - -<p>“There you are,” I said at last. “It’s called -‘Carry On’; there have been several others in -the same series. You know the ‘First Hundred -Thousand’?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“Good stuff,” said I. “Good readable stuff; -the sort you’d give to your people at home. But -it leaves out bits.”</p> - -<p>“Such as ...?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, well, the utter fed-upness, and the dullness—and—well, -oh, I don’t know. You read it and -see.”</p> - -<p>That was a bad night. The Boche mine had -caught our R.E.’s this time. All the night through -they were rescuing fellows from our mine gallery. -Seven or eight were killed, most of them “gassed”; -two of “A” Company were badly gassed too while -aiding in the rescue work. This mine gas is, I -suppose, very like that encountered in coal mines; -and the explosion of big charges of cordite must -create cracks and fissures underground that release -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">226</span> -these gases in all directions. I do not profess to -write as an expert on this. At any rate they were -all night working to get the fellows out. One man -when rescued disobeyed the doctor’s strict injunctions -to lie still for half an hour before moving -away from where he was put, just outside the -mine shaft; and this cost him his life. He hurried -down the Old Kent Road, and dropped dead with -heart failure at the bottom of it. Hills told me -he felt the pulses of two men who had been gassed -and were waiting the prescribed half-hour; and -they were going like a watch ticking. Yes, it was -a bad night. I got snatches of sleep, but always -there was the sound of stretchers being carried past -our dug-out to the doctor’s dressing-station; -several times I went out to investigate how things -were going. But there was nothing I could do. -It was my duty to sleep: we were going up in -the line to-morrow. But sleep does not always -come to order.</p> - -<p>Before dawn we “stood to,” and it was quite -light as I inspected the last rifle of No. 6 Platoon. -They were just bringing the last of the gassed -miners down to the dressing-station. I stood at -the corner of Park Lane, and watched. The -stretcher-bearers came and looked at two forms -lying on stretchers close by me; then they asked -me if I thought it would be all right to take those -stretchers, and leave the dead men there another -hour. I said if they wanted the stretchers, yes. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">227</span> -So they lifted the bodies off, and went away with -the stretchers. There were several men standing -about, silent, as usual, in the presence of death. -I looked at those two R.E.’s as they lay quite -uncovered; grim their faces were, grim and severe. -I told a man to get something and cover them up, -until the stretcher-bearers came and removed -them. And as I strode away in silence between my -men, I felt that my face was grim too. I thought -of Clark’s description, a few hours back, of the -man sitting alone in the white chalk gallery, listening, -listening, listening. And now!</p> - -<p>Once more I thought of “blind death.” The -Germans who had set light to the fuse at tea-time -were doubtless sleeping the sleep of men who have -worked well and earned their rest. And here.... -They knew nothing of it, would never know whom -they had slain. And I remembered the night Scott -and I had watched our big mine go up. “Wonderful,” -we had said, “magnificent.” And in the -morning the R.E. officer had told us that we -had smashed all their galleries up, and that they -would not trouble us there for a fortnight at -least. “A certain man drew a bow at a venture,” -I said again, vaguely remembering something, -but stiffening myself suddenly, and stifling my -imagination.</p> - -<p>I met Edwards by the dug-out as he returned -from inspecting the Lewis guns.</p> - -<p>“Remember,” I said, “I told you the ‘First -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">228</span> -Hundred Thousand’ leaves out bits? Did you see -those R.E.’s who were gassed?”</p> - -<p>Edwards nodded.</p> - -<p>“Well,” I added, “that’s a thing it leaves -out.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">229</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV<br /> - -BILLETS</h2> - -<h3 class="smcap">I. Morning</h3> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">“Two</span> hours’ pack drill, and pay for a -new handle,” I said.</p> - -<p>“Right—Turn!” said the sergeant-major. -“Right—Wheel—Quick—March! Get your -equipment on and join your platoon at once.”</p> - -<p>This last sentence was spoken in a quick undertone, -as the prisoner stepped out of the door into the -road. I was filling up the column headed “Punishment -awarded” on a buff-coloured Army Form, to -which I appended my signature. The case just dealt -with was a very dull and commonplace one, a man -having “lost” his entrenching tool handle. Most -of these “losses” occurred in trenches, and were -dealt with the first morning in billets at company -orderly-room. This man had been engaged on -special fatigue work the last few days; hence the -reason why the loss had not been checked before, -and came up on this last morning in billets.</p> - -<p>“No more prisoners?” I asked the company -sergeant-major.</p> - -<p>“No more prisoners, sir,” he answered. I then -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">230</span> -rather hurriedly signed several returns made out by -Sergeant Roberts, the company quartermaster-sergeant, -and promised to come in later and sign the -acquittance rolls. These are the pay-lists, made -out in triplicate, which are signed by each man as -he draws his pay. The original goes to the Paymaster -in England, one carbon copy to the adjutant, -and one is retained by the company-commander. -We had paid out the first day in -billets. This time “working-parties” had been -tolerable. We had arrived back in billets about -half-past three in the afternoon; the next morning -had been spent in a march to the divisional baths -at Treux (two miles away), in cleaning up, kit-inspection, -and a little arm-drill and musketry practice; -in the afternoon we paid out. Then followed three -days of working-parties, up on the support line at -Crawley Ridge; and now, we had this last day in -which to do a little company work. There had been -running parade at seven-thirty. Owen had taken -this, and I confess that I had not yet breakfasted. -So I hurried off now at 9.10 to gulp something -down and be at battalion orderly-room at 9.30 -sharp.</p> - -<p>The company office was a house of two rooms; -one was the “office” itself, with a blanket-clad -table and a couple of chairs in the middle, and all -around were strewn strange boxes, and bundles of -papers and equipment. On the walls were pictures -from illustrated English papers; one of Nurse -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">231</span> -Cavell, another of howitzers firing; and several -graphic bayonet-charges at Verdun, pictured by an -artist who must have “glowed” as he drew them in -his room in Chelsea. In the other room slept the -C.S.M. and C.Q.M.S. (more familiar as the -“sergeant-major” and the “quartermaster”).</p> - -<p>From this house, then, I stepped out into the -glaring street. It was the end of May, and the day -promised to be really quite hot. I have already -explained how completely shut off from the trenches -one felt in Morlancourt, sheltered as it was in a cup -of the hills and immune from shelling. Now as I -walked quickly along the street, past our battalion -“orderly-room,” and returned the immaculate -salute of Sergeant-Major Shandon, the regimental -sergeant-major, who was already marshalling the -prisoners ready for the Colonel at half-past nine, -I felt a lightness and freshness of body that almost -made me think I was free of the war at last. My -Sam Browne belt, my best tunic with its polished -buttons, and most of all, I suppose, the effect of a -good sleep and a cold bath, all contributed to this -feeling, as well as the scent from the laburnum and -lilac that looked over the garden wall opposite the -billet that was our “Mess.”</p> - -<p>I found Edwards just going off to inspect “B” -Company Lewis gunners, whom he was taking on -the range the first part of the morning.</p> - -<p>“Hullo!” he said, “you’ve not got much -time.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">232</span></p> - -<p>“No,” said I. “My own fault for getting up late. -Got a case for the C.O. too. Is my watch right? I -make it seventeen minutes past.”</p> - -<p>“Nineteen, I make it.”</p> - -<p>“Wish I hadn’t asked you,” I laughed. “No -porridge, Lewis. Bring the eggs and bacon in at -once. This tea’ll do. There’s no milk, though. -What?”</p> - -<p>Edwards had asked something. He repeated his -question, which was whether I wanted Jim, the -company horse, this afternoon. I thought rapidly, -and the scent of the lilac decided me.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” I answered. “Sorry, but I do.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, all right; I expect I can get old Muskett -to let me have one.”</p> - -<p>Muskett was the transport officer.</p> - -<p>“Righto,” said I. “Go teach thy Lewis gunners -how to drill little holes in the chalk-bank.”</p> - -<p>He clattered off over the cobbles of the garden -path, and in a few minutes I followed suit, running -until I rounded a corner and came into view of the -orderly-room, when I altered my gait to a dignified -walk and arrived just as the Colonel appeared from -the opposite direction.</p> - -<p>“Parade! Tchern!!” shouted Sergeant-Major -Shandon; and a moment later the four company -commanders came to attention and saluted as the -Colonel passed in, sprinkling “Good mornings” to -right and left.</p> - -<p>I had one very uninteresting case of drunkenness; -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">233</span> -“A” had a couple of men who had overstayed their -pass in England; “C” had a case held over from -the day before for further evidence, and was now -dismissed as not proven; while “D” had an unsatisfactory -sergeant who was “severely reprimanded.” -All these cases were quickly and unerringly -disposed of, and we company commanders -saluted again and clattered down the winding staircase -out into the sunshine.</p> - -<p>I had to pass from one end of the village to the -other. The orderly-room was not far from our -company “Mess” and was at a cross-roads. -Opposite, in one of the angles made by the junction -of the four roads, was a deep and usually muddy -horse-pond. But even here the mud was getting -hard under this spell of warm May weather, and the -innumerable ruts and hoof-marks were crystallising -into a permanent pattern. As I walked along the -streets I passed sundry Tommies acting as road-scavengers; -“permanent road fatigue” they were -called, although they were anything but permanent, -being changed every day. Formerly they had -seemed to be engaged in a Herculean, though unromantic, -task of scraping great rolling puddings of -mud to the side of the road, in the vain hope that -the mud would find an automatic exit into neighbouring -gardens and ponds; for Morlancourt did -not boast such modern things as gutters. To-day -there were large pats of mud lining the street, but -these were now caked and hard, and even crumbling -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">234</span> -into dust, that whisked about among the sparrows. -The permanent road fatigue was gathering waste-paper -and tins in large quantities, but otherwise was -having a holiday.</p> - -<p>Women were working, or gossiping at the doorsteps. -The <i>estaminet</i> doors were flung wide open, -and the floors were being scrubbed and sprinkled -with sawdust. A little bare-legged girl, in a black -cotton dress, was hugging a great wide loaf; an old -man sat blinking in the sunshine; cats were basking, -dogs nosing about lazily. A party of about thirty -bombers passed me, the sergeant giving “eyes -right” and waking me from meditations on the -eternal calm of cats. Then I reached the headquarter -guard, and the sentry saluted with a rattling -clap upon his butt, and I did my best to emulate his -smartness. So I passed along all the length of the -shuttered houses of Morlancourt.</p> - -<p>“A great day, this,” I thought, as I came to the -small field where “B” Company was paraded; not -two hundred and fifty men, as you will doubtless -assume from the text-books, but some thirty or forty -men only; one was lucky if one mustered forty. -Where were the rest, you ask? Well, bombers -bombing; Lewis gunners under Edwards; some on -“permanent mining fatigue,” that is, carrying the -sand-bags from the mine-shafts to the dumps; -transport, pioneers, stretcher-bearers, men under -bombing instruction, officers’ servants, headquarter -orderlies, men on leave, etc. etc. The company -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">235</span> -sergeant-major will make out a parade slate for you -if you want it, showing exactly where every man is. -But here are forty men. Let’s drill them.</p> - -<p>Half were engaged in arm-drill under my best -drill-sergeant; the other half were doing musketry -in gas-helmets, an unpleasant practice which nothing -would induce me to do on a sunny May morning. -They lay on their fronts, legs well apart, and were -working the bolts of their rifles fifteen times a -minute. After a while they changed over and did -arm-drill, while the other half took over the gas-helmets, -the mouthpieces having first been dipped -in a solution of carbolic brought by one of the -stretcher-bearers in a canteen. These gas-helmets -were marked D.P. (drill purposes), and each company -had so many with which to practise.</p> - -<p>When both parties were duly exercised, I gave a -short lecture on the measures to be adopted against -the use of <i>Flammenwerfer</i>, which is the “Liquid -Fire” of the official <i>communiqués</i>. I had just been -to a demonstration of this atrocity in the form of a -captured German apparatus, and my chief object in -lecturing the men about it was to make it quite clear -that the flaming jets of burning gas cannot sink into -a trench, but, as a matter of fact, only keep level so -long as they are propelled by the driving power of -the hose apparatus; as water from a hose goes -straight, and then curves down to the ground, so gas, -even though it be incandescent, goes straight and -then rises. In the trench you are unscathed, as we -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">236</span> -proved in the demonstration, when they sprayed the -flaming gas over a trench full of men. Indeed, the -chief effect of this <i>flammenwerfer</i> is one of frightfulness, -as the Germans cannot come over until the -flames have ceased. The men were rather inclined -to gape at all this, but I found the words had sunk -in when I asked what should be done if the enemy -used this diabolical stuff against us. “Get down at -the bottom of the trench, sir, and as soon as they -stop it, give the ——’s ’ell!”</p> - -<p>The rest of the morning we spent “on the range,” -which meant firing into a steep chalk bank at a -hundred yards. Targets and paste-pot had been -procured from the pioneers’ shop, and after posting -a couple of “look-out” men on either side, we -started range practice. The men are always keen -about firing on the range, and it is really the most -interesting and pleasant part of the infantryman’s -training. I watched these fellows, hugging their -rifle-butt into their shoulder, and feeling the smooth -wood against their cheeks; they wriggled their -bodies about to get a comfortable position; sometimes -they flinched as they fired and jerked the rifle; -sometimes they pressed the trigger as softly, as -softly.... And gradually, carefully, we tried to -detect and eliminate the faults. Then we ended up -with fifteen rounds rapid in a minute. The “mad -minute” it used to be called at home. After which -we fell the men in, and Paul marched them back to -the company “alarm post” outside the company -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">237</span> -office, where “B” Company always fell in; while -Owen, Nicolson, and I walked back together.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">II. Afternoon</span></p> - -<p>“I still maintain,” said I, an hour later, as we -finished lunch, “that bully-beef, some sort of sauce -or pickle, and salad, followed by cheese, and ending -with a cup of tea, is the proper lunch for an officer. -I don’t mind other officers having tinned fruit, -though, if they like it,” I added with a laugh.</p> - -<p>Owen and Syme were newly joined officers for -whom the sight of tinned pears or apricots had not -yet lost a certain glamour that disappeared after -months and months. They were just finishing the -pear course. Hence my last remark.</p> - -<p>“I bet if we allowed you to have bully every day,” -came from Edwards, our Mess president, “you’d -soon get sick of it.”</p> - -<p>“Try,” said I, knowing that he never would. I -always used to eat of the hot things that would -appear at lunch, to the detriment of a proper appreciation -of dinner; but I always maintained the -position laid down in the first sentence of this -section.</p> - -<p>I lit a pipe and strolled out into the garden. This -was undoubtedly an ideal billet, and a great improvement -on the butcher’s shop, where they used always -to be killing pigs in the yard and letting the blood -run all over the place. It was a long, one-storied -house, set back about fifty yards from the road; -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">238</span> -this fifty yards was all garden, and, at the end, -completely shutting off the road, was a high brick -wall. On each side of the garden were also high -walls formed by the sides of stables and outhouses; -the garden was thus completely walled round, and -the seclusion and peace thus entrapped were a very -priceless possession to us.</p> - -<p>The garden itself was full of life. There were box-bordered -paths up both sides and down the centre, -and on the inner side of the paths was an herbaceous -border smelling very sweet of wallflowers and -primulas of every variety. Although it was still -May, there were already one or two pink cabbage-roses -out; later, the house itself would be covered -with them; already the buds were showing yellow -streaks as they tried to burst open their tight green -sheaths. In the centre of the garden ran a cross path -with a summer-house of bamboo canes completely -covered with honeysuckle; that, too, was budding -already. The rest of the garden was filled with rows -of young green things, peas, and cabbages, and I -know not what, suitably protected against the -ravages of sparrows and finches by the usual -miniature telegraph system of sticks connected by -cotton decorated with feathers and bits of rag. -Every bit of digging, hoeing, weeding and sowing -were performed by Madame and her two black-dressed -daughters in whose house we were now -living, and who were themselves putting up in the -adjoining farmhouse, which belonged to them. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">239</span></p> - -<p>I said that they had done all the digging in the -garden. I should make one reservation. All the -potato-patch had been dug by our servants, with -the assistance of Gray, the cook. Nor did they do -it in gratitude to Madame, as, doubtless, ideal Tommies -would have done. A quarter of it was done by -Lewis, for carelessness in losing my valise; nearly -half by the joint effort of the whole crew for a -thoroughly dirty turn-out on commanding officer’s -inspection; and the rest for various other defalcations! -We never told Madame the reasons for their -welcome help; and I am quite sure they never did!</p> - -<p>“The worst of this war,” said I to Edwards, puffing -contentedly at a pipeful of Chairman, “is this: -it’s too comfortable. You could carry on like this -for years, and years, and years.”</p> - -<p>“Wasn’t so jolly last time in,” muttered the wise -Edwards.</p> - -<p>“That’s exactly the point,” I answered; “life -in the trenches we all loathe, and no one makes any -bones about it or pretends to like it—except for a -few rare exciting minutes, which are very few and -far between. But you come out into billets, and -recover; and so you can carry on. It’s not concentrated -enough.”</p> - -<p>“It’s more concentrated for the men than for us.”</p> - -<p>“Well, yes, very often; but they haven’t the -strain of responsibility. Yes, you are right though; -and it’s less concentrated for the C.O., still less for -the Brigadier, and so on back to the Commander-in-Chief; -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">240</span> -and still further to men who have never seen -a trench at all.”</p> - -<p>“I dare say,” said Edwards; “but, as the phrase -goes, ‘What are you going to do abaht it?’ Here’s -Jim. Old Muskett’s going to send me a nag at five, -so I’m going out after tea. Will you be in to tea?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t know.”</p> - -<p>As I tightened my puttees preparatory to mounting -the great Jim, Edwards started his gramophone; -so leaving them to the strains of Tannhäuser, -I bestrode my charger and steered him -gracefully down the garden path, under the brick -archway, and out into the street.</p> - -<p>Myself on a horse always amused me, especially -when it was called an “officer’s charger.” Jim was -not fiery, yet he was not by any means sluggish, and -he went fast at a gallop. He suited me very well -indeed when I wanted to go for an afternoon’s ride; -for he was quite content to walk when I wanted to -muse, and to gallop hard when I wanted exhilaration. -I hate a horse that will always be trotting. -I know it is best style to trot; but my rides were -not for style, but for pleasure, exercise, and solitude. -And Jim fell in admirably with my requirements. -But, as I say, the idea that I was a company-commander -on his charger always amused me.</p> - -<p>I rode, as I generally did, in a south-easterly -direction, climbing at a walk one of the many roads -that led out of Morlancourt towards the Bois des -Tailles. When I reached the high ground I made -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">241</span> -Jim gallop along the grass-border right up to the -edge of the woods. There is nothing like the exhilaration -of flying along, you cannot imagine how, -with the great brown animal lengthening out under -you for all he is worth! I pulled him up and turned -his head to the right, leaving the road, and skirting -the edge of the wood. At last I was alone.</p> - -<p>In the clearings of the wood the ground was a -sheet of blue hyacinths, whose sweet scent came -along on the breeze; their fragrance lifted my spirit, -and I drank in deep breaths of the early summer air. -I took off my cap to feel the sun full on my face. -On the ground outside the wood were still a few late -primroses interspersed with cowslips, stubborn and -jolly; and as I rounded a bend in the wood-edge, I -found myself looking across a tiny valley, the opposite -face of which was a wooded slope, with all the trees -banked up on it as gardeners bank geraniums in tiers -to give a good massed effect. So, climbing the hill-side, -were all these shimmering patches of green, -yellow-green, pea-green, yellow, massed together in -delightful variety; and dotted about in the middle -of them were solitary patches of white cherry-blossom, -like white foam breaking over a reef, in the -midst of a great green sea. And across this perfect -softness from time to time the bold black and white -of magpies cut with that vivid contrast with which -Nature loves to baffle the poor artist.</p> - -<p>“Come on, old boy,” I said, as I reached the -bottom of this little valley; and trotting up the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">242</span> -other side, and through a ride in the wood, I came -out on the edge of the Valley of the Somme. I then -skirted the south side of the wood until I reached a -secluded corner with a view across the valley: here -I dismounted, fastened Jim to a tree, loosened his -girths, and left him pulling greedily at the grass at -his feet. Then I threw myself down on the grass to -dream.</p> - -<p>My thoughts ran back to my conversation with -Edwards. Perhaps it was best not to think too hard, -but I could no more stifle my thoughts than can a -man his appetite. Responsibility. Responsibility. -And those with the greatest responsibility endure -and see the least; no one has more to endure than -the private soldier in the infantry, and no one has -less responsibility or power of choice. I thought of -our last six days in the trenches. When “A” -Company were in the line, the first three days, we -had been bombarded heavily at “stand-to” in the -evening. In Maple Redoubt it had been bad enough. -There was one sentry-post a little way up Old Kent -Road; by some mistake a bomber had been put on -duty there, whereas it was a bayonet-man’s post, -the bombers having a special rôle in case of the -enemy attacking. I found this mistake had been -made, but did not think it was worth altering. -And that man was killed outright by a shell.</p> - -<p>In the front line “A” Company had had several -killed and wounded, and I had had to lend them -half my bombers; as I had placed two men on one -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">243</span> -post, a canister had burst quite a long way off, but -the men cowered down into the trench. I cursed -them as hard as I could, and then I saw that in the -post were the two former occupants lying dead, -killed half an hour ago where they lay, and where -I was placing my two men. I stopped my curses, -and inwardly directed them against myself. And -there I had to leave these fellows, looking after me -and thinking, “<i>He’s</i> going back to his dug-out.” -Ah! no, they knew me better than to think like -that. Yet I had to go back, leaving them there. I -should never forget that awful weight of responsibility -that suddenly seemed visualised before me. -Could I not see their scared faces peering at me, -even as now I seemed to smell the scent of pear-drops -with which the trench was permeated, the Germans -having sent over a few lachrymatory shells along -with the others that night?</p> - -<p>Ah! Why was I living all this over again, just -when I had come away to get free of all this awhile, -and dream? I had come out to enjoy the sunshine -and the peace, just as Jim was enjoying the grass -behind me. I listened. There was a slight jingle of -the bit now and again, and a creaking of leather, and -always that drawing sound, with an occasional purr, -as the grass was torn up. I could not help looking -round at last. “You pig,” I said; but my tone did -not altogether disapprove of complacent piggishness.</p> - -<p>In front of me lay the blue water of the Somme -Canal, and the pools between it and the river; long -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">244</span> -parallel rows of pale green poplars stretched along -either bank of the canal; and at my feet, half hidden -by the slope of the ground, lay the sleepy little -village of Etinehem. There was a Sunday afternoon -slumber over everything. Was it Sunday? I -thought for a moment. No, it was Thursday, and -to-morrow we went “in” again. I deliberately -switched my thoughts away from the trenches, and -they flew to the events of the morning. I could see -my fellows lying, so keen—I might almost say so -happy—blazing away on the range. One I remembered -especially. Private Benjamin, a boy -with a delicate eager face, who came out with the -last draft: he came from a village close up to -Snowdon; he was shooting badly, and very concerned -about it. I lay down beside him and showed -him how to squeeze the trigger, gradually, ever -so gradually. Oh! these boys! Responsibility. -Responsibility.</p> - -<p>“This is no good,” I said to myself at last, and -untied Jim and rode again. I went down into the -valley, and along the green track between an avenue -of poplars south of the canal until at last I came to -Sailly-Laurette, and so back and in to Morlancourt -from the south-west. It was six o’clock by the time -I stooped my head under the gateway into our -garden, and for the last hour or so I had almost forgotten -war at last.</p> - -<p>“Hullo,” was the greeting I received from Owen. -“There’s no tea left.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">245</span></p> - -<p>“I don’t want any tea,” I answered. “Has the -post come?”</p> - -<p>There were three letters for me. As I slept at a -house a little distance away, I took the letters along -with me.</p> - -<p>“I’m going over to my room to clean up,” I -shouted to Owen, who was reading inside the Mess-room. -“What time’s old Jim coming in?”</p> - -<p>“Seven o’clock!”</p> - -<p>“All right,” I answered. “I’ll be over by seven.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="smcap">III. Evening</span></p> - -<p>As I walked up the garden path a few minutes -before seven, I had to pass the kitchen door, where -the servants slept, lived, and cooked our meals. I -had a vision of Private Watson, the cook, busy at -the oven; he was in his shirt-sleeves, hair untidy, -trousers very grimy, and altogether a very unmartial -figure. There seemed to be a dispute in -progress, to judge from the high pitch to which the -voices had attained. On these occasions Lewis’ -piping voice reached an incredible falsetto, while -his face flushed redder than ever.</p> - -<p>Watson, Owen’s servant, had superseded Gray -as officers’ mess cook; the latter had, unfortunately, -drunk one or two glasses of beer last time in billets, -and, to give his own version, he “somehow felt very -sleepy, and went down and lay under a bank,” and -could remember nothing more until about ten -o’clock, when he humbly reported his return to me. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">246</span> -Meanwhile Watson had cooked the dinner, which -was, of course, very late; and as he did it very well, -and as Gray’s explanation seemed somewhat vague, -we decided to make Watson cook, let Gray try a -little work in the company for a change, and get the -sergeant-major to send Owen another man for -servant. Watson had signalised the entry to his -new appointment by a quarrel with Madame (the -Warwicks had managed to “bag” this ideal billet -of ours temporarily, and we were in a much less -comfortable one the last two occasions out of -trenches); eventually Madame had hurled the -frying-pan at him, amid a torrent of unintelligible -French; neither could understand a word the other -was saying, of course. Gray had been wont, I -believe, to “lie low and say nuffin,” like Brer Fox, -when Madame, who was old and half-crazed, came -up and threw water on the fire in a fit of unknown -anger. But Watson’s blood boiled at such insults -from a Frenchwoman, and hence had followed a -sharp contention ending in the projection of the -frying-pan. Luckily, we were unmolested here: -Watson could manage the dinner, anyway.</p> - -<p>I entered our mess-room, which was large, light, -and boasted a boarded floor; it was a splendid -summer-room, though it would have been very cold -in winter. There I found a pile of literature awaiting -me; operation orders for to-morrow, giving the -hour at which each company was to leave Morlancourt, -and which company of the Manchesters it was -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">247</span> -to relieve, and when, and where, and the route to be -taken; there were two typed documents “for your -information and retention, please,” one relating to -prevention of fly-trouble in billets, the other giving -a new code of signals and marked “Secret” on the -top, and lastly there was <i>Comic Cuts</i>. Leaving the -rest, I hastily skimmed through the latter, which -contained detailed information of operations carried -out, and intelligence gathered on the corps front -during the last few days. At first these were intensely -interesting, but after seven months they -began to pall, and I grew expert at skimming through -them rapidly.</p> - -<p>Then Jim Potter came in, and <i>Comic Cuts</i> faded -into insignificance.</p> - -<p>“Here, Owen,” said I, and threw them over to him.</p> - -<p>Captain and Quartermaster Jim Potter was the -Father of the battalion. He had been in the battalion -sixteen years, and had come out with them in -1914; twice the battalion had been decimated, new -officers had come and disappeared, commanding -officers had become brigadiers and new ones taken -their place, but “Old Jim” remained, calm, unaltered, -steady as a rock, good-natured, and an -utter pessimist. I first introduced him in Chapter I, -when I spent the night in his billet prior to my first -advent into the trenches. I was a little perturbed -then by his pessimism. Now I should have been -very alarmed if he had suddenly burst into a fit of -optimism. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">248</span></p> - -<p>“Well, Jim,” we said, “how are things going? -When’s the war going to end?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! not so very long now.” We gaped at this -unexpected reply. “Because,” he added, “you -know, Bill, it’s the unexpected that always happens -in this war. Hullo! You’ve got some pretty -pictures, I see.”</p> - -<p>We had been decorating the walls with the few -unwarlike pictures that were still to be found in the -illustrated papers.</p> - -<p>“Not a bad place, Blighty,” he resumed, gazing -at a picture entitled “Home, Sweet Home!” -There had been a little dispute as to whether it -should go up, owing to its sentimental nature. At -last “The Warwicks will like it,” we had said, and -up it had gone. The Warwicks had our billet, when -we were “in.”</p> - -<p>“Tell us about your leave,” we said, and Jim -began a series of delightful sarcastic jerks about the -way people in England seemed to be getting now a -faint glimmering conception that somewhere there -was a war on.</p> - -<p>The joint was not quite ready, Edwards explained -to me, drawing me aside a minute; would old Jim -mind? The idea of old Jim minding being quite -absurd, we decided on having a cooked joint a -quarter of an hour hence, rather than a semi-raw -one now; and we told Jim our decision. It seemed -to suit him exactly, as he had had tea late. There -never was such an unruffled fellow as he; had we -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">249</span> -wanted to begin before the time appointed, he would -have been ravenous. So he continued the description -of his adventures on leave. Meanwhile I -rescued <i>Comic Cuts</i> from the hands of Paul, and -despatched them, duly initialled, by the trusty -Davies to “C” Company. Just as I had done -so the sergeant-major appeared at the door.</p> - -<p>“You know the time we move off to-morrow?” -I said.</p> - -<p>Yes, he had known that long before I did, by -means of the regimental sergeant-major and the -orderly sergeant.</p> - -<p>“Fall in at 8.15,” I said. “Everything the same -as usual. All the officers’ servants, and Watson, -are to fall in with the company; this straggling in -independently, before or after the company, will -stop once and for all.” Lewis’ face, as he laid -the soup-plates, turned half a degree redder than -usual.</p> - -<p>“There’s nothing more?” I said.</p> - -<p>“No, that’s all, sir.”</p> - -<p>The sergeant-major drained off his whiskey with -a dash of Perrier, and prepared to go. Now was the -psychological moment when one learnt any news -there was to learn about the battalion.</p> - -<p>“No news, I suppose?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“The fellows are still talking about this ‘rest,’ -sir. No news about that, I suppose?” said the -sergeant-major.</p> - -<p>“Only that it’s slightly overdue,” I answered, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">250</span> -with a laugh. “What do you think, Jim? Any -likelihood of this three weeks’ rest coming off?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes; I should think so,” said the quartermaster. -“Any time next year.”</p> - -<p>“Good night, sir,” said Sergeant-Major Brown, -with a grin.</p> - -<p>“Good night, Sergeant-Major,” came in a chorus -as he disappeared into the garden.</p> - -<p>“Soup’s ready, sir,” said Lewis. And we sat -down to dine.</p> - -<p>The extraordinary thing about having Jim Potter -in to dinner was that an extra elaborate menu was -always provided, and yet old Jim himself always ate -less than anyone else; still, he did his share nobly -with the whiskey, so that made up for it, I suppose. -To-night Edwards planned “sausages and mash” -as an entrée; but, whether through superior knowledge -or a mere misunderstanding, the sausages -arrived seated carefully on the top of the round of -beef, like <i>marrons-glacés</i> stuck on an iced cake. As -the dish was placed, amid howls of execration, on -the table, one of the unsteadier sausages staggered -and fell with a splash into the gravy, much to everyone’s -delight; Edwards, wiping the gravy spots off -his best tunic, seemed the only member of the party -who did not greet with approbation this novel dish.</p> - -<p>After soup, sausages and beef, and rice-pudding -and tinned fruit, came Watson’s special dish—cheese -<i>au gratin</i> on toast. This was a glutinous concoction, -and a little went a long way. Then followed <i>café au</i> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">251</span> -<i>lait</i> made in the teapot, which was the signal for -cigarettes to be lit up, and chairs to be moved a little -to allow of a comfortable expansion of legs. Owen -proposed sitting out in the summer-house, but on -going outside reported that it was a little too chilly. -So we remained where we were.</p> - -<p>Edwards was talking of Amiens: he had been -there for the day yesterday, and incidentally discovered -that there was a cathedral there.</p> - -<p>“I know it,” said I. “I used to go there every -Saturday when I was at the Army School.”</p> - -<p>“You had a good time at the Army School, didn’t -you?” asked Jim.</p> - -<p>“Tip-top time,” said I. “It’s a really good show. -The Commandant was the most wonderful man we -ever met. By the way, that concert Tuesday night -was a really good show.”</p> - -<p>Jim Potter and Edwards had got it up; it had -been an <i>al fresco</i> affair, and the night had been -ideally warm for it. Edwards had trained a Welsh -choir with some success. Several outsiders had contributed, -the star of the evening being Basil Hallam, -the well-known music-hall artist, whose dainty -manner, reminding one of the art of Vesta Tilley, -and impeccable evening clothes had produced an -unforgettably bizarre effect in the middle of such an -audience and within sound of the guns. He was -well known to most of the men as “the bloke that -sits up in the sausage.” For any fine day, coming -out of trenches or going in, you could see high -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">252</span> -suspended the “sausage,” whose home and “base” -was between Treux and Mericourt, and whose -occupant and eye was Basil Hallam. And so the -“sausage bloke” was received enthusiastically at -our concert.</p> - -<p>As we talked about the concert, Owen began -singing “Now Florrie was a Flapper,” which had -been Basil Hallam’s most popular song, and as he -sang he rose from his chair and walked about the -room; he was evidently enjoying himself, though -his imitation of Basil Hallam was very bad indeed. -As he sang, we went on talking.</p> - -<p>“A good entry in <i>Comic Cuts</i> to-night,” I remarked. -“‘A dog was heard barking in Fricourt at -11 p.m.’ Someone must have been hard up for -intelligence to put that in.”</p> - -<p>“A dog barking in Fricourt,” said old Jim, warming -up. “‘A dog barking in Fricourt.’ What’s that—Corps -stuff? I never read the thing; good Lord, no! -That’s what it is to have a Staff—‘A dog barking in -Fricourt!’”</p> - -<p>“The Corps officer didn’t hear it,” said I. “It -was some battalion intelligence officer that was such -a fool as to report it.”</p> - -<p>“Fool?” said old Jim. “I’d like to meet the -fellow. He’s the first fellow I’ve ever met yet who -has a just appreciation of the brain capacity of the -Staff. You or I might have thought of reporting a -dog’s mew, or roar, or bellow; but a dog’s bark we -should have thought of no interest whatever to the—er—fellows -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">253</span> -up there, you know, who plan our -destinies.” And he gave an obsequious flick of his -hand to an imaginary person too high up to see him -at all.</p> - -<p>“He’s a good fellow,” he repeated, “that intelligence -officer. Ought to get a D.S.O.”</p> - -<p>Old Jim had two South African medals, a D.C.M. -and a D.S.O.</p> - -<p>“The Staff,” he went on, with the greatest contempt -he could put into his voice. “I saw three of -them in a car to-day. I stood to attention: saluted. -A young fellow waved his hand, you know; graciously -accepted my salute, you know, and passed on -leaning back in his limousin. The ‘Brains of the -British Army,’ I thought. Pah!”</p> - -<p>We waited. Jim on the Staff was the greatest -entertainment the battalion could offer. We tried -to draw him out further, but he would not be -drawn. We tried cunningly, by indirect methods, -enquiring his views on whether there would be a -push this year.</p> - -<p>“Push!” he said. “Of course there will be a -push. The Staff must have something to show for -themselves. ‘Shove ’em in,’ they say; ‘rather -a bigger front than last time.’ Strategy? Oh, no! -That’s out of date, you know. Five-mile front—frontal -attack. Get a few hundred thousand mown -down, and then discover the Boche has got a second -line. The Staff. Pah!!” And no more would he say.</p> - -<p>Then Clark came in, and the Manchester Stokes -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">254</span> -gun officer. Clark immediately joined Owen in a -duet on “Florrie.” Then we went through the -whole gamut of popular songs, with appropriate -actions and stamping of feet upon the floor. Meanwhile -the table was cleared, only the whiskey and -Perrier remaining. Soon there were cries of -“Napoleon—Napoleon,” and Owen, who bears a -remarkable resemblance to that great personage, -posed tragically again and again amid great applause. -And then, in natural sequence, I, as “Bill, the man -wot won the Battle of Waterloo,” attacked him with -every species of trench-mortar I could lay hands on, -my head swathed in a remarkable turban of <i>Daily -Mail</i>. At last I drove him into a corner behind a -table, and bombarded him relentlessly with oranges -until he capitulated! All the time Edwards had -been in fear and trembling for the safety of his -gramophone.</p> - -<p>At length peace was signed, and we grew quiet -again beneath the soothing strains of the gramophone, -until at last Jim Potter said he must really -go. Everyone reminding everyone else that breakfast -was at seven, we broke up the party, and Owen, -Paul, Jim Potter and I departed together. But -anyone who knows the psychology of conviviality -will understand that we had first to pay a visit to a -neighbouring Mess for one last whiskey-and-soda -before turning in.</p> - -<p>As I opened the door of my billet, I heard a -“strafe” getting up. There was a lively cannonade -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">255</span> -up in the line; for several minutes I listened, until -it diminished a little, and began to die away. “In” -to-morrow, I thought. My valise was laid out on -the floor, and my trench kit all ready for packing -first thing next morning. I lost no time in getting -into bed. And yet I could not sleep.</p> - -<p>I could not help thinking of the jollity of the last -few hours, the humour, the apparently spontaneous -outburst of good spirits; and most of all I thought -of old Jim, the mainspring somehow of it all. And -again I saw the picture of the concert a few nights -ago, the bright lights of the stage, the crowds of our -fellows, all their bodies and spirits for the moment -relaxed, good-natured, happy, as they stood laughing -in the warm night air. And lastly I thought -again of Private Benjamin, that refined eager face, -that rather delicate body, and that warm hand as -I placed mine over his, squeezing the trigger. He -was no more than a child really, a simple-minded -child of Wales. Somehow it was more terrible that -these young boys should see this war, than for the -older men. Yet were we not all children wondering, -wondering, wondering?... Yes, we were like -children faced by a wild beast. “Sometimes I -dislike you almost,” I thought; “your dulness, -your coarseness, your lack of romance, your unattractiveness. -Yet that is only physical. You, -I love really. Oh, the dear, dear world!”</p> - -<p>And in the darkness I buried my face in the pillow, -and sobbed. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">256</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV<br /> - -“A CERTAIN MAN DREW A BOW AT A -VENTURE”</h2> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">It</span> was ten o’clock as I came in from the wiring-party -in front of Rue Albert, and at that -moment our guns began. We were in Maple -Redoubt. The moon had just set, and it was a -still summer night in early June.</p> - -<p>“Come and have a look,” I called to Owen, who -had just entered the dug-out. I could see him -standing with his back to the candlelight reading a -letter or something.</p> - -<p>He came out, and together we looked across the -valley at the shoulder of down that was silhouetted -by the continuous light of gun-flickers. Our guns -had commenced a two hours’ bombardment.</p> - -<p>“No answer from the Boche yet,” I said.</p> - -<p>“They’re firing on C 2, down by the cemetery.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I hardly noticed it; our guns make such a -row. By Jove, it’s magnificent.”</p> - -<p>We gazed fascinated for a long time, and then -went into the dug-out where Edwards and Paul -were snoring rhythmically. I read for half an hour, -but the dug-out was stuffy, and the smell of sand-bags -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">257</span> -and the flickering of the candle annoyed me -for some reason or other. Somehow “Derelicts” -by W. J. Locke failed to grip my attention. Owing -to our bombardment, there were no working-parties, -in case the Germans should take it into -their head to retaliate vigorously. But at present -there was no sign of that.</p> - -<p>I went outside again, and walked along Park -Lane until I came to the Lewis-gun position just -this side of the corner of Watling Street. The -sentry was standing up, with his elbows on the -ground level (there was no parapet) gazing alert -and interested at the continuous flicker of our -shells bursting along the enemy’s trenches. Lance-Corporal -Allan looked out of the dug-out, and, -seeing me, came out and stood by us. And together -we watched, all three of us, in silence. Overhead -was the continual griding, screeching, whistling of -the shells as they passed over, without pause or -cessation; behind was a chain of gun-flickers the -other side of the ridge; and in front was another -chain of flashes, and a succession of bump, bump, -bumps, as the shells burst relentlessly in the German -trenches. And where we stood, under the noisy -arch, was a steady calm.</p> - -<p>“This is all right, sir,” said Lance-Corporal Allan. -He was the N.C.O. in charge of this Lewis-gun -team.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said I. “The artillery are not on short -rations to-night.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">258</span></p> - -<p>For always, through the last four months, the -artillery had been more or less confined to so many -shells a day. The officers used to tell us they had -any amount of ammunition, yet no sooner were -they given a free hand to retaliate as much as we -wanted, than an order came cancelling this privilege. -To-night at any rate there was no curtailment.</p> - -<p>“I believe this is the beginning of a new order -of things,” I said, half musing, to myself; “that is, -I believe the Boche is going to get lots and lots of -this now.”</p> - -<p>“About time, sir,” said the sentry.</p> - -<p>“Is there a push coming off?” said Lance-Corporal -Allan.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” I replied. “But I expect we -shall be doing something soon. It’s quite certain -we’re going to get our three weeks’ rest after this -turn in. The Brigade Major told me so.”</p> - -<p>Corporal Allan smiled, and as he did so the -flashes lit up his face. He was quite a boy, only -eighteen, I believe, but an excellent N.C.O. He -had a very beautiful though sensuous face that -used to remind me sometimes of the “Satyr” of -Praxiteles. His only fault was an inclination to -sulkiness at times, which was perhaps due to a -little streak of vanity. It was no wonder the -maidens of Morlancourt made eyes at him, and a -little girl who lived next door to the Lewis-gunner’s -billet was said to have lost her heart long ago. To-night -I felt a pang as I saw him smile. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">259</span></p> - -<p>“We’ll see,” I said. “Anyway it’s going to be -a good show giving the Boche these sort of pleasant -dreams. Better than those one-minute stunts.”</p> - -<p>I was referring to a one-minute bombardment of -Fricourt Wood, that had taken place last time we -were in the line. It was a good spectacle to see -the wood alive with flames, hear our Vickers’ guns -rattling hard behind us from the supports, and see -the Germans firing excited green and red rockets -into the air. But the retaliation had been unpleasant, -and the whole business seemed not worth -while. This continuous pounding was quite different.</p> - -<p>I went back and visited the other gun position, -and spent a few minutes there also. At last I turned -in reluctantly. I went out again at half-past eleven, -and still the shells were screaming over. It seemed -the token of an irresistible power. And there was -no reply at all now from the German lines.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The short summer nights made life easier in some -respects. We “stood to” earlier, and it was quite -light by three. As I turned in again, I paused for a -moment to take in the scene. Davies had retired -to a small dug-out, that looked exactly like a dog-kennel, -and was not much larger. As Davies himself -frequently reminded me of a very intelligent -sheepdog, the dog-kennel seemed most suitable. I -heard him turning about inside, as I stood at the -door of our own dug-out.</p> - -<p>The scene was one of the most perfect peace. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">260</span> -The sun was not up, but by now the light was firm -and strong; night had melted away. I went back -and walked a little way along Park Lane until I -came to a gap in the newly erected sand-bag parados. -I went through the gap and into a little graveyard -that had not been used now for several months. -And there I stood in the open, completely hidden -from the enemy, on the reverse slope of the hill. -Below me were the dug-outs of 71 North, and away -to the left those of the Citadel. Already I could -see smoke curling up from the cookers. There was -a faint mist still hanging about over the road there, -that the strong light would soon dispel. On the -hill-side opposite lay the familiar tracery of Redoubt -A, and the white zigzag mark of Maidstone Avenue -climbing up well to the left of it, until it disappeared -over the ridge. Close to my feet the meadow was -full of buttercups and blue veronica, with occasional -daisies starring the grass. And below, above, everywhere, -it seemed, was the tremulous song of countless -larks, rising, growing, swelling, till the air -seemed full to breaking-point.</p> - -<p>And there was not a sound of war. Who could -desecrate such a perfect June morning? I felt a -mad impulse to run up and across into No Man’s -Land and cry out that such a day was made for -lovers; that we were all enmeshed in a mad nightmare, -that needed but a bold man’s laugh to free -us from its clutches! Surely this most exquisite -morning could not be the birth of another day of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">261</span> -pain? Yet I felt how vain and hopeless was the -longing, as I turned at last and saw the first slant -rays of sunlight touch the white sand-bags into -life.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“What time’s this working-party?” asked Paul -at four o’clock that afternoon.</p> - -<p>“I told the sergeant-major to get the men out -as soon as they’d finished tea,” I replied. “About -a quarter to five they ought to be ready. He will -let you know all right.”</p> - -<p>“Hullo!” said Paul.</p> - -<p>“What are you ‘hulloing’ about?” I asked.</p> - -<p>Paul did not answer. Faintly I heard a “wheeoo, -wheeoo, wheeoo,” that grew louder and louder and -ended in a swishing roar like a big wave breaking -against an esplanade—and then “wump—wump—wump—wump” -four 4·2’s exploded beyond the -parados of Park Lane.</p> - -<p>“Well over,” said Edwards.</p> - -<p>“I expected this,” I answered. “They’ve been -too d—d quiet all day—especially after the pounding -we gave them last night.”</p> - -<p>“There they are again,” I added. This time I -had heard the four distant thuds, and we all waited.</p> - -<p>“Wump, wump—<span class="smcap">Crump</span>.” There was a colossal -din, the two candles went out, and there was a -shaking and jarring in the blackness. Then followed -the sound of falling stuff, and I felt a few patters of -earth all over me. Gradually it got lighter, and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">262</span> -through the smoke-filled doorway the square of -daylight reappeared.</p> - -<p>“Je ne l’aime pas,” said I, as we all waited, -without speaking. Then Edwards struck a match -and lit the candles; all the table, floor, and beds -were sprinkled with dust and earth. Then Davies -burst in.</p> - -<p>“Are you all right?” we asked.</p> - -<p>“Yessir. Are you?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, we’re all right, Davies,” said I. “But -there’s a job for Lewis cleaning this butter up.”</p> - -<p>At length we went outside, stepping over a heap -of loose yielding earth, mixed up with lumps of -chalk and bits of frayed sand-bags. Outside, the -trench was blocked with débris of a similar kind. -Already two men had crossed it, and several men -were about to do so. It was old already. There -was still a smell of gunpowder in the air, and a lot -of chalk dust that irritated your nose.</p> - -<p>“I think I’ll tell the sergeant-major not to get -the working-party out just yet,” I said to Paul. -“They often start like that and then put lots more -over about a quarter of an hour later.” And I sped -along Park Lane quickly.</p> - -<p>As I returned I heard footsteps behind me. I -looked round, but the men were hidden by a traverse. -And then came tragedy, sudden, and -terrible. I have seen many bad sights—every man -killed is a tragedy—but one avoids and hides away -the hideousness as soon as possible. But never, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">263</span> -save once perhaps, have I seen the thing so vile as -now.</p> - -<p>“Look out!” I heard a voice from behind. And -as I heard the shell screaming down, I tumbled into -the nearest dug-out. The shell burst with a huge -“crump,” but not so close as the one that had -darkened our dug-out ten minutes before. Then -again another four shells burst together, but some -forty or fifty yards away. I waited one, two -minutes. <i>And then I heard men running in the -trench.</i></p> - -<p>As I sprang up the dug-out steps, I saw two -stretcher-bearers standing looking round the traverse. -And then there was the faint whistling overhead -and they pushed me back as they almost fell -down the dug-out steps.</p> - -<p>“Is there a man hurt?” I asked. “We can’t -leave him.”</p> - -<p>“He’s dead,” said one. And as he spoke there -were three more explosions a little to the left.</p> - -<p>“Are you sure?”</p> - -<p>“Aye,” said the stretcher-bearer and closed his -eyes tight.</p> - -<p>“He’s past our help,” said the other man.</p> - -<p>At last, after a minute’s calm, we stepped out -into the sunshine. I went round the traverse, -following the two stretcher-bearers. And looking -between them, as they stood gazing, this is what I -saw.</p> - -<p>In the trench, half buried in rags of sand-bag and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">264</span> -loose chalk, lay what had been a man. His head -was nearest to me, and at that I gazed fascinated; -for the shell had cut it clean in half, and the face -lay like a mask, its features unmarred at all, a full -foot away from the rest of the head. The flesh -was grey, that was all; the open eyes, the nose, -the mouth were not even twisted awry. It was -like the fragment of a sculpture. All the rest of the -body was a mangled mass of flesh and khaki.</p> - -<p>“Who is it?” whispered a stretcher-bearer, -bending his head down to look sideways at that -mask.</p> - -<p>“Find his identity-disc,” said the other.</p> - -<p>“It is Lance-Corporal Allan,” said I.</p> - -<p>Then up came the regimental sergeant-major, -and Owen followed him. They too gazed in horror -for a moment. The sergeant-major was the first -to recover.</p> - -<p>“Hi! you fellows,” he called to two men. “Get -a waterproof sheet.”</p> - -<p>“Come away, old man,” said I to Owen.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In silence we walked back to the dug-out. But -my brain was whirling. “A certain man drew a -bow at a venture,” I thought again. That was how -it was possible. No man could keep on killing, if -he could see the men he killed. Who had fired that -howitzer shell? A German gunner somewhere right -away in Mametz Wood probably. He would never -see his handiwork, never know what he had done -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">265</span> -to-day. He would never <i>see</i>; that was the point. -Had he known, he would have rejoiced that there -was one Englishman less in the world. It was not -his fault. We were just the same. What of last -night’s bombardment? (The memory of Lance-Corporal -Allan up by his gun-position gave me a -quick sharp pang.) Had we not watched with -glittering eyes the magnificent shooting of our own -gunners? This afternoon’s strafe was but a puny -retaliation.</p> - -<p>Slowly it came back to me, the half-formed picture -that had arisen in my mind the night of Davidson’s -death. “A certain man drew a bow at a -venture,” expressed it perfectly. It was splendid -twanging the bow, feeling the fingers grip the -polished wood, watching the bow-string stretch -and strain, and then letting the arrow fly. That -was the fascinating, the deadly fascinating side -of war. That was what made it possible to -“carry on.” I remembered my joy in calling up -the artillery in revenge for Thompson’s death. -And then again, whenever we put a mine up, how -exhilarating was the spectacle! Throwing a bomb, -firing a Lewis gun, all these things were pleasant. -It was like the joy of throwing stones over a barn -and hearing them splash into a pond; like driving -a cricket ball out of the field.</p> - -<p>But the arrows fell somewhere. That was the -other side of war. The dying king leant on his -chariot, propped up until the sun went down. The -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">266</span> -man who had fired the bolt never knew he had -killed a king. That was the other side of war; -that was the side that counted. What I had just -seen was war.</p> - -<p>I leaned my face on my arm against the parados. -Oh, this unutterable tragedy! Had there ever -been such a thing before? Why was this thing so -terrible? Why did I have this feeling of battering -against some relentless power? Death. There -were worse things than death. There were sights, -such as I had just come from, as terrible in everyday -life, in any factory explosion or railway accident. -There was nothing new in death. Vaguely my mind -felt out for something to express this thing so far -more terrible than mere death. And then I saw it. -Vividly I saw the secret of war.</p> - -<p>What made war so cruel, was the force that compelled -you to go on. After a factory explosion you -cleared up things and then took every precaution -to prevent its recurrence; but in war you did -the opposite, you used all your energies to make -more explosions. You killed and went on killing; -you saw men die around you, and you deliberately -went on with the thing that would cause more of -your friends to die. You were placed in an arena, -and made to fight the beasts; and if you killed -one beast, there were more waiting, and more and -more. And above the arena, out of it, secure, -looked down the glittering eyes of the men who -had placed you there; cruel, relentless eyes, that -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">267</span> -went on glittering while the mouths expressed admiration -for your impossible struggles, and pity -for your fate!</p> - -<p>“Oh God! I shall go mad!” I thought, in the -agony of my mind. I saw into that strange empty -chamber which is called madness: I knew what it -would be like to go mad. And even as I saw, came -the thought again of those glittering eyes, and the -ruthless answer to my soul’s cry: “The war is -utterly indifferent whether you go mad or not.”</p> - -<p>Owen was standing waiting for me. I grew calm -again, and turned and put my hand on his shoulder. -Together we reached the door of the dug-out.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Bill,” he said, “have you ever seen anything -more awful?”</p> - -<p>“Only once. No, not more awful: more beastly. -Nothing could be more awful.”</p> - -<p>We told the others.</p> - -<p>“Not Allan?” said Edwards. He was Lewis-gun -officer, and Allan was his best man.</p> - -<p>“Not Allan?” he repeated. “Oh, how will they -tell his little girl in Morlancourt? What will she -say when she learns she will never see him again?”</p> - -<p>“Thank God she never saw him as we saw him -just now,” I said, “and thank God his mother -never saw him.”</p> - -<p>“If women were in this war, there would be no -war,” said Edwards.</p> - -<p>“I wonder,” said I. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">268</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI<br /> - -WOUNDED</h2> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">Lance-Corporal Allan</span> was killed on -Tuesday the 6th of June. For the rest -of that day I was all “on edge.” I wondered -sometimes how I could go on: even in billets I -dreamed of rifle-grenades; and though I had only -returned from leave a fortnight ago, I felt as tired -out in body and mind as I did before I went. And -this last horror did not add to my peace of mind. -I very nearly quarrelled with Captain Wetherell, -the battalion Lewis-gun officer, over the position -of a Lewis gun. There had been a change of -company front, and some readjustments had to be -made. I believe I told him he had not got the -remotest idea of our defence scheme, or something -of the sort! My nerves were all jangled, and my -brain would not rest a second. We were nearly -all like that at times.</p> - -<p>I decided therefore to go out again to-night with -our wires. I had been out last night, and Owen -was going to-night, but I wanted to be doing something -to occupy my thoughts. I knew I should -not sleep. At a quarter to ten I sent word to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">269</span> -Corporal Dyson, the wiring-corporal, to take his -men up at eleven instead of ten, as the moon had -not quite set. At eleven o’clock Owen and I were -out in No Man’s Land putting out concertina wire -between 80<small>A</small> and 81<small>A</small> bombing posts, which had -recently been connected up by a deep narrow trench. -There was what might be called a concertina craze -on: innumerable coils of barbed wire were converted -into concertinas by the simple process of -winding them round and round seven upright -stakes in the ground; every new lap of wire was -fastened to the one below it at every other stake -by a twist of plain wire; the result, when you came -to the end of a coil and lifted the whole up off the -stakes was a heavy ring of barbed wire that concertina’d -out into ten-yard lengths. They were -easily made up in the trench, quickly put up, and -when put out in two parallel rows, about a yard -apart, and joined together with plenty of barbed -wire tangled in loosely, were as good an obstacle -as could be made. We had some thirty of these to -put out to-night.</p> - -<p>When you are out wiring you forget all about -being in No Man’s Land, unless the Germans are -sniping across. The work is one that absorbs all -your interest, and your one concern is to get the -job done quickly and well. I really cannot remember -whether the enemy had been sniping or -not (I use the word “sniping” to denote firing -occasional shots across with fixed rifles sited by -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">270</span> -day). I remember that I forgot all about Captain -Wetherell and his Lewis-gun positions, as soon as I -was outside the bombing post at 80<small>A</small>. There were -about fifteen yards between this post and the crater-edge, -where I had a couple of “A” Company -bombers out as a covering party. But in this -fifteen yards were several huge shell-holes, and we -were concealing the wire in these as much as -possible. It was fascinating work, and I felt we -could not get on fast enough with it. After a -time I went along to Owen, whose party was -working on my left. Here Corporal Dyson and -four men were doing well also. All this strip of -land between the trench and the crater edge was -an extraordinary tangle of shell-holes, old beams -and planks, and scraps of old wire. Every square -yard of it had been churned and pounded to bits -at different times by canisters and “sausages” -and such-like. Months ago there had been a trench -along the crater edges; but new mines had altered -these, and until we had dug the deep, narrow trench -between 80<small>A</small> and 81<small>A</small> about a fortnight ago, there -had been no trench there for at least five months. -The result was a chaotic jumble, and this jumble -we were converting into an obstacle by judiciously -placed concertina wiring.</p> - -<p>I repeat that I cannot remember if there had -been much sniping across. I had just looked at -my luminous watch, which reported ten past one, -when I noticed that the sky in the east began to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">271</span> -show up a little paler than the German parapet -across the crater. “Dawn,” I thought, “already. -There is no night at all, really. We must knock -off in a quarter of an hour. The light will not be -behind us, but half-past one will be time to stop.” -I was lying out by the bombers, gazing into the -black of the crater. It was a warm night, and -jolly lying out like this, though a bit damp and -muddy round the shell-holes. Then I got up, told -Corporal Evans to come in after fixing the coil -he was putting up, and was walking towards 80<small>A</small> -post, when “Bang” I heard from across the crater, -and I felt a big sting in my left elbow, and a jar -that numbed my whole arm.</p> - -<p>“Ow,” I cried out involuntarily, and doubled -the remaining few yards, and scrambled down into -the trench.</p> - -<p>Corporal Dyson was there.</p> - -<p>“Are you hit, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Nothing much—here in the arm. Get -the wirers in. It’ll be light soon.”</p> - -<p>Then somehow I found my equipment and tunic -off; there seemed a lot of men round me; and I -tried to realise that I was really hit. My arm hung -numb and stiff, with the after-taste of a sting in it. -I felt this could not be a proper wound, as there -was no real throbbing pain such as I expected. -I was surprised when I saw a lot of blood in the -half light. Corporal Dyson asked me if I had a -field-dressing, and I said he would find one in the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">272</span> -bottom right-hand corner of my tunic. To my -annoyance he did not seem to hear, and used one -of the men’s. Then Owen appeared, with a serious -peering face.</p> - -<p>“Are all the wirers in?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he answered. “How are you feeling?”</p> - -<p>His serious tone amused me. I wanted to say, -“Good heavens, man, I’m as fit as anything. I -shall be back to-morrow, I expect.” But I felt -very tired and rather out of breath as I answered -“Oh! all right.”</p> - -<p>By this time my arm was bandaged and I started -walking back to Maple Redoubt, leaning on Corporal -Dyson. I wanted to joke, but felt too tired. It -seemed an interminable way down, especially along -Watling Street.</p> - -<p>I had only once looked into the dressing-station, -although I must have passed it several hundred -times. I was surprised at its size: there were two -compartments. As I stepped down inside, I -wondered if it were shell-proof. In the inner -chamber I could hear the doctor’s quick low voice, -telling a man to move the lamp: and it seemed -to flash across me for the first time that there -ought to be some kind of guarantee against dressing-stations -being blown in like any ordinary dug-out. -And yet I knew there was no possibility of any -such guarantee.</p> - -<p>“Hullo, Bill, old man,” said the little doctor, -coming out quickly. “Where’s this thing of yours? -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">273</span> -In the arm, isn’t it? Let’s have a look. Oh yes, -I see. (He examined the bandage, and the arm -above it.) Well, I won’t be long. You won’t mind -waiting a few minutes, will you? I’ve got a bad -case in here. Hall, get him to sit down, and give -him some Bovril.”</p> - -<p>And he was gone. No man could move or make -men move quicker than the doctor.</p> - -<p>I felt apologetic: I had chosen a bad time to -come, just when the doctor was busy with this -other man. I asked who the fellow was, and learned -he was a private from “D” Company. I was very -grateful for the Bovril. A good idea, this, I thought, -having Bovril ready for you.</p> - -<p>I waited about ten minutes, sitting on a chair. -I listened to the movements and low voices inside. -“Turn him over. Here. No, those longer ones. -Good heavens, didn’t I tell you to get this changed -yesterday? Now. That’ll do,” and so on. I -turned my head round in silence, observing acutely -every detail in this antechamber, as one does in a -dentist’s waiting-room. All the time in my arm -I felt this numb wasp-sting; I wondered when the -real pain would start; there was no motion in -this still smart.</p> - -<p>“Now then, Bill,” said the doctor. “So sorry -to keep you. Let’s have a look at it. Oh, that’s -nothing very bad.”</p> - -<p>It smarted as he undid the bandage. I don’t -know what he did. I never looked at it. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">274</span></p> - -<p>“What sort of a one is it?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“I could just do with one like this myself,” -said the doctor.</p> - -<p>“Is it a Blighty one?”</p> - -<p>“I’d give you a fiver for it any minute,” answered -the doctor. “I’m not certain whether the bone’s -broken or not, but I rather think it is touched. I -can’t say, though. A bullet, did you say? Are -you sure?”</p> - -<p>“Very sure,” I laughed.</p> - -<p>“Well, it must be one of these explosive bullets, -an ordinary bullet doesn’t make a wound like yours. -That’s it. That’ll do.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t make out why there’s not more pain,” -said I.</p> - -<p>“Oh, that’ll come later. You see the shock -paralyses you at first. Here, take one of these.” -And he gave me a morphia tabloid.</p> - -<p>“Cheero, Bill,” he said, and I went out of the -dug-out leaning on a stretcher-bearer. Round my -neck hung a label, the first of a long series. “Gun-shot -wound in left forearm” it contained. I found -later “? fracture. 1.15 a.m., 7.6.16.”</p> - -<p>Outside Lewis was waiting with my trench kit. -He had appeared a quarter of an hour back at the -door of the dressing-station, and had been told by -the doctor so rapidly and forcibly that he ought -to know that he would go with me to the clearing -station, and that he had five minutes in which to -get my kit together, that he had fairly sprinted -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">275</span> -away. Poor fellow! How should he know, seeing -that he had been my servant over six months, -and I had never got wounded before? But the -doctor always made men double.</p> - -<p>As I passed our dug-out, Edwards, Owen, Paul, -and Nicholson were all standing outside.</p> - -<p>“Cheero,” I shouted. “Good luck. The doctor -says it’s nothing much. I’ll be back soon.”</p> - -<p>“What about that Lewis-gun position?” asked -Edwards.</p> - -<p>“Oh,” I said, “I want to keep that position on -the left.” Then I felt my decision waver. “Still, -if Wetherell wants the other ... I don’t know.”</p> - -<p>“All right. I’ll fix up with Wetherell. Good -luck. Hope you get to Blighty.”</p> - -<p>I wanted to say such a lot. I wanted to say that -I was sure to be back in a week or so. I wanted -to think hard, and decide about that Lewis gun. -I wanted to send a message to Wetherell apologising -for what I had said.... I wanted to talk to Sergeant -Andrews, who was standing there too. But -the stretcher-bearer was walking on, and I must -go as he pleased.</p> - -<p>“Good-bye, Sergeant Andrews,” I shouted.</p> - -<p>Last of all I saw Davies, standing solemn and -dumb.</p> - -<p>“Good-bye, Davies. Off to Blighty.”</p> - -<p>I could not see if he answered. The relentless -stretcher-bearer led me on. Was I O.C. stretcher-bearers -or was I not? Why didn’t I stop him? -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">276</span> -I had not decided about that Lewis gun. At the -corner of Old Kent Road, I was told I might as -well sit on the ration trolley and go down on that. -And in the full light of dawn, about half-past two, -I was rolled serenely down the hill to the Citadel.</p> - -<p>“Don’t let go,” I said to the stretcher-bearer, -who was holding the trolley back. I still thought of -sending up a message about that Lewis-gun position. -Why could not I make up my mind? I looked back -and saw Maple Redoubt receding further and further -in the distance.</p> - -<p>“By Jove,” I thought, “I may not see it again -for weeks.” And suddenly I realised that whether -I made up my mind about the Lewis-gun position -or not, would not make the slightest difference!</p> - -<p>“Where do I go to now?” said I.</p> - -<p>“There’s an ambulance at the Citadel,” said the -stretcher-bearer. “You’re quite right. You’ll be -in Heilly in a little over an hour.”</p> - -<p>Heilly? Why, this would be interesting, I -thought. And I should just go, and have nothing -to decide. I should be passive. I was going right -out of the arena!</p> - -<p>And the events of yesterday seemed a dream -already.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Wednesday</span></p> - -<p>I lay in bed, at the clearing station at Heilly. -It was just after nine o’clock the same morning, -and the orderlies were out of sight, but not out -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">277</span> -of hearing, washing up the breakfast things. Half -the dark blue blinds were drawn, as the June sun -was blazing outside. I could see the glare of it -on the cobbles in the courtyard, as the door opened -and a cool, tall nurse entered. I closed my eyes, -and pretended to be asleep. I felt she might come -and talk, and one thing I did not want to do, -I did not want to talk.</p> - -<p>My body was most extraordinarily comfortable. -I moved my feet toes-up for the sheer joy of feeling -the smooth sheets fall cool on my feet when I -turned them sideways again. The pillow was comfortable; -the whole bed was comfortable; even my -arm, that was throbbing violently now, and felt -boiling hot, was very comfortably rested on another -pillow. I just wanted to lie, and lie: only my -mind was working so fast and hard that it -seemed to make the skin tight over my forehead. -And all the time there was that buzz, buzzing. -If I left off thinking, the buzzing took complete -mastery of my brain. That was intolerable: so I -had to keep on thinking.</p> - -<p>At the Citadel an R.A.M.C. doctor had given me -tea and a second label. He had also given me an -injection against tetanus. This he did in the chest. -Why didn’t he do it in my right arm, I had thought: -I would have rather had it there. Again, I had had -to wait quite a quarter of an hour, while he attended -to the “D” Company private. I had learned from -an orderly that this poor fellow was bound to lose -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">278</span> -a leg, and again I had felt that I was in the way -here, that I was a bother. I had then watched the -poor fellow carried out on a stretcher, and the -stretcher slid into the ambulance. There was a -seat inside, into which I was helped. Lewis had -gone in front, very red-faced and awkward. And -an R.A.M.C. orderly had got in behind with me. -Sitting, I had felt that he must think I was shamming! -Then I remembered the first ambulance -I had seen, when I first walked from Chocques to -Béthune in early October! Was there really any -connection between me then and me now?</p> - -<p>Then there had been a rather pleasant journey -through unknown country, it seemed. After a few -miles, we halted and changed into another ambulance. -As I had stood in the sunshine a moment, -I had tried to make out where we were. But I -could not recognise anything, and felt very tired. -There was a white chalk road, a grass bank, and -a house close by: that is all I could remember. -And then there was another long ride, in which -my one paramount idea was to rest my arm (which -was in a white sling) and prevent it shaking and -jarring.</p> - -<p>Then at last we had reached a village and pulled -up in a big sunlit courtyard. Again as I walked -into a big room I felt that people must think I -was shamming. A matron had come in, and a -doctor. Did I mind sitting and waiting a minute -or so? Would I like some tea? I had refused tea. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">279</span> -Then the doctor and an orderly came in, and the -doctor asked some questions and took off my label. -The orderly was taking off my boots, and the doctor -had started helping! I had apologised profusely, -for they were trench boots thick with mud. And -then the doctor had asked me whether I could wait -until about eleven before they looked at my arm: -meanwhile it would be better, as I should be more -rested after a few hours in bed. Bed! I had never -thought of going to bed for an arm at all! What a -delicious idea! I felt so tired, too. I had not been -to bed all night. Then I had been helped into this -delightful bed, and after scrawling a letter home -to go away by the eight o’clock post (I was glad -I had remembered that), I had been left in peace -at about half-past four. And here I was! I had -had a cup of tea for breakfast, but did not want -to eat anything.</p> - -<p>I wished I could go to sleep. Yet it was not -much good now, if they were going to look at my -arm at eleven. I opened my eyes whenever I was -sure there was no one near me. Then I thought -I might as well keep them open, otherwise they -would think I had slept, and not know how tired -out I felt. There was a man in the next bed with -his head all bandaged; and round the bed in the -corner was a screen. Opposite was an R.A.M.C. -doctor, as far as I could gather; he was talking -to the nurse, and looked perfectly well. I thought -perhaps he might be the sort who would talk late -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">280</span> -when I wanted to sleep—he looked so well and -lively; suppose he had a gramophone and wanted -to play it this afternoon. I should really have to -complain, if he did. Yet perhaps they would understand, -and make him give it up because of us who -were not so well. On my right, up at the other -end of the room (was it a “ward”? yes, I suppose -it was) were several voices, but I could not turn -over and look at their owners, with my arm like this. -How it throbbed and pulsed! Or was it aching? -Supposing I got pins and needles in it....</p> - -<p>A khaki-clad padre came in. He just came -over and asked me if I wanted anything, and did -not worry me with talking. He had a very quiet -voice and bald head. I liked both. I felt I -ought to have wanted something: had I been -discourteous?</p> - -<p>The door opened, and the doctor entered, with -another nurse and another doctor. Somehow this -last person electrified everyone and everything. Who -was he? His very walk was somehow different -from the ordinary. My attention was riveted on -him; somehow I felt that he knew I was there, -and yet he did not look at me. They wheeled a -little table up from the other end of the room, -laden with glasses and bottles and glittering little -silver forks and things. I could not see clearly. -An orderly was reprimanded by the nurse for something, -in a subdued voice. There was a hush and -a tenseness in this man’s presence. Yet he was -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">281</span> -calmly looking at a newspaper, and sitting on an -empty bed as he did so! Apparently Kitchener -was reported drowned in the North Sea: he spoke -in a rich, almost drawling voice. He was immensely -casual! And yet one did not mind. He walked -over and washed his hands, and put on some -yellowy-brown india-rubber gloves that scrooped -and squelched in the basins. And then he turned -round, and the other doctor (whom I had seen at -four o’clock and who already seemed a sort of -confidential friend of mine in the presence of this -master-man) asked him, which case he wanted to -see first. And as he jerked his hand casually to -one of the beds, I was filled with a strange elation. -This was a surgeon, I felt; and one in whom I -had immense confidence. He would do the best -for my arm: he would make no mistakes. I almost -laughed for sheer joy!</p> - -<p>He came at last to my bed and glanced at me. -He never smiled. He asked me one or two questions. -I said I was “? fracture,” that my arm was throbbing -but felt numb more than anything.</p> - -<p>“I suppose we may presume there is a fracture,” -said he; “at any rate there is no point in looking -at it here. I’ll look at it under an anæsthetic,” -he said to me, not unkindly, but still without a -smile. And a little later, as he went out, he half -looked back at my bed.</p> - -<p>“Eleven o’clock,” he said to the nurse as he went -out. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">282</span></p> - -<p>The tension relaxed. An orderly spoke in a bold -ordinary voice. The spell was gone out with the -man.</p> - -<p>“Who is that?” I asked the nurse.</p> - -<p>“Oh! that’s Mr. Bevan; he’s a very good -surgeon indeed.”</p> - -<p>“I know,” said I, “I can feel that.”</p> - -<p>About an hour later, two orderlies whom I had -not seen before came in with a stretcher, and laid -it on the floor by the bed. The tall nurse asked me -if I had any false teeth, and said I had better put -socks on, as my feet might get cold. The orderly -did this, and then they helped me on to the stretcher. -My head went back, and I felt a strain on my neck. -The next second my head was lifted and a pillow -put under it. And they had moved me without -altering the position of my arm. I was surprised -and pleased at that. Then a blanket was put over -me, and one of the orderlies said “Ready?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” I said, but suddenly realised he was -talking to the other orderly. I was lifted up, and -carried across the room out into the courtyard. -What a blazing sun! I closed my eyes.</p> - -<p>“Dump, dump, dump.” The stretcher seemed -to bob along, with a regular rhythmic swaying. -Then they turned a corner, and I felt a slight nausea. -I opened my eyes. The stretcher was put on a -table. I felt very high up.</p> - -<p>The matron-person appeared. She was older -than the nurses, and had a chain with scissors -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">283</span> -dangling on the end of it. She smiled, and asked -what kind of a wound it was. Then the orderlies -looked at each other, at some signal that I could -not see, and lifted me up and into the next room. -They held the stretcher up level with the operating -table, and helped me on to it. I did some good -right elbow-work and got on easily. As I did so, -I saw Mr. Bevan sitting on a chair in his white -overall, his gloved hands quietly folded in his lap. -He said and did nothing. Again I felt immensely -impressed by his competence, reserving every ounce -of energy, waiting, until these less masterful beings -had got everything ready.</p> - -<p>They took off the blanket, and moved things -behind. Then they put the rubber cup over my -mouth and nose.</p> - -<p>“Just breathe quite naturally,” said the doctor. -I shut my eyes.</p> - -<p>“Just ordinary breaths. That is very good,” -said the voice, quietly and reassuringly.</p> - -<p>I felt a sort of sweet shudder all down my body. -I wanted to laugh. Then I let my body go a little. -It was no good bracing myself.... I opened my -right hand and shut it, just to show them I was -not “off” yet ...</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The process of “coming to” was unpleasant and -uninteresting. I do not think I distinguished myself -by any originality, so will not attempt to -describe it. That was a long interminable day, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">284</span> -and my arm hurt a good deal. In the afternoon -I was told that I should be pleased to hear that -there was no bone broken. I was anything but -pleased. I wanted the bone to be broken, as I -wanted to go to “Blighty.” This worried me all -day. I wondered if I should get to England or not. -Then in the evening the sister (I found that the -nurses should be called sisters) dressed the wound. -That was distinctly unpleasant. It took hours and -hours and hours before it began to get even twilight. -I have never known so long a day. And then I -could not sleep. They injected morphia at last, -but I awoke after three or four hours feeling more -tired than ever.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Thursday</span></p> - -<p>I can hardly disentangle these days; night and -day ran into one another. I can remember little -about Thursday. I could not sleep however much -I wanted to; and all the time my brain was working -so hard, thinking. I worried about the company: -they must be in the line now. Would -Edwards remember this, and that? Had I left him -the map, or was it among those maps in my valise -which Lewis had gone to Morlancourt to fetch?</p> - -<p>And all the time there were rifle-grenades about; -I daren’t let the buzzing come, because it was all -rifle-grenades really; and always I kept seeing -Lance-Corporal Allan lying there. Why could I -not get rid of the picture of him? Yet I was afraid -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">285</span> -I might forget; and it was important that I should -remember....</p> - -<p>I remember the waiting to have my arm dressed. -It was like waiting before the dentist takes up the -drill again. I watched the man next to me out -of the corner of my eye, and felt it intensely if he -seemed to wince, or drew in his breath. And I -remember in the morning Mr. Bevan dressed my -wound. I looked the other way. For a week I -thought the wound was above instead of just below -the elbow. “This will hurt,” he said once.</p> - -<p>Some time in the day the man behind the screen -died. I had heard him groaning all day; and there -was the rhythmic sound of pumping—oxygen, -I suppose.... I heard a lot of moving behind the -screen, and at last it was taken away and I saw -the corner for the first time and in it an empty -bed with clean sheets.</p> - -<p>The man next to me, with the bandaged head, -kept talking deliriously to the orderly about his -being on a submarine. Once the orderly smiled at -me as he answered the absurd questions.</p> - -<p>There was one good incident I remember. After -the surgeon had dressed my arm, I said, “Is there -any chance of this getting me to Blighty?” And -I thought he did not hear; he was looking the -other way. But suddenly I heard that calm -deliberate voice:</p> - -<p>“Yes, that is a Blighty one. There is enough -damage to those muscles to keep you in Blighty -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">286</span> -several months.” And this made all the rest bearable -somehow.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Friday</span></p> - -<p>Again the only sleep I could get was by morphia. -In the morning they told me I should go by a -hospital train leaving at three o’clock. I scrawled -a note or two and gave them to Lewis, and instructed -him about my kit. I believe they made -an inventory of it. I gave him some maps for -Edwards. And then he said good-bye. And I -thought of him going back, and I going to England. -And I felt ashamed of myself again. I wondered -if the Colonel was annoyed with me.</p> - -<p>They gave me gas in the morning. It seemed -such a bother going through all that again: it was -not worth trying to get better. Still I was glad, -it was one dressing less! Then in the afternoon -I was carried on a stretcher to the train. I hardly -saw anyone to say good-bye to. I thought of -writing later.</p> - -<p>It seemed an interminable journey. By some -mistake I had been put in with the Tommies. -There was no difference in the structure or comfort -of the officers’ or Tommies’ quarters; but I knew -they were taking me wrong. However, I was -entirely passive, and did not mind what they did. -The carriage had a corridor all the way down the -centre, and on each side was a succession of berths -in three tiers. On the top tier you must have felt -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">287</span> -very high and close up to the roof; on the centre -one you got a good view out of the windows; -on the third and lowest tier (which was my lot) -you felt that if there were an accident, you would -not have far to roll; on the other hand, you were -out of view of orderlies passing along the corridor.</p> - -<p>A great thirst consumed me as I lay waiting. I -could see two orderlies in the space by the door -cutting up large pieces of bread and butter. This -made my mouth still drier. Then they brought -in cans of hot tea, and gave it out in white enamel -bowls. I longed for the sting of the tea on my dry -palate, but the orderly was startled when I said, -“I suppose this is all right; I am an officer.” He -said he would tell them, and gave the bowl to the -next man. The bowls were taken away and washed -up, before a cup of tea was at last brought me. -A corporal brought it; he poured it out of a little -teapot; but I could not drink it out of a cup. My -left arm lay like a log beside me, and I could not -hold my right arm steady <i>and</i> raise my head. So -the corporal went off for a feeding cup. I felt -rather nervy and like a man with a grievance! -And when I got the tea it was nearly cold.</p> - -<p>I say it seemed an interminable journey, and -my arm was so frightfully uncomfortable. I had -it across my body, and felt I could not breathe -for the weight of it. At last I felt I <i>must</i> get its -position altered. I called “orderly” every time -an orderly went past: sometimes they paused and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">288</span> -looked round; but they could not see me, and -went on. Sometimes they did not hear anything. -I felt as self-conscious and irritated as a man who -calls “waiter” and the waiter does not hear. At -last one heard, and a sister came and fixed me up -with a small pillow under the elbow. I immediately -felt apologetic, and I wondered if she thought me -fussy.</p> - -<p>The train made a long, slow grind over the rails; -and it kept stopping with a griding sound and a -jolt. Why did it go so slowly? At ten o’clock -I begged and obtained another morphia dose, and -got four hours’ sleep from it again.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Saturday</span></p> - -<p>I suppose it was about 7.0 a.m. when we arrived -at Étretat. I was taken and laid in the middle of -rows and rows of Tommies in a big sunny courtyard. -I thought how well the bearers carried the stretchers: -I did not at all feel that I was likely to be dropped -or tilted off on to my arm. There were a lot of -men in blue hospital dress on the steps of a big -house. I wondered where I was: in Havre probably. -It was a queer sensation lying on my back -gazing up at the sun; we were tightly packed in -together, like cards laid in order, face upwards. -How high everyone looked standing up. Then they -discovered one or two officers, and I said that I -too was an officer. I felt that they rather dared -me to repeat this statement. Then a man looked -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">289</span> -at my label, and said: “Yes, he is an officer.” -And I was taken up and carried off.</p> - -<p>I found myself put to bed in a spacious room -in which were only two beds. The house had only -recently been finished, and was in use as a hospital. -As soon as I was in bed, I felt a great relief again. -No more motion for a time, I thought. There was -a man in the other bed, threatened with consumption. -We were talking, when a pretty V.A.D. -nurse came in and asked what we wanted for breakfast. -I felt quite hungry, and enjoyed tea and fish. -I began to think that life was going to be good. -I saw Cecil Todd, who had been slightly wounded -a fortnight ago. I condoled with him on not getting -to England. He asked me if I wanted to read. -No, I did not feel like reading. I wrote a letter. -Then two V.A.D. nurses came and dressed my -wound. They seemed surprised to find so big a -one, and sent for the doctor to see it. They -dressed it very well, and gave me no unnecessary -pain.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon, I was again moved to a motor -ambulance, which took me to Havre. It jolted -and shook horribly. “This man does not know -what it is like up here,” I thought. All the time -I was straining my body to keep the left arm from -touching the jolting stretcher. (The stretchers slide -in the ambulance.) I was a top-berth passenger; -I could touch the white roof with my right hand; -and there was a stuffy smell of white paint. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">290</span></p> - -<p>At last it stopped, and after a wait I was carried -amid a sea of heads, along a quay. I could smell -sea and the stale oily smell of a steamer. Then I -was taken over the gangway with that firm, steady, -nodding motion with which I was getting so -familiar, along the deck, through doorways, and -into a big room, all green and white. All round the -edge were beds, into one of which I was helped. -In the centre of the room were beds that somehow -reminded me of cots. I dare say there was a low -railing round the beds that gave me this impression. -A Scotch nurse looked after me. These -nurses were all in grey and red; the others had -been in blue. I wondered what was the difference. -I asked the name of the ship and they said it was -the <i>Asturias</i>.</p> - -<p>Later on a steward brought a menu, and I chose -my own dinner. Apparently I could eat what I -liked. The doctor looked at my wound, and said -it could wait until morning before being dressed; -he pleased me. I was more comfortable than I -had been yet. The boat was not due out till about -1.0 a.m. At eleven o’clock I again asked for -morphia, and so got sleep for another four hours -or so.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Sunday</span></p> - -<p>“I represent Messrs. Cox and Co. Is there anything -I can do for any of you gentlemen this -morning?” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">291</span></p> - -<p>A short, squarely built man, with a black suit, a -bowler hat, and a small brown bag, stepped briskly -into the room. He gave me intense pleasure: as -he talked to a Scotch officer who wanted some -ready cash, I felt that I was indeed back in England. -It was a hot sunny day; and a bowler hat on such -a day made me feel sure that this was <i>really</i> -Southampton, and not all a dream. Sir, whoever -you are, I thank you for your most appropriate -appearance.</p> - -<p>The hospital ship had been alongside nearly an -hour, I believe. It was three o’clock in the afternoon. -Breakfast, the dressing of my wound again, -lunch; all had followed in an uneventful succession. -The throbbing of the engines as the boat steamed -quietly along had been hardly noticeable at all. -At last there was a bustle, and we were carried -out of the room, out into the sunshine again, and -along the quay to the train. Here I was given a -berth in the middle tier this time, for which I was -very thankful. I felt so utterly tired; and the -weight of my arm across my body was intolerable.</p> - -<p>That seemed a long, long journey too; but I got -tea without delay this time, and it was hot. At -Farnborough the train stopped and a few men were -taken out. The rest came on to London.</p> - -<p>“Is there any special hospital in London you -want to go to?” said a brisk R.A.M.C. official, -when we reached Waterloo.</p> - -<p>“No,” I answered. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">292</span></p> - -<p>He wrote on a label, and put that round my -neck also.</p> - -<p>“Lady Carnarvon’s,” he said.</p> - -<p>I lay for some time on the platform of Waterloo -station, gazing up at the vault in the roof. Porters -and stretcher-bearers stood about, and gazed down -at one in silence. Then I was moved into a motor -ambulance, and a Red Cross lady took her seat -in the back. My head was in the front, so that I -could see nothing. Just before the car went off, -a policeman put his head in.</p> - -<p>“Any milk or anything?”</p> - -<p>“Would you like any milk or beef tea?” the -lady said.</p> - -<p>“Milk, please.”</p> - -<p>“He says he would like a little milk,” said the -lady.</p> - -<p>And then we drove off.</p> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Monday</span></h3> - -<p>It was somewhere about ten o’clock Monday -morning. The sister had just finished dressing my -arm; the doctor had poked it about; now it lay -cool and quiet along by my side. I had not slept -that night again, except with morphia. I still -felt extraordinarily tired, but was very comfortable. -I watched the tall sister in blue with the white -headdress that reminded me of a nun’s cap. She -was so strong and quiet, and seemed to know that -my hand always wanted support at the wrist when -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">293</span> -she lifted my arm. I did not want to talk, just to -lie.</p> - -<p>Suddenly I realised that my head was no longer -buzzing. I knew that I should sleep to-night—at -last! My body relaxed: the tension suddenly -melted away.</p> - -<p>“Hurrah!” I thought, “I have not got to move, -or think, or decide—and I can just lie for hours, -for days.”</p> - -<p>At last I was out of the grip of war. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">294</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII<br /> - -CONCLUSION</h2> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">It</span> was a slumbrous afternoon in September. My -wound had healed up a month ago, and I was -lazily convalescent at my aunt’s house in one of -the most beautiful parts of Kent. The six soldiers -who were also convalescent there were down in the -hop-garden. For hop-picking was in full swing. I -was sitting in a deck-chair with <i>Don Quixote</i> on my -knees; but I was not reading. I had apparently -broken the offensive power of the army of midges -by making a brilliant counter-attack with a pipe of -Chairman. The sun blazed mercilessly on the -croquet-lawn; the balls were lying all together -round one hoop: for there was a golf-croquet -tournament in progress, and the mallets stood about -against various hoops; one very tidy and proper -mallet was standing primly in the stand at one -corner. My chair was well sited under the cool -shade of a large mulberry tree, in whose thick lofty -branches the wind rustled with a delicious little sigh; -sometimes a regular little gust would send the -boughs swishing, and then a little rain of red and -white mulberries would plop on to the grass, and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">295</span> -strike the summer-house roof with a smart patter. -On the grass-bank at the side of the lawn, by a -blazing border of orange and red nasturtiums, a -black cat was squatting with tail slowly waving to -and fro, watching a fine large tabby that was sniffing -at the nasturtiums in a nonchalant manner. They -were the best of friends, playing that most interesting -of all games, war.</p> - -<p>I was not reading: I was listening to the incessant -murmur that came from far away across the -Medway, across the garden of England, and across -the Channel and the flats of Flanders. That sound -came from Picardy. All day the insistent throb had -been in the air; sometimes faint bumps were clearly -distinguishable, at other times it was nothing but -one steady vibration. But always it was there, -that distant growl, that insistent mutter. Even in -this perfect peace, I could not escape the War.</p> - -<p>To-day I felt completely well; the lassitude and -inertness of convalescence were gone—at any rate, -for the moment. My mind was very clear, and I -could think surely and rapidly. The cats reminded -me of the lusty family that lived in the cellar in the -Cuinchy trenches, and the murmur of the guns drew -my thoughts across the Channel. I tried to imagine -trenches running across the lawn, with communication -trenches running back to a support line through -the meadow; a few feet of brick wall would be all -that would be left of the house, and this would -conceal my snipers; the mulberry tree would long -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">296</span> -ago have been razed to the ground, and every scrap -of it used as firewood in our dug-outs; this deck -chair of mine might possibly be in use in Company -Headquarters in one of the cellars. No, it was not -easy to imagine war without seeing it.</p> - -<p>I picked up the paper that had fallen at my side. -There had been more terrible fighting on the Somme, -and it had seemed very marvellous to a journalist -as he lay on a hill some two miles back, and watched -through his field-glasses: it was wonderful that the -men advancing (if indeed he could really see them -at all in the smoke of a heavy artillery barrage) still -went on, although their comrades dropped all round -them. Yet I wondered what else anyone could do -but go on? Run back, with just as much likelihood -of being shot in doing so? Or, even if he did get -back, to certain death as a deserter? Everyone -knows the safest place is in a trench; and it is a -trench you are making for. Lower down on the page -came a description of the wounded; he had talked -to so many of them, and they were all smiling, all so -cheerful; smoking cigarettes and laughing. They -shook their fists, and shouted that the only thing -they wanted to do was to get back into it! Pah! -I threw the paper down in disgust. Surely no one -wants to read such stuff, I thought. Of course the -men who were not silent, in a dull stupefied agony, -were smiling: what need to say that a man with a -slight wound was laughing at his luck, just as I had -smiled that early morning when the trolley took me -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">297</span> -down from Maple Redoubt? And who does not -volunteer for an unpleasant task, when he knows he -cannot possibly get it? Want to get back into it, -indeed! Ask Tommy ten years hence whether he -wants to be back in the middle of it again!</p> - -<p>I wondered why people endured such cheap -journalism. What right had men who have never -seen war at all, who creep up on bicycles to get a -glimpse of it through telescopes, who pester wounded -men, and then out of their pictorial imagination -work up a vivid description—what right have they -to insult heroes by saying that “their wonderful -spirit makes up for it all,” that “the paramount -impression is one of glory”? Are not our people -able to bear the truth, that war is utterly hellish, -that we do <i>not</i> enjoy it, that we hate it, hate it, hate -it all? And then it struck me how ignorant people -still were; how uncertainly they spoke, these people -at home: it was as though they dared not think -things out, lest what they held most dear should be -an image shattered by another point of view.</p> - -<p>Somehow people were amazed at the cheerfulness, -the doggedness, the endurance under pain, the indifference -to death, shown every minute during this -war. I thought of the men whom I had seen in -hospital. One man had had his right foot amputated; -it used to give me agony to see his stump -dressed every day. Another man had both legs -amputated above the knees. Yet they were so -wonderfully cheerful, so apparently content with -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">298</span> -life! As though alone in the blackness of night they -did not long for the activity denied them for the -rest of their life. As though their cheerfulness—(do -not think I belittle its heroism)—<i>as though their -cheerfulness justified the thing</i>!</p> - -<p>Another thing I had noticed. An old man told -me he was so struck with the heroism, the courage, -the indifference to death, shown by the ordinary unromantic -man. Some men had been converted, too, -their whole lives changed, their vices eradicated, by -this war. So much good was coming from it. -People, too, at home were so changed, so sobered; -they were looking into the selfishness of their lives -at last. Again I thought, <i>as though all that justified -the thing</i>!</p> - -<p>Oh! you men and women who did not know -before the capabilities of human nature, I thought, -please take note of it now; and after the war do not -underestimate the quality of mankind. Did it need -a war to tell you that a man can be heroic, resolute, -courageous, cheerful, and capable of sacrifice? -There were those who could have told you that -before this war.</p> - -<p>There was a lull in the vibration. I turned in my -chair, and listened. Then it began again.</p> - -<p>“People are afraid to think it out,” I said. “I -have not seen the Somme fighting, but I know what -war is. Its quality is not altered by multiplication -or intensity. The colour of life-blood is a constant -red. Let us look into this business; let us face all -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">299</span> -the facts. Let us not flinch from any aspect of the -truth.”</p> - -<p>And my thoughts ran somewhat as follows:</p> - -<p>First of all, War is evil—utterly evil. Let us be -sure of that first. It is an evil instrument, even if it -be used for motives that are good. I, who have been -through war and know it, say that it is evil. I knew -it before the war; instinct, reason, religion told me -that war was evil; now experience has told me -also.</p> - -<p>It is a strange synthesis, this war: it is a synthesis -of adventure, dulness, good spirits, and -tragedy; but none of these things are new to human -experience; nor is human nature altered by war. -It is at war as a whole that we must look in order to -appreciate its quality. And what is war seen as a -whole, or rather seen in the light of my eight months’ -experience? For no one man can truly appraise -war.</p> - -<p>I have seen and felt the adventure of war, its -deadly fascination and excitement: it is the greatest -game on earth: that is its terrible power: there is -such a wild temptation to paint up its interest and -glamour: it gives such scope to daring, to physical -courage, to high spirits: it makes so many prove -themselves heroic, that were it not for the fall of the -arrow men would call the drawing of the bow good. -I have seen the dulness, the endless monotony, the -dogged labour, the sheer power of will conquering -the body and “carrying on”: there is good in that, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">300</span> -too. In the jollity, the humour, the good-fellowship, -is nothing but good also. There is good in all these -things; for these are qualities of human nature -triumphing in spite of war. These things are not -war; they are the good in man prostituted to a vile -thing.</p> - -<p>For I have seen the real face of war: I have seen -men killed, mutilated, blown to little pieces; I have -seen men crippled for life; I have looked in the face -of madness, and I know that many have gone -mad under its grip. I have seen fine natures break -and crumble under the strain. I have seen men -grow brutalised, and coarsened in this war. (God -will judge justly in the end; meanwhile, there are -thousands among us—yes, and among our enemy -too—brutalised through no fault of theirs.) I have -lost friends killed (and shall lose more yet), friends -with whom I have lived and suffered so long.</p> - -<p>Who is for war now? Its adventure, its heroism? -Bah! Yet this is not all.</p> - -<p>For war spares none. It desecrates the beauty of -the earth; it ruins, it destroys, it wastes; it starves -children; it drives out old men, and women, homeless. -And most terrible of all, it brings agony to every -household: it is like a plague of the firstborn. Do not -think I have forgotten you, O women, and old men. -You, too, have to endure the agony of the arena; you -are compelled to sit and watch us fight the beasts. -Every mother is there in agony, watching her baby, -and unable to stretch a finger to help. This, too, is -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">301</span> -war—the anguish of mothers whose sons perish, -of wives who lose their husbands, of girls robbed for -all time of marriage and motherhood.</p> - -<p>And this vile thing is still perpetrated upon the -earth among peoples who have long ago declared -human sacrifice impossible and barbaric.</p> - -<p>This then is a basal fact. We have faced it fairly. -The instrument is vile. What then of the motive? -What is the motive which drives us to use this evil -instrument? And I see you fathers and mothers -waiting to hear what I shall say. For there are -people who whisper that we who are fighting are -vindictive, that we lust for the blood of our enemies, -that we are coarse and brutal, that we are unholy -champions of what we call a just cause. Again let -us face the facts. And to these whisperers I answer -boldly: “Yes! we are coarse, some of us; we are -vindictive; we hate; we do not deny it.” For war -in its vileness taints its human instruments too. -When Davidson died I cried death upon his murderers. -I called them devils, and worse. I am not -ashamed.</p> - -<p>That is not the point. What I or Tommy may be -at a given moment is not the point. The question is, -with what motives did we enter this war, agree to -take up this vile instrument? We cannot help if -it soils our hands. What is our motive in fighting -in the arena? What provokes the dumb heroism -of our soldiers? Why did men flock to the colours, -volunteer in millions for the arena? You know. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">302</span> -I who have lived with them eight months in France, -I also know. It was because a people took up this -vile instrument and used it from desire of power. -Because they trampled on justice, and challenged -us to thwart them. Because they willed war for the -sake of wrong; because they said that force was -master of the world, and they set out to prove it.</p> - -<p>Yet, it is sometimes said, war is unchristian. If -men were Christian there would be no war. You -cannot conquer evil by evil. I agree, if men were -Christian there would be no war. I agree that you -cannot conquer evil by evil; but it is war that is -evil, not our motive in going to war. We are conquering -an evil spirit by a good spirit, even if we are -using an evil instrument. And if you say that -Christ would not fight, I say that none of us would -fight if the world had attained the Christian plane -towards which we are slowly rising: but we are still -on a lower plane, and in it there is a big war raging; -and in the arena there are many who have felt Christ -by their side.</p> - -<p>That, then, is the second point. I knew that war -was vile, before I went into it. I have seen it: I do -not alter my opinion. I went into this war prepared -to sacrifice my life to prove that right is stronger -than wrong; I have stood again and again with a -traverse between me and death; I have faced the -possibility of madness. I foresaw all this before I -went into this war. What difference does it make -that I have experienced it? It makes no difference. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">303</span> -Let no one fear that our sacrifice has been in vain. -We have already won what we are fighting for. The -will for war, that aggressive power, with all the cards -on its side prepared, striking at its own moment, -has already failed against a spirit, weaker, unprepared, -taken unawares. And so I am clear on -my second point. We are fighting from just motives, -and we have already baulked injustice. Aggressive -force, the power that took up the cruel weapon of -war, has failed. No one can ever say that his -countrymen have laid down their lives in vain.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I got up from the chair, and started walking about -the garden. Everything was so clear. Before going -out to the war I had thought these things; but the -thoughts were fluid, they ran about in mazy patterns, -they were elusive, and always I was frightened -of meeting unanswerable contradictions to my -theorising from men who had actually seen war. -Now my conclusions seemed crystallised by irrefutable -experience into solid truth.</p> - -<p>After a while I sat down again and resumed my -train of thought:</p> - -<p>War is evil. Justice is stronger than Force. Yet, -was there need of all this bloodshed to prove this? -For this war is not as past wars; this is every man’s -war, a war of civilians, a war of men who hate war, -of men who fight for a cause, who are compelled to -kill and hate it. That is another thing that people -will not face. Men whisper that Tommy does not -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">304</span> -hate Fritz. Again I say, away with this whispering. -Let us speak it out plain and bold. Private Davies, -my orderly, formerly a shepherd of Blaenau Festiniog, -has no quarrel with one Fritz Schneider of -Hamburg who is sitting in the trench opposite the -Matterhorn sap; yet he will bayonet him certainly -if he comes over the top, or if we go over into the -German trenches; ay, he will perform this action -with a certain amount of brutality too, for I have -watched him jabbing at rats with a bayonet through -the wires of a rat trap, and I know that he has in him -a savage vein of cruelty. But when peace is declared, -he and Fritz will light a bonfire of trench stores in -No Man’s Land, and there will be the end of their -quarrel. I say boldly, I know. For indeed I know -Davies very well indeed.</p> - -<p>Again I say, was there need of all this bloodshed? -Who is responsible? Who is responsible for Lance-Corporal -Allan lying in the trench in Maple Redoubt? -Again I see yon glittering eyes looking down upon -me in the arena. And Davies, too, in his slow simple -way, is beginning to take you in, and to ask you why -he is put there to fight? Is it for your pleasure? -Is it for your expediency? Is it a necessary part of -your great game? Necessary? Necessary for -whom? Davies and Fritz alike are awaiting your -answer.</p> - -<p>It is hard to trace ultimate causes. It is hard to -fix absolute responsibility. There were many seeds -sown, scattered, and secretly fostered before they -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">305</span> -produced this harvest of blood. The seeds of -cruelty, selfishness, ambition, avarice, and indifference, -are always liable to swell, grow, and bud, -and blossom suddenly into the red flower of war. -Let every man look into his heart, and if the -seeds are there let him make quick to root them -out while there is time; unless he wishes to join -those glittering eyes that look down upon the -arena.</p> - -<p>These are the seeds of war. And it is because -they know that we, too, are not free from them, -that certain men have stood out from the arena as -a protest against war. These men are real heroes, -who for their conscience’s sake are enduring taunts, -ignominy, misunderstanding, and worse. Most men -and women in the arena are cursing them, and, as they -struggle in agony and anguish, they beat their hands -at them and cry “You do not care.” I, too, have -cursed them, when I was mad with pain. But I -know them, and I know that they are true men. I -would not have one less. They are witnesses against -war. And I, too, am fighting war. Men do not -understand them now, but one day they will.</p> - -<p>I know that there are among us, too, the seeds of -war: no cause has yet been perfect. But I look at -the facts. We did not start, we did not want this -war. We have gone into it, fighting for the better -cause. Whether, had we been more Christian, we -might have prevented the war, is not the point. We -did not want this war: we are fighting against it. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">306</span> -It was the seeds of war in Germany that were -responsible. And so history will judge.</p> - -<p>But what of the future? How are we to save -future generations from going down into the arena? -We will rearrange the map of Europe: we will -secure the independence of small states: we will -give the power to the people: there shall be an end -of tyrannies. So men speak easily of an international -spirit, of a world conference for peace. -There is so great a will-power against war, they say, -that we will secure the world for the future. Millions -of men know the vileness of war; they will devise -ways and means to prevent its recurrence. I agree. -Let us try all ways. Yet I see no guarantee in all -this against the glittering eyes: I see no power in -all this knowledge against a new generation fostering -and harvesting the seeds of war. Men have long -known that war is evil. Did that knowledge prevent -this war? Will that knowledge secure India or -China from the power of the glittering eyes?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I walked up and down the lawn, my eyes glowing, -my brain working hard. Here around me was all -the beauty of an old garden, its long borders full of -phloxes, delphiniums, stocks, and all the old familiar -flowers; the apples glowed red in the trees; the -swallows were skimming across the lawn. In the -distance I could hear the rumble of the waggon -bringing up the afternoon load of hop-pokes to the -oasthouse. Yet what I had seen of war was as true, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">307</span> -had as really happened, as all this. It would be so -easy to forget, after the war. And yet to forget -might mean a seed of war. I must never forget -Lance-Corporal Allan.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>There is only one sure way, I said at last. And -again a clear conviction filled me. There is only one -way to put an end to the arena. Pledges and treaties -have failed; and force will fail. These things may -bring peace for a time, but they cannot crush those -glittering eyes. There is only one Man whose eyes -have never glittered. Look at the palms of your -hands, you, who have had a bullet through the -middle of it! Did they not give you morphia to -ease the pain? And did you not often cry out alone -in the darkness in the terrible agony, that you did -not care who won the war if only the pain would -cease? Yet one Man there was who held out His -hand upon the wood, while they knocked, knocked, -knocked in the nail, every knock bringing a jarring, -excruciating pain, every bit as bad as yours. And -any moment His will-power could have weakened, -and He could have saved Himself that awful pain. -And then they nailed through the other hand: and -then the feet. And as they lifted the Cross, all the -weight came upon the pierced hands. And when -He had tasted the vinegar He would not drink. -And any moment He could have come down from -the Cross: yet He so cared that love should win the -war against evil, that He never wavered, His eyes -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">308</span> -never glittered. Do you want to put an end to the -arena? Here is a Man to follow. <i>In hoc signo -vinces.</i></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I stood up again, and stretched out my hands. -And as I did so a memory came back vivid and -strong. I remembered the night when I stood out -on the hillside by Trafalgar Square, under the moon. -And I remembered how I had felt a strength out of -the pain, and even as the strength came a more unutterable -weakness, the weakness of a man battering -against a wall of steel. The sound of the relentless -guns had mocked at me. Now as I stood on the -lawn, I heard the long continuous vibration of the -guns upon the Somme.</p> - -<p>“You are War,” I said aloud. “This is your -hour, the power of darkness. But the time will come -when we shall follow the Man who has conquered -your last weapon, death: and then your walls of -steel will waver, cringe, and fall, melted away before -the fire of LOVE.”</p> - -<p class="copy">PRINTED BY WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD. -PLYMOUTH, ENGLAND</p> - -<div class="transnote"> - -<h3>Transcriber’s Note:</h3> - -<p>Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.</p> -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Nothing of Importance, by John Bernard Pye Adams - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NOTHING OF IMPORTANCE *** - -***** This file should be named 55261-h.htm or 55261-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/2/6/55261/ - -Produced by MWS, Wayne Hammond and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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