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diff --git a/7962-h/7962-h.htm b/7962-h/7962-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f4e13a9 --- /dev/null +++ b/7962-h/7962-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9805 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Over The Top, by Arthur Guy Empey</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +</style> +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Over The Top, by Arthur Guy Empey</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Over The Top</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Arthur Guy Empey</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: June 6, 2003 [eBook #7962]<br /> +[Most recently updated: September 26, 2023]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Daniel Callahan</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OVER THE TOP ***</div> + +<h1>"OVER THE TOP"</h1> + +<p class="center">BY</p> + +<p class="center">AN AMERICAN SOLDIER +WHO WENT</p> + +<h2 class="no-break">ARTHUR GUY EMPEY</h2> + +<p class="center">MACHINE GUNNER, +SERVING IN FRANCE</p> + +<p class="center">TOGETHER WITH</p> + +<p class="center">TOMMY'S DICTIONARY +OF THE TRENCHES</p> + +<p class="center">16 ILLUSTRATIONS AND +DIAGRAMS</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/000.jpg" width="369" height="627" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="center">TO</p> + +<p class="center">MY MOTHER AND MY +SISTER</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I have had many good comrades as I +have journeyed around the world, before the mast and in the +trenches, but loyal and true as they were, none have ever done, +or could ever do, as much as you have done for me. So as a little +token of my gratitude for your love and sacrifice I dedicate this +book to you.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">FOREWORD</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">During sixteen years of "roughing +it," knocking around the world, I have nibbed against the high +and low and have had ample opportunity of studying, at close +range, many different peoples, their ideals, political and +otherwise, their hopes and principles. Through this elbow +rubbing, and not from reading, I have become convinced of the +nobility, truth, and justice of the Allies' cause, and know their +fight to be our fight, because it espouses the principles of the +United States of America, democracy, justice, and liberty.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">To the average American who has not +lived and fought with him, the Englishman appears to be distant, +reserved, a slow thinker, and lacking in humor, but from my +association with the man who inhabits the British Isles. I find +that this opinion is unjust. To me, Tommy Atkins has proved +himself to be the best of mates, a pal, and bubbling over with a +fine sense of humor, a man with a just cause who is willing to +sacrifice everything but honor in the advancement of the +same.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It is my fondest hope that Uncle +Sam and John Bull, arms locked, as mates, good and true, each +knowing and appreciating the worth of the other, will wend their +way through the years to come, happy and contented in each +other's company. So if this poor attempt of mine will, in any +way, help to bring Tommy Atkins closer to the doorstep of Uncle +Sam, my ambition will have been realized.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Perhaps to some of my readers it +will appear that I have written of a great and just cause in a +somewhat flippant manner, but I assure them such was not my +intention. I have tried to tell my experiences in the language of +Tommy sitting on the fire step of a front-line trench on the +Western Front -- just as he would tell his mate next him what was +happening at a different part of the line.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A. G. E.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">NEW YORK City,</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">May, 1917.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER I<br/> +FROM MUFTI TO KHAKI</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It was in an office in Jersey City. +I was sitting at my desk talking to a Lieutenant of the Jersey +National Guard. On the wall was a big war map decorated with +variously colored little flags showing the position of the +opposing armies on the Western Front in France. In front of me on +the desk lay a New York paper with big flaring headlines:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">LUSITANIA SUNK! AMERICAN LIVES +LOST!</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The windows were open and a feeling +of spring pervaded the air. Through the open windows came the +strains of a hurdy-gurdy playing in the street -- I DIDN'T RAISE +MY BOY TO BE A SOLDIER.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Lusitania Sunk! American Lives +Lost!" -- I DIDN'T RAISE MY BOY TO BE A SOLDIER. To us these did +not seem to jibe.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Lieutenant in silence opened +one of the lower drawers of his desk and took from it an American +flag which he solemnly draped over the war map on the wall. Then, +turning to me with a grim face, said:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"How about it, Sergeant? You had +better get out the muster roll of the Mounted Scouts, as I think +they will be needed in the course of a few days."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We busied ourselves till late in +the evening writing out emergency telegrams for the men to report +when the call should come from Washington. Then we went home.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I crossed over to New York, and as +I went up Fulton Street to take the Subway to Brooklyn, the +lights in the tall buildings of New York seemed to be burning +brighter than usual, as if they, too, had read "Lusitania Sunk! +American Lives Lost!" They seemed to be glowing with anger and +righteous indignation, and their rays wigwagged the message, +"REPAY!"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Months passed, the telegrams lying +handy, but covered with dust. Then, one momentous morning the +Lieutenant with a sigh of disgust removed the flag from the war +map and returned to his desk. I immediately followed this action +by throwing the telegrams into the wastebasket. Then we looked at +each other in silence. He was squirming in his chair and I felt +depressed and uneasy.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The telephone rang and I answered +it. It was a business call for me requesting my services for an +out-of-town assignment. Business was not very good, so this was +very welcome. After listening to the proposition, I seemed to be +swayed by a peculiarly strong force within me, and answered, "I +am sorry that I cannot accept your offer, but I am leaving for +England next week," and hung up the receiver. The Lieutenant +swung around in his chair, and stared at me in blank +astonishment. A sinking sensation came over me, but I defiantly +answered his look with, "Well, it's so. I'm going." And I +went.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The trip across was uneventful. I +landed at Tilbury, England, then got into a string of matchbox +cars and proceeded to London, arriving there about 10 P.M. I took +a room in a hotel near St. Pancras Station for "five and six -- +fire extra." The room was minus the fire, but the "extra" seemed +to keep me warm. That night there was a Zeppelin raid, but I +didn't see much of it, because the slit in the curtains was too +small and I had no desire to make it larger. Next morning the +telephone bell rang, and someone asked, "Are you there?" I was, +hardly. Anyway, I learned that the Zeps had returned to their +Fatherland, so I went out into the street expecting to see scenes +of awful devastation and a cowering populace, but everything was +normal. People were calmly proceeding to their work. Crossing the +street, I accosted a Bobbie with:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Can you direct me to the place of +damage?"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He asked me, "What damage?"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In surprise, I answered, "Why, the +damage caused by the Zeps."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">With a wink, he replied:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"There was no damage, we missed +them again."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After several fruitless inquiries +of the passersby, I decided to go on my own in search of ruined +buildings and scenes of destruction. I boarded a bus which +carried me through Tottenham Court Road. Recruiting posters were +everywhere. The one that impressed me most was a life-size +picture of Lord Kitchener with his anger pointing directly at me, +under the caption of "Your King and Country Need You." No matter +which way I turned, the accusing finger followed me. I was an +American, in mufti, and had a little American flag in the lapel +of my coat. I had no king, and my country had seen fit not to +need me, but still that pointing finger made me feel small and +ill at ease. I got off the bus to try to dissipate this feeling +by mixing with the throng of the sidewalks.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Presently I came to a recruiting +office. Inside, sitting at a desk was a lonely Tommy Atkins. I +decided to interview him in regard to joining the British Army. I +opened the door. He looked up and greeted me with "I s'y, myte, +want to tyke on?"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I looked at him and answered, +"Well, whatever that is, I'll take a chance at it."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Without the aid of an interpreter, +I found out that Tommy wanted to know if I cared to join the +British Army. He asked me: "Did you ever hear of the Royal +Fusiliers?" Well, in London you know. Yanks are supposed to know +everything, so I was not going to appear ignorant and answered, +"Sure."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After listening for one half-hour +to Tommy's tale of their exploits on the firing line, I decided +to join. Tommy took me to the recruiting headquarters where I met +a typical English Captain. He asked my nationality. I immediately +pulled out my American passport and showed it to him. It was +signed by Lansing, -- Bryan had lost his job a little while +previously. After looking at the passport, he informed me that he +was sorry but could not enlist me, as it would be a breach of +neutrality. I insisted that I was not neutral, because to me it +seemed that a real American could not be neutral when big things +were in progress, but the Captain would not enlist me.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">With disgust in my heart I went out +in the street. I had gone about a block when a recruiting +Sergeant who had followed me out of the office tapped me on the +shoulder with his swagger stick and said: "Say, I can get you in +the Army. We have a 'Leftenant' down at the other office who can +do anything. He has just come out of the O. T. C. (Officers' +Training Corps) and does not know what neutrality is." I decided +to take a chance, and accepted his invitation for an introduction +to the Lieutenant. I entered the office and went up to him, +opened up my passport, and said:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Before going further I wish to +state that I am an American, not too proud to fight, and want to +join your army."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He looked at me in a nonchalant +manner, and answered, "That's all right, we take anything over +here."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I looked at him kind of hard and +replied, "So I notice," but it went over his head.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He got out an enlistment blank, and +placing his finger on a blank line said, " Sign here."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I answered, "Not on your +tintype."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"I beg your pardon?"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then I explained to him that I +would not sign it without first reading it. I read it over and +signed for duration of war. Some of the recruits were lucky. They +signed for seven years only.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then he asked me my birthplace. I +answered, "Ogden, Utah."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He said, "Oh yes, just outside of +New York?"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">With a smile, I replied, "Well, +it's up the State a little."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then I was taken before the doctor +and passed as physically fit, and was issued a uniform. When I +reported back to the Lieutenant, he suggested that, being an +American, I go on recruiting service and try to shame some of the +slackers into joining the Army.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"All you have to do," he said, "is +to go out on the street, and when you see a young fellow in mufti +who looks physically fit, just stop him and give him this kind of +a talk: 'Aren't you ashamed of yourself, a Britisher, physically +fit, and in mufti when your King and Country need you? Don't you +know that your country is at war and that the place for every +young Briton is on the firing line? Here I am, an American, in +khaki, who came four thousand miles to fight for your King and +Country, and you, as yet, have not enlisted. Why don't you join? +Now is the time."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"This argument ought to get many +recruits, Empey, so go out and see what you can do."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He then gave me a small rosette of +red, white, and blue ribbon, with three little streamers hanging +down. This was the recruiting insignia and was to be worn on the +left side of the cap.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Armed with a swagger stick and my +patriotic rosette I went out into Tottenham Court Road in quest +of cannon fodder.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Two or three poorly dressed +civilians passed me, and although they appeared physically fit, I +said to myself, "They don't want to Join the army; perhaps they +have someone dependent on them for support," so I did not accost +them.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Coming down the street I saw a +young dandy, top hat and all, with a fashionably dressed girl +walking beside him. I muttered, "You are my meat," and when he +came abreast of me I stepped directly in his path and stopped him +with my Swagger stick, saying:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"You would look fine in khaki, why +not change that top hat for a steel helmet? Aren't you ashamed of +yourself, a husky young chap like you in mufti when men are +needed in the trenches? Here I am, an American, came four +thousand miles from Ogden, Utah, just outside of New York, to +fight for your King and Country. Don't be a slacker, buck up and +get into uniform; come over to the recruiting office and I'll +have you enlisted."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He yawned and answered, "I don't +care if you came forty thousand miles, no one asked you to," and +he walked on. The girl gave me a sneering look; I was +speechless.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I recruited for three weeks and +nearly got one recruit.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">This perhaps was not the greatest +stunt in the world, but it got back at the officer who had told +me, "Yes, we take anything over here." I had been spending a good +lot of my recruiting time in the saloon bar of the "Wheat Sheaf" +pub (there was a very attractive blonde barmaid, who helped kill +time -- I was not as serious in those days as I was a little +later when I reached the front) -- well, it was the sixth day and +my recruiting report was blank. I was getting low in the pocket +-- barmaids haven't much use for anyone who cannot buy drinks -- +so I looked around for recruiting material. You know a man on +recruiting service gets a "bob" or shilling for every recruit he +entices into joining the army, the recruit is supposed to get +this, but he would not be a recruit if he were wise to this fact, +would he?</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Down at the end of the bar was a +young fellow in mufti who was very patriotic -- he had about four +"Old Six" ales aboard. He asked me if he could join, showed me +his left hand, two fingers were missing, but I said that did not +matter as "we take anything over here." The left hand is the +rifle hand as the piece is carried at the slope on the left +shoulder. Nearly everything in England is "by the left," even +general traffic keeps to the port side.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I took the applicant over to +headquarters where he was hurriedly examined. Recruiting surgeons +were busy in those days and did not have much time for thorough +physical examinations. My recruit was passed as "fit" by the +doctor and turned over to a Corporal to make note of his scars. I +was mystified. Suddenly the Corporal burst out with, "Blime me, +two of his fingers are gone"; turning to me he said, "You +certainly have your nerve with you, not 'alf you ain't, to bring +this beggar in."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The doctor came over and exploded, +"What do you mean by bringing in a man in this condition?"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Looking out of the corner of my eye +I noticed that the officer who had recruited me had Joined the +group, and I could not help answering, "Well, sir, I was told +that you took anything over here."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I think they called it "Yankee +impudence," anyhow it ended my recruiting.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER II<br/> +BLIGHTY TO REST BILLETS</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The next morning, the Captain sent +for me and informed me: "Empey, as a recruiting Sergeant you are +a washout," and sent me to a training depot.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After arriving at this place, I was +hustled to the quartermaster stores and received an awful shock. +The Quartermaster Sergeant spread a waterproof sheet on the +ground, and commenced throwing a miscellaneous assortment of +straps, buckles, and other paraphernalia into it. I thought he +would never stop, but when the pile reached to my knees he paused +long enough to say, "Next, No. 5217, 'Arris, 'B' Company." I +gazed in bewilderment at the pile of junk in front of me, and +then my eyes wandered around looking for the wagon which was to +carry it to the barracks. I was rudely brought to earth by the +"Quarter" exclaiming, "'Ere, you, 'op it, tyke it aw'y; blind my +eyes, 'e's looking for 'is batman to 'elp 'im carry it."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Struggling under the load, with +frequent pauses for rest, I reached our barracks (large car +barns), and my platoon leader came to the rescue. It was a marvel +to me how quickly he assembled the equipment. After he had +completed the task, he showed me how to adjust it on my person. +Pretty soon I stood before him a proper Tommy Atkins in heavy +marching order, feeling like an overloaded camel.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">On my feet were heavy-soled boots, +studded with hobnails, the toes and heels of which were +reinforced by steel half-moons. My legs were encased in woolen +puttees, olive drab in color, with my trousers overlapping them +at the top. Then a woolen khaki tunic, under which was a +bluish-gray woolen shirt, minus a collar, beneath this shirt a +woolen belly-band about six inches wide, held in place by tie +strings of white tape. On my head was a heavy woolen trench cap, +with huge ear flaps buttoned over the top. Then the equipment: A +canvas belt, with ammunition pockets, and two wide canvas straps +like suspenders, called "D" straps, fastened to the belt in +front, passing over each shoulder, crossing in the middle of my +back, and attached by buckles to the rear of the belt. On the +right side of the belt hung a water bottle, covered with felt; on +the left side was my bayonet and scabbard, and entrenching tool +handle, this handle strapped to the bayonet scabbard. In the rear +was my entrenching tool, carried in a canvas case. This tool was +a combination pick and spade. A canvas haversack was strapped to +the left side of the belt, while on my back was the pack, also of +canvas, held in place by two canvas straps over the shoulders; +suspended on the bottom of the pack was my mess tin or canteen in +a neat little canvas case. My waterproof sheet, looking like a +jelly roll, was strapped on top of the pack, with a wooden stick +for cleaning the breach of the rifle projecting from each end. On +a lanyard around my waist hung a huge jackknife with a can-opener +attachment. The pack contained my overcoat, an extra pair of +socks, change of underwear, hold-all (containing knife, fork, +spoon, comb, toothbrush, lather brush, shaving soap, and a razor +made of tin, with "Made in England" stamped on the blade; when +trying to shave with this it made you wish that you were at war +with Patagonia, so that you could have a "hollow ground" stamped +"Made in Germany"); then your housewife, button-cleaning outfit, +consisting of a brass button stick, two stiff brushes, and a box +of "Soldiers' Friend" paste; then a shoe brush and a box of +dubbin, a writing pad, indelible pencil, envelopes, and pay book, +and personal belongings, such as a small mirror, a decent razor, +and a sheaf of unanswered letters, and fags. In your haversack +you carry your iron rations, meaning a tin of bully beef, four +biscuits, and a can containing tea, sugar, and Oxo cubes; a +couple of pipes and a package of shag, a tin of rifle oil, and a +pull-through. Tommy generally carries the oil with his rations; +it gives the cheese a sort of sardine taste.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Add to this a first-aid pouch and a +long ungainly rifle patterned after the Daniel Boone period, and +you have an idea of a British soldier in Blighty.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Before leaving for France, this +rifle is taken from him and he is issued with a Lee-Enfield +short-trench rifle and a ration bag.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In France he receives two gas +helmets, a sheep-skin coat, rubber mackintosh, steel helmet, two +blankets, tear-shell goggles, a balaclava helmet, gloves, and a +tin of anti-frostbite grease which is excellent for greasing the +boots. Add to this the weight of his rations, and can you blame +Tommy for growling at a twenty kilo route march?</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Having served as Sergeant-Major in +the United States Cavalry, I tried to tell the English drill +sergeants their business but it did not work. They immediately +put me as batman in their mess. Many a greasy dish of stew was +accidentally spilled over them.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I would sooner fight than be a +waiter, so when the order came through from headquarters calling +for a draft of 250 reinforcements for France, I volunteered.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then we went before the M. O. +(Medical Officer) for another physical examination. This was very +brief. He asked our names and numbers and said, "Fit," and we +went out to fight.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We were put into troop trains and +sent to Southampton, where we detrained, and had our trench +rifles issued to us. Then in columns of twos we went up the +gangplank of a little steamer lying alongside the dock.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At the head of the gangplank there +was an old Sergeant who directed that we line ourselves along +both rails of the ship. Then he ordered us to take life belts +from the racks overhead and put them on. I have crossed the ocean +several times and knew I was not seasick, but when I budded on +that life belt, I had a sensation of sickness.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After we got out into the stream +all I could think of was that there were a million German +submarines with a torpedo on each, across the warhead of which +was inscribed my name and address.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After five hours we came alongside +a pier and disembarked. I had attained another one of my +ambitions. I was "somewhere in France." We slept in the open that +night on the side of a road. About six the next morning we were +ordered to entrain. I looked around for the passenger coaches, +but all I could see on the siding were cattle cars. We climbed +into these. On the side of each car was a sign reading +"Hommes 40, Cheveux 8." When we +got inside of the cars, we thought that perhaps the sign painter +had reversed the order of things. After forty-eight hours in +these trucks we detrained at Rouen. At this place we went through +an intensive training for ten days.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">This training consisted of the +rudiments of trench warfare. Trenches had been dug, with +barbed-wire entanglements, bombing saps, dug-outs, observation +posts, and machine-gun emplacements. We were given a smattering +of trench cooking, sanitation, bomb throwing, reconnoitering, +listening posts, constructing and repairing barbed wire, +"carrying in" parties, methods used in attack and defense, wiring +parties, mass formation, and the procedure for poison-gas +attacks.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">On the tenth day we again met our +friends "Hommes 40, Chevaux 8." Thirty-six hours more of misery, +and we arrived at the town of F--.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After unloading our rations and +equipment, we lined up on the road in columns of fours waiting +for the order to march.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A dull rumbling could be heard. The +sun was shining. I turned to the man on my left and asked, +'"What's the noise, Bill?" He did not know, but his face was of a +pea-green color. Jim on my right also did not know, but suggested +that I "awsk" the Sergeant.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Coming towards us was an old +grizzled Sergeant, properly fed up with the war, so I "awsked" +him.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Think it's going to rain, +Sergeant?"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He looked at me in contempt, and +grunted, "'Ow's it a'goin' ter rain with the bloomin' sun a +'shinin'?" I looked guilty.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Them's the guns up the line, me +lad, and you'll get enough of 'em before you gets back to +Blighty."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">My knees seemed to wilt, and I +squeaked out a weak "Oh!"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then we started our march up to the +line in ten kilo treks. After the first day's march we arrived at +our rest billets. In France they call them rest billets, because +while in them, Tommy works seven days a week and on the eighth +day of the week he is given twenty-four hours "on his own."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Our billet was a spacious affair, a +large barn on the left side of the road, which had one hundred +entrances, ninety-nine for shells, rats, wind, and rain, and the +hundredth one for Tommy. I was tired out, and using my +shrapnel-proof helmet, (shrapnel proof until a piece of shrapnel +hits it), or tin hat, for a pillow, lay down in the straw, and +was soon fast asleep. I must have slept about two hours, when I +awoke with a prickling sensation all over me. As I thought, the +straw had worked through my uniform. I woke up the fellow lying +on my left, who had been up the line before, and asked him.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Does the straw bother you, mate? +It's worked through my uniform and I can't sleep."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In a sleepy voice, he answered, +"That ain't straw, them's cooties."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">From that time on my friends the +"cooties" were constantly with me.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Cooties," or body lice, are the +bane of Tommy's existence.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The aristocracy of the trenches +very seldom call them "cooties," they speak of them as fleas.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">To an American, flea means a small +insect armed with a bayonet, who is wont to jab it into you and +then hop, skip, and jump to the next place to be attacked. There +is an advantage in having fleas on you instead of "cooties" in +that in one of his extended jumps said flea is liable to land on +the fellow next to you; he has the typical energy and push of the +American, while the "cootie" has the bull-dog tenacity of the +Englishman, he holds on and consolidates or digs in until his +meal is finished.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">There is no way to get rid of them +permanently. No matter how often you bathe, and that is not very +often, or how many times you change your underwear, your friends, +the "cooties" are always in evidence. The billets are infested +with them, especially so, if there is straw on the floor.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I have taken a bath and put on +brand-new underwear; in fact, a complete change of uniform, and +then turned in for the night. The next morning my shirt would be +full of them. It is a common sight to see eight or ten soldiers +sitting under a tree with their shirts over their knees engaging +in a "shirt hunt."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At night about half an hour before +"lights out," you can see the Tommies grouped around a candle, +trying, in its dim light, to rid their underwear of the vermin. A +popular and very quick method is to take your shirt and drawers, +and run the seams back and forward in the flame from the candle +and burn them out. This practice is dangerous, because you are +liable to burn holes in the garments if you are not careful.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Recruits generally sent to Blighty +for a brand of insect powder advertised as "Good for body lice." +The advertisement is quite right; the powder is good for +"cooties," they simply thrive on it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The older men of our battalion were +wiser and made scratchers out of wood. These were rubbed smooth +with a bit of stone or sand to prevent splinters. They were about +eighteen inches long, and Tommy guarantees that a scratcher of +this length will reach any part of the body which may be +attacked. Some of the fellows were lazy and only made their +scratchers twelve inches, but many a night when on guard, looking +over the top from the fire step of the front-line trench, they +would have given a thousand "quid" for the other six inches.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Once while we were in rest billets +an Irish Hussar regiment camped in an open field opposite our +billet. After they had picketed and fed their horses, a general +shirt hunt took place. The troopers ignored the call "Dinner up," +and kept on with their search for big game. They had a curious +method of procedure. They hung their shirts over a hedge and beat +them with their entrenching tool handles.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I asked one of them why they didn't +pick them off by hand, and he answered, "We haven't had a bath +for nine weeks or a change of clabber. If I tried to pick the +'cooties' off my shirt, I would be here for duration of war." +After taking a close look at his shirt, I agreed with him, it was +alive.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The greatest shock a recruit gets +when he arrives at his battalion in France is to see the men +engaging in a "cootie" hunt. With an air of contempt and disgust +he avoids the company of the older men, until a couple of days +later, in a torment of itching, he also has to resort to a shirt +hunt, or spend many a sleepless night of misery. During these +hunts there are lots of pertinent remarks bandied back and forth +among the explorers, such as, "Say, Bill, I'll swap you two +little ones for a big one," or, "I've got a black one here that +looks like Kaiser Bill."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">One sunny day in the front-line +trench, I saw three officers sitting outside of their dugout +("cooties" are no respecters of rank; I have even noticed a +suspicious uneasiness about a certain well-known general), one of +them was a major, two of them were exploring their shirts, paying +no attention to the occasional shells which passed overhead. The +major was writing a letter; every now and then he would lay aside +his writing-pad, search his shirt for a few minutes, get an +inspiration, and then resume writing. At last he finished his +letter and gave it to his "runner." I was curious to see whether +he was writing to an insect firm, so when the runner passed me I +engaged him in conversation and got a glimpse at the address on +the envelope. It was addressed to Miss Alice Somebody, in London. +The "runner" informed me that Miss Somebody was the major's +sweetheart and that he wrote to her every day. Just imagine it, +writing a love letter during a "cootie" hunt; but such is the +creed of the trenches.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER III<br/> +I GO TO CHURCH</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Upon enlistment we had identity +disks issued to us. These were small disks of red fiber worn +around the neck by means of a string. Most of the Tommies also +used a little metal disk which they wore around the left wrist by +means of a chain. They had previously figured it out that if +their heads were blown off, the disk on the left wrist would +identify them. If they lost their left arm the disk around the +neck would serve the purpose, but if their head and left arm were +blown off, no one would care who they were, so it did not matter. +On one side of the disk was inscribed your rank, name, number, +and battalion, while on the other was stamped your religion.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">C. of E., meaning Church of +England; R. C., Roman Catholic; W., Wesleyan; P., Presbyterian; +but if you happened to be an atheist they left it blank, and just +handed you a pick and shovel.</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a href="images/024_large.jpg"> +<img src="images/024.jpg" width="616" height="396" alt="Illustration:" /></a> +</div> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">On my disk was stamped C. of E. +This is how I got it: The Lieutenant who enlisted me asked my +religion. I was not sure of the religion of the British Army, so +I answered, "Oh, any old thing," and he promptly put down C. of +E.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Now, just imagine my hard luck. Out +of five religions I was unlucky enough to pick the only one where +church parade was compulsory!</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The next morning was Sunday. I was +sitting in the billet writing home to my sister telling her of my +wonderful exploits while under fire-all recruits do this. The +Sergeant-Major put his head in the door of the billet and +shouted: "C. of E. outside for church parade!"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I kept on writing. Turning to me, +in a loud voice, he asked, "Empey, aren't you C. of E.?"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I answered, "Yep."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In an angry tone, he commanded, +"Don't you 'yep' me. Say, 'Yes, Sergeant-Major!'"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I did so. Somewhat mollified, he +ordered, "Outside for church parade."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I looked up and answered, "I am not +going to church this morning."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He said, "Oh, yes, you are!"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I answered. "Oh, no, I'm not!" -- +But I went.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We lined up outside with rifles and +bayonets, 120 rounds of ammunition, wearing our tin hats, and the +march to church began. After marching about five kilos, we turned +off the road into an open field. At one end of this field the +Chaplain was standing in a limber. We formed a semi-circle around +him. Over head there was a black speck circling round and round +in the sky. This was a German Fokker. The Chaplain had a book in +his left hand-left eye on the book-right eye on the aeroplane. We +Tommies were lucky, we had no books, so had both eyes on the +aeroplane.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After church parade we were marched +back to our billets, and played football all afternoon.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER IV<br/> +"INTO THE TRENCH"</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The next morning the draft was +inspected by our General, and we were assigned to different +companies. The boys in the Brigade had nicknamed this general Old +Pepper, and he certainly earned the sobriquet. I was assigned to +B Company with another American named Stewart.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">For the next ten days we "rested," +repairing roads for the Frenchies, drilling, and digging bombing +trenches.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">One morning we were informed that +we were going up the line, and our march began.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It took us three days to reach +reserve billets -- each day's march bringing the sound of the +guns nearer and nearer. At night, way off in the distance we +could see their flashes, which lighted up the sky with a red +glare.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Against the horizon we could see +numerous observation balloons or "sausages" as they are +called.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">On the afternoon of the third day's +march I witnessed my first aeroplane being shelled. A thrill ran +through me and I gazed in awe. The aeroplane was making wide +circles in the air, while little puffs of white smoke were +bursting all around it. These puffs appeared like tiny balls of +cotton while after each burst could be heard a dull "plop." The +Sergeant of my platoon informed us that it was a German aeroplane +and I wondered how he could tell from such a distance because the +plane deemed like a little black speck in the sky. I expressed my +doubt as to whether it was English, French, or German. With a +look of contempt he further informed us that the allied +anti-aircraft shells when exploding emitted white smoke while the +German shells gave forth black smoke, and, as he expressed it, +"It must be an Allemand because our pom-poms are shelling, and I +know our batteries are not off their bally nappers and are +certainly not strafeing our own planes, and another piece of +advice -- don't chuck your weight about until you've been up the +line and learnt something."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I immediately quit "chucking my +weight about" from that time on.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Just before reaching reserve +billets we were marching along, laughing, and singing one of +Tommy's trench ditties --</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"I want to go home,</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I want to go home,</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I don't want to go to the trenches +no more</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Where sausages and whizz-bangs are +galore.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Take me over the sea, where the +Allemand can't get at me,</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Oh, my, I don't want to die,</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I want to go home" --</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">when overhead came a "swish" +through the air, rapidly followed by three others. Then about two +hundred yards to our left in a large field, four columns of black +earth and smoke rose into the air, and the ground trembled from +the report, -- the explosion of four German five-nine's, or +"coal- boxes. " A sharp whistle blast, immediately followed by +two short ones, rang out from the head of our column. This was to +take up "artillery formation." We divided into small squads and +went into the fields on the right and left of the road, and +crouched on the ground. No other shells followed this salvo. It +was our first baptism by shell fire. From the waist up I was all +enthusiasm, but from there down, everything was missing. I +thought I should die with fright.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After awhile, we re-formed into +columns of fours, and proceeded on our way.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">About five that night, we reached +the ruined village of H--, and I got my first sight of the awful +destruction caused by German Kultur.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Marching down the main street we +came to the heart of the village, and took up quarters in +shell-proof cellars (shell proof until hit by a shell). Shells +were constantly whistling over the village and bursting in our +rear, searching for our artillery.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">These cellars were cold, damp, and +smelly, and overrun with large rats -- big black fellows. Most of +the Tommies slept with their overcoats over their faces. I did +not. In the middle of the night I woke up in terror. The cold, +clammy feet of a rat had passed over my face. I immediately +smothered myself in my overcoat, but could not sleep for the rest +of that night.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Next evening, we took over our +sector of the line. In single file we wended our way through a +zigzag communication trench, six inches deep with mud. This +trench was called "Whiskey Street." On our way up to the front +line an occasional flare of bursting shrapnel would light up the +sky and we could hear the fragments slapping the ground above us +on our right and left. Then a Fritz</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/030.jpg" width="663" height="469" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">would traverse back and forth with +his "typewriter" or machine gun. The bullets made a sharp +cracking noise overhead.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The boy in front of me named +Prentice crumpled up without a word. A piece of shell had gone +through his shrapnel-proof helmet. I felt sick and weak.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In about thirty minutes we reached +the front Hue. It was dark as pitch. Every now and then a German +star shell would pierce the blackness out in front with its +silvery light. I was trembling all over, and felt very lonely and +afraid. All orders were given in whispers. The company we +relieved filed past us and disappeared into the blackness of the +communication trench leading to the rear. As they passed us, they +whispered, "The best o' luck mates."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I sat on the fire step of the +trench with the rest of the men. In each traverse two of the +older men had been put on guard with their heads sticking over +the top, and with their eyes trying to pierce the blackness in +"No Man's Land." In this trench there were only two dugouts, and +these were used by Lewis and Vickers, machine gunners, so it was +the fire step for ours. Pretty soon it started to rain. We put on +our "macks," but they were not much protection. The rain trickled +down our backs, and it was not long before we were wet and cold. +How I passed that night I will never know, but without any +unusual occurrence, dawn arrived.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The word "stand down" was passed +along the line, and the sentries got down off the fire step. +Pretty soon the rum issue came along, and it was a Godsend. It +warmed our chilled bodies and put new life into us. Then from the +communication trenches came dixies or iron pots, filled with +steaming tea, which had two wooden stakes through their handles, +and were carried by two men. I filled my canteen and drank the +hot tea without taking it from my lips. It was not long before I +was asleep in the mud on the fire step.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">My ambition had been attained! I +was in a front-line trench on the Western Front, and oh, how I +wished I were back in Jersey City.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER V<br/> +MUD, RATS, AND SHELLS</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I must have slept for two or three +hours, not the refreshing kind that results from clean sheets and +soft pillows, but the sleep that comes from cold, wet, and sheer +exhaustion.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Suddenly, the earth seemed to shake +and a thunderclap burst in my ears. I opened my eyes, -- I was +splashed all over with sticky mud, and men were picking +themselves up from the bottom of the trench. The parapet on my +left had toppled into the trench, completely blocking it with a +wall of tossed-up earth. The man on my left lay still. I rubbed +the mud from my face, and an awful sight met my gaze -- his head +was smashed to a pulp, and his steel helmet was full of brains +and blood. A German "Minnie" (trench mortar) had exploded in the +next traverse. Men were digging into the soft mass of mud in a +frenzy of haste. Stretcher-bearers came up the trench on the +double. After a few minutes of digging, three still, muddy forms +on stretchers were carried down the communication trench to the +rear. Soon they would be resting "somewhere in France," with a +little wooden cross over their heads. They had done their bit for +King and Country, had died without firing a shot, but their +services were appreciated, nevertheless.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Later on, I found out their names. +They belonged to our draft.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I was dazed and motionless. +Suddenly a shovel was pushed into my hands, and a rough but +kindly voice said:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Here, my lad, lend a hand clearing +the trench, but keep your head down, and look out for snipers. +One of the Fritz's is a daisy, and he'll get you if you're not +careful."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Lying on my belly on the bottom of +the trench, I filled sandbags with the sticky mud. They were +dragged to my rear by the other men, and the work of rebuilding +the parapet was on. The harder I worked, the better I felt. +Although the weather was cold, I was soaked with sweat.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Occasionally a bullet would crack +overhead, and a machine gun would kick up the mud on the +bashed-in parapet. At each crack I would duck and shield my face +with my arm. One of the older men noticed this action of mine, +and whispered:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Don't duck at the crack of a +bullet, Yank; the danger has passed, -- you never hear the one +that wings you. Always remember that if you are going to get it, +you'll get it, so never worry."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">This made a great impression on me +at the time, and from then on, I adopted his motto, "If you're +going to get it, you'll get it."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It helped me wonderfully. I used it +so often afterwards that some of my mates dubbed me, "If you're +going to get it, you'll get it."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After an hour's hard work, all my +nervousness left me, and I was laughing and joking with the +rest.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At one o'clock, dinner came up in +the form of a dixie of hot stew.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I looked for my canteen. It had +fallen off the fire step, and was half buried in the mud. The man +on my left noticed this, and told the Corporal, dishing out the +rations, to put my share in his mess tin. Then he whispered to +me, "Always take care of your mess tin, mate."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I had learned another maxim of the +trenches.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">That stew tasted fine, I was as +hungry as a bear. We had "seconds," or another helping, because +three of the men had gone "West," killed by the explosion of the +German trench mortar, and we ate their share, but still I was +hungry, so I filled in with bully beef and biscuits. Then I +drained my water bottle. Later on I learned another maxim of the +front line, -- "Go sparingly with your water." The bully beef +made me thirsty, and by tea time I was dying for a drink, but my +pride would not allow me to ask my mates for water. I was fast +learning the ethics of the trenches.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">That night I was put on guard with +an older man. We stood on the fire step with our heads over the +top, peering out into No Man's Land. It was nervous work for me, +but the other fellow seemed to take it as part of the night's +routine.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then something shot past my face. +My heart stopped beating, and I ducked my head below the parapet. +A soft chuckle from my mate brought me to my senses, and I feebly +asked, "For God's sake, what was that?"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He answered, "Only a rat taking a +promenade along the sandbags." I felt very sheepish.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">About every twenty minutes the +sentry in the next traverse would fire a star shell from his +flare pistol. The "plop" would give me a start of fright. I never +got used to this noise during my service in the trenches.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I would watch the arc described by +the star shell, and then stare into No Man's Land waiting for it +to burst. In its lurid light the barbed wire and stakes would be +silhouetted against its light like a latticed window. Then +darkness.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Once, out in front of our wire, I +heard a noise and saw dark forms moving. My rifle was lying +across the sandbagged parapet. I reached for it, and was taking +aim to fire, when my mate grasped my arm, and whispered, "Don't +fire." He challenged in a low voice. The reply came back +instantly from the dark forms:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Shut your blinkin' mouth, you +bloomin' idiot; do you want us to click it from the Boches?"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Later we learned that the word, "No +challenging or firing, wiring party out in front," had been given +to the sentry on our right, but he had failed to pass it down the +trench. An officer had overheard our challenge and the reply, and +immediately put the offending sentry under arrest. The sentry +clicked twenty-one days on the wheel, that is, he received +twenty-one days' Field Punishment No. I, or "crucifixion," as +Tommy terms it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">This consists of being +spread-eagled on the wheel of a limber two hours a day for +twenty-one days, regardless of the weather. During this period, +your rations consist of bully beef, biscuits, and water.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A few months later I met this +sentry and he confided to me that since being "crucified," he has +never failed to pass the word down the trench when so ordered. In +view of the offence, the above punishment was very light, in that +failing to pass the word down a trench may mean the loss of many +lives, and the spoiling of some important enterprise in No Man's +Land.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER VI<br/> +"BACK OF THE LINE"</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Our tour in the front-line trench +lasted four days, and then we were relieved by the -- +Brigade.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Going down the communication trench +we were in a merry mood, although we were cold and wet, and every +bone in our bodies ached. It makes a lot of difference whether +you are "going in" or "going out."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At the end of the communication +trench, limbers were waiting on the road for us. I thought we +were going to ride back to rest billets, but soon found out that +the only time an infantry man rides is when he is wounded and is +bound for the base or Blighty. These limbers carried our reserve +ammunition and rations. Our march to rest billets was thoroughly +enjoyed by me. It seemed as if I were on furlough, and was +leaving behind everything that was disagreeable and horrible. +Every recruit feels this way after being relieved from the +trenches.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We marched eight kilos and then +halted in front of a French estaminet. The Captain gave the order +to turn out on each side of the road and wait his return. Pretty +soon he came back and told B Company to occupy billets 117, 118, +and 119. Billet 117 was an old stable which had previously been +occupied by cows. About four feet in front of the entrance was a +huge manure pile, and the odor from it was anything but pleasant. +Using my flashlight I stumbled through the door. Just before +entering I observed a white sign reading: "Sitting 50, lying 20," +but, at the time, its significance did not strike me. Next +morning I asked the Sergeant-Major what it meant. He nonchalantly +answered:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"That's some of the work of the R. +A. M. C. (Royal Army Medical Corps). It simply means that in case +of an attack, this billet will accommodate fifty wounded who are +able to sit up and take notice, or twenty stretcher cases."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It was not long after this that I +was one of the "20 lying."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I soon hit the hay and was fast +asleep, even my friends the "cooties" failed to disturb me.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The next morning at about six +o'clock I was awakened by the Lance-Corporal of our section, +informing me that I had been detailed as mess orderly, and to +report to the cook to give him a hand. I helped him make the +fire, carry water from an old well, and fry the bacon. Lids of +dixies are used to cook the bacon in. After breakfast was cooked, +I carried a dixie of hot tea and the lid full of bacon to our +section, and told the Corporal that breakfast was ready. He +looked at me in contempt, and then shouted, "Breakfast up, come +and get it!" ' I immediately got wise to the trench parlance, and +never again informed that "Breakfast was served."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It didn't take long for the Tommies +to answer this call. Half dressed, they lined up with their +canteens and I dished out the tea. Each Tommy carried in his hand +a thick slice of bread which had been issued with the rations the +night before. Then I had the pleasure of seeing them dig into the +bacon with their dirty fingers. The allowance was one slice per +man. The late ones received very small slices. As each Tommy got +his share, he immediately disappeared into the billet. Pretty +soon about fifteen of them made a rush to the cookhouse, each +carrying a huge slice of bread. These slices they dipped into the +bacon grease which was stewing over the fire. The last man +invariably lost out. I was the last man.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After breakfast, our section +carried their equipment into a field adjoining the billet and got +busy removing the trench mud therefrom, because at 8.45 A.M., +they had to fall in for inspection and parade, and woe betide the +man who was unshaven, or had mud on his uniform. Cleanliness is +next to Godliness in the British Army, and Old Pepper must have +been personally acquainted with St. Peter.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Our drill consisted of close order +formation which lasted until noon. During this time we had two +ten-minute breaks for rest, and no sooner the word, "Pull out for +ten minutes," was given, than each Tommy got out a fag and +lighted it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Fags are issued every Sunday +morning, and you generally get between twenty and forty. The +brand generally issued is the "Woodbine." Sometimes we are lucky, +and get "Goldflakes," "Players," or "Red Hussars." Occasionally +an issue of "Life Rays" comes along. Then the older Tommies +immediately get busy on the recruits, and trade these for +Woodbines or Goldflakes. A recruit only has to be stuck once in +this manner, and then he ceases to be a recruit. There is a +reason. Tommy is a great cigarette smoker. He smokes under all +conditions, except when unconscious or when he is reconnoitering +in No Man's Land at night. Then, for obvious reasons, he does not +care to have a lighted cigarette in his mouth.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Stretcher-bearers carry fags for +wounded Tommies. When a stretcher-bearer arrives alongside of a +Tommy who has been hit, the following conversation usually takes +place-Stretcher-bearer, "Want a fag? Where are you hit?" Tommy +looks up and answers, "Yes. In the leg."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After dismissal from parade, we +returned to our billets, and I had to get busy immediately with +the dinner issue. Dinner consisted of stew made from fresh beef, +a couple of spuds, bully beef, Maconochie rations and water, -- +plenty of water. There is great competition among the men to +spear with their forks the two lonely potatoes.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After dinner I tried to wash out +the dixie with cold water and a rag, and learned another maxim of +the trenches -- "It can't be done." I slyly watched one of the +older men from another section, and was horrified to see him +throw into his dixie four or five double handfuls of mud. Then he +poured in some water, and with his hands scoured the dixie inside +and out. I thought he was taking an awful risk. Supposing the +cook should have seen him! After half an hour of unsuccessful +efforts, I returned my dixie to the cook shack, being careful to +put on the cover, and returned to the billet. Pretty soon the +cook poked his head in the door and shouted: "Hey, Yank, come out +here and clean your dixie!"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I protested that I had wasted a +half-hour on it already, and had used up my only remaining shirt +in the attempt. With a look of disdain, he exclaimed: "Blow me, +your shirt! Why in 'ell didn't you use mud?"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Without a word in reply I got busy +with the mud, and soon my dixie was bright and shining.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Most of the afternoon was spent by +the men writing letters home. I used my spare time to chop wood +for the cook, and go with the Quartermaster to draw coal. I got +back just in time to issue our third meal, which consisted of hot +tea, I rinsed out my dixie and returned it to the cookhouse, and +went back to the billet with an exhilarated feeling that my day's +labor was done. I had fallen asleep on the straw when once again +the cook appeared in the door of the billet with:</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/044.jpg" width="559" height="399" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Blime me, you Yanks are lazy. Who +in 'ell's a'goin' to draw the water for the mornin' tea? Do you +think I'm a'goin' to? Well, I'm not," and he left. I filled the +dixie with water from an old squeaking well, and once again lay +down in the straw.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER VII<br/> +RATIONS</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Just before dozing off, Mr. +Lance-Corporal butted in.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In Tommy's eyes, a Lance-Corporal +is one degree below a Private. In the Corporal's eyes, he is one +degree above a General.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He ordered me to go with him and +help him draw the next day's rations, also told me to take my +waterproof.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Every evening, from each platoon or +machine-gun section, a Lance-Corporal and Private goes to the +Quartermaster-Sergeant at the Company Stores and draws rations +for the following day.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The "Quarter," as the +Quartermaster-Sergeant is called, receives daily from the Orderly +Room (Captain's Office) a slip showing the number of men entitled +to rations, so there is no chance of putting anything over on +him. Many arguments take place between the "Quarter" and the +platoon Non-Com, but the former always wins out. Tommy says the +"Quarter" got his job because he was a burglar in civil life.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then I spread the waterproof sheet +on the ground, while the Quartermaster's Batman dumped the +rations on it. The Corporal was smoking a fag. I carried the +rations back to the billet. The Corporal was still smoking a fag. +How I envied him. But when the issue commenced my envy died, and +I realized that the first requisite of a non-commissioned officer +on active service is diplomacy. There were nineteen men in our +section, and they soon formed a semi-circle around us after the +Corporal had called out, "Rations up."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Quartermaster-Sergeant had +given a slip to the Corporal on which was written a list of the +rations. Sitting on the floor, using a wooden box as a table, the +issue commenced. On the left of the Corporal the rations were +piled. They consisted of the following:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Six loaves of fresh bread, each +loaf of a different size, perhaps one out of the six being as +flat as a pancake, the result of an Army Service Corps man +placing a box of bully beef on it during transportation.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Three tins of jam, one apple, and +the other two plum.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Seventeen Bermuda onions, all +different sizes.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A piece of cheese in the shape of a +wedge.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Two one-pound tins of butter.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A handful of raisins.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A tin of biscuits, or as Tommy +calls them "Jaw-breakers."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A bottle of mustard pickles.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The "bully beef," spuds, condensed +milk, fresh meat, bacon, and "Maconochie Rations" (a can filled +with meat, vegetables, and greasy water), had been turned over to +the Company Cook to make stew for next day's dinner. He also +received the tea, sugar, salt, pepper, and flour.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Scratching his head, the Corporal +studied the slip issued to him by the Quarter. Then in a slow, +mystified voice he read out, "No. I Section, 19 men. Bread, +loaves, six." He looked puzzled and soliloquized in a musing +voice:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Six loaves, nineteen men. Let's +see, that's three in a loaf for fifteen men, -- well to make it +even, four of you'll have to muck in on one loaf."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The four that got stuck made a +howl, but to no avail. The bread was dished out. Pretty soon from +a far corner of the billet, three indignant Tommies accosted the +Corporal with,</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"What do you call this, a loaf of +bread? Looks more like a sniping plate."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Corporal answered:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Well, don't blame me, I didn't +bake it, somebody's got to get it, so shut up until I dish out +these blinkin' rations."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then the Corporal started on the +jam.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Jam, three tins-apple one, plum +two. Nineteen men, three tins. Six in a tin, makes twelve men for +two tins, seven in the remaining tin."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He passed around the jam, and there +was another riot. Some didn't like apple, while others who +received plum were partial to apple. After awhile differences +were adjusted, and the issue went on.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Bermuda onions, seventeen."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Corporal avoided a row by +saying that he did not want an onion, and I said they make your +breath smell, so guessed I would do without one too. The Corporal +looked his gratitude.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Cheese, pounds two."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Corporal borrowed a jackknife +(corporals are always borrowing), and sliced the cheese, -- each +slicing bringing forth a pert remark from the on-lookers as to +the Corporal's eyesight.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Raisins, ounces, eight."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">By this time the Corporal's nerves +had gone West, and in despair, he said that the raisins were to +be turned over to the cook for "duff" (plum pudding). This +decision elicited a little "grousing," but quiet was finally +restored.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Biscuits, tins, one."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">With his borrowed jackknife, the +Corporal opened the tin of biscuits, and told everyone to help +themselves, -- nobody responded to this invitation. Tommy is "fed +up" with biscuits.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Butter, tins, two."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Nine in one, ten in the +other."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Another rumpus.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Pickles, mustard, bottles, +one."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Nineteen names were put in a steel +helmet, the last one out winning the pickles. On the next issue +there were only eighteen names, as the winner is eliminated until +every man in the section has won a bottle.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The raffle is closely watched, +because Tommy is suspicious when it comes to gambling with his +rations.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When the issue is finished, the +Corporal sits down and writes a letter home, asking them if they +cannot get some M.P. (Member of Parliament) to have him +transferred to the Royal Flying Corps where he won't have to +issue rations.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At the different French estaminets +in the village, and at the canteens, Tommy buys fresh eggs, milk, +bread, and pastry. Occasionally when he is flush, he invests in a +tin of pears or apricots. His pay is only a shilling a day, +twenty-four cents, or a cent an hour. Just imagine, a cent an +hour for being under fire, -- not much chance of getting rich out +there.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When he goes into the fire trench +(front line), Tommy's menu takes a tumble. He carries in his +haversack what the government calls emergency or iron rations. +They are not supposed to be opened until Tommy dies of +starvation. They consist of one tin of bully beef, four biscuits, +a little tin which contains tea, sugar, and Oxo cubes +(concentrated beef tablets). These are only to be used when the +enemy establishes a curtain of shell fire on the communication +trenches, thus preventing the "carrying in" of rations, or when +in an attack, a body of troops has been cut off from its base of +supplies.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The rations are brought up, at +night, by the Company Transport. This is a section of the company +in charge of the Quartermaster-Sergeant composed of men, mules, +and limbers (two wheeled wagons), which supplies Tommy's wants +while in the front line. They are constantly under shell fire. +The rations are unloaded at the entrance to the communication +trenches and are "carried in" by men detailed for that purpose. +The Quartermaster-Sergeant never goes into the front-line trench. +He doesn't have to, and I have never heard of one volunteering to +do so.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Company Sergeant-Major sorts +the rations, and sends them in.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Tommy's trench rations consist of +all the bully beef he can eat, biscuits, cheese, tinned butter +(sometimes seventeen men to a tin), jam, or marmalade, and +occasionally fresh bread (ten to a loaf). When it is possible, he +gets tea and stew.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When things are quiet, and Fritz is +behaving like a gentleman, which seldom happens, Tommy has the +opportunity of making dessert. This is "trench pudding." It is +made from broken biscuits, condensed milk, jam -- a little water +added, slightly flavored with mud -- put into a canteen and +cooked over a little spirit stove known as "Tommy's cooker."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">(A firm in Blighty widely +advertises these cookers as a necessity for the men in the +trenches. Gullible people buy them, ship them to the Tommies, +who, immediately upon receipt of same throw them over the +parapet. Sometimes a Tommy falls for the Ad., and uses the cooker +in a dugout to the disgust and discomfort of the other +occupants.)</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">This mess is stirred up in a tin +and allowed to simmer over the flames from the cooker until Tommy +decides that it has reached a sufficient (glue-like) consistency. +He takes his bayonet and by means of the handle carries the mess +up in the front trench to cool. After it has cooled off he tries +to eat it. Generally one or two Tommies in a section have +cast-iron stomachs and the tin is soon emptied. Once I tasted +trench pudding, but only once.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In addition to the regular ration +issue Tommy uses another channel to enlarge his menu.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In the English papers a "Lonely +Soldier" column is run. This is for the soldiers at the front who +are supposed to be without friends or relatives. They write to +the papers and their names are published. Girls and women in +England answer them, and send out parcels of foodstuffs, +cigarettes, candy, etc. I have known a "lonely" soldier to +receive as many as five parcels and eleven letters in one +week.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER VIII<br/> +THE LITTLE WOODEN CROSS</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After remaining in rest billets for +eight days, we received the unwelcome tidings that the next +morning we would "go in" to "take over." At six in the morning +our march started and, after a long march down the dusty road, we +again arrived at reserve billets.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I was No. I in the leading set of +4's. The man on my left was named "Pete Walling," a cheery sort +of fellow. He laughed and joked all the way on the march, buoyed +up my drooping spirits. I could not figure out anything +attractive in again occupying the front line, but Pete did not +seem to mind, said it was all in a lifetime. My left heel was +blistered from the rubbing of my heavy marching boot. Pete +noticed that I was limping and offered to carry my rifle, but by +this time I had learned the ethics of the march in the British +Army and courteously refused his offer.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We had gotten half-way through the +communication trench, Pete in my immediate rear. He had his hand +on my shoulder, as men in a communication trench have to keep in +touch with each Other. We had just climbed over a bashed-in part +of the trench when in our rear a man tripped over a loose signal +wire, and let out an oath. As usual, Pete rushed to his help. To +reach the fallen man, he had to cross this bashed-in part. A +bullet cracked in the air and I ducked. Then a moan from the +rear. My heart stood still. I went back and Pete was lying on the +ground; by the aid of my flashlight, I saw that he had his hand +pressed to his right breast. The fingers were covered with blood. +I flashed the light on his face, and in its glow a grayish-blue +color was stealing over his countenance. Pete looked up at me and +said:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Well, Yank, they've done me in. I +can feel myself going West." His voice was getting fainter and I +had to kneel down to get the words. Then he gave me a message to +write home to his mother and his sweetheart, and I, like a great +big boob, cried like a baby. I was losing my first friend of the +trenches.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Word was passed to the rear for a +stretcher. He died before it arrived. Two of us put the body on +the stretcher and carried it to the nearest first-aid post, where +the doctor took an official record of Pete's name, number, rank, +and regiment from his identity disk, this to be used in the +Casualty Lists and notification to his family.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We left Pete there, but it broke +our hearts to do so. The doctor informed us that we could bury +him the next morning. That afternoon, five of the boys of our +section, myself included, went to the little ruined village in +the rear and from the deserted gardens of the French chateaux +gathered grass and flowers. From these we made a wreath.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">While the boys were making this +wreath, I sat under a shot-scarred apple tree and carved out the +following verses on a little wooden shield which we nailed on +Pete's cross.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">True to Us God; true to +Britain,</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Doing his duty to the last,</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Just one more name to be +written</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">On the Roll of Honor of heroes +passed.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Passed to their God, enshrined in +glory,</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Entering life of eternal rest,</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">One more chapter in England's +story</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Of her sons doing their best.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Rest, you soldier, mate so +true,</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Never forgotten by us below;</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Know that we are thinking of +you,</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Ere to our rest we are bidden to +go.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Next morning the whole section went +over to say good-bye to Pete, and laid him away to rest.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After each one had a look at the +face of the dead, a Corporal of the R. A. M. C. sewed up the +remains in a blanket. Then placing two heavy ropes across the +stretcher (to be used in lowering the body into the grave), we +lifted Pete onto the stretcher, and reverently covered him with a +large Union Jack, the flag he had died for.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Chaplain led the way, then came +the officers of the section, followed by two of the men carrying +a wreath. Immediately after came poor Pete on the flag-draped +stretcher, carried by four soldiers. I was one of the four. +Behind the stretcher, in fours, came the remainder of the +section.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">To get to the cemetery, we had to +pass through the little shell-destroyed village, where troops +were hurrying to and fro.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">As the funeral procession passed, +these troops came to the "attention," and smartly saluted the +dead.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Poor Pete was receiving the only +salute a Private is entitled to "somewhere in France."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Now and again a shell from the +German lines would go whistling over the village to burst in our +artillery lines in the rear.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When we reached the cemetery, we +halted in front of an open grave, and laid the stretcher beside +it. Forming a hollow square around the opening of the grave, the +Chaplain read the burial service.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">German machine-gun bullets were +"cracking" in the air above us, but Pete didn't mind, and neither +did we.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When the body was lowered into the +grave, the flag having been removed, we clicked our heels +together, and came to the salute.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I left before the grave was filled +in. I could not bear to see the dirt thrown on the +blanket-covered face of my comrade. On the Western Front there +are no coffins, and you are lucky to get a blanket to protect you +from the wet and the worms. Several of the section stayed and +decorated the grave with white stones.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">That night, in the light of a +lonely candle in the machine-gunner's dugout of the front-line +trench, I wrote two letters. One to Pete's mother, the other to +his sweetheart. While doing this I cursed the Prussian war-god +with all my heart, and I think that St. Peter noted same.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The machine gunners in the dugout +were laughing and joking. To them, Pete was unknown. Pretty soon, +in the warmth of their merriment, my blues disappeared. One soon +forgets on the Western Front.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER IX<br/> +SUICIDE ANNEX</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I was in my first dugout and looked +around curiously. Over the door of same was a little sign +reading, "Suicide Annex." One of the boys told me that this +particular front trench was called "Suicide Ditch." Later on I +learned that machine gunners and bombers are known as the +"Suicide Club."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">That dugout was muddy. The men +slept in mud, washed in mud, ate mud, and dreamed mud. I had +never before realized that so much discomfort and misery could be +contained in those three little letters, MUD. The floor of the +dugout was an inch deep in water. Outside it was raining cats and +dogs, and thin rivulets were trickling down the steps. From the +airshaft immediately above me came a drip, drip, drip. Suicide +Annex was a hole eight feet wide, ten feet long, and six feet +high. It was about twenty feet below the fire trench; at least +there were twenty steps leading down to it. These steps were cut +into the earth, but at that time were muddy and slippery. A man +had to be very careful or else he would "shoot the chutes." The +air was foul, and you could cut the smoke from Tommy's fags with +a knife. It was cold. The walls and roof were supported with +heavy square-cut timbers, while the entrance was strengthened +with sandbags. Nails had been driven into these timbers. On each +nail hung a miscellaneous assortment of equipment. The lighting +arrangements were superb -- one candle in a reflector made from +an ammunition tin. My teeth were chattering from the cold, and +the drip from the airshaft did not help matters much. While I was +sitting bemoaning my fate, and wishing for the fireside at home, +the fellow next to me, who was writing a letter, looked up and +innocently asked, "Say, Yank, how do you spell +'conflagration'?"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I looked at him in contempt, and +answered that I did not know.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">From the darkness in one of the +corners came a thin, piping voice singing one of the popular +trench ditties entitled:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Pack up your Troubles in your Old +Kit Bag, and</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Smile, Smile, Smile."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Every now and then the singer would +stop to</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Cough, Cough, Cough,</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">but it was a good illustration of +Tommy's cheerfulness under such conditions.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A machine-gun officer entered the +dugout and gave me a hard look. I sneaked past him, sliding, and +slipping and reached my section of the front-line trench where I +was greeted by the Sergeant, who asked me, "Where in 'ell 'ave +you been?"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I made no answer, but sat on the +muddy fire step, shivering with the cold and with the rain +beating in my face. About half an hour later I teamed up with +another fellow and went on guard with my head sticking over the +top. At ten o'clock I was relieved and resumed my sitting +position on the fire step. The rain suddenly stopped and we all +breathed a sigh of relief. We prayed for the morning and the rum +issue.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER X<br/> +"THE DAY'S WORK"</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I was fast learning that there is a +regular routine about the work of the trenches, although it is +badly upset at times by the Germans.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The real work in the fire trench +commences at sundown. Tommy is like a burglar, he works at +night.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Just as it begins to get dark the +word "stand to" is passed from traverse to traverse, and the men +get busy. The first relief, consisting of two men to a traverse, +mount the fire step, one man looking over the top, while the +other sits at his feet, ready to carry messages or to inform the +platoon officer of any report made by the sentry as to his +observations in No Man's Land. The sentry is not allowed to relax +his watch for a second. If he is questioned from the trench or +asked his orders, he replies without turning around or taking his +eyes from the expanse of dirt in front of him. The remainder of +the occupants of his traverse either sit on the fire step, with +bayonets fixed, ready for any emergency, or if lucky, and a +dugout happens to be in the near vicinity of the traverse, and if +the night is quiet, they are permitted to go to same and try and +snatch a few winks of sleep. Little sleeping is done; generally +the men sit around, smoking fags and seeing who can tell the +biggest lie. Some of them perhaps, with their feet in water, +would write home sympathizing with the "governor" because he was +laid up with a cold, contracted by getting his feet, wet on his +way to work in Woolwich Arsenal. If a man should manage to doze +off, likely as not he would wake with a start as the clammy, cold +feet of a rat passed over his face, or the next relief stepped on +his stomach while stumbling on their way to relieve the sentries +in the trench.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Just try to sleep with a belt full +of ammunition around you, your rifle bolt biting into your ribs, +entrenching tool handle sticking into the small of your back, +with a tin hat for a pillow; and feeling very damp and cold, with +"cooties " boring for oil in your arm pits, the air foul from the +stench of grimy human bodies and smoke from a juicy pipe being +whiffed into your nostrils, then you will not wonder why Tommy +occasionally takes a turn in the trench for a rest.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">While in a front-line trench, +orders forbid Tommy from removing his boots, puttees, clothing, +or equipment. The "cooties" take advantage of this order and +mobilize their forces, and Tommy swears vengeance on them and +mutters to himself, "just wait until I hit rest billets and am +able to get my own back."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Just before daylight the men "turn +to" and tumble out of the dugouts, man the fire step until it +gets light, or the welcome order "stand down" is given. Sometimes +before "stand down" is ordered, the command "five rounds rapid" +is passed along the trench. This means that each man must rest +his rifle on the top and fire as rapidly as possible five shots +aimed toward the German trenches, and then duck (with the +emphasis on the "duck"). There is a great rivalry between the +opposing forces to get their rapid fire off first, because the +early bird, in this instance, catches the worm, -- sort of gets +the jump on the other fellow, catching him unawares.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We had a Sergeant in our battalion +named Warren. He was on duty with his platoon in the fire trench +one afternoon when orders came up from the rear that he had been +granted seven days' leave for Blighty, and would be relieved at +five o'clock to proceed to England.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He was tickled to death at these +welcome tidings and regaled his more or less envious mates beside +him on the fire step with the good times in store for him. He +figured it out that in two days' time he would arrive at Waterloo +Station, London, and then -- seven days' bliss!</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At about five minutes to five he +started to fidget with his rifle, and then suddenly springing up +on the fire step with a muttered, "I'll send over a couple of +souvenirs to Fritz, so that he'll miss me when I leave," he stuck +his rifle over the top and fired two shots, when "crack" went a +bullet and he tumbled off the step, fell into the mud at the +bottom of the trench, and lay still in a huddled heap with a +bullet hole in his forehead.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At about the time he expected to +arrive at Waterloo Station he was laid to rest in a little +cemetery behind the lines. He had gone to Blighty.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In the trenches one can never tell, +-- it is not safe to plan very far ahead.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After "stand down" the men sit on +the fire step or repair to their respective dugouts and wait for +the "rum issue" to materialize. Immediately following the rum, +comes breakfast, brought up from the rear. Sleeping is then in +order unless some special work turns up.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Around 12.30 dinner shows up. When +this is eaten the men try to amuse themselves until "tea" appears +at about four o'clock, then "stand to" and they carry on as +before.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">While in rest billets Tommy gets up +about six in the morning, washes up, answers roll call, is +inspected by his platoon officer, and has breakfast. At 8.45 he +parades (drills) with his company or goes on fatigue according to +the orders which have been read out by the Orderly Sergeant the +night previous.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Between 11.30 and noon he is +dismissed, has his dinner, and is "on his own" for the remainder +of the day, unless he has clicked for a digging or working party, +and so it goes on from day to day, always "looping the loop" and +looking forward to Peace and Blighty.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Sometimes, while engaged in a +"cootie" hunt you think. Strange to say, but it is a fact, while +Tommy is searching his shirt, serious thoughts come to him. Many +a time, when performing this operation, I have tried to figure +out the outcome of the war and what will happen to me.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">My thoughts generally ran in this +channel:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Will I emerge safely from the next +attack? If I do, will I skin through the following one, and so +on? While your mind is wandering into the future it is likely to +be rudely brought to earth by a Tommy interrupting with, "What's +good for rheumatism?"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then you have something else to +think of. Will you come out of this war crippled and tied into +knots with rheumatism, caused by the wet and mud of trenches and +dugouts? You give it up as a bad job and generally saunter over +to the nearest estaminet to drown your moody forebodings in a +glass of sickening French beer, or to try your luck at the always +present game of "House." You can hear the sing-song voice of a +Tommy droning out the numbers as he extracts the little squares +of cardboard from the bag between his feet.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XI<br/> +OVER THE TOP</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In my second trip to the trenches +our officer was making his rounds of inspection, and we received +the cheerful news that at four in the morning we were to go over +the top and take the German front-line trench. My heart turned to +lead. Then the officer carried on with his instructions. To the +best of my memory I recall them as follows: "At eleven a wiring +party will go out in front and cut lanes through our barbed wire +for the passage of troops in the morning. At two o'clock our +artillery will open up with an intense bombardment which will +last until four. Upon the lifting of the barrage, the first of +the three waves will go over." Then he left. Some of the Tommies, +first getting permission from the Sergeant, went into the +machine-gunners' dugout, and wrote letters home, saying that in +the morning, they were going over the top, and also that if the +letters reached their destination it would mean that the writer +had been killed.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">These letters were turned over to +the captain with instructions to mail same in the event of the +writer's being killed. Some of the men made out their wills in +their pay book, under the caption, "will and last testament."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then the nerve-racking wait +commenced. Every now and then I would glance at the dial of my +wrist-watch and was surprised to see how fast the minutes passed +by. About five minutes to two I got nervous waiting for our guns +to open up. I could not take my eyes from my watch. I crouched +against the parapet and strained my muscles in a death-like grip +upon my rifle. As the hands on my watch showed two o'clock, a +blinding red flare lighted up the sky in our rear, then thunder, +intermixed with a sharp, whistling sound in the air over our +heads. The shells from our guns were speeding on their way toward +the German lines. With one accord the men sprang up on the fire +step and looked over the top in the direction of the German +trenches. A line of bursting shells lighted up No Man's Land. The +din was terrific and the ground trembled. Then, high above our +heads we could hear a sighing moan. Our big boys behind the line +had opened up and 9.2's and 15-inch shells commenced dropping +into the German lines. The flash of the guns behind the lines, +the scream of the shells through the air, and the flare of them, +bursting, was a spectacle that put Pain's greatest display into +the shade. The constant pup, pup, of German machine guns and an +occasional rattle of rifle firing gave me the impression of a +huge audience applauding the work of the batteries.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Our eighteen-pounders were +destroying the German barbed wire, while the heavier stuff was +demolishing their trenches and bashing in dugouts or +funk-holes.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then Fritz got busy.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Their shells went screaming +overhead, aimed in the direction of the flares from our +batteries. Trench mortars started dropping "Minnies" in our front +line. We clicked several casualties. Then they suddenly ceased. +Our artillery had taped or silenced them.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">During the bombardment you could +almost read a newspaper in our trench. Sometimes in the flare of +a shell-burst a man's body would be silhouetted against the +parados of the trench and it appeared like a huge monster. You +could hardly hear yourself think. When an order was to be passed +down the trench, you had to yell it, using your hands as a funnel +into the ear of the man sitting next to you on the fire step. In +about twenty minutes a generous rum issue was doled out. After +drinking the rum, which tasted like varnish and sent a shudder +through your frame, you wondered why they made you wait until the +lifting of the barrage before going over. At ten minutes to four, +word was passed down, "Ten minutes to go!" Ten minutes to live! +We were shivering all over. My legs felt as if they were asleep. +Then word was passed down: "First wave get on and near the +scaling ladders."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">These were small wooden ladders +which we had placed against the parapet to enable us to go over +the top on the lifting of the barrage. "Ladders of Death" we +called them, and veritably they were.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Before a charge Tommy is the +politest of men. There is never any pushing or crowding to be +first up these ladders. We crouched around the base of the +ladders waiting for the word to go over. I was sick and faint, +and was puffing away at an unlighted fag. Then came the word, +"Three minutes to go; upon the lifting of the barrage and on the +blast of the whistles, 'Over the Top with the Best o' Luck and +Give them Hell.'" The famous phrase of the Western Front. The +Jonah phrase of the Western Front. To Tommy it means if you are +lucky enough to come back, you will be minus an arm or a leg. +Tommy hates to be wished the best of luck; so, when peace is +declared, if it ever is, and you meet a Tommy on the street, just +wish him the best of luck and duck the brick that follows.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I glanced again at my wrist-watch. +We all wore them and you could hardly call us "sissies" for doing +so. It was a minute to four. I could see the hand move to the +twelve, then a dead silence. It hurt. Everyone looked up to see +what had happened, but not for long. Sharp whistle blasts rang +out along the trench, and with a cheer the men scrambled up the +ladders. The bullets were cracking overhead, and occasionally a +machine gun would rip and tear the top of the sand bag parapet. +How I got up that ladder I will never know. The first ten feet +out in front was agony. Then we passed through the lanes in our +barbed wire. I knew I was running, but could feel no motion below +the waist. Patches on the ground seemed to float to the rear as +if I were on a treadmill and scenery was rushing past me. The +Germans had put a barrage of shrapnel across No Man's Land, and +you could hear the pieces slap the ground about you.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After I had passed our barbed wire +and gotten into No Man's Land, a Tommy about fifteen feet to my +right front turned around and looking in my direction, put his +hand to his mouth and yelled something which I could not make out +on account of the noise from the bursting shells. Then he +coughed, stumbled, pitched forward, and lay still. His body +seemed to float to the rear of me. I could hear sharp cracks in +the air about me. These were caused by passing rifle bullets. +Frequently, to my right and left, little spurts of dirt would +rise into the air, and a ricochet bullet would whine on its way. +If a Tommy should see one of these little spurts in front of him, +he would tell the nurse about it later. The crossing of No Man's +Land remains a blank to me.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Men on my right and left would +stumble and fall. Some would try to get up, while others remained +huddled and motionless. Then smashed-up barbed wire came into +view and seemed carried on a tide to the rear. Suddenly, in front +of me loomed a bashed-in trench about four feet wide. +Queer-looking forms like mud turtles were scrambling up its wall. +One of these forms seemed to slip and then rolled to the bottom +of the trench. I leaped across this intervening space. The man to +my left seemed to pause in mid-air, then pitched head down into +the German trench. I laughed out loud in my delirium. Upon +alighting on the other side of the trench I came to with a sudden +jolt. Right in front of me loomed a giant form with a rifle which +looked about ten feet long, on the end of which seemed seven +bayonets. These flashed in the air in front of me. Then through +my mind flashed the admonition of our bayonet instructor back in +Blighty. He had said, "whenever you get in a charge and run your +bayonet up to the hilt into a German, the Fritz will fall. +Perhaps your rifle will be wrenched from your grasp. Do not waste +time, if the bayonet is fouled in his equipment, by putting your +foot on his stomach and tugging at the rifle to extricate the +bayonet. Simply press the trigger and the bullet will free it." +In my present situation this was fine logic, but for the life of +me I could not remember how he had told me to get my bayonet into +the German. To me, this was the paramount issue. I closed my +eyes, and lunged forward. My rifle was torn from my hands. I must +have gotten the German because he had disappeared. About twenty +feet to my left front was a huge Prussian nearly six feet four +inches in height, a fine specimen of physical manhood. The +bayonet from his rifle was missing, but he clutched the barrel in +both hands and was swinging the butt around his head. I could +almost hear the swish of the butt passing through the air. Three +little Tommies were engaged with him. They looked like pigmies +alongside of the Prussian. The Tommy on the left was gradually +circling to the rear of his opponent. It was a funny sight to see +them duck the swinging butt and try to jab him at the same time. +The Tommy nearest me received the butt of the German's rifle in a +smashing blow below the right temple. It smashed his head like an +eggshell. He pitched forward on his side and a convulsive shudder +ran through his body. Meanwhile, the other Tommy had gained the +rear of the Prussian. Suddenly about four inches of bayonet +protruded from the throat of the Prussian soldier, who staggered +forward and fell. I will never forget the look of blank +astonishment that came over his face.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then something hit me in the left +shoulder and my left side went numb. It felt as if a hot poker +was being driven through me. I felt no pain -- just a sort of +nervous shock. A bayonet had pierced me from the rear. I fell +backward on the ground, but was not unconscious, because I could +see dim objects moving around me. Then a flash of light in front +of my eyes and unconsciousness. Something had hit me on the head. +I have never found out what it was.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I dreamed I was being tossed about +in an open boat on a heaving sea and opened my eyes. The moon was +shining. I was on a stretcher being carried down one of our +communication trenches. At the advanced first-aid post my wounds +were dressed, and then I was put into an ambulance and sent to +one of the base hospitals. The wounds in my shoulder and head +were not serious and in six weeks I had rejoined my company for +service in the front line.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XII<br/> +BOMBING</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The boys in the section welcomed me +back, but there were many strange faces. Several of our men had +gone West in that charge, and were lying "somewhere in France" +with a little wooden cross at their heads. We were in rest +billets. The next day, our Captain asked for volunteers for +Bombers' School. I gave my name and was accepted. I had joined +the Suicide Club, and my troubles commenced. Thirty-two men of +the battalion, including myself, were sent to L--, where we went +through a course in bombing. Here we were instructed in the uses, +methods of throwing, and manufacture of various kinds of hand +grenades, from the old "jam tin," now obsolete, to the present +Mills bomb, the standard of the British Army.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It all depends where you are as to +what you are called. In France they call you a "bomber" and give +you medals, while in neutral countries they call you an anarchist +and give you "life."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">From the very start the Germans +were well equipped with effective bombs and trained +bomb-throwers, but the English Army was as little prepared in +this important department of fighting as in many others. At +bombing school an old Sergeant of the Grenadier Guards, whom I +had the good fortune to meet, told me of the discouragements this +branch of the service suffered before they could meet the Germans +on an equal footing. (Pacifists and small army people in the U. +S. please read with care.) The first English Expeditionary Force +had no bombs at all but had clicked a lot of casualties from +those thrown by the Boches. One bright morning someone higher up +had an idea and issued an order detailing two men from each +platoon to go to bombing school to learn the duties of a bomber +and how to manufacture bombs. Non-commissioned officers were +generally selected for this course. After about two weeks at +school they returned to their units in rest billets or in the +fire trench as the case might be and got busy teaching their +platoons how to make "jam tins."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Previously an order had been issued +for all ranks to save empty jam tins for the manufacture of +bombs. A Professor of Bombing would sit on the fire step in the +front trench with the remainder of his section crowding around to +see him work.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">On his left would be a pile of +empty and rusty jam tins, while beside him on the fire step would +be a miscellaneous assortment of material used in the manufacture +of the "jam tins."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Tommy would stoop down, get an +empty "jam tin," take a handful of clayey mud from the parapet, +and line the inside of the tin with this substance. Then he would +reach over, pick up his detonator and explosive, and insert them +in the tin, the fuse protruding. On the fire step would be a pile +of fragments of shell, shrapnel balls, bits of iron, nails, +etc.-anything that was hard enough to send over to Fritz; he +would scoop up a handful of this junk and put it in the bomb. +Perhaps one of the platoon would ask him what he did this for, +and he would explain that when the bomb exploded these bits would +fly about and kill or wound any German hit by same; the +questioner would immediately pull a button off his tunic and hand +it to the bomb-maker with, "Well, blime me, send this over as a +souvenir," or another Tommy would volunteer an old rusty and +broken jackknife; both would be accepted and inserted.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then the Professor would take +another handful of mud and fin the tin, after which he would +punch a hole in the lid of the tin and put it over the top of the +bomb, the fuse sticking out. Then perhaps he would tightly wrap +wire around the outside of the tin and the bomb was ready to send +over to Fritz with Tommy's compliments.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A piece of wood about four inches +long and two inches wide had been issued. This was to be strapped +on the left forearm by means of two leather straps and was like +the side of a match box; it was called a "striker." There was a +tip like the head of a match on the fuse of the bomb. To ignite +the fuse, you had to rub it on the "striker," just the same as +striking a match. The fuse was timed to five seconds or longer. +Some of the fuses issued in those days would burn down in a second +or two, while others would "sizz" for a week before exploding. +Back in Blighty the munition workers weren't quite up to snuff, +the way they are now. If the fuse took a notion to burn too +quickly, they generally buried the bombmaker next day. So making +bombs could not be called a "cushy" or safe job.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After making several bombs, the +Professor instructs the platoon in throwing them. He takes a "jam +tin" from the fire step, trembling a little, because it is +nervous work, especially when new at it, lights the fuse on his +striker. The fuse begins to "sizz" and sputter and a spiral of +smoke, like that from a smouldering fag, rises from it. The +platoon splits in two and ducks around the traverse nearest to +them. They don't like the looks and sound of the burning fuse. +When that fuse begins to smoke and "sizz" you want to say +good-bye to it as soon as possible, so Tommy with all his might +chucks it over the top and crouches against the parapet, waiting +for the explosion.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Lots of times in bombing, the "Jam +tin" would be picked up by the Germans, before it exploded and +thrown back at Tommy with dire results.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After a lot of men went West in +this manner, an order was issued, reading something like +this:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"To all ranks in the British Army +-- after igniting the fuse and before throwing the jam tin bomb, +count slowly one! two! three!"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">This in order to give the fuse time +enough to burn down, so that the bomb would explode before the +Germans could throw it back.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Tommy read the order -- he reads +them all, but after he ignited the fuse and it began to smoke, +orders were forgotten, and away she went in record time and back +she came to the further discomfort of the thrower.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then another order was issued to +count, "one hundred! two hundred! three hundred!" but Tommy +didn't care if the order read to count up to a thousand by +quarters he was going to get rid of that "jam tin," because from +experience he had learned not to trust it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When the powers that be realized +that they could not change Tommy, they decided to change the type +of bomb and did so -- substituting the "hair brush," the +"cricket-ball," and later the Mills bomb.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The standard bomb used in the +British Army is the "Mills." It is about the shape and size of a +large lemon. Although not actually a lemon, Fritz insists that it +is; perhaps he judges it by the havoc caused by its explosion. +The Mills bomb is made of steel, the outside of which is +corrugated into forty-eight small squares which, upon the +explosion of the bomb, scatter in a wide area, wounding or +killing any Fritz who is unfortunate enough to be hit by one of +the flying fragments.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Although a very destructive and +efficient bomb, the "Mills" has the confidence of the thrower, in +that he knows it will not explode until released from his +grip.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It is a mechanical device, with a +lever, fitted into a slot at the top, which extends half way +around the circumference and is held in place at the bottom by a +fixing pin. In this pin there is a small metal ring, for the +purpose of extracting the pin when ready to throw.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">You do not throw a bomb the way a +baseball is thrown, because, when in a narrow trench, your hand +is liable to strike against the parados, traverse, or parapet, +and then down goes the bomb, and, in a couple of seconds or so, +up goes Tommy.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In throwing, the bomb and lever are +grasped in the right hand, the left foot is advanced, knee stiff, +about once and a half its length to the front, while the right +leg, knee bent, is carried slightly to the right. The left arm is +extended at an angle of 45 degrees, pointing in the direction the +bomb is to be thrown. This position is similar to that of +shot-putting, only that the right arm is extended downward. Then +you hurl the bomb from you with an overhead bowling motion, the +same as in cricket, throwing it fairly high in the air, this in +order to give the fuse a chance to burn down so that when the +bomb lands, it immediately explodes and gives the Germans no time +to scamper out of its range or to return it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">As the bomb leaves your hand, the +lever, by means of a spring, is projected into the air and falls +harmlessly to the ground a few feet in front of the bomber.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When the lever flies off, it +releases a strong spring, which forces the firing pin into a +percussion cap. This ignites the fuse, which burns down and sets +off the detonator, charged with fulminate of mercury, which +explodes the main charge of ammonia.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The average British soldier is not +an expert at throwing; it is a new game to him, therefore the +Canadians and Americans, who have played baseball from the +kindergarten up, take naturally to bomb throwing and excel in +this act. A six-foot English bomber will stand in awed silence +when he sees a little five-foot-nothing Canadian out-distance his +throw by several yards. I have read a few war stories of bombing, +where baseball pitchers curved their bombs when throwing them, +but a pitcher who can do this would make "Christy" Mathewson look +like a piker, and is losing valuable time playing in the European +War Bush League, when he would be able to set the "Big League" on +fire.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We had had a cushy time while at +this school. In fact, to us it was a regular vacation, and we +were very sorry when one morning the Adjutant ordered us to +report at headquarters for transportation and rations to return +to our units up the line.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Arriving at our section, the boys +once again tendered us the glad mitt, but looked askance at us +out of the corners of their eyes. They could not conceive, as +they expressed it, how a man could be such a blinking idiot to +join the Suicide Club. I was beginning to feel sorry that I had +become a member of said club, and my life to me appeared doubly +precious.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Now that I was a sure enough +bomber, I was praying for peace and hoping that my services as +such would not be required.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XIII<br/> +MY FIRST OFFICIAL BATH</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Right behind our rest billet was a +large creek about ten feet deep and twenty feet across, and it +was a habit of the company to avail themselves of an opportunity +to take a swim and at the same time thoroughly wash themselves +and their underwear when on their own. We were having a spell of +hot weather, and these baths to us were a luxury. The Tommies +would splash around in the water and then come out and sit in the +sun and have what they termed a "shirt hunt." At first we tried +to drown the "cooties," but they also seemed to enjoy the +bath.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">One Sunday morning, the whole +section was in the creek and we were having a gay time, when the +Sergeant-Major appeared on the scene. He came to the edge of the +creek and ordered: "Come out of it. Get your equipment on, 'Drill +order,' and fall in for bath parade. Look lively my hearties. You +have only got fifteen minutes." A howl of indignation from the +creek greeted this order, but out we came. Discipline is +discipline. We lined up in front of our billet with rifles and +bayonets (why you need rifles and bayonets to take a bath gets +me), a full quota of ammunition, and our tin hats. Each man had a +piece of soap and a towel. After an eight-kilo march along a +dusty road, with an occasional shell whistling overhead, we +arrived at a little squat frame building upon the bank of a +creek. Nailed over the door of this building was a large sign +which read "Divisional Baths." In a wooden shed in the rear, we +could hear a wheezy old engine pumping water.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We lined up in front of the baths, +soaked with perspiration, and piled our rifles into stacks. A +Sergeant of the R. A. M. C. with a yellow band around his left +arm on which was "S. P." (Sanitary Police) in black letters, took +charge, ordering us to take off our equipment, unroll our +puttees, and unlace boots. Then, starting from the right of the +line, he divided us into squads of fifteen. I happened to be in +the first squad.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We entered a small room where we +were given five minutes to undress, then filed into the bath +room. In here there were fifteen tubs (barrels sawed in two) half +full of water. Each tub contained a piece of laundry soap. The +Sergeant informed us that we had just twelve minutes in which to +take our baths. Soaping ourselves all over, we took turns in +rubbing each other's backs, then by means of a garden hose, +washed the soap off. The water was ice cold, but felt fine.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Pretty soon a bell rang and the +water was turned off. Some of the slower ones were covered with +soap, but this made no difference to the Sergeant, who chased us +into another room, where we lined up in front of a little window, +resembling the box office in a theater, and received clean +underwear and towels. From here we went into the room where we +had first undressed. Ten minutes was allowed in which to get into +our "clabber."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">My pair of drawers came up to my +chin and the shirt barely reached my diaphragm, but they were +clean, -- no strangers on them, and so I was satisfied.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At the expiration of the time +allotted we were turned out and finished our dressing on the +grass.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When all of the company had bathed +it was a case of march back to billets. That march was the most +uncongenial one imagined, just cussing and blinding all the way. +We were covered with white dust and felt greasy from sweat. The +woolen underwear issued was itching like the mischief.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After eating our dinner of stew, +which had been kept for us, -- it was now four o'clock, -- we +went into the creek and had another bath.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">If "Holy Joe" could have heard our +remarks about the Divisional Baths and army red tape, he would +have fainted at our wickedness. But Tommy is only human after +all.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I just mentioned "Holy Joe" or the +Chaplain in an irreverent sort of way but no offense was meant, +as there were some very brave men among them.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">There are so many instances of +heroic deeds performed under fire in rescuing the wounded that it +would take several books to chronicle them, but I have to mention +one instance performed by a Chaplain, Captain Hall by name, in +the Brigade on our left, because it particularly appealed to +me.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A chaplain is not a fighting man; +he is recognized as a non-combatant and carries no arms. In a +charge or trench raid the soldier gets a feeling of confidence +from contact with his rifle, revolver, or bomb he is carrying. He +has something to protect himself with, something with which he +can inflict harm on the enemy, -- in other words, he is able to +get his own back.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">But the chaplain is empty handed, +and is at the mercy of the enemy if he encounters them, so it is +doubly brave for him to go over the top, under fire, and bring in +wounded. Also a chaplain is not required by the King's +Regulations to go over in a charge, but this one did, made three +trips under the hottest kind of fire, each time returning with a +wounded man on his back. On the third trip he received a bullet +through his left arm, but never reported the matter to the doctor +until late that night -- just spent his time administering to the +wants of the wounded lying on stretchers waiting to be carried to +the rear by ambulances.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The chaplains in the British Army +are a fine, manly set of men, and are greatly respected by +Tommy.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XIV<br/> +PICKS AND SHOVELS</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I had not slept long before the +sweet voice of the Sergeant informed that "No. I Section had +clicked for another blinking digging party," I smiled to myself +with deep satisfaction. I had been promoted from a mere digger to +a member of the Suicide Club, and was exempt from all fatigues. +Then came an awful shock. The Sergeant looked over in my +direction and said:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Don't you bomb throwers think that +you are wearing top hats out here. 'Cordin' to orders you've been +taken up on the strength of this section, and will have to do +your bit with the pick and shovel, same as the rest of us."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I put up a howl on my way to get my +shovel, but the only thing that resulted was a loss of good humor +on my part.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We fell in at eight o'clock, +outside of our billets, a sort of masquerade party. I was +disguised as a common laborer, had a pick and shovel, and about +one hundred empty sandbags. The rest, about two hundred in all, +were equipped likewise: picks, shovels, sandbags, rifles, and +ammunition.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The party moved out in column of +fours, taking the road leading to the trenches. Several times we +had to string out in the ditch to let long columns of limbers, +artillery, and supplies get past.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The marching, under these +conditions, was necessarily slow. Upon arrival at the entrance to +the communication trench, I looked at my illuminated wrist-watch +-- it was eleven o'clock.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Before entering this trench, word +was passed down the line, "no talking or smoking, lead off in +single file, covering party first."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">This covering party consisted of +thirty men, armed with rifles, bayonets, bombs, and two Lewis +machine guns. They were to protect us and guard against a +surprise attack, while digging in No Man's Land.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The communication trench was about +half a mile long, a zigzagging ditch, eight feet deep and three +feet wide.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Now and again, German shrapnel +would whistle overhead and burst in our vicinity. We would crouch +against the earthen walls while the shell fragments "slapped" the +ground above us.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Once Fritz turned loose with a +machine gun, the bullets from which "cracked" through the air and +kicked up the dirt on the top, scattering sand and pebbles, +which, hitting our steel helmets, sounded like hailstones.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Upon arrival in the fire trench an +officer of the Royal Engineers gave us our instructions and acted +as guide.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We were to dig an advanced trench +two hundred yards from the Germans (the trenches at this point +were six hundred yards apart).</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Two winding lanes, five feet wide, +had been cut through our barbed wire, for the passage of the +diggers. From these lanes white tape had been laid on the ground +to the point where we were to commence work. This in order that +we would not get lost in the darkness. The proposed trench was +also laid out with tape.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The covering party went out first. +After a short wait, two scouts came back with information that +the working party was to follow and "carry on" with their +work.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In extended order, two yards apart, +we noiselessly crept across No Man's Land. It was</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a href="images/094_large.jpg"> +<img src="images/094.jpg" width="822" height="640" alt="Illustration:" /></a> +</div> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">nervous work; every minute we +expected a machine gun to open fire on us. Stray bullets +"cracked" around us, or a ricochet sang overhead.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Arriving at the taped diagram of +the trench, rifles slung around our shoulders, we lost no time in +getting to work. We dug as quietly as possible, but every now and +then, the noise of a pick or shovel striking a stone, would send +the cold shivers down our backs. Under our breaths we heartily +cursed the offending Tommy.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At intervals a star shell would go +up from the German lines and we would remain motionless until the +glare of its white light died out.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When the trench had reached a depth +of two feet, we felt safer, because it would afford us cover in +case we were discovered and fired on.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The digging had been in progress +about two hours, when suddenly, hell seemed to break loose in the +form of machine gun and rifle fire.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We dropped down on our bellies in +the shallow trench, bullets knocking up the ground and snapping +in the air. Then the shrapnel batted in. The music was hot and +Tommy danced.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The covering party was having a +rough time of it; they had no cover; just had to take their +medicine.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Word was passed down the line to +beat it for our trenches. We needed no urging; grabbing our tools +and stooping low, we legged it across No Man's Land. The covering +party got away to a poor start but beat us in. They must have had +wings because we lowered the record.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Panting and out of breath, we +tumbled into our front-line trench. I tore my hands getting +through our wire, but, at the time, didn't notice it; my journey +was too urgent.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When the roll was called we found +that we had gotten it in the nose for sixty-three casualties.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Our artillery put a barrage on +Fritz's front-line and communication trenches and their machine +gun and rifle fire suddenly ceased.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Upon the cessation of this fire, +stretcher-bearers went out to look for killed and wounded. Next +day we learned that twenty-one of our men had been killed and +thirty-seven wounded. Five men were missing; lost in the darkness +they must have wandered over into the German lines, where they +were either killed or captured.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Speaking of stretcher-bearers and +wounded, it is very hard for the average civilian to comprehend +the enormous cost of taking care of wounded and the war in +general. He or she gets so accustomed to seeing billions of +dollars in print that the significance of the amount is passed +over without thought.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">From an official statement +published in one of the London papers, it is stated that it costs +between six and seven thousand pounds ($30,000 to $35,000) to +kill or wound a soldier. This result was attained by taking the +cost of the war to date and dividing it by the killed and +wounded.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It may sound heartless and inhuman, +but it is a fact, nevertheless, that from a military stand-point +it is better for a man to be killed than wounded.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">If a man is killed he is buried, +and the responsibility of the government ceases, excepting for +the fact that his people receive a pension. But if a man is +wounded it takes three men from the firing line, the wounded man +and two men to carry him to the rear to the advanced first-aid +post. Here he is attended by a doctor, perhaps assisted by two +R.A.M.C. men. Then he is put into a motor ambulance, manned by a +crew of two or three. At the field hospital, where he generally +goes under an anaesthetic, either to have his wounds cleaned or +to be operated on, he requires the services of about three to +five persons. From this point another ambulance ride impresses +more men in his service, and then at the ambulance train, another +corps of doctors, R.A.M.C. men, Red Cross nurses, and the train's +crew. From the train he enters the base hospital or Casualty +Clearing Station, where a good-sized corps of doctors, nurses, +etc., are kept busy. Another ambulance journey is next in order +-- this time to the hospital ship. He crosses the Channel, +arrives in Blighty -- more ambulances and perhaps a ride for five +hours on an English Red Cross train with its crew of Red Cross +workers, and at last he reaches the hospital. Generally he stays +from two to six months, or longer, in this hospital. From here he +is sent to a convalescent home for six weeks.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">If by wounds he is unfitted for +further service, he is discharged, given a pension, or committed +to a Soldiers' Home for the rest of his life, -- and still the +expense piles up. When you realize that all the ambulances, +trains, and ships, not to mention the man-power, used in +transporting a wounded man, could be used for supplies, +ammunition, and reinforcements for the troops at the front, it +will not appear strange that from a strictly military standpoint, +a dead man is sometimes better than a live one (if wounded).</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Not long after the first digging +party, our General decided, after a careful tour of inspection of +the communication trenches, upon "an ideal spot," as he termed +it, for a machine-gun emplacement. Took his map, made a dot on +it, and as he was wont, wrote "dig here," and the next night we +dug.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">There were twenty in the party, +myself included. Armed with picks, shovels, and empty sandbags we +arrived at the "ideal spot" and started digging. The moon was +very bright, but we did not care as we were well out of sight of +the German lines.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We had gotten about three feet +down, when the fellow next to me, after a mighty stroke with his +pick, let go of the handle, and pinched his nose with his thumb +and forefinger, at the same time letting out the explosion, "Gott +strafe me pink, I'm bloody well gassed, not 'alf I ain't." I +quickly turned in his direction with an inquiring look, at the +same instant reaching for my gas bag. I soon found out what was +ailing him. One whiff was enough and I lost no time in also +pinching my nose. The stench was awful. The rest of the digging +party dropped their picks and shovels and beat it for the weather +side of that solitary pick. The officer came over and inquired +why the work had suddenly ceased, holding our noses, we simply +pointed in the direction of the smelt. He went over to the pick, +immediately clapped his hand over his nose, made an "about turn" +and came back. Just then our Captain came along and investigated, +but after about a minute said we had better carry on with the +digging, that he did not see why we should have stopped as the +odor was very faint, but if necessary he would allow us to use +our gas helmets while digging. He would stay and see the thing +through, but he had to report back at Brigade Headquarters +immediately. We wished that we were Captains and also had a date +at Brigade Headquarters. With our gas helmets on we again +attacked that hole and uncovered the decomposed body of a German; +the pick was sticking in his chest. One of the men fainted. I was +that one. Upon this our Lieutenant halted proceedings and sent +word back to headquarters and word came back that after we filled +in the hole we could knock off for the night. This was welcome +tidings to us, because --</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Next day the General changed the +dot on his map and another emplacement was completed the +following night.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The odor from a dug-up, decomposed +human body has an effect which is hard to describe. It first +produces a nauseating feeling, which, especially after eating, +causes vomiting. This relieves you temporarily, but soon a +weakening sensation follows, which leaves you limp as a dish-rag. +Your spirits are at their lowest ebb and you feel a sort of +hopeless helplessness and a mad desire to escape it all, to get +to the open fields and the perfume of the flowers in Blighty. +There is a sharp, prickling sensation in the nostrils, which +reminds one of breathing coal gas through a radiator in the +floor, and you want to sneeze, but cannot. This was the effect on +me, surmounted by a vague horror of the awfulness of the thing +and an ever-recurring reflection that, perhaps I, sooner or +later, would be in such a state and be brought to light by the +blow of a pick in the hands of some Tommy on a digging party.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Several times I have experienced +this odor, but never could get used to it; the enervating +sensation was always present. It made me hate war and wonder why +such things were countenanced by civilisation, and all the spice +and glory of the conflict would disappear, leaving the grim +reality. But after leaving the spot and filling your lungs with +deep breaths of pure, fresh air, you forget and once again want +to be "up and at them."</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XV<br/> +LISTENING POST</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It was six in the morning when we +arrived at our rest billets, and we were allowed to sleep until +noon; that is, if we wanted to go without our breakfast. For +sixteen days we remained in rest billets, digging roads, +drilling, and other fatigues, and then back into the front-line +trench.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Nothing happened that night, but +the next afternoon I found out that a bomber is general utility +man in a section.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">About five o'clock in the afternoon +our Lieutenant came down the trench and stopping in front of a +bunch of us on the fire step, with a broad grin on his face, +asked: "Who is going to volunteer for listening post to-night? I +need two men."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It is needless to say no one +volunteered, because it is anything but a cushy Job. I began to +feel uncomfortable as I knew it was getting around for my turn. +Sure enough, with another grin, he said:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">''Empey, you and Wheeler are due, +so come down into my dugout for instructions at six o'clock."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Just as he left and was going +around a traverse, Fritz turned loose with a machine gun and the +bullets ripped the sandbags right over his head. It gave me great +pleasure to see him duck against the parapet. He was getting a +taste of what we would get later out in front.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then, of course, it began to rain. +I knew it was the forerunner of a miserable night for us. Every +time I had to go out in front, it just naturally rained. Old +Jupiter Pluvius must have had it in for me.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At six we reported for +instructions. They were simple and easy. All we had to do was to +crawl out into No Man's Land, lie on our bellies with our ears to +the ground and listen for the tap tap of the German engineers or +sappers who might be tunnelling under No Man's Land to establish +a mine-head beneath our trench.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Of course, in our orders we were +told not to be captured by German patrols or reconnoitering +parties. Lots of breath is wasted on the Western Front giving +silly cautions.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">As soon as it was dark. Wheeler and +I crawled to our post which was about half-way between the lines. +It was raining bucketsful, the ground was a sea of sticky mud and +clung to us like glue.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We took turns in listening with our +ears to the ground. I would listen for twenty minutes while +Wheeler would be on the QUI VIVE for German patrols.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We each wore a wrist-watch, and +believe me, neither one of us did over twenty minutes. The rain +soaked us to the skin and her ears were full of mud.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Every few minutes a bullet would +crack overhead or a machine gun would traverse back and +forth.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then all firing suddenly ceased. I +whispered to Wheeler, "Keep your eye skinned, mate, most likely +Fritz has a patrol out, -- that's why the Boches have stopped +firing."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We were each armed with a rifle and +bayonet and three Mills bombs to be used for defense only.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I had my ear to the ground. All of +a sudden I heard faint, dull thuds. In a very low, but excited +voice, I whispered to Wheeler, "I think they are mining, +listen."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He put his ear to the ground and in +an unsteady voice spoke into my ear:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Yank, that's a patrol and it's +heading our way. For God's sake keep still."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I was as still as a mouse and was +scared stiff.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Hardly breathing and with eyes +trying to pierce the inky blackness, we waited. I would have +given a thousand pounds to have been safely in my dugout.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then we plainly heard footsteps and +our hearts stood still.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A dark form suddenly loomed up in +front of me, it looked as big as the Woolworth Building. I could +hear the blood rushing through my veins and it sounded as loud as +Niagara Falls.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Forms seemed to emerge from the +darkness. There were seven of them in all. I tried to wish them +away. I never wished harder in my life. They muttered a few words +in German and melted into the blackness. I didn't stop wishing +either.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">All of a sudden we heard a stumble, +a muddy splash, and a muttered, "Donner und Blitzen". One of the +Boches had tumbled into a shell hole. Neither of us laughed. At +that time, it didn't strike us as funny.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">About twenty minutes after the +Germans had disappeared, something from the rear grabbed me by +the foot. I nearly fainted with fright. Then a welcome whisper in +a cockney accent. "I s'y, myte, we've come to relieve you." +Wheeler and I crawled back to our trench, we looked like wet hens +and felt worse. After a swig of rum we were soon fast asleep on +the fire step in our wet clothes.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The next morning I was as stiff as +a poker and every joint ached like a bad tooth, but I was still +alive, so it did not matter.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XVI<br/> +BATTERY D 238</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The day after this I received the +glad tidings that I would occupy the machine-gunners' dugout +right near the advanced artillery observation post. This dugout +was a roomy affair, dry as tinder, and real cots in it. These +cots had been made by the R.E.'s who had previously occupied the +dugout. I was the first to enter and promptly made a sign board +with my name and number on it and suspended it from the foot of +the most comfortable cot therein.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In the trenches, it is always +"first come, first served," and this is lived up to by all.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Two R.F.A. men (Royal Field +Artillery) from the nearby observation post were allowed the +privilege of stopping in this dugout while off duty.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">One of these men, Bombardier Wilson +by name, who belonged to Battery D 238, seemed to take a liking +to me, and I returned this feeling.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In two days' time we were pretty +chummy, and he told me how his battery in the early days of the +war had put over a stunt on Old Pepper, and had gotten away with +it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I will endeavor to give the story +as far as memory will permit in his own words:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"I came out with the First +Expeditionary Force, and like all the rest, thought we would have +the enemy licked in jig time, and be able to eat Christmas dinner +at home. Well, so far, I have eaten two Christmas dinners in the +trenches, and am liable to eat two more, the way things are +pointing. That is, if Fritz don't drop a 'whizz-bang' on me, and +send me to Blighty. Sometimes I wish I would get hit, because +it's no great picnic out here, and twenty-two months of it makes +you fed up.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"It's fairly cushy now compared to +what it used to be, although I admit this trench is a trifle +rough. Now, we send over five shells to their one. We are getting +our own back, but in the early days it was different. Then you +had to take everything without a reply. In fact, we would get +twenty shells in return for every one we sent over. Fritz seemed +to enjoy it, but we British didn't, we were the sufferers. Just +one casualty after another. Sometimes whole platoons would +disappear, especially when a 'Jack Johnson' plunked into their +middle. It got so bad, that a fellow, when writing home, wouldn't +ask for any cigarettes to be sent out, because he was afraid he +wouldn't be there to receive them.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"After the drive to Paris was +turned back, trench warfare started. Our General grabbed a map, +drew a pencil line across it, and said, 'Dig here,' then he went +back to his tea, and Tommy armed himself with a pick and shovel, +and started digging. He's been digging ever since.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Of course, we dug those trenches +at night, but it was hot work what with the rifle and machinegun +fire. The stretcher-bearers worked harder than the diggers.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Those trenches, bloomin' ditches, +I call them, were a nightmare. They were only about five feet +deep, and you used to get the backache from bending down. It +wasn't exactly safe to stand upright either, because as soon as +your napper showed over the top, a bullet would bounce off it, or +else come so close it would make your hair stand.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"We used to fill sandbags and stick +them on top of the parapet to make it higher, but no use, they +would be there about an hour, and then Fritz would turn loose and +blow them to bits. My neck used to be sore from ducking shells +and bullets.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Where my battery was stationed, a +hasty trench had been dug, which the boys nicknamed 'Suicide +Ditch,' and believe me, Yank, this was the original 'Suicide +Ditch'. All the others are imitations.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"When a fellow went into that +trench, it was an even gamble that he would come out on a +stretcher. At one time, a Scotch battalion held it, and when they +heard the betting was even money that they'd come out on +stretchers, they grabbed all the bets in sight. Like a lot of +bally idiots several of the battery men fell for their game, and +put up real money. The 'Jocks' suffered a lot of casualties, and +the prospects looked bright for the battery men to collect some +easy money. So when the battalion was relieved, the gamblers +lined up. Several 'Jocks' got their money for emerging safely, +but the ones who clicked it, weren't there to pay. The +artillerymen had never thought it out that way. Those Scotties +were bound to be sure winners, no matter how the wind blew. So +take a tip from me, never bet with a Scottie, 'cause you'll lose +money.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"At one part of our trench where a +communication trench joined the front line, a Tommy had stuck up +a wooden sign-post with three hands or arms on it. One of the +hands pointing to the German lines read, 'To Berlin,' the one +pointing down the communication trench read, 'To Blighty,' while +the other said, 'Suicide Ditch, Change Here for Stretchers.'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Farther down from this guide post +the trench ran through an old orchard. On the edge of this +orchard our battery had constructed an advanced observation post. +The trees screened it from the enemy airmen and the roof was +turfed. It wasn't cushy like ours, no timber or concrete +reinforcements, just walls and roof of sandbags. From it, a +splendid view of the German lines could be obtained. This post +wasn't exactly safe. It was a hot corner, shells plunking all +around, and the bullets cutting leaves off the trees. Many a time +when relieving the signaler at the phone, I had to crawl on my +belly like a worm to keep from being hit.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"It was an observation post sure +enough. That's all the use it was. Just observe all day, but +never a message back for our battery to open up. You see, at this +point of the line there were strict orders not to fire a shell, +unless specially ordered to do so from Brigade Headquarters. +Blime me, if anyone disobeyed that command, our General -- yes, +it was Old Pepper, -- would have courtmartialed the whole +Expeditionary Force. Nobody went out of their way to disobey Old +Pepper in those days, because he couldn't be called a parson; he +was more like a pirate. If at any time the devil should feel +lonely, and sigh for a proper mate, Old Pepper would get the +first call. Pacing the Germans wasn't half bad compared with an +interview with that old firebrand.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"If a company or battalion should +give way a few yards against a superior force of Boches, Old +Pepper would send for the commanding officer. In about half an +hour the officer would come back with his face the color of a +brick, and in a few hours, what was left of his command, would be +holding their original position.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"I have seen an officer, who +wouldn't say 'damn' for a thousand quid, spend five minutes with +the old boy, and when he returned, the flow of language from his +lips would make a navvy blush for shame.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"What I am going to tell you is how +two of us put it over on the old scamp, and got away with it. It +was a risky thing, too, because Old Pepper wouldn't have been +exactly mild with us if he had got next to the game.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Me and my mate, a lad named Harry +Cassell, a Bombardier in D 238 Battery, or Lance-Corporal, as you +call it in the infantry, used to relieve the telephonists. We +would do two hours on and four off. I would be on duty in the +advanced observation post, while he would be at the other end of +the wire in the battery dugout signaling station. We were +supposed to send through orders for the battery to fire when +ordered to do so by the observation officer in the advanced post. +But very few messages were sent. It was only in case of an actual +attack that we would get a chance to earn our 'two and six' a +day. You see, Old Pepper had issued orders not to fire except +when the orders came from him. And with Old Pepper orders is +orders, and made to obey.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"The Germans must have known about +these orders, for even in the day their transports and troops +used to expose themselves as if they were on parade. This sure +got up our nose, sitting there day after day, with fine targets +in front of us but unable to send over a shell. We heartily +cussed Old Pepper, his orders, the government, the people at +home, and everything in general. But the Boches didn't mind +cussing, and got very careless. Blime me, they were bally +insulting. Used to, when using a certain road, throw their caps +into the air as a taunt at our helplessness.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Cassell had been a telegrapher in +civil life and joined up when war was declared. As for me, I knew +Morse, learned it at the Signaler's School back in 1910. With an +officer in the observation post, we could not carry on the kind +of conversation that's usual between two mates, so we used the +Morse code. To send, one of us would tap the transmitter with his +finger nails, and the one on the other end would get it through +the receiver. Many an hour was whiled away in this manner passing +compliments back and forth.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"In the observation post, the +officer used to sit for hours with a powerful pair of field +glasses to his eyes. Through a cleverly concealed loophole he +would scan the ground behind the German trenches, looking for +targets, and finding many. This officer, Captain A-- by name, had +a habit of talking out loud to himself. Sometimes he would vent +his opinion, same as a common private does when he's wrought up. +Once upon a time the Captain had been on Old Pepper's staff, so +he could cuss and blind in the most approved style. Got to be +sort of a habit with him.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"About six thousand yards from us, +behind the German lines, was a road in plain view of our post. +For the last three days, Fritz had brought companies of troops +down this road in broad daylight. They were never shelled. +Whenever this happened, the Captain would froth at the mouth and +let out a volume of Old Pepper's religion which used to make me +love him.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Every battery has a range chart on +which distinctive landmarks are noted, with the range for each. +These landmarks are called targets, and are numbered. On our +battery's chart, that road was called 'Target Seventeen, Range +6000, three degrees, thirty minutes left'. D 238 Battery +consisted of four '4.5' howitzers, and fired a thirty-five pound +H. E. shell. As you know, H. E. means 'high explosive'. I don't +like bumming up my own battery, but we had a record in the +Division for direct hits, and our boys were just pining away for +a chance to exhibit their skill in the eyes of Fritz.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"On the afternoon of the fourth day +of Fritz's contemptuous use of the road mentioned, the Captain +and I were at our posts as usual. Fritz was strafing us pretty +rough, just like he's doing now. The shells were playing leapfrog +all through that orchard.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"I was carrying on a conversation +in our 'tap' code with Cassell at the other end. It ran something +like this:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"'Say, Cassell, how would you like +to be in the saloon bar of the King's Arms down Rye Lane with a +bottle of Bass in front of you, and that blonde barmaid waiting +to fill 'em up again?'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Cassell had a fancy for that +particular blonde. The answer came back in the shape of a volley +of cusses. I changed the subject.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"After awhile our talk veered round +to the way the Boches had been exposing themselves on the road +known on the chart as Target Seventeen. What we said about those +Boches would never have passed the Reichstag, though I believe it +would have gone through our Censor easily enough.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"The bursting shells were making +such a din that I packed up talking and took to watching the +Captain. He was fidgeting around on an old sandbag with the glass +to his eye. Occasionally he would let out a grunt, and make some +remark I couldn't hear on account of the noise, but I guessed +what it was all right. Fritz was getting fresh again on that +road.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Cassell had been sending in the +'tap code' to me, but I was fed up and didn't bother with it. +Then he sent O. S., and I was all attention, for this was a call +used between us which meant that something important was on. I +was all ears in an instant. Then Cassell turned loose.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"'You blankety-blank dud, I have +been trying to raise you for fifteen minutes. What's the matter, +are you asleep?' (Just as if anyone could have slept in that +infernal racket!) 'Never mind framing a nasty answer. Just +listen.'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"'Are you game for putting +something over on the Boches, and Old Pepper all in one?'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"I answered that I was game enough +when it came to putting it over the Boches, but confessed that I +had a weakening of the spine, even at the mention of Old Pepper's +name.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"He came back with, 'It's so +absurdly easy and simple that there is no chance of the old +heathen rumbling it. Anyway, if we're caught, I'll take the +blame.'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Under those conditions I told him +to spit out his scheme. It was so daring and simple that it took +my breath away. This is what he proposed:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"If the Boches should use that road +again, to send by the tap system the target and range. I had +previously told him about our Captain talking out loud as if he +were sending through orders. Well, if this happened, I was to +send the dope to Cassell and he would transmit it to the Battery +Commander as officially coming through the observation post. Then +the battery would open up. Afterwards, during the investigation, +Cassell would swear he received it direct. They would have to +believe him, because it was impossible from his post in the +battery dugout to know that the road was being used at that time +by the Germans. And also it was impossible for him to give the +target, range, and degrees. You know a battery chart is not +passed around among the men like a newspaper from Blighty. From +him, the investigation would go to the observation post, and the +observing officer could truthfully swear that I had not sent the +message by 'phone' and that no orders to fire had been issued by +him. The investigators would then be up in the air, we would be +safe, the Boches would receive a good bashing, and we would get +our own back on Old Pepper. It was too good to be true. I +gleefully fell in with the scheme, and told Cassell I was his +meat.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Then I waited with beating heart, +and watched the Captain like a hawk.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"He was beginning to fidget again +and was drumming on the sandbags with his feet. At last, turning +to me, he said:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"'Wilson, this army is a blankety +blank washout. What's the use of having artillery if it is not +allowed to fire? The government at home ought to be hanged with +some of their red tape. It's through them that we have no +shells!'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"I answered, 'Yes sir,' and started +sending this opinion over the wire to Cassell, but the Captain +interrupted me with:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">'Keep those infernal fingers still. +What's the matter, getting the nerves? When I'm talking to you, +pay attention.'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"My heart sank. Supposing he had +rumbled that tapping, then all would be up with our plan. I +stopped drumming with my fingers, and said:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">" 'Beg your pardon, sir, just a +habit with me.'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"'And a damned silly one, too,' he +answered, turning to his glasses again, and I knew I was safe. He +had not tumbled to the meaning of that tapping.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"All at once, without turning +round, he exclaimed: 'Well, of all the nerve I've ever +run across, this takes the cake. Those - - Boches are using that +road again. Blind my eyes, this time it is a whole Brigade of +them, transports and all. What a pretty target for our '4.5's.' +The beggars know we won't fire. A damned shame I call it. Oh, just +for a chance to turn D 238 loose on them.'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"I was trembling with excitement. +From repeated stolen glances at the Captain's range chart, that +road with its range was burned into my mind.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Over the wire I tapped, 'D 238 +Battery, Target Seventeen, Range 6000, three degrees, thirty +minutes, left, Salvo, Fire.' Cassell O. E.'d my message, and with +the receiver pressed against my ear, I waited and listened. In a +couple of minutes very faintly over the wire came the voice of +our Battery Commander issuing the order:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">'D 238 Battery. Salvo! Fire!'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Then a roar through the receiver +as the four guns belched forth, a screaming and whistling +overhead, and the shells were on their way.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"The Captain jumped as if he were +shot, and let out a great big expressive Damn, and eagerly turned +his glasses in the direction of the German road. I also strained +my eyes watching that target. Four black clouds of dust rose up +right in the middle of the German column. Four direct +hits-another record for D 238.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"The shells kept on whistling +overhead, and I had counted twenty-four of them when the firing +suddenly ceased. When the smoke and dust clouds lifted, the +destruction on that road was awful. Overturned limbers and guns, +wagons smashed up, troops fleeing in all directions. The road and +roadside were spotted all over with little field gray dots, the +toll of our guns.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"The Captain, in his excitement, +had slipped off the sandbag, and was on his knees in the mud, the +glass still at his eye. He was muttering to himself and slapping +his thigh with his disengaged hand. At every slap a big round +juicy cuss word would escape from his lips followed by:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"'Good, Fine, Marvelous, Pretty +Work, Direct Hits, All!</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Then he turned to me and +shouted:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"'Wilson, what do you think of it? +Did you ever see the like of it in your life? Damn fine work, I +call it.'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Pretty soon a look of wonder stole +over his face, and he exclaimed:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"'But who in hell gave them the +order to fire. Range and everything correct, too. I know I +didn't. Wilson, did I give you any order for the Battery to open +up? Of course, I didn't, did I?'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"I answered very emphatically, 'No, +sir, you gave no command. Nothing went through this post. I am +absolutely certain on that point, sir.'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"'Of course nothing went through!' +he replied. Then his face fell, and he muttered out loud:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"'But, by Jove, wait till Old +Pepper gets wind of this. There'll be fur flying.'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Just then Bombardier Cassell cut +in on the wire:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">" 'General's compliments to Captain +A--. He directs that officer and signaler report at the double to +Brigade Headquarters as soon as relieved. Relief is now on the +way.'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"In an undertone to me, 'Keep a +brass front, Wilson, and for God's sake, stick.' I answered with, +'Rely on me, mate,' but I was trembling all over.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"I gave the General's message to +the Captain, and started packing up.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"The relief arrived, and as we left +the post the Captain said:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"'Now for the fireworks, and I know +they'll be good and plenty.' They were.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"When we arrived at the gun pits, +the Battery Commander, the Sergeant-Major, and Cassell were +waiting for us. We fell in line and the funeral march to Brigade +Headquarters started.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Arriving at Headquarters the +Battery Commander was the first to be interviewed. This was +behind closed doors. From the roaring and explosions of Old +Pepper it sounded as if raw meat was being thrown to the lions. +Cassell, later, described it as sounding like a bombing raid. In +about two minutes the officer reappeared. The sweat was pouring +from his forehead, and his face was the color of a beet. He was +speechless. As he passed the Captain he jerked his thumb in the +direction of the lion's den and went out. Then the Captain went +in, and the lions were once again fed. The Captain stayed about +twenty minutes and came out. I couldn't see his face, but the +droop in his shoulders was enough. He looked like a wet hen.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"The door of the General's room +opened, and Old Pepper stood in the doorway. With a roar he +shouted:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"'Which one of you is Cassell? Damn +me, get your heels together when I speak! Come in here!'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Cassell started to say, 'Yes, +sir.'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"But Old Pepper roared, 'Shut +up!'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Cassell came out in five minutes. +He said nothing, but as he passed me, he put his tongue into his +cheek and winked, then turning to the closed door, he stuck his +thumb to his nose and left.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Then the Sergeant-Major's turn +came. He didn't come out our way. Judging by the roaring, Old +Pepper must have eaten him.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"When the door opened, and the +General beckoned to me, my knees started to play Home, Sweet Home +against each other.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"My interview was very short.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Old Pepper glared at me when I +entered, and then let loose.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"'Of course you don't know anything +about it. You're just like the rest. Ought to have a nursing +bottle around your neck, and a nipple in your teeth. Soldiers, by +gad, you turn my stomach to look at you. Win this war, when +England sends out such samples as I have in my Brigade! Not +likely! Now, sir, tell me what you don't know about this affair. +Speak up, out with it. Don't be gaping at me like a fish. Spit it +out.'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"I stammered, 'Sir, I know +absolutely nothing.'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">'"That's easy to see,' he roared; +'that stupid face tells me that. Shut up. Get out; but I think +you are a damned liar just the same. Back to your battery.'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"I saluted and made my exit.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"That night the Captain sent for +us. With fear and trembling we went to his dugout. He was alone. +After saluting, we stood at attention in front of him and waited. +His say was short.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"'Don't you two ever get it into +your heads that Morse is a dead language. I've known it for +years. The two of you had better get rid of that nervous habit of +tapping transmitters; it's dangerous. That's all.'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"We saluted, and were just going +out the door of the dugout when the Captain called us back, and +said:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">'"Smoke Goldflakes? Yes? Well there +are two tins of them on my table. Go back to the battery, and +keep your tongues between your teeth. Understand?'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"We understood.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"But five weeks afterwards our +battery did nothing but extra fatigues. We were satisfied and so +were the men. It was worth it to put one over on Old Pepper, to +say nothing of the injury caused to Fritz's feelings."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When Wilson had finished his story +I looked up, and the dugout was jammed. An artillery Captain and +two officers had also entered and stayed for the finish. Wilson +spat out an enormous quid of tobacco, looked up, saw the Captain, +and got as red as a carnation. The Captain smiled and left. +Wilson whispered to me:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Blime me, Yank, I see where I +click for crucifixion. That Captain is the same one that chucked +us the Goldflakes in his dugout and here I have been chucking me +weight about in his hearing!"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Wilson never clicked his +crucifixion.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Quite a contrast to Wilson was +another character in our Brigade named Scott, we called him "Old +Scotty" on account of his age. He was fifty-seven, although +looking forty. "Old Scotty " had been born in the Northwest and +had served with the Northwest Mounted Police. He was a typical +cow-puncher and Indian fighter and was a dead shot with the +rifle, and took no pains to disguise this fact from us. He used +to take care of his rifle as if it were a baby. In his spare +moments you could always see him cleaning it or polishing the +stock. Woe betide the man, who by mistake, happened to get hold +of this rifle; he soon found out his error. Scott was as deaf as +a mule, and it was amusing at parade to watch him in the manual +of arms, slyly glancing out of the corner of his eye at the man +next to him to see what the order was. How he passed the doctor +was a mystery to us, he must have bluffed his way through, +because he certainly was independent. Beside him the Fourth of +July looked like Good Friday. He wore at the time a large +sombrero, had a Mexican stock saddle over his shoulder, a lariat +on his arm, and a "forty-five" hanging from his hip. Dumping this +paraphernalia on the floor he went up to the recruiting officer +and shouted: "I'm from America, west of the Rockies, and want to +join your damned army. I've got no use for a German and can shoot +some. At Scotland Yard they turned me down; said I was deaf and +so I am. I don't hanker to ship in with a damned mud crunching +outfit, but the cavalry's full, so I guess this regiment's better +than none, so trot out your papers and I'll sign 'em." He told +them he was forty and slipped by. I was on recruiting service at +the time he applied for enlistment.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It was Old Scotty's great ambition +to be a sniper or "body snatcher" as Mr. Atkins calls it. The day +that he was detailed as Brigade Sniper, he celebrated his +appointment by blowing the whole platoon to fags.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Being a Yank, Old Scotty took a +liking to me and used to spin some great yams about the plains, +and the whole platoon would drink these in and ask for more. +Ananias was a rookie compared with him.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The ex-plainsman and discipline +could not agree, but the officers all liked him, even if he was +hard to manage. So when he was detailed as a sniper, a sigh of +relief went up from the officers' mess.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Old Scotty had the freedom of the +Brigade. He used to draw two or three days' rations and disappear +with his glass, range finder, and rifle, and we would see or hear +no more of him, until suddenly he would reappear with a couple of +notches added to those already on the butt of his rifle. Every +time he got a German it meant another notch. He was proud of +these notches.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">But after a few months Father +Rheumatism got him and he was sent to Blighty; the air in the +wake of his stretcher was blue with curses. Old Scotty surely +could swear; some of his outbursts actually burned you.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">No doubt, at this writing he is +"somewhere in Blighty" pussy footing it on a bridge or along the +wall of some munition plant with the "G. R," or Home Defence +Corps.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XVII<br/> +OUT IN FRONT</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After tea, Lieutenant Stores of our +section came into the dugout and informed me that I was "for" a +reconnoitering patrol and would carry six Mills bombs.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At 11.30 that night twelve men, our +Lieutenant, and myself went out in front on a patrol in No Man's +Land.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We cruised around in the dark for +about two hours, just knocking about looking for trouble, on the +lookout for Boche working parties to see what they were +doing.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Around two in the morning we were +carefully picking our way, about thirty yards in front of the +German barbed wire, when we walked into a Boche covering party +nearly thirty strong. Then the music started, the fiddler +rendered his bill, and we paid.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Fighting in the dark with a bayonet +is not very pleasant. The Germans took it on the run, but our +officer was no novice at the game and didn't follow them. He gave +the order "down on the ground, hug it close."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Just in time, too, because a volley +skimmed over our heads. Then in low tones we were told to +separate and crawl back to our trenches, each man on his own.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We could see the flashes of their +rifles in the darkness, but the bullets were going over our +heads.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We lost three men killed and one +wounded in the arm. If it hadn't been for our officers' quick +thinking the whole patrol would have probably been wiped out.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After about twenty minutes' wait we +went out again and discovered that the Germans had a wiring party +working on their barbed wire. We returned to our trenches +unobserved with the information and our machine guns immediately +got busy.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The next night four men were sent +out to go over and examine the German barbed wire and see if they +had cut lanes through it; if so, this presaged an early morning +attack on our trenches.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Of course, I had to be one of the +four selected for the job. It was just like sending a fellow to +the undertakers to order his own coffin.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At ten o'clock we started out, +armed with three bombs, a bayonet, and revolver. After getting +into No Man's Land we separated. Crawling four or five feet at a +time, ducking star shells, with strays cracking over head, I +reached their wire. I scouted along this inch by inch, scarcely +breathing. I could hear them talking in their trench, my heart +was pounding against my ribs. One false move or the least noise +from me meant discovery and almost certain death.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After covering my sector I quietly +crawled back. I had gotten about half-way, when I noticed that my +revolver was missing. It was pitch dark. I turned about to see if +I could find it; it couldn't be far away, because about three or +four minutes previously I had felt the butt in the holster. I +crawled around in circles and at last found it, then started on +my way back to our trenches, as I thought.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Pretty soon I reached barbed wire, +and was just going to give the password, when something told me +not to. I put out my hand and touched one of the barbed wire +stakes. It was iron. The British are of wood, while the German +are iron. My heart stopped beating; by mistake I had crawled back +to the German lines.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I turned slowly about and my tunic +caught on the wire and made a loud ripping noise.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A sharp challenge rang out. I +sprang to my feet, ducking low, and ran madly back toward our +lines. The Germans started firing. The bullets were biting all +around me, when bang! I ran smash into our wire, and a sharp +challenge " 'Alt, who comes there?" rang out. I gasped out the +password and groping my way through the lane in the wire, tearing +my hands and uniform, I tumbled into our trench and was safe, but +I was a nervous wreck for an hour, until a drink of rum brought +me round.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII<br/> +STAGED UNDER FIRE</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Three days after the incident just +related our Company was relieved from the front line and carried +out. We stayed in reserve billets for about two weeks when we +received the welcome news that our division would go back of the +line "to rest billets." We would remain in these billets for at +least two months, this in order to be restored to our full +strength by drafts of recruits from Blighty.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Everyone was happy and contented at +these tidings; all you could hear around the billets was +whistling and singing. The day after the receipt of the order we +hiked for five days, making an average of about twelve kilos per +day until we arrived at the small town of 0'--.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It took us about three days to get +settled and from then on our cushy time started. We would parade +from 8.45 in the morning until 12 noon. Then except for an +occasional billet or brigade guard we were on our own. For the +first four or five afternoons I spent my time in bringing up to +date my neglected correspondence.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Tommy loves to be amused, and being +a Yank, they turned to me for something new in this line. I +taught them how to pitch horseshoes, and this game made a great +hit for about ten days. Then Tommy turned to America for a new +diversion. I was up in the air until a happy thought came to me. +Why not write a sketch and break Tommy in as an actor?</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">One evening after "Lights +out," when you are not supposed to talk, I imparted +my scheme in whispers to the section. They eagerly accepted the +idea of forming a Stock Company and could hardly wait until the +morning for further details.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After parade, the next afternoon I +was almost mobbed. Everyone in the section wanted a part in the +proposed sketch. When I informed them that it would take at least +ten days of hard work to write the plot, they were bitterly +disappointed. I immediately got busy, made a desk out of biscuit +tins in the corner of the billet, and put up a sign "Empey & +Wallace Theatrical Co." About twenty of the section, upon reading +this sign, immediately applied for the position of office boy. I +accepted the twenty applicants, and sent them on scouting parties +throughout the deserted French village. These parties were to +search all the attics for discarded civilian clothes, and +anything that we could use in the props of our proposed +Company.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">About five that night they returned +covered with grime and dust, but loaded down with a miscellaneous +assortment of everything under the sun. They must have thought +that I was going to start a department store, judging from the +different things they brought back from their pillage.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After eight days' constant writing +I completed a two-act farce comedy which I called The Diamond +Palace Saloon. Upon the suggestion of one of the boys in the +section I sent a proof of the program to a printing house in +London. Then I assigned the different parts and started +rehearsing. David Belasco would have thrown up his hands in +despair at the material which I had to use. Just imagine trying +to teach a Tommy, with a strong cockney accent, to impersonate a +Bowery Tough or a Southern Negro.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Adjacent to our billet was an open +field. We got busy at one end of it and constructed a stage. We +secured the lumber for the stage by demolishing an old wooden +shack in the rear of our billet.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The first scene was supposed to +represent a street on the Bowery in New York. While the scene of +the second act was the interior of the Diamond Palace Saloon, +also on the Bowery.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In the play I took the part of Abe +Switch, a farmer, who had come from Pumpkinville Center, +Tennessee, to make his first visit to New York.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In the first scene Abe Switch meets +the proprietor of the Diamond Palace Saloon, a ramshackle affair +which to the owner was a financial loss.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The proprietor's name was Tom +Twistem, his bartender being named Fillem Up.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After meeting Abe, Tom and Fillem +Up persuaded him to buy the place, praising it to the skies and +telling wondrous tales of the money taken over the bar.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">While they are talking, an old Jew +named Ikey Cohenstein comes along, and Abe engages him for +cashier. After engaging Ikey they meet an old Southern Negro +called Sambo, and upon the suggestion of Ikey he is engaged as +porter. Then the three of them, arm in arm, leave to take +possession of this wonderful palace which Abe had just paid +$6,000 for. (Curtain.)</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/138_1.jpg" width="417" height="647" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/138_2.jpg" width="421" height="673" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/138_3.jpg" width="420" height="673" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/138_4.jpg" width="420" height="673" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In the second act the curtain rises +on the interior of the Diamond Palace Saloon, and the audience +gets its first shock. The saloon looks like a pig-pen, two tramps +lying drunk on the floor, and the bartender in a dirty shirt with +his sleeves rolled up, asleep with his head on the bar.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Enter Abe, Sambo, and Ikey, and the +fun commences.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">One of the characters in the second +act was named Broadway Kate, and I had an awful job to break in +one of the Tommies to act and talk like a woman.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Another character was Alkali Ike, +an Arizona cow-boy, who just before the close of the play comes +into the saloon and wrecks it with his revolver.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We had eleven three-hour rehearsals +before I thought it advisable to present the sketch to the +public.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The whole Brigade was crazy to +witness the first performance. This performance was scheduled for +Friday night and everyone was full of anticipation; when bang! +orders came through that the Brigade would move at two that +afternoon. Cursing and blinding was the order of things upon the +receipt of this order, but we moved.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">That night we reached the little +village of S-- and again went into rest billets. We were to be +there two weeks. Our Company immediately got busy and scoured the +village for a suitable place in which to present our production. +Then we received another shock.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A rival company was already +established in the village. They called themselves "The Bow +Bells," and put on a sketch entitled 'Blighty -- What Hopes?' +They were the Divisional Concert Party.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We hoped they all would be soon in +Blighty to give us a chance.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">This company charged an admission +of a franc per head, and that night our company went en masse to +see their performance. It really was good.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I had a sinking sensation when I +thought of running my sketch in opposition to it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In one of their scenes they had a +soubrette called Flossie. The soldier that took this part was +clever and made a fine appearing and chic girl. We immediately +fell in love with her until two days after, while we were on a +march, we passed Flossie with her sleeves rolled up and the sweat +pouring from her face unloading shells from a motor lorry.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">As our section passed her I yelled +out: "Hello, Flossie, Blighty -- What Hopes?" Her reply made our +love die out instantly.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Ah, go to hell!"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">This brought quite a laugh from the +marching column directed at me, and I instantly made up my mind +that our sketch should immediately run in opposition to 'Blighty +-- What Hopes?'</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When we returned to our billet from +the march, Curley Wallace, my theatrical partner, came running +over to me and said he had found a swanky place in which to +produce our show.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After taking off my equipment, and +followed by the rest of the section, I went over to the building +he had picked out. It was a monstrous barn with a platform at one +end which would make an ideal stage. The section got right on the +job, and before night had that place rigged out in apple-pie +order.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The next day was Sunday and after +church parade we put all our time on a dress rehearsal, and it +went fine.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I made four or five large signs +announcing that our company would open up that evening at the +King George the Fifth Theatre, on the corner of Ammo Street and +Sandbag Terrace. General admission was one half franc. First ten +rows in orchestra one franc, and boxes two francs. By this time +our printed programs had returned from London, and I further +announced that on the night of the first performance a program +would be given free of charge to men holding tickets costing a +franc or over.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We had an orchestra of seven men +and seven different instruments. This orchestra was excellent, +while they were not playing.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The performance was scheduled to +start at 6 P.M.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At 5.15 there was a mob in front of +our one entrance and it looked like a big night. We had two boxes +each accommodating four people, and these we immediately sold +out. Then a brilliant idea came to Ikey Cohenstein. Why not use +the rafters overhead, call them boxes, and charge two francs for +a seat on them? The only difficulty was how were the men to reach +these boxes, but to Ikey this was a mere detail.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He got long ropes and tied one end +around each rafter and then tied a lot of knots in the ropes. +These ropes would take the place of stairways.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We figured out that the rafters +would seat about forty men and sold that number of tickets +accordingly,</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When the ticket-holders for the +boxes got a glimpse of the rafters and were informed that they +had to use the rope stairway, there was a howl of indignation, +but we had their money and told them that if they did not like it +they could write to the management later and their money would be +refunded; but under these conditions they would not be allowed to +witness the performance that night.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After a little grousing they +accepted the situation with the promise that if the show was +rotten they certainly would let us know about it during the +performance,</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Everything went lovely and it was a +howling success, until Alkali Ike appeared on the scene with his +revolver loaded with blank cartridges. Behind the bar on a shelf +was a long line of bottles. Alkali Ike was supposed to start on +the left of this line and break six of the bottles by firing at +them with his revolver. Behind these bottles a piece of painted +canvas was supposed to represent the back of the bar, at each +shot from Alkali's pistol a man behind the scenes would hit one +of the bottles with his entrenching tool handle and smash it, to +give the impression that Alkali was a good shot.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Alkali Ike started in and aimed at +the right of the line of bottles instead of the left, and the +poor boob behind the scenes started breaking the bottles on the +left, and then the box-holders turned loose; but outside of this +little fiasco the performance was a huge success, and we decided +to run it for a week. New troops were constantly coming through, +and for six performances we had the "S. R. O." sign suspended +outside.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XIX<br/> +ON HIS OWN</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Of course Tommy cannot always be +producing plays under fire but while in rest billets he has +numerous other ways of amusing himself. He is a great gambler, +but never plays for large stakes. Generally, in each Company, you +will find a regular Canfield. This man banks nearly all the games +of chance and is an undisputed authority on the rules of +gambling. Whenever there is an argument among the Tommies about +some uncertain point as to whether Houghton is entitled to +"Watkins" sixpence, the matter is taken to the recognized +authority and his decision is final.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The two most popular games are +"Crown and Anchor" and "House."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The paraphernalia used in "Crown +and Anchor" consists of a piece of canvas two feet by three feet. +This is divided into six equal squares. In these squares are +painted a club, diamond, heart, spade, crown, and an anchor, one +device to a square. There are three dice used, each dice marked +the same as the canvas. The banker sets up his gambling outfit in +the corner of a billet and starts bally-hooing until a crowd of +Tommies gather around; then the game starts.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Tommies place bets on the +squares, the crown or anchor being played the most. The banker +then rolls his three dice and collects or pays out as the case +may be. If you play the crown and one shows up on the dice, you +get even money, if two show up, you receive two to one, and if +three, three to one. If the crown does not appear and you have +bet on it, you lose, and so on. The percentage for the banker is +large if every square is played, but if the crowd is partial to, +say, two squares, he has to trust to luck. The banker generally +wins.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The game of "House" is very popular +also. It takes two men to run it. This game consists of numerous +squares of cardboard containing three rows of numbers, five +numbers to a row. The numbers run from one to ninety. Each card +has a different combination.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The French estaminets in the +villages are open from eleven in the morning until one in the +afternoon in accordance with army orders.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After dinner the Tommies congregate +at these places to drink French beer at a penny a glass and play +"House."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">As soon as the estaminet is +sufficiently crowded the proprietors of the "House Game" get busy +and as they term it "form a school." This consists of going +around and selling cards at a franc each. If they have ten in the +school, the backers of the game deduct two francs for their +trouble and the winner gets eight francs.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then the game starts. Each buyer +places his card before him on the table, first breaking up +matches into fifteen pieces</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">One of the backers of the game has +a small cloth bag in which are ninety cardboard squares, each with +a number printed thereon, from one to ninety. He raps on the +table and cries out, "Eyes down, my lucky lads."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">All noise ceases and everyone is +attention.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The croupier places his hand in the +bag and draws forth a numbered square and immediately calls out +the number. The man who owns the card with that particular number +on it, covers the square with a match. The one who covers the +fifteen numbers on his card first shouts "House." The other +backer immediately comes over to him and verifies the card, by +calling out the numbers thereon to the man with the bag. As each +number is called he picks it out of the ones picked from the bag +and says, "Right." If the count is right he shouts, "House +correct, pay the lucky gentleman, and sell him a card for the +next school." The "lucky gentleman" generally buys one unless he +has a Semitic trace in his veins.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then another collection is made, a +school formed, and they carry on with the game.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The caller-out has many nicknames +for the numbers such as "Kelly's Eye" for one, "Leg's +Eleven" for eleven, "Clickety-click" for sixty-six, or "Top of +the house" meaning ninety.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The game is honest and quite +enjoyable. Sometimes you have fourteen numbers on your card +covered and you are waiting for the fifteenth to be called. In an +imploring voice you call out, "Come on, Watkins, chum, I'm +sweating on 'Kelly's Eye.'"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Watkins generally replies, "Well +keep out of a draught, you'll catch cold."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Another game is "Pontoon" played +with cards; it is the same as our "Black Jack," or "Twenty-one."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A card game called "Brag" is also +popular. Using a casino deck, the dealer deals each player three +cards. It is similar to our poker, except for the fact that you +only use three cards and cannot draw. The deck is never shuffled +until a man shows three of a kind or a "prile" as it is called. +The value of the hands are, high card, a pair, a run, a flush or +three of a kind or "prile." The limit is generally a penny, so it +is hard to win a fortune.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The next in popularity is a card +game called "Nap." It is well named. Every time I played it I +went to sleep.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Whist and Solo Whist are played by +the high-brows of the Company.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When the gamblers tire of all other +games they try "Banker and Broker."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I spent a week trying to teach some +of the Tommies how to play poker, but because I won thirty-five +francs they declared that they didn't "Fawncy" the game.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Tommy plays few card games; the +general run never heard of poker, euchre, seven up, or pinochle. +They have a game similar to pinochle called "Royal Bezique," but +few know how to play it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Generally there are two decks of +cards in a section, and in a short time they are so dog-eared and +greasy, you can hardly tell the ace of spades from the ace of +hearts. The owners of these decks sometimes condescend to lend +them after much coaxing.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">So you see, Mr. Atkins has his fun +mixed in with his hardships, and, contrary to popular belief, the +rank and file of the British Army in the trenches is one big +happy family. Now in Virginia, at school, I was fed on old +McGuffy's primary reader, which gave me an opinion of an +Englishman about equal to a '76 Minute Man's backed up by a Sinn +Feiner's. But I found Tommy to be the best of mates and a +gentleman through and through. He never thinks of knocking his +officers. If one makes a costly mistake and Tommy pays with his +blood, there is no general condemnation of the officer. He is +just pitied. It is exactly the same as it was with the Light +Brigade at Balaclava, to say nothing of Gallipoli, Neuve +Chapelle, and Loos. Personally I remember a little incident where +twenty of us were sent on a trench raid, only two of us +returning, but I will tell this story later on.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I said it was a big happy family, +and so it is, but as in all happy families, there are servants, +so in the British Army there are also servants, officers' +servants, or "O. S." as they are termed. In the American Army the +common name for them is</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/150.jpg" width="412" height="681" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"dog robbers." From a controversy +in the English papers, Winston Churchill made the statement, as +far as I can remember, that the officers' servants in the British +forces totaled nearly two hundred thousand. He claimed that this +removed two hundred thousand exceptionally good and well-trained +fighters from the actual firing line, claiming that the officers, +when selecting a man for servant's duty, generally picked the man +who had been out the longest and knew the ropes.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">But from my observation I find that +a large percentage of the servants do go over the top, but behind +the lines, they very seldom engage in digging parties, fatigues, +parades, or drills. This work is as necessary as actually +engaging in an attack, therefore I think that it would be safe to +say that the all-round work of the two hundred thousand is about +equal to fifty thousand men who are on straight military duties. +In numerous instances, officers' servants hold the rank of +lance-corporals and they assume the same duties and authority of +a butler. The one stripe giving him precedence over the other +servants.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">There are lots of amusing stories +told of "O. S." One day one of our majors went into the servants' +billet and commenced "blinding" at them, saying that his horse +had no straw, and that he personally knew that straw had been +issued for this purpose. He called the lance-corporal to account. +The Corporal answered, "Blime me, sir, the straw was issued, but +there wasn't enough left over from the servants' beds; in fact, +we had to use some of the 'ay to 'elp out, sir."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It is needless to say that the +servants dispensed with their soft beds that particular +night.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Nevertheless it is not the fault of +the individual officer, it is just the survival of a quaint old +English custom. You know an Englishman cannot be changed in a +day.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">But the average English officer is +a good sport, he will sit on a fire step and listen respectfully +to Private Jones's theory of the way the war should be conducted. +This war is gradually crumbling the once unsurmountable wall of +caste.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">You would be convinced of this if +you could seem King George go among his men on an inspecting tour +under fire, or pause before a little wooden cross in some +shell-tossed field with tears in his eyes as he reads the +inscription. And a little later perhaps bend over a wounded man +on a stretcher, patting him on the head.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">More than once in a hospital I have +seen a titled Red Cross nurse fetching and carrying for a wounded +soldier, perhaps the one who in civil life delivered the coal at +her back door. Today she does not shrink from lighting his fag or +even washing his grimy body.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Tommy admires Albert of Belgium +because he is not a pusher of men, he LEADS them. With him it's +not a case of "take that trench" -- it is "come on and we will +take it."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It is amusing to notice the +different characteristics of the Irish, Scotch, and English +soldiers. The Irish and Scotch are very impetuous, especially +when it comes to bayonet fighting, while the Englishman, though a +trifle slower, thoroughly does his bit; he is more methodical and +has the grip of a bulldog on a captured position. He is slower to +think, that is the reason why he never knows when he is +licked.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Twenty minutes before going over +the top the English Tommy will sit on the fire step and +thoroughly examine the mechanism of his rifle to see that it is +in working order and will fire properly. After this examination +he is satisfied and ready to meet the Boches.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">But the Irishman or Scotchman sits +on the fire step, his rifle with bayonet fixed between his knees, +the butt of which perhaps is sinking into the mud, -- the bolt +couldn't be opened with a team of horses it is so rusty, -- but +he spits on his sleeve and slowly polishes his bayonet; when this +is done he also is ready to argue with Fritz.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It is not necessary to mention the +Colonials (the Canadians, Australians, and New Zealanders), the +whole world knows what they have done for England.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Australian and New Zealander is +termed the "Anzac," taking the name from the first letters of +their official designation, Australian and New Zealand Army +Corps.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Tommy divides the German army into +three classes according to their fighting abilities. They rank as +follows, Prussians, Bavarians, and Saxons.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When up against a Prussian regiment +it is a case of keep your napper below the parapet and duck. A +bang-bang all the time and a war is on. The Bavarians are little +better, but the Saxons are fairly good sports and are willing +occasionally to behave as gentlemen and take it easy, but you +cannot trust any of them overlong.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At one point of the line the +trenches were about thirty-two yards apart. This sounds horrible, +but in fact it was easy, because neither side could shell the +enemy's front-line trench for fear shells would drop into their +own. This eliminated artillery fire.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In these trenches when up against +the Prussians and Bavarians, Tommy had a hot time of it, but when +the Saxons "took over" it was a picnic, they would yell across +that they were Saxons and would not fire. Both sides would sit on +the parapet and carry on a conversation. This generally consisted +of Tommy telling them how much he loved the Kaiser while the +Saxons informed Tommy that King George was a particular friend of +theirs and hoped that he was doing nicely.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When the Saxons were to be relieved +by Prussians or Bavarians, they would yell this information +across No Man's Land and Tommy would immediately tumble into his +trench and keep his head down.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">If an English regiment was to be +relieved by the wild Irish, Tommy would tell the Saxons, and +immediately a volley of "Donner und Blitzen's" could be heard, +and it was Fritz's turn to get a crick in his back from stooping, +and the people in Berlin would close their windows.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Usually when an Irishman takes over +a trench, just before "stand down" in the morning, he sticks his +rifle over the top aimed in the direction of Berlin and engages +in what is known as the "mad minute." This consists of firing +fifteen shots in a minute. He is not aiming at anything in +particular, -- just sends over each shot with a prayer, hoping +that one of his strays will get some poor unsuspecting Fritz in +the napper hundreds of yards behind the lines. It generally does; +that's the reason the Boches hate the man from Erin's Isle.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Saxons, though better than the +Prussians and Bavarians, have a nasty trait of treachery in their +make-up.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At one point of the line where the +trenches were very close, a stake was driven into the ground +midway between the hostile lines. At night when it was his turn, +Tommy would crawl to this stake and attach some London papers to +it, while at the foot he would place tins of bully beef, fags, +sweets, and other delicacies that he had received from Blighty in +the ever looked-for parcel. Later on Fritz would come out and get +these luxuries.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The next night Tommy would go out +to see what Fritz had put into his stocking. The donation +generally consisted of a paper from Berlin, telling who was +winning the war, some tinned sausages, cigars, and occasionally a +little beer, but a funny thing, Tommy never returned with the +beer unless it was inside of him. His platoon got a whiff of his +breath one night and the offending Tommy lost his job.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">One night a young English Sergeant +crawled to the stake and as he tried to detach the German paper a +bomb exploded and mangled him horribly. Fritz had set his trap +and gained another victim which was only one more black mark +against him in the book of this war. From that time on diplomatic +relations were severed.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Returning to Tommy, I think his +spirit is best shown in the questions he asks. It is never "who +is going to win" but always "how long will it take?"</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XX<br/> +"CHATS WITH FRITZ"</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We were swimming in money, from the +receipts of our theatrical venture, and had forgotten all about +the war, when an order came through that our Brigade would again +take over their sector of the line.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The day that these orders were +issued, our Captain assembled the company and asked for +volunteers to go to the Machine Gun School at St. Omer. I +volunteered and was accepted.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Sixteen men from our brigade left +for the course in machine gunnery. This course lasted two weeks +and we rejoined our unit and were assigned to the Brigade Machine +Gun Company. It almost broke my heart to leave my company +mates.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The gun we used was the Vickers, +Light .303, water cooled.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I was still a member of the Suicide +Club, having jumped from the frying pan into the fire. I was +assigned to Section I, Gun No. 2, and the first time "in " took +position in the front-line trench.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">During the day our gun would be +dismounted on the fire step ready for instant use. We shared a +dugout with the Lewis gunners, at "stand to" we would mount our +gun on the parapet and go on watch beside it until "stand down" +in the morning, then the gun would be dismounted and again placed +in readiness on the fire step.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We did eight days in the front-line +trench without anything unusual happening outside of the ordinary +trench routine. On the night that we were to "carry out," a +bombing raid against the German lines was pulled off. This +raiding party consisted of sixty company men, sixteen bombers, +and four Lewis machine guns with their crews.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The raid took the Boches by +surprise and was a complete success, the party bringing back +twenty-one prisoners.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Germans must have been awfully +sore, because they turned loose a barrage of shrapnel, with a few +"Minnies" and "whizz bangs" intermixed. The shells were dropping +into our front line like hailstones.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">To get even, we could have left the +prisoners in the fire trench, in charge of the men on guard and +let them click Fritz's strafeing but Tommy does not treat +prisoners that way.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Five of them were brought into my +dugout and turned over to me so that they would be safe from the +German fire.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In the candlelight, they looked +very much shaken, nerves gone and chalky faces, with the +exception of one, a great big fellow. He looked very much at +ease. I liked him from the start.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I got out the rum jar and gave each +a nip and passed around some fags, the old reliable Woodbines. +The other prisoners looked their gratitude, but the big fellow +said in English, "Thank you, sir, the rum is excellent and I +appreciate it, also your kindness."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He told me his name was Carl +Schmidt, of the 66th Bavarian Light Infantry; that he had lived +six years in New York (knew the city better than I did), had been +to Coney Island and many of our ball games. He was a regular fan. +I couldn't make him believe that Hans Wagner wasn't the best +ball-player in the world.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">From New York he had gone to +London, where he worked as a waiter in the Hotel Russell. Just +before the war he went home to Germany to see his parents, the +war came and he was conscripted.</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/160.jpg" width="563" height="423" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He told me he was very sorry to +hear that London was in ruins from the Zeppelin raids. I could +not convince him otherwise, for hadn't he seen moving pictures in +one of the German cities of St. Paul's Cathedral in ruins.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I changed the subject because he +was so stubborn in his belief. It was my intention to try and +pump him for information as to the methods of the German snipers, +who had been causing us trouble in the last few days.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I broached the subject and he shut +up like a clam. After a few minutes he very innocently said:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"German snipers get paid rewards +for killing the English."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I eagerly asked, "What are +they?"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He answered:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"For killing or wounding an English +private, the sniper gets one mark. For killing or wounding an +English officer he gets five marks, but if he kills a Red Cap or +English General, the sniper gets twenty-one days tied to the +wheel of a limber as punishment for his carelessness."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then he paused, waiting for me to +bite, I suppose.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I bit all right and asked him why +the sniper was, punished for killing an English general. With a +smile he replied:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Well, you see, if all the English +generals were killed, there would be no one left to make costly +mistakes."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I shut him up, he was getting too +fresh for a prisoner. After a while he winked at me and I winked +back, then the escort came to take the prisoners to the rear. I +shook hands and wished him "The best of luck and a safe journey +to Blighty."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I liked that prisoner, he was a +fine fellow, had an Iron Cross, too. I advised him to keep it out +of sight, or some Tommy would be sending it home to his girl in +Blighty as a souvenir.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">One dark and rainy night while on +guard we were looking over the top from the fire step of our +front-line trench, when we heard a noise immediately in front of +our barbed wire. The sentry next to me challenged, "Halt, Who +Comes There?" and brought his rifle to the aim. His challenge was +answered in German. A captain in the next traverse climbed upon +the sandbagged parapet to investigate -- a brave but foolhardly +deed -- "Crack" went a bullet and he tumbled back into the trench +with a hole through his stomach and died a few minutes later. A +lance-corporal in the next platoon was so enraged at the +Captain's death that he chucked a Mills bomb in the direction of +the noise with the shouted warning to us: "Duck your nappers' my +lucky lads." A sharp dynamite report, a flare in front of us, and +then silence.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We immediately sent up two star +shells, and in their light could see two dark forms lying on the +ground close to our wire. A sergeant and four Stretcher-bearers +went out in front and soon returned, carrying two limp bodies. +Down in the dugout, in the flickering light of three candles, we +saw that they were two German officers, one a captain and the +other an unteroffizier, a rank one grade higher than a +sergeant-major, but below the grade of a lieutenant.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Captain's face had been almost +completely torn away by the bomb's explosion. The Unteroffizier +was alive, breathing with difficulty. In a few minutes he opened +his eyes and blinked in the glare of the candles.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The pair had evidently been +drinking heavily, for the alcohol fumes were sickening and +completely pervaded the dugout. I turned away in disgust, hating +to see a man cross the Great Divide full of booze.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">One of our officers could speak +German and he questioned the dying man.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In a faint voice, interrupted by +frequent hiccoughs, the Unteroffizier told his story.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">There had been a drinking bout +among the officers in one of the German dugouts, the main +beverage being champagne. With a drunken leer he informed us that +champagne was plentiful on their side and that it did not cost +them anything either. About seven that night the conversation had +turned to the "contemptible" English, and the Captain had made a +wager that he would hang his cap on the English barbed wire to +show his contempt for the English sentries. The wager was +accepted. At eight o' clock the Captain and he had crept out into +No Man's Land to carry out this wager.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">They had gotten about half way +across when the drink took effect and the Captain fell asleep. +After about two hours of vain attempts the Unteroffizier had at +last succeeded in waking the Captain, reminded him of his bet, +and warned him that he would be the laughingstock of the +officers' mess if he did not accomplish his object, but the +Captain was trembling all over and insisted on returning to the +German lines. In the darkness they lost their bearings and +crawled toward the English trenches. They reached the barbed wire +and were suddenly challenged by our sentry. Being too drunk to +realize that the challenge was in English, the Captain refused to +crawl back. Finally the Unteroffizier convinced his superior that +they were in front of the English wire. Realizing this too late, +the Captain drew his revolver and with a muttered curse crept +blindly toward our trench. His bullet no doubt killed our +Captain.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then the bomb came over and there +he was, dying, -- and a good job too, we thought. The Captain +dead? Well, his men wouldn't weep at the news.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Without giving us any further +information the Unteroffizier died.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We searched the bodies for +identification disks but they had left everything behind before +starting on their foolhardy errand.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Next afternoon we buried them in +our little cemetery apart from the graves of the Tommies. If you +ever go into that cemetery you will see two little wooden crosses +in the corner of the cemetery set away from the rest.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">They read:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Captain</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">German Army</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Died - 1916</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Unknown</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">R. I. P.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Unteroffizier</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">German Army</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Died - 1916</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Unknown</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">R.I.P.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXI<br/> +ABOUT TURN</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The next evening we were relieved +by the --th Brigade, and once again returned to rest billets. Upon +arriving at these billets we were given twenty-four hours in +which to clean up. I had just finished getting the mud from my +uniform when the Orderly Sergeant informed me that my name was in +orders for leave, and that I was to report to the Orderly Room in +the morning for orders, transportation, and rations.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I nearly had a fit, hustled about, +packing up, filling my pack with souvenirs such as shell heads, +dud bombs, nose caps, shrapnel balls, and a Prussian Guardsman's +helmet. In fact, before I turned in that night, I had everything +ready to report at the Orderly Room at nine the next morning.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I was the envy of the whole +section, swanking around, telling of the good time I was going to +have, the places I would visit, and the real, old English beer I +intended to guzzle. Sort of rubbed it into them, because they all +do it, and now that it was my turn, I took pains to get my own +back.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At nine I reported to the Captain, +receiving my travel order and pass. He asked me how much money I +wanted to draw. I glibly answered, "Three hundred francs, sir", +he just as glibly handed me one hundred.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Reporting at Brigade Headquarters, +with my pack weighing a ton, I waited, with forty others for the +Adjutant to inspect us. After an hour's wait, he came out; must +have been sore because he wasn't going with us.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Quartermaster-Sergeant issued +us two days' rations, in a little white canvas ration bag, which +we tied to our belts.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then two motor lorries came along +and we piled in, laughing, joking, and in the best of spirits. We +even loved the Germans, we were feeling so happy. Our journey to +seven days' bliss in Blighty had commenced.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The ride in the lorry lasted about +two hours; by this time we were covered with fine, white dust +from the road, but didn't mind, even if we were nearly +choking.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">{Photo: Field Post Card Issued Once +a Week to the Tommies.}</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At the railroad station at P-- we +reported to an officer, who had a white band around his arm, +which read "R.T.O." (Royal Transportation Officer). To us this +officer was Santa Claus.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Sergeant in charge showed him +our orders; he glanced through them and said, "Make yourselves +comfortable on the platform and don't leave, the train is liable +to be along in five minutes -- or five hours."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It came in five hours, a string of +eleven match boxes on big, high wheels, drawn by a dinky little +engine with the "con." These match boxes were cattle cars, on the +sides of which was painted the old familiar sign, +"Hommes 40, Chevaux 8."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The R.T.O. stuck us all into one +car. We didn't care, it was as good as a Pullman to us.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Two days we spent on that train, +bumping, stopping, jerking ahead, and sometimes sliding back. At +three stations we stopped long enough to make some tea, but were +unable to wash, so when we arrived at B--, where we were to +embark for Blighty, we were as black as Turcos and, with our +unshaven faces, we looked like a lot of tramps. Though tired out, +we were happy.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We had packed up, preparatory to +detraining, when a R.T.O. held up his hand for us to stop where +we were and came over. This is what he said:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Boys, I'm sorry, but orders have +just been received cancelling all leave. If you had been three +hours earlier you would have gotten away. Just stay in that +train, as it is going back. Rations will be issued to you for +your return journey to your respective stations. Beastly rotten, +I know." Then he left.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A dead silence resulted. Then men +started to curse, threw their rifles on the floor of the car, +others said nothing, seemed to be stupefied, while some had the +tears running down their cheeks. It was a bitter disappointment +to all.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">How we blinded at the engineer of +that train, it was all his fault (so we reasoned), why hadn't he +speeded up a little or been on time, then we would have gotten +off before the order arrived? Now it was no Blighty for us.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">That return journey was misery to +us; I just can't describe it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When we got back to rest billets, +we found that our Brigade was in the trenches (another agreeable +surprise), and that an attack was contemplated.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Seventeen of the forty-one will +never get another chance to go on leave; they were killed in the +attack. Just think if that train had been on time, those +seventeen would still be alive.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I hate to tell you how I was kidded +by the boys when I got back, but it was good and plenty.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Our Machine Gun Company took over +their part of the line at seven o'clock, the night after I +returned from my near leave.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At 3.30 the following morning three +waves went over and captured the first and second German +trenches. The machine gunners went over with the fourth wave to +consolidate the captured line or "dig in" as Tommy calls it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Crossing No Man's Land without +clicking any casualties, we came to the German trench and mounted +our guns on the parados of same.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I never saw such a mess in my +life-bunches of twisted barbed wire lying about, shell holes +everywhere, trench all bashed in, parapets gone, and dead bodies, +why that ditch was full of them, theirs and ours. It was a +regular morgue. Some were mangled horribly from our shell fire, +while others were wholly or partly buried in the mud, the result +of shell explosions caving in the walls of the trench. One dead +German was lying on his back, with a rifle sticking straight up +in the air, the bayonet of which was buried to the hilt in his +chest. Across his feet lay a dead English soldier with a bullet +hole in his forehead. This Tommy must have been killed just as he +ran his bayonet through the German.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Rifles and equipment were scattered +about, and occasionally a steel helmet could be seen sticking out +of the mud.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At one point, just in the entrance +to a communication trench, was a stretcher. On this stretcher a +German was lying with a white bandage around his knee, near to +him lay one of the stretcher-bearers, the red cross on his arm +covered with mud and his helmet filled with blood and brains. +Close by, sitting up against the wall of the trench, with head +resting on his chest, was the other stretcher-bearer. He seemed +to be alive, the posture was so natural and easy, but when I got +closer, I could see a large, jagged hole in, his temple. The +three must have been killed by the same shell-burst. The dugouts +were all smashed in and knocked about, big square-cut timbers +splintered into bits, walls caved in, and entrances choked.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Tommy, after taking a trench, +learns to his sorrow, that the hardest part of the work is to +hold it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In our case this proved to be +so.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The German artillery and machine +guns had us taped (ranged) for fair; it was worth your life to +expose yourself an instant.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Don't think for a minute that the +Germans were the only sufferers, we were clicking casualties so +fast that you needed an adding machine to keep track of them.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Did you ever see one of the steam +shovels at work on the Panama Canal, well, it would look like a +hen scratching alongside of a Tommy "digging in" while under +fire, you couldn't see daylight through the clouds of dirt from +his shovel.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After losing three out of six men +of our crew, we managed to set up our machine gun. One of the +legs of the tripod was resting on the chest of a half-buried +body. When the gun was firing, it gave the impression that the +body was breathing, this was caused by the excessive +vibration.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Three or four feet down the trench, +about three feet from the ground, a foot was protruding from the +earth; we knew it was a German by the black leather boot. One of +our crew used that foot to hang extra bandoliers of ammunition +on. This man always was a handy fellow; made use of little points +that the ordinary person would overlook.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Germans made three counter +attacks, which we repulsed, but not without heavy loss on our +side. They also suffered severely from our shell- and machine-gun +fire. The ground was spotted with their dead and dying.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The next day things were somewhat +quieter, but not quiet enough to bury the dead.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We lived, ate, and slept in that +trench with the unburied dead for six days. It was awful to watch +their faces become swollen and discolored. Towards the last the +stench was fierce.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">What got on my nerves the most was +that foot sticking out of the dirt. It seemed to me, at night, in +the moonlight, to be trying to twist around. Several times this +impression was so strong that I went to it and grasped it in both +hands, to see if I could feel a movement.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I told this to the man who had used +it for a hat-rack just before I lay down for a little nap, as +things were quiet and I needed a rest pretty badly. When I woke +up the foot was gone. He had cut it off with our chain saw out of +the spare parts' box, and had plastered the stump over with +mud.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">During the next two or three days, +before we were relieved, I missed that foot dreadfully, seemed as +if I had suddenly lost a chum.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I think the worst thing of all was +to watch the rats, at night, and sometimes in the day, run over +and play about among the dead.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Near our gun, right across the +parapet, could be seen the body of a German lieutenant, the head +and arms of which were hanging into our trench. The man who had +cut off the foot used to sit and carry on a one-sided +conversation with this officer, used to argue and point out why +Germany was in the wrong. During all of this monologue, I never +heard him say anything out of the way, anything that would have +hurt the officer's feelings had he been alive. He was square all +right, wouldn't even take advantage of a dead man in an +argument.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">To civilians this must seem +dreadful, but out here, one gets so used to awful sights, that it +makes no impression. In passing a butcher shop, you are not +shocked by seeing a dead turkey hanging from a hook. Well, in +France, a dead body is looked upon from the same angle.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">But, nevertheless, when our six +days were up, we were tickled to death to be relieved.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Our Machine Gun Company lost +seventeen killed and thirty-one wounded in that little local +affair of "straightening the line," while the other companies +clicked it worse than we did.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After the attack we went into +reserve billets for six days, and on the seventh once again we +were in rest billets.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXII<br/> +PUNISHMENTS AND MACHINE-GUN STUNTS</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Soon after my arrival in France, in +fact from my enlistment, I had found that in the British Army +discipline is very strict. One has to be very careful in order to +stay on the narrow path of government virtue.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">There are about seven million ways +of breaking the King's Regulations; to keep one you have to break +another.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The worst punishment is death by a +firing squad or "up against the wall" as Tommy calls it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">This is for desertion, cowardice, +mutiny, giving information to the enemy, destroying or willfully +wasting ammunition, looting, rape, robbing the dead, forcing a +safeguard, striking a superior, etc.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then comes the punishment of +sixty-four days in the front-line trench without relief. During +this time you have to engage in all raids, working parties in No +Man's Land, and every hazardous undertaking that comes along. If +you live through the sixty-four days you are indeed lucky.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">This punishment is awarded where +there is a doubt as to the willful guilt of a man who has +committed an offence punishable by death.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then comes the famous Field +Punishment No. I. Tommy has nicknamed it "crucifixion." It means +that a man is spread eagled on a limber wheel, two hours a day +for twenty-one days. During this time he only gets water, bully +beef, and biscuits for his chow. You get "crucified" for repeated +minor offences.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Next in order is Field Punishment +No. 2.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">This is confinement in the "Clink," +without blankets, getting water, bully beef, and biscuits for +rations and doing all the dirty work that can be found. This may +be for twenty-four hours or twenty days, according to the gravity +of the offence.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then comes "Pack Drill" or +Defaulters' Parade. This consists of drilling, mostly at the +double, for two hours with full equipment. Tommy hates this, +because it is hard work. Sometimes he fills his pack with straw +to lighten it, and sometimes he gets caught. If he gets caught, +he grouses at everything in general for twenty-one days, from the +vantage point of a limber wheel.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Next comes "C. B." meaning +"Confined to Barracks." This consists of staying in billets or +barracks for twenty-four hours to seven days. You also get an +occasional Defaulters' Parade and dirty jobs around the +quarters.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Sergeant-Major keeps what is +known as the Crime Sheet. When a man commits an offence, he is +"Crimed," that is, his name, number, and offence is entered on +the Crime Sheet. Next day at 9 A.M. he goes to the "Orderly Room" +before the Captain, who either punishes him with +"C.B." or sends him before the O. C. (Officer +Commanding Battalion). The Captain of the Company can only award +"C. B."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Tommy many a time has thanked the +King for making that provision in his regulations.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">To gain the title of a "smart +soldier," Tommy has to keep clear of the Crime Sheet, and you +have to be darned smart to do it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I have been on it a few times, +mostly for "Yankee impudence."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">During our stay of two weeks in +rest billets our Captain put us through a course of machine-gun +drills, trying out new stunts and theories.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After parades were over, our guns' +crews got together and also tried out some theories of their own +in reference to handling guns. These courses had nothing to do +with the advancement of the war, consisted mostly of causing +tricky jams in the gun, and then the rest of the crew would +endeavor to locate as quickly as possible the cause of the +stoppage. This amused them for a few days and then things came to +a standstill.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">One of the boys on my gun claimed +that he could play a tune while the gun was actually firing, and +demonstrated this fact one day on the target range. We were very +enthusiastic and decided to become musicians.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After constant practice I became +quite expert in the tune entitled ALL CONDUCTORS HAVE BIG +FEET.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When I had mastered this tune, our +two weeks' rest came to an end, and once again we went up the +line and took over the sector in front of G--- Wood.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At this point the German trenches +ran around the base of a hill, on the top of which was a dense +wood. This wood was infested with machine guns, which used to +traverse our lines at will, and sweep the streets of a little +village, where we were billeted while in reserve.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">There was one gun in particular +which used to get our goats, it had the exact range of our +"elephant" dugout entrance, and every evening, about the time +rations were being brought up, its bullets would knock up the +dust on the road; more than one Tommy went West or to Blighty by +running into them.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">This gun got our nerves on edge, +and Fritz seemed to know it, because he never gave us an hour's +rest. Our reputation as machine gunners was at stake; we tried +various ruses to locate and put this gun out of action, but each +one proved to be a failure, and Fritz became a worse nuisance +than ever. He was getting fresher and more careless every day, +took all kinds of liberties, with us, -- thought he was +invincible.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then one of our crew got a +brilliant idea and we were all enthusiastic to put it to the +test.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Here was his scheme:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When firing my gun, I was to play +my tune, and Fritz, no doubt, would fall for it, try to imitate +me as an added insult. This gunner and two others would try, by +the sound, to locate Fritz and his gun. After having got the +location, they would mount two machine guns in trees, in a little +dump of woods, to the left of our cemetery, and while Fritz was +in the middle of his lesson, would open up and trust to luck. By +our calculations, it would take at least a week to pull off the +stunt.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">If Fritz refused to swallow our +bait, it would be impossible to locate his special gun, and +that's the one we were after, because they all sound alike, a +slow pup-pup-pup.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Our prestige was hanging by a +thread. In the battalion we had to endure all kinds of insults +and fresh remarks as to our ability in silencing Fritz. Even to +the battalion that German gun was a sore spot.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Next day, Fritz opened up as usual. +I let him fire away for a while and then butted in with my +"pup-pup-pup-pup-pup-pup." I kept this up quite a while, used two +belts of ammunition. Fritz had stopped firing to listen. Then he +started in; sure enough, he had fallen for our game, his gun was +trying to imitate mine, but, at first he made a horrible mess of +that tune. Again I butted in with a few bars and stopped. Then he +tried to copy what I had played. He was a good sport all right, +because his bullets were going away over our heads, must have +been firing into the air. I commenced to feel friendly toward +him.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">This duet went on for five days. +Fritz was a good pupil and learned rapidly, in fact, got better +than his teacher. I commenced to feel jealous. When he had +completely mastered the tune, he started sweeping the road again +and we clicked it worse than ever. But he signed his death +warrant by doing so, because my friendship turned to hate. Every +time he fired he played that tune and we danced.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The boys in the battalion gave us +the "Ha! Ha!" They weren't in on our little frame-up.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The originator of the ruse and the +other two gunners had Fritz's location taped to the minute; they +mounted their two guns, and also gave me the range. The next +afternoon was set for the grand finale.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Our three guns, with different +elevations, had their fire so arranged, that, opening up +together, their bullets would suddenly drop on Fritz like a +hailstorm.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">About three the next day, Fritz +started "pup- pupping" that tune. I blew a sharp blast on a +whistle, it was the signal agreed upon; we turned loose and +Fritz's gun suddenly stopped in the middle of a bar. We had +cooked his goose, and our ruse had worked. After firing two belts +each, to make sure of our job, we hurriedly dismounted our guns +and took cover in the dugout. We knew what to expect soon. We +didn't have to wait long, three salvos of "whizz-bangs" came over +from Fritz's artillery, a further confirmation that we had sent +that musical machine-gunner on his westward bound journey.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">That gun never bothered us again. +We were the heroes of the battalion, our Captain congratulated +us, said it was a neat piece of work, and, consequently, we were +all puffed up over the stunt.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">There are several ways Tommy uses +to disguise the location of his machine gun and get his range. +Some of the most commonly used stunts are as follows:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At night, when he mounts his gun +over the top of his trench and wants to get the range of Fritz's +trench he adopts the method of what he terms "getting the +sparks." This consists of firing bursts from his gun until the +bullets hit the German barbed wire. He can tell when they are +cutting the wire, because a bullet when it hits a wire throws out +a blue electric spark. Machine-gun fire is very damaging to wire +and causes many a wiring party to go out at night when it is +quiet to repair the damage.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">To disguise the flare of his gun at +night when firing. Tommy uses what is called a flare +protector.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">This is a stove-pipe arrangement +which fits over the barrel casing of the gun and screens the +sparks from the right and left, but not from the front. So Tommy, +always resourceful, adopts this scheme. About three feet or less +in front of the gun he drives two stakes into the ground, about +five feet apart. Across these stakes he stretches a curtain made +out of empty sandbags ripped open. He soaks this curtain in water +and fires through it. The water prevents it catching fire and +effectively screens the flare of the firing gun from the +enemy.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Sound is a valuable asset in +locating a machine gun, but Tommy surmounts this obstacle by +placing two machine guns about one hundred to one hundred fifty +yards apart. The gun on the right to cover with its fire the +sector of the left gun and the gun on the left to cover that of +the right gun. This makes their fire cross; they are fired +simultaneously.</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/185.jpg" width="486" height="254" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">By this method it sounds like one +gun firing and gives the Germans the impression that the gun is +firing from a point midway between the guns which are actually +firing, and they accordingly shell that particular spot. The +machine gunners chuckle and say, "Fritz is a brainy boy, not 'alf +he ain't."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">But the men in our lines at the +spot being shelled curse Fritz for his ignorance and pass a few +pert remarks down the line in reference to the machine gunners +being "windy" and afraid to take their medicine.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII<br/> +GAS ATTACKS AND SPIES</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Three days after we had silenced +Fritz, the Germans sent over gas. It did not catch us unawares, +because the wind had been made to order, that is, it was blowing +from the German trenches towards ours at the rate of about five +miles per hour.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Warnings had been passed down the +trench to keep a sharp lookout for gas.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We had a new man at the periscope, +on this afternoon in question; I was sitting on the fire step, +cleaning my rifle, when he called out to me:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"There's a sort of greenish, yellow +cloud rolling along the ground out in front, it's coming--"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">But I waited for no more, grabbing +my bayonet, which was detached from the rifle, I gave the alarm +by banging an empty shell case, which was hanging near the +periscope. At the same instant, gongs started ringing down the +trench, the signal for Tommy to don his respirator, or smoke +helmet, as we call it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Gas travels quickly, so you must +not lose any time; you generally have about eighteen or twenty +seconds in which to adjust your gas helmet.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A gas helmet is made of cloth, +treated with chemicals. There are two windows, or glass eyes, in +it, through which you can see. Inside there is a rubber-covered +tube, which goes in the mouth, You breathe through your nose; the +gas, passing through the cloth helmet, is neutralized by the +action of the chemicals. The foul air is exhaled through the tube +in the mouth, this tube being so constructed that it prevents the +inhaling of the outside air or gas. One helmet is good for five +hours of the strongest gas. Each Tommy carries two of them slung +around his shoulder in a waterproof canvas bag. He must wear this +bag at all times, even while sleeping. To change a defective +helmet, you take out the new one, hold your breath, pull the old +one off, placing the new one over your head, tucking in the loose +ends under the collar of your tunic.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">For a minute, pandemonium reigned +in our trench, -- Tommies adjusting their helmets, bombers +running here and there, and men turning out of the dugouts with +fixed bayonets, to man the fire step.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Reinforcements were pouring out of +the communication trenches.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Our gun's crew were busy mounting +the machine gun on the parapet and bringing up extra ammunition +from the dugout.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">German gas is heavier than air and +soon fills the trenches and dugouts, where it has been known to +lurk for two or three days, until the air is purified by means of +large chemical sprayers.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We had to work quickly, as Fritz +generally follows the gas with an infantry attack.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A company man on our right was too +slow in getting on his helmet; he sank to the ground, clutching +at his throat, and after a few spasmodic twisting, went West +(died). It was horrible to see him die, but we were powerless to +help him. In the corner of a traverse, a little, muddy cur dog, +one of the company's pets, was lying dead, with his two paws over +his nose.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It's the animals that suffer the +most, the horses, mules, cattle, dogs, cats, and rats, they +having no helmets to save them. Tommy does not sympathize with +rats in a gas attack.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At times, gas has been known to +travel, with dire results, fifteen miles behind the lines.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A gas, or smoke helmet, as it is +called, at the best is a vile-smelling thing, and it is not long +before one gets a violent headache from wearing it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Our eighteen-pounders were bursting +in No Man's Land, in an effort, by the artillery, to disperse the +gas clouds.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The fire step was lined with +crouching men, bayonets fixed, and bombs near at hand to repel +the expected attack.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Our artillery had put a barrage of +curtain fire on the German lines, to try and break up their +attack and keep back reinforcements.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I trained my machine gun on their +trench and its bullets were raking the parapet.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then over they came, bayonets +glistening. In their respirators, which have a large snout in +front, they looked like some horrible nightmare.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">All along our trench, rifles and +machine guns spoke, our shrapnel was bursting over their heads. +They went down in heaps, but new ones took the place of the +fallen. Nothing could stop that mad rush. The Germans reached our +barbed wire, which had previously been demolished by their</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/190.jpg" width="343" height="420" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">shells, then it was bomb against +bomb, and the devil for all.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Suddenly, my head seemed to burst +from a loud "crack" in my ear. Then my head began to swim, throat +got dry, and a heavy pressure on the lungs warned me that my +helmet was leaking. Turning my gun over to No. 2, I changed +helmets.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The trench started to wind like a +snake, and sandbags appeared to be floating in the air. The noise +was horrible; I sank onto the fire step, needles seemed to be +pricking my flesh, then blackness.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I was awakened by one of my mates +removing my smoke helmet. How delicious that cool, fresh air felt +in my lungs.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A strong wind had arisen and +dispersed the gas.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">They told me that I had been "out" +for three hours; they thought I was dead.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The attack had been repulsed after +a hard fight. Twice the Germans had gained a foothold in our +trench, but had been driven out by counter-attacks. The trench +was filled with their dead and ours. Through a periscope, I +counted eighteen dead Germans in our wire; they were a ghastly +sight in their horrible-looking respirators.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I examined my first smoke helmet, a +bullet had gone through it on the left side, just grazing my ear, +the gas had penetrated through the hole made in the cloth.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Out of our crew of six, we lost two +killed and two wounded.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">That night we buried all of the +dead, excepting those in No Man's Land. In death there is not +much distinction, friend and foe are treated alike.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After the wind had dispersed the +gas, the R.A.M.C. got busy with their chemical sprayers, spraying +out the dugouts and low parts of the trenches to dissipate any +fumes of the German gas which may have been lurking in same.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Two days after the gas attack, I +was sent to Division Headquarters, in answer to an order +requesting that captains of units should detail a man whom they +thought capable of passing an examination for the Divisional +Intelligence Department.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Before leaving for this assignment +I went along the front-line trench saying good-bye to my mates +and lording it over them, telling them that I had clicked a cushy +job behind the lines, and how sorry I felt that they had to stay +in the front line and argue out the war with Fritz. They were +envious but still good natured, and as I left the trench to go to +the rear they shouted after me:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Good luck, Yank, old boy, don't +forget to send up a few fags to your old mates."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I promised to do this and left.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I reported at Headquarters with +sixteen others and passed the required examination. Out of the +sixteen applicants four were selected.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I was highly elated because I was, +as I thought, in for a cushy job back at the base.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The next morning the four reported +to Division Headquarters for instructions. Two of the men were +sent to large towns in the rear of the lines with an easy job. +When it came our turn, the officer told us we were good men and +had passed a very creditable examination.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">My tin hat began to get too small +for me, and I noted that the other man, Atwell, by name, was +sticking his chest out more than usual.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The officer continued: "I think I +can use you two men to great advantage in the front line. Here +are your orders and instructions, also the pass which gives you +full authority as special M. P. detailed on intelligence work. +Report at the front line according to your instructions. It is +risky work and I wish you both the best of luck."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">My heart dropped to zero and +Atwell's face was a study. We saluted and left.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">That wishing us the "best of luck" +sounded very ominous in our ears; if he had said "I wish you both +a swift and painless death" it would have been more to the +point.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When we had read our instructions +we knew we were in for it good and plenty. What Atwell said is +not fit for publication, but I strongly seconded his opinion of +the War, Army, and Divisional Headquarters in general.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After a bit our spirits rose. We +were full-fledged spy-catchers, because our instructions and +orders said so.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We immediately reported to the +nearest French estaminet and had several glasses of muddy water, +which they called beer. After drinking our beer we left the +estaminet and hailed an empty ambulance.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After showing the driver our passes +we got in. The driver was going to the part of the line where we +had to report.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The ambulance was a Ford and lived +up to its reputation.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">How the wounded ever survived a +ride in it was inexplicable to me. It was worse than riding on a +gun carriage over a rocky road.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The driver of the ambulance was a +corporal of the R.A.M.C., and he had the "wind up," that is, he +had an aversion to being under fire.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I was riding on the seat with him +while Atwell was sitting in the ambulance, with his legs hanging +out of the back.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">As we passed through a +shell-destroyed village a mounted military policeman stopped us +and informed the driver to be very careful when we got out on the +open road, as it was very dangerous, because the Germans lately +had acquired the habit of shelling it. The Corporal asked the +trooper if there was any other way around, and was informed that +there was not. Upon this he got very nervous, and wanted to turn +back, but we insisted that he proceed and explained to him that +he would get into serious trouble with his commanding officer if +he returned without orders; we wanted to ride, not walk.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">From his conversation we learned +that he had recently come from England with a draft and had never +been under fire, hence, his nervousness.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We convinced him that there was not +much danger, and he appeared greatly relieved.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When we at last turned into the +open road, we were not so confident. On each side there had been +a line of trees, but now, all that was left of them were torn and +battered stumps. The fields on each side of the road were dotted +with recent shell holes, and we passed several in the road +itself. We had gone about half a mile when a shell came whistling +through the air, and burst in a field about three hundred yards +to our right. Another soon followed this one, and burst on the +edge of the road about four hundred yards in front of us.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I told the driver to throw in his +speed clutch, as we must be in sight of the Germans. I knew the +signs; that battery was ranging for us, and the quicker we got +out of its zone of fire the better. The driver was trembling like +a leaf, and every minute I expected him to pile us up in the +ditch. I preferred the German fire.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In the back, Atwell was holding +onto the straps for dear life and was singing at the top of his +voice,</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We beat you at the Marne,</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We beat you at the Aisne,</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We gave you hell at Neuve +Chapelle,</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">And here we are again.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Just then we hit a small shell hole +and nearly capsized. Upon a loud yell from the rear I looked +behind, and there was Atwell sitting in the middle of the road, +shaking his fist at us. His equipment, which he had taken off +upon getting into the ambulance, was strung out on the ground, +and his rifle was in the ditch.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I shouted to the driver to stop, +and in his nervousness he put on the brakes. We nearly pitched +out head first. But the applying of those brakes saved our lives. +The next instant there was a blinding flash and a deafening +report. All that I remember is that I was flying through the air, +and wondering if I would land in a soft spot. Then the lights +went out.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When I came to, Atwell was pouring +water on my head out of his bottle. On the other side of the +road, the Corporal was sitting, rubbing a lump on his forehead +with his left hand, while his right arm was bound up in a +blood-soaked bandage. He was moaning very loudly. I had an awful +headache, and the skin on the left side of my face was full of +gravel, and the blood was trickling from my nose.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">But that ambulance was turned over +in the ditch, and was perforated with holes from fragments of the +shell. One of the front wheels was slowly revolving, so I could +not have been "out" for a long period.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">If Mr. Ford could have seen that +car, his "Peace at Any Price" conviction would have been +materially strengthened, and he would have immediately fitted out +another "peace ship."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The shells were still screaming +overhead, but the battery had raised its fire, and they were +bursting in a little wood, about half a mile from us.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Atwell spoke up, "I wish that +officer hadn't wished us the best o' luck." Then he commenced +swearing. I couldn't help laughing, though my head was nigh to +bursting.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Slowly rising to my feet I felt +myself all over to make sure that there were no broken bones. But +outside of a few bruises and scratches, I was all right. The +Corporal was still moaning, but more from shock than pain. A +shell splinter had gone through the flesh of his right forearm. +Atwell and I, from our first-aid pouches, put a tourniquet on his +arm to stop the bleeding, and then gathered up our equipment.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We realized that we were in a +dangerous spot. At any minute a shell might drop on the road and +finish us off. The village we had left was not very far, so we +told the Corporal he had better go back to it and get his arm +dressed, and then report the fact of the destruction of the +ambulance to the military police. He was well able to walk, so he +set off in the direction of the village, while Atwell and I +continued our way on foot.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Without further mishap we arrived +at our destination, and reported to Brigade Headquarters for +rations and billets.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">That night we slept in the +Battalion Sergeant-Major's dugout. The next morning I went to a +first-aid post and had the gravel picked out of my face.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The instructions we received from +Division Headquarters read that we were out to catch spies, +patrol trenches, search German dead, reconnoiter in No Man's +Land, and take part in trench raids, and prevent the robbing of +the dead.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I had a pass which would allow me +to go anywhere at any time in the sector of the line held by our +division. It also gave me authority to stop and search +ambulances, motor lorries, wagons, and even officers and +soldiers, whenever my suspicions deemed it necessary. Atwell and +I were allowed to work together or singly, -- it was left to our +judgment. We decided to team up.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Atwell was a good companion and +very entertaining. He had an utter contempt for danger but was +not foolhardy. At swearing he was a wonder. A cavalry regiment +would have been proud of him. Though born in England, he had +spent several years in New York. He was about six feet one, and +as strong as an ox. I am five feet five in height, so we looked +like "Bud" Fisher's "Mutt and Jeff" when together.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We took up our quarters in a large +dugout of the Royal Engineers, and mapped out our future actions. +This dugout was on the edge of a large cemetery, and several +times at night in returning to it, we got many a fall stumbling +over the graves of English, French, and Germans. Atwell on these +occasions never indulged in swearing, though at any other time, +at the least stumble, he would turn the air blue.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A certain section of our trenches +was held by the Royal Irish Rifles. For several days a very +strong rumor went the rounds that a German spy was in our midst. +This spy was supposed to be dressed in the uniform of a British +Staff Officer. Several stories had been told about an officer +wearing a red band around his cap, who patrolled the front-line +and communication trenches asking suspicious questions as to +location of batteries, machine-gun emplacements, and trench +mortars. If a shell dropped in a battery, on a machine gun, or +even near a dugout, this spy was blamed.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The rumor gained such strength that +an order was issued for all troops to immediately place under +arrest anyone answering to the description of the spy.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Atwell and I were on the QUI VIVE. +We constantly patrolled the trenches at night, and even in the +day, but the spy always eluded us.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">One day, while in a communication +trench, we were horrified to see our Brigadier-General, Old +Pepper, being brought down it by a big private of the Royal Irish +Rifles. The General was walking in front, and the private with +fixed bayonet was following him in the rear.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We saluted as the General passed +us. The Irishman had a broad grin on his face and we could +scarcely believe our eyes -- the General was under arrest. After +passing a few feet beyond us, the General turned, and said in a +wrathful voice to Atwell:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Tell this d--n fool who I am. He's +arrested me as a spy."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Atwell was speechless. The sentry +butted in with:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"None o' that gassin' out o' you. +Back to Headquarters you goes, Mr. Fritz. Open that face o' yours +again, an' I'll dent in your napper with the butt o' me +rifle."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The General's face was a sight to +behold. He was fairly boiling over with rage, but he shut up.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Atwell tried to get in front of the +sentry to explain to him that it really was the General he had +under arrest, but the sentry threatened to run his bayonet +through him, and would have done it, too. So Atwell stepped +aside, and remained silent. I was nearly bursting with suppressed +laughter. One word, and I would have exploded. It is not exactly +diplomatic to laugh at your General in such a predicament.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The sentry and his prisoner arrived +at Brigade Headquarters with disastrous results to the +sentry.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The joke was that the General had +personally issued the order for the spy's arrest. It was a habit +of the General to walk through the trenches on rounds of +inspection, unattended by any of his staff. The Irishman, being +new in the regiment, had never seen the General before, so when +he came across him alone in a communication trench, he promptly +put him under arrest. Brigadier-generals wear a red band around +their caps.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Next day we passed the Irishman +tied to the wheel of a limber, the beginning of his sentence of +twenty-one days, Field Punishment No. I. Never before have I seen +such a woebegone expression on a man's face.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">For several days, Atwell and I made +ourselves scarce around Brigade Headquarters. We did not want to +meet the General.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The spy was never caught.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV<br/> +THE FIRING SQUAD</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A few days later I had orders to +report back to Divisional Headquarters, about thirty kilos behind +the line. I reported to the A. P. M. (Assistant Provost Marshal). +He told me to report to billet No. 78 for quarters and +rations.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It was about eight o'clock at night +and I was tired and soon fell asleep in the straw of the billet. +It was a miserable night outside, cold, and a drizzly rain was +falling.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">About two in the morning I was +awakened by someone shaking me by the shoulder. Opening my eyes I +saw a Regimental Sergeant-Major bending over me. He had a lighted +lantern in his right hand. I started to ask him what was the +matter, when he put his finger to his lips for silence and +whispered:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Get on your equipment, and, +without any noise, come with me."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">This greatly mystified me but I +obeyed his order.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Outside of the billet, I asked him +what was up, but he shut me up with:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Don't ask any questions, it's +against orders. I don't know myself."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It was raining like the +mischief.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We splashed along a muddy road for +about fifteen minutes, finally stopping at the entrance of what +must have been an old barn. In the darkness, I could hear pigs +grunting, as if they had just been disturbed. In front of the +door stood an officer in a mack (mackintosh). The R. S. M. went +up to him, whispered something, and then left. This officer +called to me, asked my name, number and regiment, at the same +time, in the light of a lantern he was holding, making a notation +in a little book.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When he had finished writing, he +whispered:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Go into that billet and wait +orders, and no talking. Understand?"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I stumbled into the barn and sat on +the floor in the darkness. I could see no one but could hear men +breathing and moving; they seemed nervous and restless. I know I +was.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">During my wait, three other men +entered. Then the officer poked his head in the door and +ordered:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Fall in, outside the billet, in +single rank."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We fell in, standing at ease. Then +he commanded.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Squad-'Shun! Number!"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">There were twelve of us.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Right - Turn! Left - Wheel! Quick +- March!" And away we went. The rain was trickling down my back +and I was shivering from the cold.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">With the officer leading, we must +have marched over an hour, plowing through the mud and +occasionally stumbling into a shell hole in the road, when +suddenly the officer made a left wheel and we found ourselves in +a sort of enclosed courtyard.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The dawn was breaking and the rain +had ceased.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In front of us were four stacks of +rifles, three to a stack.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The officer brought us to attention +and gave the order to unpile arms. We each took a rifle. Giving +us "Stand at ease," in a nervous and shaky voice, he +informed:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Men, you are here on a very solemn +duty. You have been selected as a firing squad for the execution +of a soldier, who, having been found guilty of a grievous crime +against King and Country, has been regularly and duly tried and +sentenced to be shot at 3.28 A.M. this date. This sentence has +been approved by the reviewing authority and ordered carried out. +It is our duty to carry on with the sentence of the court.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"There are twelve rifles, one of +which contains a blank cartridge, the other eleven containing +ball cartridges. Every man is expected to do his duty and fire to +kill. Take your orders from me. Squad-'Shun!"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We came to attention. Then he left. +My heart was of lead and my knees shook.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After standing at "Attention" for +what seemed a week, though in reality it could not have been over +five minutes, we heard a low whispering in our rear and footsteps +on the stone nagging of the courtyard.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Our officer reappeared and in a +low, but firm voice, ordered;</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"About-Turn!"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We turned about. In the gray light +of dawn, a few yards in front of me, I could make out a brick +wall. Against this wall was a dark form with a white square +pinned on its breast. We were supposed to aim at this square. To +the right of the form I noticed a white spot on the wall. This +would be my target.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Ready! Aim! Fire!"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The dark form sank into a huddled +heap. My bullet sped on its way, and hit the whitish spot on the +wall; I could see the splinters fly. Someone else had received +the rifle containing the blank cartridge, but my mind was at +ease, there was no blood of a Tommy on my hands.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Order-Arms! About-Turn! Pile-Arms! +Stand-Clear."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The stacks were re-formed.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Quick-March! Right-Wheel'" and we +left the scene of execution behind us.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It was now daylight. After marching +about five minutes, we were dismissed with the following +instructions from the officer in command:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Return, alone, to your respective +companies, and remember, no talking about this affair, or else it +will go hard with the guilty ones."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We needed no urging to get away. I +did not recognize any of the men on the firing squad, even the +officer was a stranger to me.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The victim's relations and friends +in Blighty will never know that he was executed; they will be +under the impression that he died doing his bit for King and +Country.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In the public casualty lists his +name will appear under the caption "Accidentally Killed," or +"Died."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The day after the execution I +received orders to report back to the line, and to keep a still +tongue in my head.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Executions are a part of the day's +work but the part we hated most of all, I think certainly the +saddest. The British War Department is thought by many people to +be composed of rigid regulations all wound around with red tape. +But it has a heart, and one of the evidences of this is the +considerate way in which an execution is concealed and reported +to the relative of the unfortunate man. They never know the +truth. He is listed in the bulletins as among the "accidentally +killed."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In the last ten years I have +several times read stories in magazines of cowards changing, in a +charge, to heroes. I used to laugh at it. It seemed easy for +story-writers but I said, "Men aren't made that way." But over in +France I learned once that the streak of yellow can turn all +white. I picked up the story, bit by bit, from the Captain of the +Company, the sentries who guarded the poor fellow, as well as +from my own observations. At first I did not realize the whole of +his story, but after a week of investigation it stood out as +clear in my mind as the mountains of my native West in the spring +sunshine. It impressed me so much that I wrote it all down in +rest billets on odd scraps of paper. The incidents are, as I say, +every bit true; the feelings of the man are true, -- I know from +all I underwent in the fighting over in France.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We will call him Albert Lloyd. That +wasn't his name, but it will do; Albert Lloyd was what the world +terms a coward.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In London they called him a +slacker.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">His country had been at war nearly +eighteen months, and still he was not in khaki.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He had no good reason for not +enlisting, being alone in the world, having been educated in an +Orphan Asylum, and there being no one dependent upon him for +support. He had no good position to lose, and there was no +sweetheart to tell him with her lips to go, while her eyes +pleaded for him to stay.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Every time he saw a recruiting +sergeant, he'd slink around the corner out of sight, with a +terrible fear gnawing at his heart. When passing the big +recruiting posters, and on his way to business and back he passed +many, he would pull down his cap and look the other way, to get +away from that awful finger pointing at him, under the caption, +"Your King and Country Need You"; or the boring eyes of +Kitchener, which burned into his very soul, causing him to +shudder.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then the Zeppelin raids -- during +them, he used to crouch in a corner of his boarding-house cellar, +whimpering like a whipped puppy and calling upon the Lord to +protect him.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Even his landlady despised him, +although she had to admit that he was "good pay."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He very seldom read the papers, but +one momentous morning, the landlady put the morning paper at his +place before he came down to breakfast. Taking his seat, he read +the flaring headline, "Conscription Bill Passed," and nearly +fainted. Excusing himself, he stumbled upstairs to his bedroom, +with the horror of it gnawing into his vitals.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Having saved up a few pounds, he +decided not to leave the house, and to sham sickness, so he +stayed in his room and had the landlady serve his meals +there.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Everytime there was a knock at the +door, he trembled all over, imagining it was a policeman who had +come to take him away to the army.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">One morning his fears were +realized. Sure enough there stood a policeman with the fatal +paper. Taking it in his trembling hand, he read that he, Albert +Lloyd, was ordered to report himself to the nearest recruiting +station for physical examination. He reported immediately, +because he was afraid to disobey.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The doctor looked with approval +upon Lloyd's six feet of physical perfection, and thought what a +fine guardsman he would make, but examined his heart twice before +he passed him as "physically fit"; it was beating so fast.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">From the recruiting depot Lloyd was +taken, with many others, in charge of a sergeant, to the training +depot at Aldershot, where he was given an outfit of khaki, and +drew his other equipment. He made a fine-looking soldier, except +for the slight shrinking in his shoulders, and the haunted look in +his eyes.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At the training depot it does not +take long to find out a man's character, and Lloyd was promptly +dubbed "Windy." In the English Army, "windy " means cowardly.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The smallest recruit in the +barracks looked on him with contempt, and was not slow to show it +in many ways.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Lloyd was a good soldier, learned +quickly, obeyed every order promptly, never groused at the +hardest fatigues. He was afraid to. He lived in deadly fear of +the officers and "Non-Coms" over him. They also despised him.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">One morning about three months +after his enlistment, Lloyd's company was paraded, and the names +picked for the next draft to France were read. When his name was +called, he did not step out smartly, two paces to the front, and +answer cheerfully, "Here, sir," as the others did. He just +fainted in ranks, and was carried to barracks amid the sneers of +the rest.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">That night was an agony of misery +to him. He could not sleep. Just cried and whimpered in his bunk, +because on the morrow the draft was to sail for France, where he +would see death on all sides, and perhaps be killed himself. On +the steamer, crossing the Channel, he would have jumped overboard +to escape, but was afraid of drowning.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Arriving in France, he and the rest +were huddled into cattle cars. On the side of each appeared in +white letters, "Chevaux 8, Hommes 40." After hours of bumping +over the uneven French road beds they arrived at the training +base of Rouen.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At this place they were put through +a week's rigid training in trench warfare. On the morning of the +eighth day, they paraded at ten o'clock, and were inspected and +passed by General H--, then were marched to the Quartermaster's, +to draw their gas helmets and trench equipment.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At four in the afternoon, they were +again hustled into cattle cars. This time, the Journey lasted two +days. They disembarked at the town of Prevent, and could hear a +distant dull booming. With knees shaking, Lloyd asked the +Sergeant what the noise was, and nearly dropped when the Sergeant +replied in a somewhat bored tone:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Oh, them's the guns up the line. +We'll be up there in a couple o' days or so. Don't worry, my +laddie, you'll see more of 'em than you want before you get 'ome +to Blighty again, that is, if you're lucky enough to get back. +Now lend a hand there unloadin' them cars, and quit that +everlastin' shakin'. I believe yer scared." The last with a +contemptuous sneer.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">They marched ten kilos, full pack, +to a little dilapidated village, and the sound of the guns grew +louder, constantly louder.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The village was full of soldiers +who turned out to inspect the new draft, the men who were shortly +to be their mates in the trenches, for they were going "up the +line" on the morrow, to "take over" their certain sector of +trenches.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The draft was paraded in front of +Battalion Headquarters, and the men were assigned to +companies.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Lloyd was the only man assigned to +'D' Company. Perhaps the officer in charge of the draft had +something to do with it, for he called Lloyd aside, and said:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Lloyd, you are going to a new +company. No one knows you. Your bed will be as you make it, so +for God's sake, brace up and be a man. I think you have the stuff +in you, my boy, so good-bye, and the best of luck to you."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The next day the battalion took +over their part of the trenches. It happened to be a very quiet +day. The artillery behind the lines was still, except for an +occasional shell sent over to let the Germans know the gunners +were not asleep.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In the darkness, in single file, +the Company slowly wended their way down the communication trench +to the front line. No one noticed Lloyd's white and drawn +face.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After they had relieved the Company +in the trenches, Lloyd, with two of the old company men, was put +on guard in one of the traverses. Not a shot was fired from the +German lines, and no one paid any attention to him crouched on +the firing step.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">On the first time in, a new recruit +is not required to stand with his head "over the top." He only +"sits it out," while the older men keep watch.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At about ten o'clock, all of a +sudden, he thought hell had broken loose, and crouched and +shivered up against the parapet. Shells started bursting, as he +imagined, right in their trench, when in fact they were landing +about a hundred yards in rear of them, in the second lines.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">One of the older men on guard, +turning to his mate, said:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"There goes Fritz with those damned +trench mortars again. It's about time our artillery 'taped' them, +and sent over a few. Well, I'll be damned, where's that blighter +of a draft man gone to? There's his rifle leaning against the +parapet. He must have legged it. Just keep your eye peeled, Dick, +while I report it to the Sergeant. I wonder if the fool knows he +can be shot for such tricks as leavin' his post."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Lloyd had gone. When the trench +mortars opened up, a maddening terror seized him and he wanted to +run, to get away from that horrible din, anywhere to safety. So +quietly sneaking around the traverse, he came to the entrance of +a communication trench, and ran madly and blindly down it, +running into traverses, stumbling into muddy holes, and falling +full length over trench grids.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Groping blindly, with his arms +stretched out in front of him, he at last came out of the trench +into the village, or what used to be a village, before the German +artillery razed it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Mixed with his fear, he had a +peculiar sort of cunning, which whispered to him to avoid all +sentries, because if they saw him he would be sent back to that +awful destruction in the front line, and perhaps be killed or +maimed. The thought made him shudder, the cold sweat coming out +in beads on his face.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">On his left, in the darkness, he +could make out the shadowy forms of trees; crawling on his hands +and knees, stopping and crouching with fear at each shell-burst, +he finally reached an old orchard, and cowered at the base of a +shot-scarred apple-tree.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He remained there all night, +listening to the sound of the guns and ever praying, praying that +his useless life would be spared.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">As dawn began to break, he could +discern little dark objects protruding from the ground all about +him. Curiosity mastered his fear and he crawled to one of the +objects, and there, in the uncertain light, he read on a little +wooden cross:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Pte. H. S. Wheaton, No. 1670, 1st +London</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Regt. R. F. Killed in action, April +25, 1916.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">R. I. P." (Rest in Peace).</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When it dawned on him that he had +been hiding all night in a cemetery, his reason seemed to leave +him, and a mad desire to be free from it all made him rush madly +away, falling over little wooden crosses, smashing some and +trampling others under his feet.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In his flight, he came to an old +French dugout, half caved in, and partially filled with slimy and +filthy water.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Like a fox being chased by the +hounds, he ducked into this hole, and threw himself on a pile of +old empty sandbags, wet and mildewed. Then -- +unconsciousness.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">On the next day, he came to; far +distant voices sounded in his ears. Opening his eyes, in the +entrance of the dugout he saw a Corporal and two men with fixed +bayonets.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Corporal was addressing +him:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Get up, you white-livered +blighter! Curse you and the day you ever joined "D" Company, +spoiling their fine record! It'll be you up against the wall, and +a good job too. Get a hold of him, men, and if he makes a break, +give him the bayonet, and send it home, the cowardly sneak. Come +on, you, move, we've been looking for you long enough."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Lloyd, trembling and weakened by +his long fast, tottered out, assisted by a soldier on each side +of him.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">They took him before the Captain, +but could get nothing out of him but:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"For God's sake, sir, don't have me +shot, don't have me shot!"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Captain, utterly disgusted with +him, sent him under escort to Division Headquarters for trial by +court-martial, charged with desertion under fire.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">They shoot deserters in France.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">During his trial, Lloyd sat as one +dazed, and could put nothing forward in his defence, only an +occasional "Don't have me shot!"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">His sentence was passed: "To be +shot at 3:38 o'clock on the morning of May 18, 1916." This meant +that he had only one more day to live.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He did not realize the awfulness of +his sentence, his brain seemed paralyzed. He knew nothing of his +trip, under guard, in a motor lorry to the sand-bagged guardroom +in the village, where he was dumped on the floor and left, while +a sentry with a fixed bayonet paced up and down in front of the +entrance.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Bully beef, water, and biscuits +were left beside him for his supper.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The sentry, seeing that he ate +nothing, came inside and shook him by the shoulder, saying in a +kind voice:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Cheero, laddie, better eat +something. You'll feel better. Don't give up hope. You'll be +pardoned before morning. I know the way they run these things. +They're only trying to scare you, that's all. Come now, that's a +good lad, eat something. It'll make the world look different to +you."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The good-hearted sentry knew he was +lying about the pardon. He knew nothing short of a miracle could +save the poor lad.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Lloyd listened eagerly to his +sentry's words, and believed them. A look of hope came into his +eyes, and he ravenously ate the meal beside him.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In about an hour's time, the +Chaplain came to see him, but Lloyd would have none of him. He +wanted no parson; he was to be pardoned.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The artillery behind the lines +suddenly opened up with everything they had. An intense +bombardment of the enemy's lines had commenced. The roar of the +guns was deafening. Lloyd's fears came back with a rush, and he +cowered on the earthen floor with his hands over his face.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The sentry, seeing his position, +came in and tried to cheer him by talking to him:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Never mind them guns, boy, they +won't hurt you. They are ours. We are giving the Boches a dose of +their own medicine. Our boys are going over the top at dawn of +the morning to take their trenches. We'll give 'em a taste of +cold steel with their sausages and beer. You just sit tight now +until they relieve you. I'll have to go now, lad, as it's nearly +time for my relief, and I don't want them to see me a-talkin' +with you. So long, laddie, cheero."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">With this, the sentry resumed the +pacing of his post. In about ten minutes' time he was relieved, +and a "D" Company man took his place.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Looking into the guardhouse, the +sentry noticed the cowering attitude of Lloyd, and, with a sneer, +said to him:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Instead of whimpering in that +corner, you ought to be saying your prayers. It's bally conscripts +like you what's spoilin' our record. We've been out here nigh +onto eighteen months, and you're the first man to desert his +post. The whole Battalion is laughin' and pokin' fun at 'D' +Company, bad luck to you I bet you won't get another chance to +disgrace us. They'll put your lights out in the mornin'."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After listening to this tirade, +Lloyd, in a faltering voice, asked: "They are not going to shoot +me, are they? Why, the other sentry said they'd pardon me. For +God's sake -- don't tell me I'm to be shot!" and his voice died +away in a sob.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Of course, they're going to shoot +you. The other sentry was jest a-kiddin' you. Jest like old +Smith. Always a-tryin' to cheer some one. You ain't got no more +chance o' bein' pardoned than I have of gettin' to be Colonel of +my 'Batt.' "</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When the fact that all hope was +gone finally entered Lloyd's brain, a calm seemed to settle over +him, and rising to his knees, with his arms stretched out to +heaven, he prayed, and all of his soul entered into the +prayer:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Oh, good and merciful God, give me +strength to die like a man! Deliver me from this coward's death. +Give me a chance to die like my mates in the fighting line, to +die fighting for my country. I ask this of thee."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A peace, hitherto unknown, came to +him, and he crouched and cowered no more, but calmly waited the +dawn, ready to go to his death. The shells were bursting all +around the guardroom, but he hardly noticed them.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">While waiting there, the voice of +the sentry, singing in a low tone, came to him. He was singing +the chorus of the popular trench ditty:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"I want to go home, I want to go +home.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I don't want to go to the trenches +no more.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Where the 'whizzbangs' and +'sausages' roar galore.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Take me over the sea, where the +Allemand can't get at me.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Oh my, I don't want to die! I want +to go home."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Lloyd listened to the words with a +strange interest, and wondered what kind of a home he would go to +across the Great Divide. It would be the only home he had ever +known.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Suddenly there came a great rushing +through the air, a blinding flash, a deafening report, and the +sandbag walls of the guardroom toppled over, and then -- +blackness.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When Lloyd recovered consciousness, +he was lying on his right side, facing what used to be the +entrance of the guardroom. Now, it was only a jumble of rent and +torn sandbags. His head seemed bursting. He slowly rose on his +elbow, and there in the east the dawn was breaking. But what was +that mangled shape lying over there among the sandbags? Slowly +dragging himself to it, he saw the body of the sentry. One look +was enough to know that he was dead. The soldier's head was +missing. The sentry had had his wish gratified. He had "gone +home." He was safe at last from the "whizzbangs" and the +Allemand.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Like a flash it came to Lloyd that +he was free. Free to go "over the top" with his Company. Free to +die like a true Briton fighting for his King and Country. A great +gladness and warmth came over him. Carefully stepping over the +body of the sentry, he started on a mad race down the ruined +street of the village, amid the bursting shells, minding them +not, dodging through or around hurrying platoons on their way to +also go "over the top." Coming to a communication trench he could +not get through. It was blocked with laughing, cheering, and +cursing soldiers. Climbing out of the trench, he ran wildly along +the top, never heeding the rain of machine-gun bullets and +shells, not even hearing the shouts of the officers, telling him +to get back into the trench. He was going to join his Company who +were in the front line. He was going to fight with them. He, the +despised coward, had come into his own.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">While he was racing along, jumping +over trenches crowded with soldiers, a ringing cheer broke out +all along the front line, and his heart sank. He knew he was too +late. His Company had gone over. But still he ran madly. He would +catch them. He would die with them.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Meanwhile his Company had gone +"over." They, with the other companies had taken the first and +second German trenches, and had pushed steadily on to the third +line. "D" Company, led by their Captain, the one who had sent +Lloyd to Division Headquarters for trial, charged with desertion, +had pushed steadily forward until they found themselves far in +advance of the rest of the attacking force. "Bombing out" trench +after trench, and using their bayonets, they came to a German +communication trench, which ended in a blindsap, and then the +Captain, and what was left of his men, knew they were in a trap. +They would not retire. "D" Company never retired, and they were +"D" Company. Right in front of them they could see hundreds of +Germans preparing to rush them with bomb and bayonet. They would +have some chance if ammunition and bombs could reach them from +the rear. Their supply was exhausted, and the men realized it +would be a case of dying as bravely as possible, or making a run +for it. But "D" Company would not run. It was against their +traditions and principles.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Germans would have to advance +across an open space of three to four hundred yards before they +could get within bombing distance of the trench, and then it +would be all their own way. Turning to his Company, the Captain +said:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Men, it's a case of going West for +us. We are out of ammunition and bombs, and the 'Boches' have us +in a trap. They will bomb us out. Our bayonets are useless here. +We will have to go over and meet them, and it's a case of thirty +to one, so send every thrust home, and die like the men of 'D' +Company should. When I give the word, follow me, and up and at +them. Give them hell! God, if we only had a machine gun, we could +wipe them out! Here they come, get ready, men."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Just as he finished speaking, the +welcome "pup-pup" of a machine gun in their rear rang out, and +the front line of the onrushing German seemed to melt away. They +wavered, but once again came rushing onward. Down went their +second line. The machine gun was taking an awful toll of lives. +Then again they tried to advance, but the machine gun mowed them +down. Dropping their rifles and bombs, they broke and fled in a +wild rush back to their trench, amid the cheers of "D" Company. +They were forming again for another attempt, when in the rear of +"D" Company came a mighty cheer. The ammunition had arrived and +with it a battalion of Scotch to reinforce them. They were saved. +The unknown machine gunner had come to the rescue in the nick of +time.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">With the reinforcements, it was an +easy task to take the third German line.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After the attack was over, the +Captain and three of his non-commissioned officers, wended their +way back to the position where the machine gun had done its +deadly work. He wanted to thank the gunner in the name of "D" +Company for his magnificent deed. They arrived at the gun, and an +awful sight met their eyes.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Lloyd had reached the front line +trench, after his Company had left it. A strange company was +nimbly crawling up the trench ladders. They were reinforcements +going over. They were Scotties, and they made a magnificent sight +in their brightly colored kilts and bare knees.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Jumping over the trench, Lloyd +raced across "No Man's Land," unheeding the rain of bullets, +leaping over dark forms on the ground, some of which lay still, +while others called out to him as he speeded past.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He came to the German front line, +but it was deserted, except for heaps of dead and wounded -- a +grim tribute to the work of his Company, good old "D" Company. +Leaping trenches, and gasping for breath, Lloyd could see right +ahead of him his Company in a dead-ended sap of a communication +trench, and across the open, away in front of them, a mass of +Germans preparing for a charge. Why didn't "D" Company fire on +them? Why were they so strangely silent? What were they waiting +for? Then he knew -- their ammunition was exhausted.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">But what was that on his right? A +machine gun. Why didn't it open fire and save them? He would make +that gun's crew do their duty. Rushing over to the gun, he saw +why it had not opened fire. Scattered around its base lay six +still forms. They had brought their gun to consolidate the +captured position, but a German machine gun had decreed they +would never fire again.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Lloyd rushed to the gun, and +grasping the traversing handles, trained it, on the Germans. He +pressed the thumb piece, but only a sharp click was the result. +The gun was unloaded. Then he realized his helplessness. He did +not know how to load the gun. Oh, why hadn't he attended the +machine-gun course in England? He'd been offered the chance, but +with a blush of shame he remembered that he had been afraid. The +nickname of the machine gunners had frightened him. They were +called the "Suicide Club." Now, because of this fear, his Company +would be destroyed, the men of "D" Company would have to die, +because he, Albert Lloyd, had been afraid of a name. In his shame +he cried like a baby. Anyway he could die with them, and, rising +to his feet, he stumbled over the body, one of the gunners, who +emitted a faint moan. A gleam of hope flashed through him. +Perhaps this man could tell him how to load the gun. Stooping +over the body, he gently shook it, and the soldier opened his +eyes. Seeing Lloyd, he closed them again, and in a faint voice +said:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Get away, you blighter, leave me +alone. I don't want any coward around me."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The words cut Lloyd like a knife, +but he was desperate. Taking the revolver out of the holster of +the dying man, he pressed the cold muzzle to the soldier's head, +and replied:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Yes, it is Lloyd, the coward of +Company 'D,' but so help me God, if you don't tell me how to load +that gun, I'll put a bullet through your brain!"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A sunny smile came over the +countenance of the dying man, and he said in a faint whisper:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Good old boy! I knew you wouldn't +disgrace our Company--"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Lloyd interposed, "For God's sake, +if you want to save that Company you are so proud of, tell me how +to load that damned gun!"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">As if reciting a lesson in school, +the soldier replied in a weak, singsong voice: "Insert tag end of +belt in feed block, with left hand pull belt left front. Pull +crank handle back on roller, let go, and repeat motion. Gun is +now loaded. To fire, raise automatic safety latch, and press +thumb piece. Gun is now firing. If gun stops, ascertain position +of crank handle--"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">But Lloyd waited for no more. With +wild joy at his heart, he took a belt from one of the ammunition +boxes lying beside the gun, and followed the dying man's +instructions. Then he pressed the thumb piece, and a burst of +fire rewarded his efforts. The gun was working.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Training it on the Germans, he +shouted for joy as their front rank went down.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Traversing the gun back and forth +along the mass of Germans, he saw them break and run back to the +cover of their trench, leaving their dead and wounded behind. He +had saved his Company, he, Lloyd, the coward, had "done his bit." +Releasing the thumb piece, he looked at the watch on his wrist. +He was still alive, and the hands pointed to "3:38," the time set +for his death by the court.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Ping!" -- a bullet sang through +the air, and Lloyd fell forward across the gun. A thin trickle of +blood ran down his face from a little, black round hole in his +forehead.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The sentence of the court had been +"duly carried out."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Captain slowly raised the limp +form drooping over the gun, and, wiping the blood from the white +face, recognized it as Lloyd, the coward of "B" Company. +Reverently covering the face with his handkerchief, he turned to +his "non-coms," and in a voice husky with emotion, addressed +them:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Boys, it's Lloyd the deserter. He +has redeemed himself, died the death of a hero. Died that his +mates might live."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">That afternoon, a solemn procession +wended its way toward the cemetery. In the front a stretcher was +carried by two Sergeants. Across the stretcher the Union Jack was +carefully spread. Behind the stretcher came a Captain and +forty-three men, all that were left of "D" Company.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Arriving at the cemetery, they +halted in front of an open grave. All about them, wooden crosses +were broken and trampled into the ground.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A grizzled old Sergeant, noting +this destruction, muttered under his breath: "Curse the cowardly +blighter who wrecked those crosses! If I could only get these two +hands around his neck, his trip West would be a short one."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The corpse on the stretcher seemed +to move, or it might have been the wind blowing the folds of the +Union Jack.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXV<br/> +PREPARING FOR THE BIG PUSH</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Rejoining Atwell after the +execution I had a hard time trying to keep my secret from him. I +think I must have lost at least ten pounds worrying over the +affair.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Beginning at seven in the evening +it was our duty to patrol all communication and front-line +trenches, making note of unusual occurrences, and arresting +anyone who should, to us, appear to be acting in a suspicious +manner. We slept during the day.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Behind the lines there was great +activity, supplies and ammunition pouring in, and long columns of +troops constantly passing. We were preparing for the big +offensive, the forerunner of the Battle of the Somme or "Big +Push."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The never-ending stream of men, +supplies, ammunition, and guns pouring into the British lines +made a mighty spectacle, one that cannot be described. It has to +be witnessed with your own eyes to appreciate its vastness.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At our part of the line the influx +of supplies never ended. It looked like a huge snake slowly +crawling forward, never a hitch or break, a wonderful tribute to +the system and efficiency of Great Britain's "contemptible little +army" of five millions of men.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Huge fifteen-inch guns snaked +along, foot by foot, by powerful steam tractors. Then a long line +of "four point five" batteries, each gun drawn by six horses, +then a couple of "nine point two" howitzers pulled by immense +caterpillar engines.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When one of these caterpillars +would pass me with its mighty monster in tow, a flush of pride +would mount to my face, because I could plainly read on the name +plate, "Made in U.S.A.," and I would remember that if I wore a +name plate it would also read, "Made in U.S.A." Then I would stop +to think how thin and straggly that mighty stream would be if all +the "Made in U. S. A." parts of it were withdrawn.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then would come hundreds of limbers +and "G. S." wagons drawn by sleek, well-fed mules, ridden by +sleek, well-fed men, ever smiling. Although grimy with sweat and +covered with the fine, white dust of the marvellously well-made +French roads.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">What a discouraging report the +German air men must have taken back to their Division Commanders, +and this stream is slowly but surely getting bigger and bigger +every day, and the pace is always the same. No slower, no faster, +but ever onward, ever forward.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Three weeks before the Big Push of +July 1st -- as the Battle of the Somme has been called -- +started, exact duplicates of the German trenches were dug about +thirty kilos behind our lines. The layout of the trenches were +taken from aeroplane photographs submitted by the Royal Flying +Corps. The trenches were correct to the foot; they showed +dugouts, saps, barbed wire defences, and danger spots.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Battalions that were to go over in +the first waves were sent back for three days to study these +trenches, engage in practice attacks, and have night maneuvers. +Each man was required to make a map of the trenches and +familiarize himself with the names and location of the parts his +battalion was to attack.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In the American army +non-commissioned officers are put through a course of map making +or road sketching, and during my six years' service in the United +States Cavalry, I had plenty of practice in this work, therefore +mapping these trenches was a comparatively easy task for me. Each +man had to submit his map to the Company Commander to be passed +upon, and I was lucky enough to have mine selected as being +sufficiently authentic to use in the attack.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">No photographs or maps are allowed +to leave France, but in this case it appealed to me as a valuable +souvenir of the Great War and I managed to smuggle it through. At +this time it carries no military importance as the British lines, +I am happy to say, have since been advanced beyond this point, so +it has been reproduced in this book without breaking any +regulation or cautions of the British Army.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The whole attack was rehearsed and +rehearsed until we heartily cursed the one who had conceived the +idea.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The trenches were named according +to a system which made it very simple for Tommy to find, even in +the dark, any point in the German lines.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">These imitation trenches, or trench +models, were well guarded from observation by numerous allied +planes which constantly circled above them. No German aeroplane +could approach within observing distance. A restricted area was +maintained and no civilian was allowed within three miles, so we +felt sure that we had a great surprise in store for Fritz.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When we took over the front line we +received an awful shock. The Germans displayed signboards over +the top of their trench showing the names that we had called +their trenches. The signs read "Fair," "Fact," "Fate," and +"Fancy" and so on, according to the code names on our map. Then +to rub it in, they hoisted some more signs which read, "When are +you coming over?" or "Come on, we are ready, stupid English."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It is still a mystery to me how +they obtained this knowledge. There had been no raids or +prisoners taken, so it must have been the work of spies in our +own lines.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Three or four days before the Big +Push we tried to shatter Fritz's nerves by feint attacks, and +partially succeeded as the official reports of July 1st show.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Although we were constantly +bombarding their lines day and night, still we fooled the Germans +several times. This was accomplished by throwing an intense +barrage into his lines, -- then using</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a href="images/238_large.jpg"> +<img src="images/238.jpg" width="768" height="618" alt="Illustration:" /></a> +</div> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">smoke shells we would put a curtain +of white smoke across No Man's Land, completely obstructing his +view of our trenches, and would raise our curtain of fire as if +in an actual attack. All down our trenches the men would shout +and cheer, and Fritz would turn loose with machine-gun, rifle, +and shrapnel fire, thinking we were coming over.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After three or four of these dummy +attacks his nerves must have been near the breaking point.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">On June 24, 1916, at 9:40 in the +morning our guns opened up, and hell was let loose. The din was +terrific, a constant boom-boom-boom in your ear.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At night the sky was a red glare. +Our bombardment had lasted about two hours when Fritz started +replying. Although we were sending over ten shells to his one, +our casualties were heavy. There was a constant stream of +stretchers coming out of the communication trenches and burial +parties were a common sight.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In the dugouts the noise of the +guns almost hurt. You had the same sensation as when riding on +the Subway you enter the tube under the river going to Brooklyn +-- a sort of pressure on the ear drums, and the ground constantly +trembling.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The roads behind the trenches were +very dangerous because Boche shrapnel was constantly bursting +over them. We avoided these dangerous spots by crossing through +open fields.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The destruction in the German lines +was awful and I really felt sorry for them because I realized how +they must be clicking it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">From our front-line trench, every +now and again, we could hear sharp whistle blasts in the German +trenches. These blasts were the signals for stretcher bearers, +and meant the wounding or killing of some German in the service +of his Fatherland.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Atwell and I had a tough time of +it, patrolling the different trenches at night, but after awhile +got used to it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">My old outfit, the Machine Gun +Company, was stationed in huge elephant dugouts about four +hundred yards behind the front-line trench-they were in reserve. +Occasionally I would stop in their dugout and have a confab with +my former mates. Although we tried to be jolly, still, there was +a lurking feeling of impending disaster. Each man was wondering, +if, after the slogan, "Over the top with the best of luck," had +been sounded, would he still be alive or would he be lying +"somewhere in France." In an old dilapidated house, the walls of +which were scarred with machine-gun bullets, No. 3 section of the +Machine Gun Company had its quarters. The Company's cooks +prepared the meals in this billet. On the fifth evening of the +bombardment a German eight-inch shell registered a direct hit on +the billet and wiped out ten men who were asleep in the +supposedly bomb-proof cellar. They were buried the next day and I +attended the funeral.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI<br/> +ALL QUIET (?) ON THE WESTERN FRONT</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At Brigade Headquarters I happened +to overhear a conversation between our G.O.C. (General Officer +Commanding) and the Divisional Commander. From this conversation +I learned that we were to bombard the German lines for eight +days, and on the first of July the "Big Push" was to +commence.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In a few days orders were issued to +that effect, and it was common property all along the line.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">On the afternoon of the eighth day +of our strafeing, Atwell and I were sitting in the frontline +trench smoking fags and making out our reports of the previous +night's tour of the trenches, which we had to turn in to +headquarters the following day, when an order was passed down the +trench that Old Pepper requested twenty volunteers to go over on +a trench raid that night to try and get a few German prisoners +for information purposes. I immediately volunteered for this job, +and shook hands with Atwell, and went to the rear to give my name +to the officers in charge of the raiding party.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I was accepted, worse luck.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At 9:40 that night we reported to +the Brigade Headquarters dugout to receive instructions from Old +Pepper.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After reaching this dugout we lined +up in a semicircle around him, and he addressed us as +follows:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"All I want you boys to do is to go +over to the German lines to-night, surprise them, secure a couple +of prisoners, and return immediately. Our artillery has bombarded +that section of the line for two days and personally I believe +that that part of the German trench is unoccupied, so just get a +couple of prisoners and return as quickly as possible."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Sergeant on my right, in an +undertone, whispered to me:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Say, Yank, how are we going to get +a couple of prisoners if the old fool thinks 'personally that +that part of the trench is unoccupied,' -- sounds kind of fishy, +doesn't it mate?"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I had a funny sinking sensation in +my stomach, and my tin hat felt as if it weighed about a ton and +my enthusiasm was melting away. Old Pepper must have heard the +Sergeant speak because he turned in his direction and in a +thundering voice asked:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"What did you say?"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Sergeant with a scared look on +his face and his knees trembling, smartly saluted and +answered:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Nothing, sir."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Old Pepper said:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Well, don't say it so loudly the +next time."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then Old Pepper continued:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"In this section of the German +trenches there are two or three machine guns which our artillery, +in the last two or three days, has been unable to tape. These +guns command the sector where two of our communication trenches +join the front line, and as the brigade is to go over the top +tomorrow morning I want to capture two or three men from these +guns' crews, and from them I may be able to obtain valuable +information as to the exact location of the guns, and our +artillery will therefore be able to demolish them before the +attack, and thus prevent our losing a lot of men while using +these communication trenches to bring up reinforcements."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">These were the instructions he gave +us:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Take off your identification +disks, strip your uniforms of all numerals, insignia, etc., leave +your papers with your captains, because I don't want the Boches +to know what regiments are against them as this would be valuable +information to them in our attack to-morrow and I don't want any +of you to be taken alive. What I want is two prisoners and if I +get them I have a way which will make them divulge all necessary +information as to their guns. You have your choice of two weapons +-- you may carry your 'persuaders' or your knuckle knives, and +each man will arm himself with four Mills bombs, these to be used +only in case of emergency."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A persuader is Tommy's nickname for +a club carried by the bombers. It is about two feet long, thin at +one end and very thick at the other. The thick end is studded +with sharp steel spikes, while through the center of the club +there is a nine-inch lead bar, to give it weight and balance. +When you get a prisoner all you have to do is just stick this +club up in front of him, and believe me, the prisoner's +patriotism for Deutschland Uber Alles fades away and he very +willingly obeys the orders of his captor. If, however, the +prisoner gets high-toned and refuses to follow you, simply +"persuade" him by first removing his tin hat, and then -- well, +the use of the lead weight in the persuader is demonstrated, and +Tommy looks for another prisoner.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The knuckle knife is a dagger +affair, the blade of which is about eight inches long with a +heavy steel guard over the grip. This guard is studded with steel +projections. At night in a trench, which is only about three to +four feet wide, it makes a very handy weapon. One punch in the +face generally shatters a man's jaw and you can get him with the +knife as he goes down.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then we had what we called our +"come-alongs." These are strands of barbed wire about three feet +long, made into a noose at one end; at the other end, the barbs +are cut off and Tommy slips his wrist through a loop to get a +good grip on the wire. If the prisoner wants to argue the point, +why just place the large loop around his neck and no matter if +Tommy wishes to return to his trenches at the walk, trot, or +gallop, Fritz is perfectly agreeable to maintain Tommy's rate of +speed.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We were ordered to black our faces +and hands. For this reason: at night, the English and Germans use +what they call star shells, a sort of rocket affair. These are +fired from a large pistol about twenty inches long, which is held +over the sandbag parapet of the trench, and discharged into the +air. These star shells attain a height of about sixty feet, and a +range of from fifty to seventy-five yards. When they hit the +ground they explode, throwing out a strong calcium light which +lights up the ground in a circle of a radius of between ten to +fifteen yards. They also have a parachute star shell which, after +reaching a height of about sixty feet, explodes. A parachute +unfolds and slowly floats to the ground, lighting up a large +circle in No Man's Land. The official name of the star shell is a +"Very-light." Very-lights are used to prevent night surprise +attacks on the trenches. If a star shell falls in front of you, +or between you and the German lines, you are safe from detection, +as the enemy cannot see you through the bright curtain of light. +But if it falls behind you and, as Tommy says, "you get into the +star shell zone," then the fun begins.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">You have to lie flat on your +stomach and remain absolutely motionless until the light of the +shell dies out. This takes anywhere from forty to seventy +seconds. If you haven't time to fall to the ground you must +remain absolutely still in whatever position you were in when the +light exploded; it is advisable not to breathe, as Fritz has an +eye like an eagle when he thinks you are knocking at his door. +When a star shell is burning in Tommy's rear he can hold his +breath for a week.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">You blacken your face and hands so +that the light from the star shells will not reflect on your pale +face. In a trench raid there is quite sufficient reason for your +face to be pale. If you don't believe me, try it just once.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then another reason for blacking +your face and hands is that, after you have entered the German +trench at night, "white face" means Germans, "black face" +English. Coming around a traverse you see a white face in front +of you. With a prayer and wishing Fritz "the best o' luck," you +introduce him to your "persuader" or knuckle knife.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A little later we arrived at the +communication trench named Whiskey Street, which led to the fire +trench at the point we were to go over the top and out in +front.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In our rear were four stretcher +bearers and a Corporal of the R.A.M.C. carrying a pouch +containing medicines and first-aid appliances. Kind of a grim +reminder to us that our expedition was not going to be exactly a +picnic. The order of things was reversed. In civilian life the +doctors generally come first, with the undertakers tagging in the +rear and then the insurance man, but in our case, the undertakers +were leading, with the doctors trailing behind, minus the +insurance adjuster.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The presence of the R.A.M.C. men +did not seem to disturb the raiders, because many a joke, made in +an undertone, was passed along the winding column, as to who +would be first to take a ride on one of the stretchers. This was +generally followed by a wish that, if you were to be the one, the +wound would be a "cushy Blighty one."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The stretcher bearers, no doubt, +were hoping that, if they did have to carry anyone to the rear, +he would be small and light. Perhaps they looked at me when +wishing, because I could feel an uncomfortable, boring sensation +between my shoulder blades. They got their wish all right.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Going up this trench, about every +sixty yards or so we would pass a lonely sentry, who in a whisper +would wish us "the best o' luck, mates." We would blind at him +under our breaths; that Jonah phrase to us sounded very +ominous.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Without any casualties the minstrel +troop arrived in Suicide Ditch, the front-line trench. +Previously, a wiring party of the Royal Engineers had cut a lane +through our barbed wire to enable us to get out into No Man's +Land.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Crawling through this lane, our +party of twenty took up an extended-order formation about one +yard apart. We had a tap code arranged for our movements while in +No Man's Land, because for various reasons it is not safe to +carry on a heated conversation a few yards in front of Fritz's +lines. The officer was on the right of the line, while I was on +the extreme left. Two taps from the right would be passed down +the line until I received them, then I would send back one tap. +The officer, in receiving this one tap, would know that his order +had gone down the whole line, had been understood, and that the +party was ready to obey the two-tap signal. Two taps meant that +we were to crawl forward slowly -- and believe me, very slowly -- +for five yards, and then halt to await further instructions. +Three taps meant, when you arrived within striking distance of +the German trench, rush it and inflict as many casualties as +possible, secure a couple of prisoners, and then back to your own +lines with the speed clutch open. Four taps meant, "I have gotten +you into a position from which it is impossible for me to +extricate you, so you are on your own."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After getting Tommy into a mess on +the western front he is generally told that he is "on his own." +This means, "Save your skin in any way possible." Tommy loves to +be "on his own" behind the lines, but not during a trench +raid.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The star shells from the German +lines were falling in front of us, therefore we were safe. After +about twenty minutes we entered the star shell zone. A star shell +from the German lines fell about five yards in the rear and to +the right of me; we hugged the ground and held our breath until +it burned out. The smoke from the star shell travelled along the +ground and crossed over the middle of our line. Some Tommy +sneezed. The smoke had gotten up his nose. We crouched on the +ground, cursing the offender under our breath, and waited the +volley that generally ensues when the Germans have heard a noise +in No Man's Land. Nothing happened. We received two taps and +crawled forward slowly for five yards; no doubt the officer +believed what Old Pepper had said, "Personally I believe that +that part of the German trench is unoccupied." By being careful +and remaining motionless when the star shells fell behind us, we +reached the German barbed wire without mishap. Then the fun +began. I was scared stiff as it is ticklish work cutting your way +through wire when about thirty feet in front of you there is a +line of Boches looking out into No Man's Land with their rifles +lying across the parapet, straining every sense to see or hear +what is going on in No Man's Land; because at night, Fritz never +knows when a bomb with his name and number on it will come +hurtling through the air aimed in the direction of Berlin. The +man on the right, one man in the center, and myself on the +extreme left were equipped with wire cutters. These are insulated +with soft rubber, not because the German wires are charged with +electricity, but to prevent the cutters rubbing against the +barbed wire stakes, which are of iron, and making a noise which +may warn the inmates of the trench that someone is getting fresh +in their front yard. There is only one way to cut a barbed wire +without noise and through costly experience Tommy has become an +expert in doing this.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">You must grasp the wire about two +inches from the stake in your right hand and cut between the +stake and your hand.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">If you cut a wire improperly, a +loud twang will ring out on the night air like the snapping of a +banjo string. Perhaps this noise can be heard only for fifty or +seventy-five yards, but in Tommy's mind it makes a loud noise in +Berlin.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We had cut a lane about halfway +through the wire when, down the center of our line, twang! went +an improperly cut wire. We crouched down, cursing under our +breath, trembling all over, our knees lacerated from the strands +of the cut barbed wire on the ground, waiting for a challenge and +the inevitable volley of rifle fire. Nothing happened. I suppose +the fellow who cut the barbed wire improperly was the one who had +sneezed about half an hour previously. What we wished him would +never make his new year a happy one.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The officer, in my opinion, at the +noise of the wire should have given the four-tap signal, which +meant, "On your own, get back to your trenches as quickly as +possible," but again he must have relied on the spiel that Old +Pepper had given us in the dugout, "Personally I believe that +that part of the German trench is unoccupied." Anyway, we got +careless, but not so careless that we sang patriotic songs or +made any unnecessary noise.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">During the intervals of falling +star shells we carried on with our wire cutting until at last we +succeeded in getting through the German barbed wire. At this +point we were only ten feet from the German trenches. If we were +discovered, we were like rats in a trap. Our way was cut off +unless we ran along the wire to the narrow lane we had cut +through. With our hearts in our mouths we waited for the +three-tap signal to rush the German trench. Three taps had gotten +about halfway down the line when suddenly about ten to twenty +German star shells were fired all along the trench and landed in +the barbed wire in rear of us, turning night into day and +silhouetting us against the wall of light made by the flares. In +the glaring light we were confronted by the following unpleasant +scene.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">All along the German trench, at +about three-foot intervals, stood a big Prussian guardsman with +his rifle at the aim, and then we found out why we had not been +challenged when the man sneezed and the barbed wire had been +improperly cut. About three feet in front of the trench they had +constructed a single fence of barbed wire and we knew our chances +were one thousand to one of returning alive. We could not rush +their trench on account of this second defense. Then in front of +me the challenge, "Halt," given in English rang out, and one of +the finest things I have ever heard on the western front took +place.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">From the middle of our line some +Tommy answered the challenge with, "Aw, go to hell." It must have +been the man who had sneezed or who had improperly cut the barbed +wire; he wanted o show Fritz that he could die game. Then came +the volley. Machine guns were turned loose and several bombs were +thrown in our rear. The Boche in front of me was looking down his +sight. This fellow might have, under ordinary circumstances, been +handsome, but when I viewed him from the front of his rifle he +had the goblins of childhood imagination relegated to the +shade.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then came a flash in front of me, +the flare of his rifle-and my head seemed to burst. A bullet had +hit me on the left side of my face about half an inch from my +eye, smashing the cheek bones. I put my hand to my face and fell +forward, biting the ground and kicking my feet. I thought I was +dying, but do you know, my past life did not unfold before me the +way it does in novels.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The blood was streaming down my +tunic, and the pain was awful. When I came to I said to myself, +"Emp, old boy, you belong in Jersey City and you'd better get +back there as quickly as possible."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The bullets were cracking overhead. +I crawled a few feet back to the German barbed wire, and in a +stooping position, guiding myself by the wire, I went down the +line looking for the lane we had cut through. Before reaching +this lane I came to a limp form which seemed like a bag of oats +hanging over the wire. In the dim light I could see that its +hands were blackened, and knew it was the body of one of my +mates. I put my hand on his head, the top of which had been blown +off by a bomb. My fingers sank into the hole. I pulled my hand +back full of blood and brains, then I went crazy with fear and +horror and rushed along the wire until I came to our lane. I had +just turned down this lane when something inside of me seemed to +say, "Look around." I did so; a bullet caught me on the left +shoulder. It did not hurt much, just felt as if someone had +punched me in the back, and then my left side went numb. My arm +was dangling like a rag. I fell forward in a sitting position. +But all fear had left me and I was consumed with rage and cursed +the German trenches. With my right hand I felt in my tunic for my +first-aid or shell dressing. In feeling over my tunic my hand +came in contact with one of the bombs which I carried. Gripping +it, I pulled the pin out with my teeth and blindly threw it +towards the German trench. I must have been out of my head +because I was only ten feet from the trench and took a chance of +being mangled. If the bomb had failed to go into the trench I +would have been blown to bits by the explosion of my own +bomb.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">By the flare of the explosion of +the bomb, which luckily landed in their trench, I saw one big +Boche throw up his arms and fall backwards, while his rifle flew +into the air. Another one wilted and fell forward across the +sandbags -- then blackness.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Realizing what a foolhardy and +risky thing I had done, I was again seized with a horrible fear. +I dragged myself to my feet and ran madly down the lane through +the barbed wire, stumbling over cut wires, tearing my uniform, +and lacerating my hands and legs. Just as I was about to reach No +Man's Land again, that same voice seemed to say, "Turn around." I +did so, when, "crack," another bullet caught me, this +time in the left shoulder about one half inch away from the other +wound. Then it was taps for me. The lights went out.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When I came to I was crouching in a +hole in No Man's Land. This shell hole was about three feet deep, +so that it brought my head a few inches below the level of the +ground. How I reached this hole I will never know. German +"type-writers" were traversing back and forth +in No Man's Land, the bullets biting the edge of my shell hole +and throwing dirt all over me.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Overhead, shrapnel was bursting. I +could hear the fragments slap the ground. Then I went out once +more. When I came to, everything was silence and darkness in No +Man's Land. I was soaked with blood and a big flap from the wound +in my cheek was hanging over my mouth. The blood running from +this flap choked me. Out of the corner of my mouth I would try and +blow it back but it would not move. I reached for my shell +dressing and tried, with one hand, to bandage my face to prevent +the flow. I had an awful horror of bleeding to death and was +getting very faint. You would have laughed if you had seen my +ludicrous attempts at bandaging with one hand. The pains in my +wounded shoulder were awful and I was getting sick at the +stomach. I gave up the bandaging stunt as a bad job, and then +fainted.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When I came to, hell was let loose. +An intense bombardment was on, and on the whole my position was +decidedly unpleasant. Then, suddenly, our barrage ceased. The +silence almost hurt, but not for long, because Fritz turned loose +with shrapnel, machine guns, and rifle fire. Then all along our +line came a cheer and our boys came over the top in a charge. The +first wave was composed of "Jocks." They were a magnificent +sight, kilts flapping in the wind, bare knees showing, and their +bayonets glistening. In the first wave that passed my shell hole, +one of the "Jocks," an immense fellow, about six feet two inches +in height, jumped right over me. On the right and left of me +several soldiers in colored kilts were huddled on the ground, +then over came the second wave, also "Jocks." One young Scottie, +when he came abreast of my shell hole, leaped into the air, his +rifle shooting out of his hands, landing about six feet in front +of him, bayonet first, and stuck in the ground, the butt +trembling. This impressed me greatly.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Right now I can see the butt of +that gun trembling. The Scottie made a complete turn in the air, +hit the ground, rolling over twice, each time clawing at the +earth, and then remained still, about four feet from me, in a +sort of sitting position. I called to him, "Are you hurt badly, +Jock?" but no answer. He was dead. A dark, red smudge was coming +through his tunic right under the heart. The blood ran down his +bare knees, making a horrible sight. On his right side he carried +his water bottle. I was crazy for a drink and tried to reach +this, but for the life of me could not negotiate that four feet. +Then I became unconscious. When I woke up I was in an advanced +first-aid post. I asked the doctor if we had taken the trench. +"We took the trench and the wood beyond, all right," he said, +"and you fellows did your bit; but, my lad, that was thirty-six +hours ago. You were lying in No Man's Land in that bally hole for +a day and a half. It's a wonder you are alive." He also told me +that out of the twenty that were in the raiding party, seventeen +were killed. The officer died of wounds in crawling back to our +trench and I was severely wounded, but one fellow returned +without a scratch without any prisoners. No doubt this chap was +the one who had sneezed and improperly cut the barbed wire.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In the official communique our +trench raid was described as follows:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"All quiet on the Western front, +excepting in the neighborhood of Gommecourt Wood, where one of +our raiding parties penetrated into the German lines."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It is needless to say that we had +no use for our persuaders or come-alongs, as we brought back no +prisoners, and until I die Old Pepper's words, "Personally I +don't believe that that part of the German trench is occupied," +will always come to me when I hear some fellow trying to get away +with a fishy statement. I will judge it accordingly.</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII<br/> +BLIGHTY</h2> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">From this first-aid post, after +inoculating me with anti-tetanus serum to prevent lockjaw, I was +put into an ambulance and sent to temporary hospital behind the +lines. To reach this hospital we had to go along a road about +five miles in length. This road was under shell fire, for now and +then a flare would light up the sky, -- a tremendous explosion, +-- and then the road seemed to tremble. We did not mind, though +no doubt some of us wished that a shell would hit us and end our +misery. Personally, I was not particular. It was nothing but +bump, jolt, rattle, and bang.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Several times the driver would turn +around and give us a "Cheero, mates, we'll soon be there -- " +fine fellows, those ambulance drivers, a lot of them go West +too.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We gradually drew out of the fire +zone and pulled up in front of an immense dugout. +Stretcher-bearers carried me down a number of steps and placed me +on a white table in a brightly lighted room.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A Sergeant of the Royal Army +Medical Corps removed my bandages and cut off my tunic. Then the +doctor, with his sleeves rolled up, took charge. He winked at me +and I winked back, and then he asked, "How do you feel, smashed +up a bit?"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I answered: "I'm all right, but I'd +give a quid for a drink of Bass."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He nodded to the Sergeant who +disappeared, and I'll be darned if he didn't return with a glass +of ale. I could only open my mouth about a quarter of an inch, +but I got away with every drop of that ale. It tasted just like +Blighty, and that is heaven to Tommy.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The doctor said something to an +orderly, the only word I could catch was "chloroform," then they +put some kind of an arrangement over my nose and mouth and it was +me for dreamland.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When I opened my eyes I was lying +on a stretcher, in a low wooden building. Everywhere I looked I +saw rows of Tommies on stretchers, some dead to the world, and +the rest with fags in their mouths.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The main topic of their +conversation was Blighty. Nearly all had a grin on their faces, +except those who didn't have enough face left to grin with. I +grinned with my right eye, the other was band-aged.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Stretcher-bearers came in and began +to carry the Tommies outside. You could hear the chug of the +engines in the waiting ambulances.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I was put into a Ford with three +others and away we went for an eighteen-mile ride. Keep out of a +Ford when you are wounded; insist on walking, it'll pay you.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I was on a bottom stretcher. The +lad right across from me was smashed up something horrible.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Right above me was a man from the +Royal Irish Rifles, while across from him was a Scotchman.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">We had gone about three miles when +I heard the death-rattle in the throat of the man opposite. He +had gone to rest across the Great Divide. I think at the time I +envied him.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The man of the Royal Irish Rifles +had had his left foot blown off, the jolting of the ambulance +over the rough road had loosened up the bandages on his foot, and +had started it bleeding again.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">His blood ran down the side of the +stretcher and started dripping. I was lying on my back, too weak +to move, and the dripping of this blood got me in my unbandaged +right eye. I closed my eye and pretty soon could not open the +lid; the blood had congealed and closed it, as if it were glued +down.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">An English girl dressed in khaki +was driving the ambulance, while beside her on the seat was a +Corporal of the R.A.M.C. They kept up a running conversation +about Blighty which almost wrecked my nerves; pretty soon from +the stretcher above me, the Irishman became aware of the fact +that the bandage from his foot had become loose; it must have +pained him horribly, because he yelled in a loud voice:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"If you don't stop this bloody +death wagon and fix this damned bandage on my foot, I will get +out and walk."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The girl on the seat turned around +and in a sympathetic voice asked, "Poor fellow, are you very +badly wounded?"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The Irishman, at this question, let +out a howl of indignation and answered, "Am I very badly wounded, +what bloody cheek; no, I'm not wounded, I've only been kicked by +a canary bird."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The ambulance immediately stopped, +and the Corporal came to the rear and fixed him up, and also +washed out my right eye. I was too weak to thank him, but it was +a great relief. Then I must have become unconscious, because when +I regained my senses, the ambulance was at a standstill, and my +stretcher was being removed from it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">It was night, lanterns were +flashing here and there, and I could see stretcher-bearers +hurrying to and fro. Then I was carried into a hospital +train.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The inside of this train looked +like heaven to me, just pure white, and we met our first Red +Cross nurses; we thought they were angels. And they were.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Nice little soft bunks and clean, +white sheets.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A Red Cross nurse sat beside me +during the whole ride which lasted three hours. She was holding +my wrist; I thought. I had made a hit, and tried to tell her how +I got wounded, but she would put her finger to her lips and say, +"Yes, I know, but you mustn't talk now, try to go to sleep, it'll +do you good, doctor's orders." Later on I learned that she was +taking my pulse every few minutes, as I was very weak from the +loss of blood and they expected me to snuff it, but I didn't.</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/266.jpg" width="681" height="484" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">From the train we went into +ambulances for a short ride to the hospital ship Panama. Another +palace and more angels. I don't remember the trip across the +channel.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I opened my eyes; I was being +carried on a stretcher through lanes of people, some cheering, +some waving flags, and others crying. The flags were Union Jacks, +I was in Southampton. Blighty at last. My stretcher was strewn +with flowers, cigarettes, and chocolates. Tears started to run +down my cheek from my good eye. I like a booby was crying, can +you beat it?</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Then into another hospital train, a +five-hour ride to Paignton, another ambulance ride, and</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">then I was carried into Munsey Ward +of the American Women's War Hospital and put into a real bed.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">This real bed was too much for my +unstrung nerves and I fainted.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When I came to, a pretty Red Cross +nurse was bending over me, bathing my forehead with cold water, +then she left and the ward orderly placed a screen around my bed, +and gave me a much-needed bath and clean pajamas. Then the screen +was removed and a bowl of steaming soup was given me. It tasted +delicious.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Before finishing my soup the nurse +came back to ask me my name and number. She put this information +down in a little book and then asked:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Where do you come from?" I +answered:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"From the big town behind the +Statue of Liberty"; upon hearing this she started +jumping up and down, clapping her hands, and calling out to three +nurses across the ward:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Come here, girls -- at last we +have got a real live Yankee with us."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">They came over and besieged me with +questions, until the doctor arrived. Upon learning that I was an +American he almost crushed my hand in his grip of welcome. They +also were Americans, and were glad to see me.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The doctor very tenderly removed my +bandages and told me, after viewing my wounds, that he would have +to take me to the operating theater immediately. Personally I +didn't care what was done with me.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In a few minutes, four orderlies +who looked like undertakers dressed in white, brought a stretcher +to my bed and placing me on it carried me out of the ward, across +a courtyard to the operating room or "pictures," as Tommy calls +it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I don't remember having the +anesthetic applied.</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/268.jpg" width="323" height="488" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When I came to I was again lying in +a bed in Munsey Ward. One of the nurses had draped a large +American flag over the head of the bed, and clasped in my hand +was a smaller flag, and it made me feel good all over to again +see the "Stars and Stripes."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">At that time I wondered when the +boys in the trenches would see the emblem of the "land of the +free and the home of the brave" beside them, doing its bit in +this great war of civilization.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">My wounds were very painful, and +several times at night I would dream that myriads of khaki +clothed figures would pass my bed and each would stop, bend over +me, and whisper, "The best of luck, mate."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Soaked with perspiration I would +awake with a cry, and the night nurse would come over and hold my +hand. This awakening got to be a habit with me, until that +particular nurse was transferred to another ward.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In three weeks' time, owing to the +careful treatment received, I was able to sit up and get my +bearings. Our ward contained seventy-five patients, ninety per +cent of which were surgical cases. At the head of each bed hung a +temperature chart and diagnosis sheet. Across this sheet would be +written "G.S.W." or "S.W." the former meaning Gun Shot Wound and +the latter Shell Wound. The "S.W." +predominated, especially among the Royal Field Artillery and +Royal Engineers.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">About forty different regiments +were represented and many arguments ensued as to the respective +fighting ability of each regiment. The rivalry was wonderful. A +Jock arguing with an Irishman, then a strong Cockney accent would +butt in in favor of a London Regiment. Before long a Welshman, +followed by a member of a Yorkshire regiment, and, perhaps, a +Canadian intrude themselves and the argument waxes loud and +furious. The patients in the beds start howling for them to +settle their dispute outside and the ward is in an uproar. The +head sister comes along and with a wave of the hand completely +routs the doughty warriors and again silence reigns supreme.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Wednesday and Sunday of each week +were visiting days and were looked forward to by the men, because +they meant parcels containing fruit, sweets, or fags. When a +patient had a regular visitor, he was generally kept well +supplied with these delicacies. Great jealousy is shown among the +men as to their visitors and many word wars ensue after the +visitors leave.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When a man is sent to a +convalescent home, he generally turns over his steady visitor to +the man in the next bed.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Most visitors have autograph albums +and bore Tommy to death by asking him to write the particulars of +his wounding in same. Several Tommies try to duck this unpleasant +job by telling the visitor that he cannot write, but this never +phases the owner of the album; he or she, generally she, offers +to write it for him and Tommy is stung into telling his +experiences.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The questions asked Tommy by +visitors would make a clever joke book to a military man.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Some kindly looking old lady will +stop at your bed and in a sympathetic voice address you; "You +poor boy, wounded by those terrible Germans. You must be +suffering frightful pain. A bullet did you say? Well, tell me, I +have always wanted to know, did it hurt worse going in or coming +out?"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Tommy generally replies that he did +not stop to figure it out when he was hit.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">One very nice-looking, +over-enthusiastic young thing, stopped at my bed and asked, "What +wounded you in the face?"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In a polite but bored tone I +answered, "A rifle bullet."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">With a look of disdain she passed +to the next bed, first ejaculating, "Oh! only a bullet? I thought +it was a shell." Why she should think a shell wound was more of a +distinction beats me. I don't see a whole lot of difference +myself.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The American Women's War Hospital +was a heaven for wounded men. They were allowed every privilege +possible conducive with the rules and military discipline. The +only fault was that the men's passes were restricted. To get a +pass required an act of Parliament. Tommy tried many tricks to +get out, but the Commandant, an old Boer War officer, was wise to +them all, and it took a new and clever ruse to make him affix his +signature to the coveted slip of paper.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">As soon as it would get dark many a +patient climbed over the wall and went "on his own," regardless +of many signs staring him in the face, "Out of bounds for +patients." Generally the nurses were looking the other way when +one of these night raids started. I hope this information will +get none of them into trouble, but I cannot resist the temptation +to let the Commandant know that occasionally we put it over on +him.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">One afternoon I received a note, +through our underground channel, from my female visitor,</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/272.jpg" width="610" height="417" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">asking me to attend a party at her +house that night. I answered that she could expect me and to meet +me at a certain place on the road well known by all patients, and +some visitors, as "Over the wall." I told her I would be on hand +at seven-thirty.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">About seven-fifteen I sneaked my +overcoat and cap out of the ward and hid it in the bushes. Then I +told the nurse, a particular friend of mine, that I was going for +a walk in the rose garden. She winked and I knew that everything +was all right on her end.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Going out of the ward, I slipped +into the bushes and made for the wall. It was dark as pitch and I +was groping through the underbrush, when suddenly I stepped into +space and felt myself rushing downward, a horrible bump, and +blackness. When I came to, my wounded shoulder was hurting +horribly. I was lying against a circular wall of bricks, dripping +with moisture, and far away I could hear the trickling of water. +I had in the darkness fallen into an old disused well. But why +wasn't I wet? According to all rules I should have been drowned. +Perhaps I was and didn't know it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">As the shock of my sudden stop +gradually wore off, it came to me that I was lying on a ledge and +that the least movement on my part would precipitate me to the +bottom of the well.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I struck a match. In its faint +glare I saw that I was lying in a circular hole about twelve feet +deep,-the well had been filled in! The dripping I had heard came +from a water pipe over on my right.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">With my wounded shoulder it was +impossible to shinny up the pipe. I could not yell for help, +because the rescuer would want to know how the accident happened, +and I would be haled before the Commandant on charges. I just had +to grin and bear it with the forlorn hope that one of the +returning night raiders would pass and I could give him our usual +signal of "siss-s-s-s" which would bring him to the rescue.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Every half-hour I could hear the +clock in the village strike, each stroke bringing forth a muffled +volley of curses on the man who had dug the well.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After two hours, I heard two men +talking in low voices. I recognized Corporal Cook, an ardent +"night raider." He heard my "siss-s-s-s" and came to the edge of +the hole. I explained my predicament and amid a lot of +impertinent remarks, which at the time I did not resent, I was +soon fished out.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Taking off our boots we sneaked +into the ward. I was sitting on my bed in the dark, just starting +to undress, when the man next to me, "Ginger" Phillips, +whispered. "'Op it, Yank, 'ere comes the matron."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I immediately got under the covers +and feigned sleep. The matron stood talking in low tones to the +night nurse and I fell asleep.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">When I awoke in the morning the +night sister, an American, was bending over me. An awful sight +met my eyes. The coverlet on the bed and the sheets were a mass +of mud and green slime. She was a good sport all right and +hustled to get clean clothes and sheets so that no one would get +wise, but "on her own" she gave me a good tongue lashing but did +not report me. One of the Canadians in the ward described her as +being "A Jake of a good fellow."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Next visiting day I had an awful +time explaining to my visitor why I had not met her at the +appointed time and place.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">And for a week every time I passed +a patient he would call, "Well, well, here's the Yank. Hope you +are feeling well, old top."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The surgeon in our ward was an +American, a Harvard Unit man, named Frost. We nicknamed him "Jack +Frost." He was loved by all. If a Tommy was to be cut up he had +no objection to undergoing the operation if "Jack Frost" was to +wield the knife. Their confidence in him was pathetic. He was the +best sport I have ever met.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">One Saturday morning the Commandant +and some "high up" officers were inspecting the ward, when one of +the patients who had been wounded in the head by a bit of +shrapnel, fell on the floor in a fit. They brought him round, and +then looked for the ward orderly to carry the patient back to his +bed at the other end of the ward. The orderly was nowhere to be +found -- like our policemen, they never are when needed. The +officers were at a loss how to get Palmer into his bed. Dr. Frost +was fidgeting around in a nervous manner, when suddenly with a +muffled "damn" and a few other qualifying adjectives, he stooped +down, and took the man in his arms like a baby,-- he was no +feather either, -- and staggered down the ward with him, put him +in bed, and undressed him. A low murmur of approval came from the +patients. Dr. Frost got very red and as soon as he had finished +undressing Palmer, hurriedly left the ward.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The wound in my face had almost +healed and I was a horrible-looking sight -- the left cheek +twisted into a knot, the eye pulled down, and my mouth pointing +in a north by northwest direction. I was very down-hearted and +could imagine myself during the rest of my life being shunned by +all on account of the repulsive scar.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Dr. Frost arranged for me to go to +the Cambridge Military Hospital at Aldershot for a special +operation to try and make the scar presentable.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I arrived at the hospital and got +an awful shock. The food was poor and the discipline abnormally +strict. No patient was allowed to sit on his bed, and smoking was +permitted only at certain designated hours. The face specialist +did nothing for me except to look at the wound. I made +application for a transfer back to Paignton, offering to pay my +transportation. This offer was accepted, and after two weeks' +absence, once again I arrived in Munsey Ward, all hope gone.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The next day after my return, Dr. +Frost stopped at my bed and said: "Well, Empey, if you want me to +try and see what I can do with that scar, I'll do it, but you are +taking an awful chance."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I answered: "Well, Doctor, Steve +Brodie took a chance; he hails from New York and so do I."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Two days after the undertaker squad +carried me to the operating room or "pictures," as we called them +because of the funny films we see under ether, and the operation +was performed. It was a wonderful piece of surgery, and a +marvelous success. From now on that doctor can have my shirt.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">More than once some poor soldier +has been brought into the ward in a dying condition, resulting +from loss of blood and exhaustion caused by his long journey from +the trenches. After an examination the doctor announces that the +only thing that will save him is a transfusion of blood. Where is +the blood to come from? He does not have to wait long for an +answer, -- several Tommies immediately volunteer their blood for +their mate. Three or four are accepted; a blood test is made, and +next day the transfusion takes place and there is another pale +face in the ward.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Whenever bone is needed for some +special operation, there are always men willing to give some, -- +a leg if necessary to save some mangled mate from being crippled +for life. More than one man will go through life with another +man's blood running through his veins, or a piece of his rib or +his shinbone in his own anatomy. Sometimes he never even knows +the name of his benefactor.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The spirit of sacrifice is +wonderful.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">For all the suffering caused this +war is a blessing to England -- it has made new men of her sons; +has welded all classes into one glorious whole.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">And I can't help saying that the +doctors, sisters, and nurses in the English hospitals, are angels +on earth. I love them all and can never repay the care and +kindness shown to me. For the rest of my life the Red Cross will +be to me the symbol of Faith, Hope, and Charity.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After four months in the hospital, +I went before an examining board and was discharged from the +service of his Britannic Majesty as "physically unfit for further +war service."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">After my discharge I engaged +passage on the American liner, New York, and after a stormy trip +across the Atlantic, one momentous day, in the haze of early dawn +I saw the Statue of Liberty looming over the port rail, and I +wondered if ever again I would go "over the top with the best of +luck and give them hell."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">And even then, though it may seem +strange, I was really sorry not to be back in the trenches with +my mates. War is not a pink tea but in a worthwhile cause like +ours, mud, rats, cooties, shells, wounds, or death itself, are +far outweighed by the deep sense of satisfaction felt by the man +who does his bit.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">There is one thing which my +experience taught me that might help the boy who may have to go. +It is this anticipation is far worse than realization. In civil +life a man stands in awe of the man above him, wonders how he +could ever fill his Job. When the time comes he rises to the +occasion, is up and at it, and is surprised to find how much more +easily than he anticipated he fills his responsibilities. It is +really so "out there."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">He has nerve for the hardships; the +interest of the work grips him; he finds relief in the fun and +comradeship of the trenches and wins that best sort of happiness +that comes with duty done.</p> + +<p class="center">"TOMMY'S DICTIONARY +OF THE TRENCHES"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">In this so-called dictionary I have +tried to list most of the pet terms and slangy definitions, which +Tommy Atkins uses a thousand times a day as he is serving in +France. I have gathered them as I lived with him in the trenches +and rest billets, and later in the hospitals in England where I +met men from all parts of the line.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">The definitions are not official, +of course. Tommy is not a sentimental sort of animal so some of +his definitions are not exactly complimentary, but he is not +cynical and does not mean to offend anyone higher up. It is just +a sort of "ragging" or "kidding," as the American would say, that +helps him pass the time away.</p> + +<p class="center">SLANG TERMS, +SAYINGS, PHRASES, ETC.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"About turn." A military command +similar to "About face" or "To the rear, march." Tommy's nickname +for Hebuterne, a point on the British line.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Adjutant. The name given to an +officer who helps the Colonel do nothing. He rides a horse and +you see him at guard mounting and battalion parade.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A.D.M.S. Assistant Director of +Medical Service. Have never seen him but he is supposed to help +the D. M. S. and pass on cases where Tommy is posted as "unfit +for trench service."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Aerial Torpedo. A kind of trench +mortar shell, guaranteed by the makers to break up Fritz's supper +of sausages and beer, even though said supper is in a dugout +thirty feet down. Sometimes it lives up to its reputation.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Alarm. A signal given in the +trenches that the enemy is about to attack, frequently false. It +is mainly used to break up Tommy's dreams of home.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"All around traverse." +A machine gun so placed that its fire can be turned in any +direction.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Allemand. A French term meaning +"German." Tommy uses it because he thinks it is a swear word.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Allotment. A certain sum Tommy +allows to his family.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Allumettes. French term for what +they sell to Tommy as matches, the sulphurous fumes from which +have been known to "gas" a whole platoon.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Ammo." Rifle ammunition. Used to +add weight to Tommy's belt. He carries 120 rounds, at all times, +except when he buries it under the straw in his billet before +going on a route march. In the trenches he expends it in the +direction of Berlin.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Ammo Depot. A place where +ammunition is stored. It is especially useful in making enemy +airmen waste bombs trying to hit it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Ammonal. A high explosive used in +the Mills bomb. The Germans are more able than Tommy to discourse +on its effects.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Any complaints." A useless +question asked by an inspecting officer when he makes the rounds +of billets or Tommy's meals. A complaining Tommy generally lands +on the crime sheet. It is only recruits who complain; the old men +just sigh with disgust.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A.O.C. Army Ordnance Corps. A +department which deals out supplies to the troops. Its chief +asset is the returning of requisitions because a comma is +misplaced.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A.P.M. Assistant Provost Marshal. +An officer at the head of the Military Police. His headquarters +are generally out of reach of the enemy's guns. His chief duties +are to ride around in a motor car and wear a red band around his +cap.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Apres la Guerre." "After the war." +Tommy's definition of Heaven.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">A.S.C. Army Service Corps, or Army +Safety Corps as Tommy calls it. The members of which bring up +supplies to the rear of the line.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">B</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Back 'o the line." Any place +behind the firing line out of range of enemy guns.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Baler. A scoop affair for baling +out water from the trenches and dugouts. As the trenches +generally drain the surrounding landscape, the sun has to be +appealed to before the job is completed.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Bantams. Men under the standard +army height of 5 ft. 3 in. They are in a separate organization +called "The Bantam Battalion," and although undersized have the +opinion that they can lick the whole German Army.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Barbed Wire. A lot of prickly wire +entwined around stakes driven in front of the trenches. This +obstruction is supposed to prevent the Germans from taking +lodgings in your dugouts. It also affords the enemy artillery +rare sport trying to blow it up.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm"> +"Barndook." Tommy's nickname for +his rifle. He uses it because it is harder to say and spell than +"rifle."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Barrage. Concentrated shell-fire on +a sector of the German line. In the early days of the war, when +ammunition was defective, it often landed on Tommy himself.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Barricade. An obstruction of +sandbags to impede the enemy's traffic into your trench. You +build it up and he promptly knocks it down, so what's the +use.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Bashed in." Smashed by a shell. +Generally applied to a trench or dugout.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Batman. A man who volunteers to +clean a non-commissioned officer's buttons but who never +volunteers for a trench raid. He ranks next to a worm.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Bayonet. A sort of knife-like +contrivance which fits on the end of your rifle. The Government +issues it to stab Germans with. Tommy uses it to toast bread.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Big Boys." Large guns, generally +eight inch or above.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Big Push." "The Battle of the +Somme." He often calls it "The First of July," the date on which +it started.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Big Stuff." Large shells, eight +inch or over.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Big Willie." Tommy's term for his +personal friend, the Kaiser.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Billet. Sometimes a regular house +but generally a stable where Tommy sleeps while behind the lines. +It is generally located near a large manure pile. Most billets +have numerous entrances-one for Tommy and the rest for rain, +rats, wind, and shells.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Billet Guard. Three men and a +corporal who are posted to guard the billets of soldiers. They do +this until the orderly officer has made his rounds at night, then +they go to sleep.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Biscuit. A concoction of flour and +water, baked until very hard. Its original use was for building +purposes, but Tommy is supposed to eat it. Tommy is no coward but +he balks at this. Biscuits make excellent fuel, and give no +smoke.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Bivouac. A term given by Tommy to a +sort of tent made out of waterproof sheets.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Blastine. A high explosive which +promotes Kultur in the German lines,</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Blighty. An East Indian term +meaning "over the seas." Tommy has adopted it as a synonym for +home. He tries numerous ways of reaching Blighty, but the "powers +that be" are wise to all of his attempts, so he generally +fails.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Blighty One." A wound serious +enough to send Tommy to England.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">B.M.G.C. Brigade Machine Gun +Company, composed of Vickers machine gunners. They always put +their packs on a limber or small wagon while route marching, +which fact greatly arouses the Jealousy of Tommy.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Body Snatcher." Tommy's term for a +sniper.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Bomb. An infernal device filled +with high explosive which you throw at the Germans. Its chief +delight is to explode before it leaves your hand.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Bomb Store. A place where bombs are +kept, built so the enemy cannot locate them with his fire. For +that matter, Tommy can't either when he needs them.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Bombing Post. A sort of trench or +sap running from your front line to within a few yards of the +enemy's trench. It is occupied by bomb throwers who would like to +sign an agreement with the Germans for neither side to throw +bombs.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Brag. A card game similar to poker +at which every player quits a loser and no one wins, that is, +according to the statements of the several players.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Brazier. A sheet iron pot punched +full of holes in which a fire is built. It is used to keep Tommy +warm in his dugout until he becomes unconscious from its smoke +and fumes. He calls it a "fire bucket."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Brigade Guard. Several men who are +detailed to guard Brigade Headquarters. They don't go to +sleep.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">B.S.M. Battalion Sergeant-Major. +The highest ranking non-commissioned officer in the battalion. A +constant dread to Tommy when he has forgotten to polish his +buttons or dubbin his boots.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Bully Beef. A kind of corned beef +with tin round it. The unopened cans make excellent walls for +dugouts.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Burm. A narrow ledge cut along the +walls of a trench to prevent earth from caving in. "Burm" to +Tommy is a cuss word, because he has to "go over the top" at +night to construct it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Busted." Term applied when a +non-commissioned officer is reduced by court-martial.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Button Stick. A contrivance made of +brass ten inches long which slides over the buttons and protects +the tunic in cleaning.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">C</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Called to the colors." A man on +reserve who has been ordered to report for service.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Camel Corps." Tommy's nickname for +the Infantry because they look like overloaded camels, and +probably because they also go eight days, and longer, without a +drink, that is, of the real stuff.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Candle. A piece of wick surrounded +by wax or tallow used for lighting purposes. One candle among six +men is the general issue.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Canister. A German trench mortar +shell filled with scraps of iron and nails. Tommy really has a +great contempt for this little token of German affection and he +uses the nails to hang his equipment on in the dugouts.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Canteen. A mess tin issued to +Tommy, who, after dinner, generally forgets to wash it, and +pinches his mates for tea in the evening.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Carry on." +Resume. Keep on with what you are doing. Go ahead.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Carrying +in." Machine gunners' term for taking guns, +ammunition, etc., into front-line trench.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Caterpillar. Is not a bug, but the +name given to a powerful engine used to haul the big guns over +rough roads.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">C.C.S. Casualty Clearing Station. A +place where the doctors draw lots to see if Tommy is badly +wounded enough to be sent to Blighty.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Chalk Pit. A white spot on a +painted landscape used at the Machine Gunners' School to train +would-be gunners in picking out distinctive objects in landscapes +and guessing ranges.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Challenge. A question, "Who goes +there?" thrown at an unknown moving object by a sentry in the +darkness, who hopes that said moving object will answer, +"Friend."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Char. A black poisonous brew which +Tommy calls tea.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Chevaux-de-frise." Barbed-wire +defenses against cavalry.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Chucking his +weight about." Self-important. Generally applied to a newly +promoted non-commissioned officer or a recruit airing his +knowledge.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Chum. An endearing word used by +Tommy to his mate when he wants to borrow something or have a +favor done.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Clicked it." +Got killed; up against it; wounded.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Clock." "Trench" for the face.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Coal Box." The +nickname for a high explosive German shell fired from a 5.9 +howitzer which emits a heavy black smoke and makes Tommy's hair +stand on end.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Coal Fatigue. A detail on which +Tommy has to ride in a limber and fill two sacks with coal. It +takes him exactly four hours to do this. He always misses morning +parade, but manages to get back in time for dinner.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Cole." Tommy's nickname for a +penny. It buys one glass of French beer.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Coming it." Trying to "put +something over."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Coming the add." Boasting; lying +about something.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Communication Trench. A zigzag +ditch leading from the rear to the front-line trench, through +which reinforcements, reliefs, ammunition, and rations are +brought up. Its real use is to teach Tommy how to swear and how +to wade through mud up to his knees.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Communique. An official report +which is published daily by the different warring governments for +the purpose of kidding the public. They don't kid Tommy.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Company Stores. The +Quartermaster-Sergeant's headquarters where stores are kept. A +general hang-out for batmen, officers' servants, and +N.C.O.'s.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Compray." Tommy's French for "Do +you understand?" Universally used in the +trenches.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Conscript. A man who tried to wait +until the war was over before volunteering for the army, but was +balked by the Government.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Consolidate captured line." +Digging in or preparing a captured position for defence against a +counter-attack.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Convalescence. Six weeks' rest +allotted to a wounded Tommy. During this time the Government is +planning where they will send Tommy to be wounded a second +time.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">C. of E. Church of England. This is +stamped on Tommy's identification disk. He has to attend church +parade whether or not he wants to go to Heaven.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Cook. A soldier detailed to spoil +Tommy's rations. He is generally picked because he was a +blacksmith in civil life.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Cooties. Unwelcome inhabitants of +Tommy's shirt.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Counter Attack. A disagreeable +habit of the enemy which makes Tommy realize that after capturing +a position the hardest work is to hold it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Covering Party. A number of men +detailed to lie down in front of a working party while +"out in front" to prevent surprise and capture +by German patrols. Tommy loves this job, I don't think!</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Crater. A large circular hole in +the ground made by the explosion of a mine. According to Official +Communiques, Tommy always occupies a crater with great credit to +himself. But sometimes the Germans get there first.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Cricket ball." The name given to a +bomb the shape and size of a cricket ball. Tommy does not use it +to play cricket with.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Crime Sheet. A useless piece of +paper on which is kept a record of Tommy's misdemeanors.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Crump." A name +given by Tommy to a high explosive German shell which when it +bursts makes a "Crump" sort of noise.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">C.S.M. Company Sergeant-Major, the +head non-commissioned officer of a company, whose chief duty is +to wear a crown on his arm, a couple of Boer War ribbons on his +chest, and to put Tommy's name and number on the crime sheet.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Curtain fire." A term-applied by +the artillery to a wall of shell fire on the enemy communication +trenches, to prevent the bringing up of men and supplies, and +also to keep our own front lines from wavering. But somehow or +other men and supplies manage to leak through it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Cushy." Easy; comfortable; +''pretty soft."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">D</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">D.A.C. Divisional Ammunition +Column. A collection of men, horses, and limbers, which supplies +ammunition for the line and keeps Tommy awake, while in billets, +with their infernal noise. They are like owls-always working at +night.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">D.C.M. Distinguished Conduct Medal. +A piece of bronze which a soldier gets for being foolish.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">D.C.P. Divisional Concert Party. An +aggregation of would-be actors who inflict their talents on Tommy +at half a franc per head.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Defaulter. Not an absconding +cashier, but a Tommy who has been sentenced to extra pack drill +for breathing while on parade or doing some other little thing +like that.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Dekko." To look; a look at +something.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Detonator. A contrivance in a bomb +containing fulminate of mercury, which, ignited by a fuse, +explodes the charge.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Deruffs." "Deuxosufs." Tommy's +French for "two eggs."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Dial." Another term of Tommy's for +his map, or face.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Digging in." +Digging trenches and dugouts in a captured position.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Digging Party. A detail of men told +off to dig trenches, graves, or dugouts. Tommy is not particular +as to what he has to dig; it's the actual digging he objects +to.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Dinner up." +Dinner is ready.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Divisional Band. Another devilish +aggregation which wastes moat of its time in practicing and +polishing its instruments.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Dixie. An iron pot with two handles +on it in which Tommy's meals are cooked. Its real efficiency lies +in the fact that when carrying it, your puttees absorb all the +black grease</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">on its sides.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Doing them in." Killing them. +Cutting up a body of German troops.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Donkey. An army mule. An animal for +which Tommy has the greatest respect. He never pets or in any way +becomes familiar with said mule.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Draft. A contingent of new men sent +as reinforcements for the trenches. Tommy takes special delight +in scaring these men with tales of his own experiences which he +never had.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Draftman. A member of a draft who +listens to and believes Tommy's weird tales of trench +warfare.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Dressing Station. A medical post +where Tommy gets his wounds attended to, if he is lucky enough to +get wounded. He is "lucky," because a wound means Blighty.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Drill order." Rifle, belt, +bayonet, and respirator.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Dry Canteen. An army store where +Tommy may buy cigarettes, chocolate, and tinned fruit, that is, +if he has any money.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">D.S.O. Distinguished Service Order. +Another piece of metal issued to officers for being brave. Tommy +says it is mostly won in dugouts and calls it a "Dugout Service +Order."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Dubbin. A grease for boots.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Dud. A German shell or bomb which +has not exploded on account of a defective fuse. Tommy is a great +souvenir collector so he gathers these "duds." Sometimes when he +tries to unscrew the nose-cap it sticks. Then in his hurry to +confiscate it before an officer appears he doesn't hammer it just +right-and the printer of the casualty list has to use a little +more type.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Dugout. A deep hole in the trenches +dug by the Royal Engineer Corps; supposed to be shell proof. It +is, until a shell hits it. Rat and Tommy find it an excellent +habitation in which to contract rheumatism.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Dump. An uncovered spot where +trench tools and supplies are placed. It is uncovered so that +these will become rusty and worthless from the elements. This so +that the contractors at home won't starve.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Du pan." +Tommy's French for bread.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">E</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Efficiency Pay. Extra pay allowed +by the Government for long service. Tommy is very efficient if he +manages to get it from the Government.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Eighteen-Pounder. One of our guns +which fires an eighteen pound shell, used for destroying German +barbed wire previous to an attack. If it does its duty you bet +Tommy is grateful to the eighteen-pounders.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Elephant Dugout. A large, safe, and +roomy dugout, braced by heavy steel ribs or girders.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Emplacement. A position made of +earth or sandbags from which a machine gun is fired. It is +supposed to be invisible to the enemy. They generally blow it up +in the course of a couple of days, just by luck, of course.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Entrenching Tool. A spade-like tool +for digging hasty entrenchments. It takes about a week to dig a +decent hole with it, so "hasty" must have another +meaning.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Equipment on." Put on equipment +for drill or parade.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Escort. A guard of soldiers who +conduct prisoners to different points. Tommy is just as liable to +be a prisoner as an escort.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Estaminet." A +French public house, or saloon, where muddy water is sold for +beer.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">F</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Fag. Cigarette. Something Tommy is +always touching you for, "Fag issue." Army issue of cigarettes, +generally on Sunday.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Fatigue. Various kinds of work done +by Tommy while he is "resting."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Fed up." Disgusted; got enough of +it -- as the rich Mr. Hoggenheimer used to say, +"Sufficiency."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Field Dressing. Bandages issued to +soldiers for first aid when wounded. They use them for +handkerchiefs and to clean their rifles.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Field Post Card. A card on which +Tommy is allowed to tell his family and friends that he is alive; +if he is dead the War Office sends a card, sometimes.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Field Punishment No. I. Official +name for spread-eagling a man on a limber wheel, two hours a day +for twenty-one days. His rations consist of bully beef, water, +and biscuits. Tommy calls this punishment "Crucifixion," +especially if he has undergone it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Fifteen-pounder." Still another of +ours; shell weighs fifteen pounds. Used for killing rats on the +German parapets.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Finding the +range." Ascertaining by instrument or by trial shots the distance +from an enemy objective.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">" Fireworks." A night +bombardment.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Fire Sector. A certain space of +ground which a machine gun is supposed to sweep with its fire. If +the gun refuses to work, all of the enemy who cross this space +are technically dead, according to the General's plans.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Firing Squad. Twelve men picked to +shoot a soldier who has been sentenced to death by court-martial. +Tommy has no comment to make on this.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Firing Step. A ledge in the front +trench which enables Tommy to fire "over the top." In rainy +weather you have to be an acrobat to even stand on it on account +of the slippery mud.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Fire Trench. The front-line trench. +Another name is for Hell.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Five rounds rapid." Generally, +just before daylight in the trenches, the order "Five rounds +rapid" is given. Each man puts his rifle and head over the +parapet and fires five shots as rapidly as possible in the +direction of the German trenches and then ducks. A sort of "Good +morning, have you used Fears Soap?"</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Five nine." A German shell 5.9 +inches in diameter. It is their standard shell. Tommy has no +special love for this brand, but they are like olives, all right +when you get used to them.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Flags." Tommy's nickname for a +Signaler.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Flare. A rocket fired from a pistol +which, at night, lights up the ground in front of your +trench.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Flare Pistol. A large pistol, which +looks like a sawed-off shotgun, from which flares are fired. When +you need this pistol badly it has generally been left in your +dugout.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Flying Column. A flying column of +troops that waits from one point of the line to another. In case +of need they usually arrive at the wrong point.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Fokker. A type of German aeroplane +which the Boche claims to be the fastest in the world. Tommy +believes this, because our airmen seldom catch them.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"For It." On the crime sheet; up +against a reprimand; on trial, in trouble.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Four by two." A piece of flannel +four Inches by two issued by the Q. M. Sergeant with which to +"pull through."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Four point five." Another of ours. +The Germans don't like this one.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Four point +seven." One of our shells 4.7 inches in diameter. +Tommy likes this kind.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Fritz." Tommy's name for a German. +He loves a German like poison.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Front Line. The nearest trench to +the enemy. No place for a conscientious objector.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Frostbite. A quick road to Blighty, +which Tommy used very often until frostbite became a +court-martial offence. Now he keeps his feet warm.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Full pack." A +soldier carrying all of his equipment.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Full Corporal. A N.C.O. who sports +two stripes on his arm and has more to say than the Colonel.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Fumigator. An infernal device at a +hospital which cooks Tommy's uniform and returns it to him two +sizes too small.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Funk Hole." Tommy's term for a +dugout. A favorite spot for those of a nervous disposition.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Fuse. A part of shell or bomb which +burns in a set time and ignites the detonator.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">G</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Gas. Poisonous fumes which the +Germans send over to our trenches. When the wind is favorable +this gas is discharged into the air from huge cylinders. The wind +carries it over toward our lines. It appears like a huge +yellowish-green cloud rolling along the ground. The alarm is +sounded and Tommy promptly puts on his gas helmet and laughs at +the Boches.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Gas Gong. An empty shell case hung +up in the trenches and in billets. A sentry is posted near it, so +that in case German poison gas comes over, he can give the alarm +by striking this gong with an iron bar. If the sentry happens to +be asleep we get "gassed."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Gassed." A +soldier who has been overcome from the fumes of German poison +gas, or the hot air of a comrade.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Gassing." A term Tommy applies to +"shooting the bull."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Getting a sub." Touching an +officer for money. To be taken out of soldier's pay on the next +pay-day.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Getting the +sparks." Bullets from a machine gun cutting enemy barbed wire at +night; when a bullet strikes wire it generally throws off a +bluish spark. Machine gunners use this method at night to "set" +their gun so that its fire will command the enemy's trench.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Ginger." +Nickname of a red-beaded soldier; courage; pep.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Gippo." Bacon +grease; soup.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">G.M.P. Garrison Military Police. +Soldiers detailed to patrol the roads and regulate traffic behind +the lines. Tommy's pet aversion.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">G.O.C. General Officer Commanding. +Tommy never sees him in the act of "commanding," but has the +opportunity of reading many an order signed "G.O.C."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Goggles. An apparatus made of +canvas and mica which is worn over the eyes for protection from +the gases of German "tear shells." The only time Tommy cries is +when he forgets his goggles or misses the mm issue.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Going in." Taking over +trenches.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Going out." Relieved from the +trenches.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Gone West." Killed; died.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Gooseberries." A wooden frame in +the shape of a cask wrapped round with barbed wire. These +gooseberries are thrown into the barbed-wire entanglements to +help make them impassable.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Got the Crown." Promoted to +Sergeant-Major.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Green Envelope. An envelope of a +green color issued to Tommy once a week. The contents will not be +censored regimentally, but are liable to censor at the base. On +the outside of envelope appears the following certificate, which +Tommy must sign: "I certify on my honor that the contents of this +envelope refer to nothing but private and family matters." After +signing this certificate Tommy immediately writes about +everything but family and private matters.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Groom. A soldier who looks after an +officer's horse and who robs said horse of its hay. He makes his +own bed comfortable with this hay.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Grousing. A scientific grumbling in +which Tommy cusses everything in general and offends no one.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">G.S.W. Gunshot wound. When Tommy is +wounded he does not care whether it is a G.S.W. or a kick from a +mule, just so he gets back to Blighty.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">G.S. Wagon. A four-wheeled wagon +driven by an A.S.C. driver. It carries supplies, such as food, +ammunition, trench tools, and timber tor dugouts. When Tommy gets +sore feet he is allowed to ride on this wagon and fills the ears +of the driver with tales of his wonderful exploits. Occasionally +one of these drivers believes him.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Gum Boots. Rubber boots issued to +Tommy for wet trenches. They are used to keep his feet dry; they +do, when he is lucky enough to get a pair.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Gumming the game." Spoiling +anything, interfering.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">H</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Hair brush." Name of a bomb used +in the earlier stages of the war. It is shaped like a hair brush +and is thrown by the handle. Tommy used to throw them over to the +Germans for their morning toilette.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Hand grenade." A general term for +a bomb which is thrown by hand. Tommy looks upon all bombs with +grave suspicion; from long experience he has learned not to trust +them, even if the detonator has been removed.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Hard tails." Mules.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Haversack. A canvas bag forming +part of Tommy's equipment, carried on the left side. Its original +use was intended for the carrying of emergency rations and small +kit. It is generally filled with a miscellaneous assortment of +tobacco, pipes, bread crumbs, letters, and a lot of useless +souvenirs.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Having a doss." Having a +sleep.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Hold-all." A small canvas roll in +which you are supposed to carry your razor, comb, knife, fork, +spoon, mirror, soap, tooth brush, etc. Tommy takes great care of +the above, because it means extra pack drill to come on parade +unshaven.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Holy Joe." +Tommy's familiar but not necessarily irreverent same for the +Chaplain. He really has a great admiration for this officer, who +although not a fighting man, so often risks his life to save a +wounded Tommy.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Housewife." A neat little package +of needles, thread, extra shoelaces, and buttons. When a button +comes off Tommy's trousers, instead of going to his housewife he +looks around for a nail.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Hun. Another term for a German, +mostly used by war correspondents.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Hun pinching." Raiding German +trenches for prisoners.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">I</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Identification Disk. A little fiber +disk which is worn around the neck by means of a string. On one +side is stamped your name, rank, regimental number, and regiment, +while on the other side is stamped your religion. If at any time +Tommy is doubtful of his identity he looks at his disk to +reassure himself.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"I'm sorry." Tommy's apology. If he +pokes your eye out with his bayonet he says, "I'm sorry," and the +matter is ended so far as he is concerned.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"In front." Over the top; in front +of the front-line trench, in No Man's Land.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"In reserve." Troops occupying +positions, billets, or dugouts, immediately in rear of the front +line, who in case of an attack will support the firing line.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Intelligence Department. Secret +service men who are supposed to catch spies or be spies as the +occasion demands.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Interpreter. A fat job with a +"return ticket," held by a soldier who thinks he can speak a +couple of languages. He questions prisoners as to the color of +their grandmothers' eyes and why they joined the army. Just +imagine asking a German "why" he joined the army.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Invalided." Sent to England on +account of sickness.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Iron Rations. A tin of bully beef, +two biscuits, and a tin containing tea, sugar, and Oxo cubes. +These are not supposed to be eaten until you die of +starvation.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Isolated Post. An advanced part of +a trench or position where one or two sentries are posted to +guard against a surprise attack. While in this post Tommy is +constantly wondering what the Germans will do with his body.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"It's good we have a Navy." One of +Tommy's expressions when he is disgusted with the army and its +work.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">J</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Jack Johnson." A seventeen-inch +German shell. Probably called "Jack Johnson" because the Germans +thought that with it they could lick the world.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Jackknife. A knife, issued to +Tommy, which weighs a stone and won't cut. Its only virtue is the +fact that it has a tin-opener attachment which won't open +tins.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Jam. A horrible mess of fruit and +sugar which Tommy spreads on his bread. It all tastes the same no +matter whether labelled "Strawberry " or "Green Gage."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Jam Tin." A crude sort of hand +grenade which, in the early stages of the war. Tommy used to +manufacture out of jam tins, ammonal, and mud. The manufacturer +generally would receive a little wooden cross in recognition of +the fact that he died for King and Country.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Jock. Universal name for a +Scotchman.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">K</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Kicked the bucket." Died.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Kilo. Five eighths of a mile. Ten +"kilos" generally means a trek of fifteen miles.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"King's Shilling." Tommy's rate of +pay per day, perhaps.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Taking the King's Shilling" means +enlisting.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Kip." Tommy's term for "sleep." He +also calls his bed his "kip." It is on guard that Tommy most +desires to kip.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Kit Bag. A part of Tommy's +equipment in which he is supposed to pack up his troubles and +smile, according to the words of a popular song (the composer was +never in a trench).</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Kitchener's Army. The volunteer +army raised by Lord Kitchener, the members of which signed for +duration of war. They are commonly called the "New Army" or +"Kitchener's Mob." At first the Regulars and Territorials looked +down on them, but now accept them as welcome mates.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">L</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Labor Battalion. An organization +which is "too proud to fight." They would sooner use a pick and +shovel.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Lance-corporal. A N.C.O. one grade +above a private who wears a shoestring stripe on his arm and +thinks the war should be run according to his ideas.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"lead." The leading pair of horses +or mules on a limber. Their only fault is that they won't lead +(if they happen to be mules).</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Leave Train. The train which takes +Tommy to one of the seaports on the Channel en route to Blighty +when granted leave. The worst part of going on leave is coming +back.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Lee Enfield. Name of the rifle used +by the British Army. Its caliber is .303 and the magazine holds +ten rounds. When dirty it has a tasty habit of getting Tommy's +name on the crime sheet.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Legging it." Running away.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Lewis Gun. A rifle-like machine +gun, air cooled, which only carries 47 rounds in its "pie-plate" +magazine. Under fire when this magazine is emptied you shout for +"ammo" but perhaps No. 2, the ammo carrier, is lying in the rear +with a bullet through his napper. Then it's "napoo-fini" (Tommy's +French) for Mr. Lewis.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Light Duty." What the doctor marks +on the sick report opposite a Tommy's name when he has doubts as +to whether said Tommy is putting one over on him. Usually Tommy +is.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Light Railway. Two thin iron tracks +on which small flat cars full of ammunition and supplies are +pushed. These railways afford Tommy great sport in the loading, +pushing, and unloading of cars.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Limber. A match box on two wheels +which gives the Army mule a job. It also carries officer's +packs.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Liquid Fire. Another striking +example of German "Kultur." According to the Germans it is +supposed to annihilate whole brigades, but Tommy refuses to be +annihilated.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Listening Post. Two or three men +detailed to go out "in front" at night, to lie on the ground and +listen for any undue activity in the German lines. They also +listen for the digging of mines. It is nervous work and when +Tommy returns he generally writes for a bos of "Phosperine +Tablets," a widely advertised nerve tonic.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Little Willie." Tommy's nickname +for the German Crown. Prince. They are not on speaking terms.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Lloyd George's Pets. " Munition +workers in England.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Lonely Soldier. " A soldier who +advertises himself as "lonely" through the medium of some English +newspaper. If he is clever and diplomatic by this method he +generally receives two or three parcels a week, but he must be +careful not to write to two girls living on the same block or his +parcel post mail will diminish.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Lonely Stab." A +girl who writes and sends parcels to Tommy. She got his name from +the "Lonely Soldier Column" of some newspaper.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Loophole. A disguised aperture in a +trench through which to "snipe" at Germans.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Lyddite. A high explosive used in +shells. Has a habit of scattering bits of anatomy over the +landscape.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">M</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">M.G.C. Machine Gun Corps. A +collection of machine gunners who think they are the deciding +factor of the war, and that artillery is unnecessary.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">M.G. Machine Gunner. A man who, +like an American policeman, is never there when he is badly +wanted.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Maconochie. A ration of meat, +vegetables, and soapy water, contained in a tin. Mr. Maconochie, +the chemist who compounded this mess, intends to commit "hari +kari" before the boys return from the front. He is wise.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Mad Minute." +Firing fifteen rounds from your rifle in sixty seconds. A man is +mad to attempt it, especially with a stiff bolt.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Mail Bag. A canvas bag which is +used to bring the other fellow's mail around.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Major. An officer in a Battalion +who wears a crown on his uniform, is in command of two companies, +and corrects said companies in the second position of "present +arms." He also resides in a dugout.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Maneuvers. Useless evolutions of +troops conceived by someone higher up to show Tommy how brave his +officers are and how battles should be fought. The enemy never +attend these maneuvers to prove they're right.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Mass Formation. A close order +formation in which the Germans attack. It gives them a sort of +"Come on, I'm with you" feeling. They would "hold hands" only for +the fact that they have to carry their rifles. Tommy takes great +delight in "busting up" these gatherings.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Mate. A soldier with whom Tommy is +especially "chummy." Generally picked because this soldier +receives a parcel from home every week.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Maxim. Type of machine gun which +has been supplanted by the Vickers in order to make Tommy unlearn +what he has been taught about the Maxim.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">M.T. Mechanical Transport. The +members of which are ex-taxi drivers. No wonder Tommy's rations +melt away when the M. T. carries them.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">M.O. Medical Officer. A doctor +specially detailed to tell Tommy that he is not sick.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"M. and D." What the doctor marks +on the "sicker" or side report when he thinks Tommy is faking +sickness. It means medicine and duty.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Mentioned in Despatches. +Recommended for bravery. Tommy would sooner be recommended for +leave.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Mercy Kamerad." What Fritz says +when he has had a bellyful of fighting and wants to surrender. Of +late this has been quite a popular phrase with him, replacing the +Hymn of Hate.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Mess Orderly. A soldier detailed +daily to carry Tommy's meals to and from the cook-house.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Mess Tin. An article of equipment +used as a tea-kettle and dinner-set.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Mike and George." K. C. M. G. +(Knight Commander of the Order of St. Michael and St. George). An +award for bravery in the field.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Military Cross. A badge of honor +dished out to officers for bravery. Tommy insists they throw dice +to see which is the bravest. The winner gets the medal.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Military Medal. A piece of Junk +issued to Tommy who has done something that is not exactly brave +but still is not cowardly. When it is presented he takes it and +goes back wondering why the Army picks on him.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">M. P. Military Police. Soldiers +with whom it is unsafe to argue.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Mills. " Name of a bomb invented +by Mills. The only bomb in which Tommy has full confidence, -- +and he mistrusts even that.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Mine. An underground tunnel dug by +sappers of the Royal Engineer Corps. This tunnel leads from your +trench to that of the enemy's. At the end or head of the tunnel a +great quantity of explosives are stored which at a given time are +exploded. It is Tommy's job to then go "over the top" and occupy +the crater caused by the explosion.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Mine Shaft. A shaft leading down to +the "gallery" or tunnel of a mine. Sometimes Tommy, as a reward, +is given the Job of helping the R. E.'s dig this shaft.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Minnenwerfer. A high-power trench +mortar shell of the Germans, which makes no noise coming through +the air. It was invented by Professor Kultur. Tommy does not know +what is near until it bites him; after that nothing worries him. +Tommy nicknames them "Minnies."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Mouth Organ. An instrument with +which a vindictive Tommy causes misery to the rest of his +platoon. Some authorities define it as a "musical +instrument."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Mud. A brownish, sticky substance +found in the trenches after the frequent rains. A true friend to +Tommy, which sticks to him like glue, even though at times Tommy +resents this affection and roundly curses said mud.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Mufti. The term Tommy gives to +civilian clothes. Mufti looks good to him now.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">N</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Nap. A card game of Tommy's in +which the one who stays awake the longest grabs the pot. If all +the players fall asleep, the pot goes to the "Wounded Soldiers' +Fund."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Napoo-Fini." Tommy's French for +gone, through with, finished, disappeared.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Napper." Tommy's term for +bead.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Neutral. Tommy says it means +"afraid to fight."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Next of Kin. Nearest relative. A +young and ambitious platoon officer bothers his men two or three +times a month taking a record of their "next of kin," because he +thinks that Tommy's grandmother may have changed to his +uncle.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Night ops." Slang for night +operations or maneuvers.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Nine-point-two. A howitzer which +fires a shell 9.2 inches in diameter, and knocks the tiles off +the roof of Tommy's billet through the force of its +concussion.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">No Man's Land. The space between +the hostile trenches called "No Man's Land" because no one owns +it and no one wants to. In France you could not give it away.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">N.C.C. Non-Combatant Corps. Men who +joined the Army under the stipulation that the only thing they +would fight for would be their meals. They have no "King and +Country."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">N.C.O. Non-commissioned officer. A +person hated more than the Germans. Tommy says his stripes are +issued out with the rations, and he ought to know.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"No. 9." A pill the doctor gives +you if you are suffering with corns or barber's itch or any +disease at all. If none are in stock, he gives you a No. 6 and +No. 3, or a No. 5 and No. 4, anything to make nine.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Nosecap. That part of a shell which +unscrews and contains the device and scale for setting the time +fuse. Some Tommies are ardent souvenir hunters. As soon as a +shell bursts in the ground you will see them out with picks and +shovels digging in the shell hole for the nose cap. If the shell +bursts too near them they don't dig.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">O</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Observation Balloon. A captive +balloon behind the lines which observes the enemy. The enemy +doesn't mind being observed, so takes no notice of it. It gives +someone a job hauling it down at night, so it has one good +point.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Observation Post. A position in the +front line where an artillery officer observes the fire of our +guns. He keeps on observing until a German shell observes him. +After this there is generally a new officer and a new observation +post.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">O. C. Officer commanding.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Officers' Mess. Where the officers +eat the mess that the O. S. have cooked.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">O. S. Officers' servants. The +lowest ranking private in the Army, who feeds better than the +officers he waits on.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Oil Cans." Tommy's +term for a German trench mortar shell, which is an old tin filled +with explosive and junk that the Boches have no further use +for.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"One up. " Tommy's term for a +lance-corporal who wears one stripe. The private always wonders +why he was overlooked when promotions were in order.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"On the mat." When Tommy is haled +before his commanding officer to explain why he has broken one of +the seven million King's regulations for the government of the +Army. His "explanation" never gets him anywhere unless it is on +the wheel of a Umber.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"On your own." Another famous or +infamous phrase which means Tommy is allowed to do as he pleases. +An officer generally puts Tommy "on his own" when he gets Tommy +into a dangerous position and sees no way to extricate him.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Orderly-Corporal. A +non-commissioned officer who takes the names of the sick every +morning and who keeps his own candle burning after he has ordered +"Lights out" at night.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Orderly-Officer. An officer who, +for a week, goes around and asks if there are "any complaints" +and gives the name of the complaining soldier to the +Orderly-Sergeant for extra pack drill.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Orderly Room. The Captain's office +where everything is disorderly.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Orderly-Sergeant. A sergeant who, +for a week, is supposed to do the work of the +Orderly-Officer.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Out of bounds." The official Army +term meaning that Tommy is not allowed to trespass where this +sign is displayed. He never wished to until the sign made its +appearance.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Out there." A term used in Blighty +which means "in France." Conscientious objectors object to going +"out there."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Over the Top." +A famous phrase of the trenches. It is generally the order for +the men to charge the German lines. Nearly always it is +accompanied by the Jonah wish, "With</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">the best o' luck and give them +hell."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Oxo. Concentrated beef cubes that a +fond mother sends out to Tommy because they are advertised as +"British to the Backbone."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">P</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Packing. Asbestos wrapping around +the barrel of a machine gun to keep the water from leaking out of +the barrel casing. Also slang for rations.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Pack Drill. Punishment for a +misdemeanor. Sometimes Tommy gets caught when he fills his pack +with straw to lighten it for this drill.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Parados. The rear wall of a trench +which the Germans continually fill with bits of shell and rifle +bullets. Tommy doesn't mind how many they put in the parados.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Parapet, The top part of a front +trench which Tommy constantly builds up and the Germans just as +constantly knock down.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Patrol. A few soldiers detailed to +go out in "No Man's Land," at night and return without any +information. Usually these patrols are successful.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Pay Book. A little book in which is +entered the amount of pay Tommy draws. In the back of same there +is also a space for his "will and last testament"; this to remind +Tommy that he is liable to be killed. (As if he needed any +reminder.)</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Pay Parade. A formation at which +Tommy lines up for pay. When his turn comes the paying-officer +asks, "How much?" and Tommy answers, "Fifteen francs, sir." He +gets five.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Periscope. A thing in the trenches +which you look through. After looking through it, you look over +the top to really see something.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Physical torture." The nickname +for physical training. It is torture, especially to a +recruit.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Pick. A tool shaped like an anchor +which is being constantly handed to Tommy with the terse command, +"get busy."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Pioneer. A soldier detailed in each +company to keep the space around the billets clean. He sleeps all +day and only gets busy when an officer comes round. He also +sleeps at night.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Pip squeak." Tommy's term for a +small German shell which makes a "pip" and then a "squeak," when +it comes over.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Poilu. French term for their +private soldier. Tommy would use it and sometimes does, but each +time he pronounces it differently, so no one knows what he is +talking about.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Pontoon. A card game, in America +known as "Black Jack" or "Twenty One." The banker is the only +winner.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Provost-Sergeant. A sergeant +detailed to oversee prisoners, their work, etc. Each prisoner +solemnly swears that when he gets out of "dink" he is going to +shoot this sergeant and when he does get out he buys him a +drink.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Pull Through. A stout cord with a +weight on one end, and a loop on the other for an oily rag. The +weighted end is dropped through the bore of the rifle and the rag +on the other end is "pulled through."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Pump. A useless contrivance for +emptying the trenches of water. "Useless" because the trenches +refuse to be emptied.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Pushing up the Daisies." Tommy's +term for a soldier who has been killed and buried in France.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Q</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Queer." Tommy's term for being +sick. The doctor immediately informs him that there is nothing +queer about him, and Tommy doesn't know whether to feel insulted +or complimented.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Quid. Tommy's term for a pound or +twenty shillings (about $4.80). He is not on very good terms with +this amount as you never see the two together.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Q. M.-Sergeant. +Quartermaster-Sergeant, or "Quarter" as he is called. A +non-commissioned officer in a company who wears three stripes and +a crown, and takes charge of the company stores, with the +emphasis on the "takes." In civil life he was a politician or +burglar.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">R</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Range Finder. An instrument for +ascertaining the distance between two objects, using the +instrument as one object. It is very accurate only you get a +different result each time you use it, says Tommy.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Rapid Fire. Means to stick year +head "over the top" at night, aim at the moon, and empty your +magazine. It there is no moon, aim at the spot where it should +be.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Ration Bag. A small, very small bag +for carrying rations. Sometimes it is really useful for lugging +souvenirs.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Rations. Various kinds of tasteless +food issued by the Government to Tommy, to kid him into thinking +that he is living in luxury, while the Germans are starving.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Ration Party. Men detailed to carry +rations to the front line; pick out a black, cold, and rainy +night; put a fifty-pound box on your shoulder; sling your rifle +and carry one hundred twenty rounds of ammunition. Then go +through a communication trench, with the mud up to your knees, +down this trench for a half-mile, and then find your mates +swearing in seven different languages; duck a few shells and +bullets, and then ask Tommy for his definition of a "ration +party." You will be surprised to learn that it is the same as +yours.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Rats. The main inhabitants of the +trenches and dugouts. Very useful for chewing up leather +equipment and running over your face when asleep. A British rat +resembles a bull-dog, while a German one, through a course of +Kultur, resembles a dachshund.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Red Cap. " Tommy's nickname for a +Staff Officer because he wears a red band around his cap.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Red Tape. A useless sort of +procedure. The main object of this is to prolong the war and give +a lot of fat jobs to Army politicians.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Regimental Number. Each soldier has +a number whether or not he was a convict in civil life. Tommy +never forgets his number when he sees it on "orders for +leave."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">R.P. Regimental Police. Men +detailed in a Battalion to annoy Tommy and to prevent him from +doing what he most desires.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Reinforcements. A lot of new men +sent out from England who think that the war will be over a week +after they enter the trenches.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Relaying. A term used by the +artillery. After a gun is fired it is "relayed " or aimed at +something out of sight.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Respirator. A cloth helmet, +chemically treated, with glass eye-holes, which Tommy puts over +his head as a protection against, poison gas. This helmet never +leaves Tommy's person, he even sleeps with it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Rest. A period of time for rest +allotted to Tommy upon being relieved from the trenches. He uses +this "rest" to mend roads, dig trenches, and make himself +generally useful while behind the lines.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Rest Billets. Shell shattered +houses, generally barns, in which Tommy "rests," when relieved +from the firing line.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Ricco." Term for a ricochet +bullet. It makes a whining noise and Tommy always ducks when a +"ricco" passes him.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Rifle. A part of Tommy's armament. +Its main use is to be cleaned. Sometimes it is fired, when you +are not using a pick or shovel. You also "present arms by +numbers" with it. This is a very fascinating exercise to Tommy. +Ask him.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Rifle Grenade. A bomb on the end of +a rod. This rod is inserted into the barrel of a specially +designed rifle.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"R.I.P. " In +monk's highbrow, "Requiscat in pace," put on little wooden +crosses over soldier's graves. It means "Rest in peace," but +Tommy says like as not it means "Rest in pieces," especially if +the man under the cross has been sent West by a bomb or shell +explosion.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Road Dangerous, +Use Trench." A familiar sign on roads immediately in rear of the +firing line. It is to warn soldiers that it is within sight of +Fritz. Tommy never believes these signs and swanks up the road. +Later on he tells the Red Cross nurse that the sign told the +truth.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Roll of Honor. " The name given to +the published casualty lists of the war. Tommy has no ambition +for his name to appear on the "Roll of Honor" unless it comes +under the heading "Slightly Wounded."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">R. C. Roman Catholic. One of the +advantages of being a R.C. is that "Church Parade" is not +compulsory.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Rooty." Tommy's +nickname for bread.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Route March. A useless expenditure +of leather and energy. These marches teach Tommy to be kind to +overloaded beasts of burden.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">R.A.M.C. Royal Army Medical Corps. +Tommy says it means "Rob All My Comrades."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">R.E.'s. Royal Engineers.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">R.F.A.'s. Royal Field Artillery +men.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">R.F.C.'s. Royal Plying Corps.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Rum. A nectar of the gods issued in +the early morning to Tommy.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Rum issue. A daily formation at +which Tommy receives a spoonful of rum; that is if any is left +over from the Sergeant's Mess.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Runner. A soldier who is detailed +or picked as an orderly for an officer while in the trenches. His +real job is to take messages under fire, asking how many tins of +jam are required for 1917.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">S</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">S.A.A. Small Arms Ammunition. Small +steel pellets which have a bad habit of drilling holes in the +anatomy of Tommy and Fritz.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Salvo. Battery firing four guns +simultaneously.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Sandbag. A jute bag which is +constantly being filled with earth. Its main uses are to provide +Tommy with material for a comfortable kip and to strengthen +parapets.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Sap. A small ditch, or trench, dug +from the front line and leading out into "No Man's Land " in the +direction of the German trenches.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Sapper. A man who saps or digs +mines. He thinks he is thirty-three degrees above an ordinary +soldier, while in fact he is generally beneath him.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Sausage Balloon. See observation +balloon.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">S.B. Stretcher Bearer. The motive +power of a stretcher. He is generally looking the other way when +a fourteen-stone Tommy gets hit.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Scaling ladder. Small wooden +ladders used by Tommy for climbing out of the front trench when +he goes "over the top." When Tommy sees these ladders being +brought into the trench, he sits down and writes his will in his +little pay-book.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Sentry Go. Time on guard. It means +"sentry come."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Sergeant's Mess. Where the +sergeants eat. Nearly all of the rum has a habit of disappearing +into the Sergeant's Mess.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Seventy-fives. A very efficient +field-gun of the French, which can fire thirty shells per minute. +The gun needs no relaying due to the recoil which throws the him +back to its original position. The gun that knocked out "Jack +Johnson," therefore called "Jess Willard."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Sewed in a blanket." Term for a +soldier who has been buried. His remains are generally sewn in a +blanket and the piece of blanket is generally deducted from his +pay that is due.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Shag. Cigarette tobacco which an +American can never learn to use. Even the mules object to the +smell of it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Shell. A device of the artillery +which sometimes makes Tommy wish he had been born in a neutral +country.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Shell Hole. A hole in the ground +caused by the explosion of a shell. Tommy's favorite +resting-place while under fire.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Shovel. A tool closely related to +the pick family. In France the "shovel" is mightier than the +sword.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Shrapnel. A shell which bursts in +the air and scatters small pieces of metal over a large area. It +is used to test the resisting power of steel helmets.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Sicker." Nickname for the sick +report book. It is Tommy's ambition to get on this "sicker" +without feeling sick.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Side Parade. A formation at which +the doctor informs sick, or would-be sick Tommies that they are +not sick.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Sixty-pounder. One of our shells +which weighs sixty pounds (officially). When Tommy handles them, +their unofficial weight is three hundred weight.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Slacker. An insect in England who +is afraid to join the Army. There are three things in this world +that Tommy hates: a slacker, a German; and a trench-rat; it's +hard to tell which he hates worst.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Slag Heap." A pile of rubbish, tin +cans, etc.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Smoke Bomb. A shell which, in +exploding, emits a dense white smoke, hiding the operations of +troops. When Tommy, in attacking a trench, gets into this smoke, +he imagines himself a magnet and thinks all the machine guns and +rifles are firing at him alone.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Smoke Helmet. See respirator.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Sniper. A good shot whose main +occupation is picking off unwary individuals of the enemy. In the +long run a sniper usually gets "sniped."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Snipe Hole. A hole in a steel plate +through which snipers "snipe." It is not fair for the enemy to +shoot at these holes, but they do, and often hit them, or at +least the man behind them.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Soldiers' +Friend." Metal polish costing three ha' pence which Tommy uses to +polish his buttons. Tommy wonders why it is called "Soldiers' +Friend."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Somewhere in France." +A certain spot in France where Tommy has to live in mud, hunt for +"cooties," and duck shells and bullets. Tommy's official +address.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Souvenir. A begging word used by +the French kiddies. When it is addressed to Tommy it generally +means, a penny, biscuits, bully beef, or a tin of jam.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Spy. A suspicious person whom no +one suspects until he is caught. Then all say they knew he was a +spy but had no chance to report it to the proper authorities.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Spud." Tommy's name for the +solitary potato which gets into the stew. It's a great mystery +how that lonely little spud got into such bad company.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Stand To. Order to mount the fire +step. Given just as it begins to grow dark.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Stand Down. Order given in the +trenches at break of dawn to let the men know their night watch +is ended. It has a pleasant sound in Tommy's ears.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Star Shell. See Flare.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Steel Helmet. A round hat made out +of steel which is supposed to be shrapnel proof. It is until a +piece of shell goes through it, then Tommy loses interest as to +whether it is shrapnel proof or not. He calls it a "tin hat."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Stew. A concoction of the cook's +which contains bully beef, Maconochie rations, water, a few lumps +of fresh meat, and a potato. Occasionally a little salt falls +into it by mistake. Tommy is supposed to eat this mess -- he does +-- worse luck!</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Strafeing." Tommy's chief sport -- +shelling the Germans. Taken from Fritz's own dictionary.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Stretcher. A contrivance on which +dead and wounded are carried. The only time Tommy gets a free +ride in the trenches is while on a stretcher. As a rule he does +not appreciate this means of transportation.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Suicide Club." Nickname for +bombers and machine gunners. (No misnomer.)</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Supper. Tommy's fourth meal, +generally eaten just before "lights out." It is composed of the +remains of the day's rations. There are a lot of Tommies who +never eat supper. There is a reason.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">S.W. Shell wound. What the doctor +marks on your hospital chart when a shell has removed your +leg.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Swamping. Putting on airs; showing +off. Generally accredited to Yankees.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Swinging the lead." Throwing the +bull.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Sweating on leave." Impatiently +waiting for your name to appear in orders for leave. If Tommy +sweats very long he generally catches cold and when leave comes +he is too sick to go.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">T</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Taking over." Going into a trench. +Tommy "takes over," is "taken out" and sometimes is "put +under."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Taube. A type of German aeroplane +whose special ambition is beating the altitude record. It +occasionally loses its way and flies over the British lines and +then stops flying.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Tea. A dark brown drug, which Tommy +has to have at certain periods of the day. Battles have been +known to have been stopped to enable Tommy to get his tea, or +"char" as it is commonly called.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Tear Shell." Trench name for the +German lachrymose chemical shell which makes the eyes smart. The +only time Tommy is outwardly sentimental.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Telephone. A little instrument with +a wire attached to it. An artillery observer whispers something +into this instrument and immediately one of your batteries behind +the line opens up and drops a few shells into your front trench. +This keeps up until the observer whispers, "Your range is too +short." Then the shells drop nearer the German lines.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Terrier." Tommy's nickname for a +Territorial or "Saturday-night soldier." A regular despises a +Territorial while a Territorial looks down on "Kitchener's Mob." +Kitchener's Mob has the utmost contempt for both of them.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Territorial. A peace-time soldier +with the same status as the American militiaman. Before the war +they were called "Saturday-Night Soldiers," but they soon proved +themselves "every-night soldiers."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"The Old Man. " +Captain of a company. He is called "the old man," because +generally his age is about twenty-eight.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"The Best o' Luck." The Jonah +phrase of the trenches. Every time Tommy goes over the top or on +a trench raid his mates wish him the best o' luck. It means that +if you are lucky enough to come back, you generally have an arm +or leg missing.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Thumbs up." Tommy's expression +which means "everything is fine with me." Very seldom used during +an intense bombardment.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Time ex." Expiration of term of +enlistment. The only time Tommy is a civilian in the trenches; +but about ten minutes after he is a soldier for duration of +war.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Tin Hat." Tommy's name for his +steel helmet which is made out of a metal about as hard as mush. +The only advantage is that it is heavy and greatly adds to the +weight of Tommy's equipment. Its most popular use is for carrying +eggs.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">T.N.T. A high explosive which the +Army Ordnance Corps prescribes for Fritz. Fritz prefers a No. 9 +pill.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Tommy Atkins." The name England +gives to an English soldier, even if his name is Willie +Jones.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Tommy's Cooker. A spirit stove +widely advertised as "A suitable gift to the men in the +trenches." Many are sent out to Tommy and most of them are thrown +away.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Tonite. The explosive contained in +a rifle grenade. It looks like a harmless reel of cotton before +it explodes, -- after it explodes the spectator is missing.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Toots Sweet." Tommy's Preach for +"hurry up," "look smart." Generally used in a French estaminet +when Tommy only has a couple of minutes in which to drink his +beer.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Top Hats at +Home," Tommy's name for Parliament when his application for leave +has been turned down or when no strawberry jam arrives with the +rations.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Town Major. An officer stationed in +a. French town or village who is supposed to look after billets, +upkeep of roads, and act as interpreter.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Transport. An aggregation of mules, +limbers, and rough riders, whose duty is to keep the men in the +trenches supplied with rations and supplies. Sometimes a shell +drops within two miles of them and Tommy doesn't get his rations, +etc.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Traverse. Sandbags piled in a +trench so that the trench cannot be traversed by Tommy. Sometimes +it prevents enfilading fire by the enemy.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Trench. A ditch full of water, +rats, and soldiers. During his visit to France, Tommy uses these +ditches as residences. Now and again he sticks his head "over the +top" to take a look at the surrounding scenery. If he is lucky he +lives to tell his mates what he saw.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Trench Feet. A disease of the feet +contracted in the trenches from exposure to extreme cold and wet. +Tommy's greatest ambition is to contract this disease because it +means "Blighty" for him.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Trench Fever. A malady contracted +in the trenches; the symptoms are high temperature, bodily pains, +and homesickness. Mostly homesickness. A bad case lands Tommy in +"Blighty," a slight case lands him back in the trenches, where he +tries to get it worse than ever.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Trenchitis." A combination of +"fedupness" and homesickness, experienced by Tommy in the +trenches, especially when he receives a letter from a friend in +Blighty who is making a fortune working in a munition plant.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Trench Mortar. A gun like a stove +pipe which throws shells at the German trenches. Tommy detests +these mortars because when they take positions near to him in the +trenches, he knows that it is only a matter of minutes before a +German Shell with his name and number on it will be knocking at +his door.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Trench Pudding. A delectable mess +of broken biscuits, condensed milk, jam, and mud. Slightly +flavored with smoke. Tommy prepares, cooks, and eats this. Next +day he has</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"trench fever."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Trench Raid. Several men detailed +to go over the top at night and shake hands with the Germans, +and, if possible, persuade some of them to be prisoners. At times +the raiders would themselves get raided because Fritz refused to +shake and adopted nasty methods.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Turpenite. A deadly chemical shell +invented by an enthusiastic war correspondent suffering from +brain storm. Companies and batteries were supposed to die +standing up from its effects, but they refused to do this.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Twelve in +one." Means that twelve men are to share one loaf of +bread. When the slicing takes place the war in the dugout makes +the European argument look like thirty cents.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">U</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Up against the wall." Tommy's term +for a man who is to be shot by a firing squad.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Up the line." +Term generally used in rest billets when Tommy talks about the +fire trench or fighting line. When orders are issued to go "up +the line" Tommy immediately goes "up in the air."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">V</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">V.C. Victoria Cross, or "Very +careless" as Tommy calls it. It is a bronze medal won by Tommy +for being very careless with his life.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Very-Lights. A star shell invented +by Mr. Very. See Flare.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Vickers Gun. A machine gun improved +on by a fellow named Vickers. His intentions were good but his +improvements, according to Tommy, were "rotten."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Via Blanc. French white wine made +from vinegar. They forgot the red ink.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Vin Rouge. French red wine made +from vinegar and red ink. Tommy pays good money for it.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">W</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Waders. Rubber hip boots, used when +the water in the trenches is up to Tommy's neck.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Waiting Man. The cleanest man at +guard mounting. He does not have to walk post; is supposed to +wait on the guard.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Washout. Tommy's idea of something +that is worth nothing.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Water Bottle. A metal bottle for +carrying water (when not used for rum, beer, or wine).</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Waterproof. A rubber sheet issued +to Tommy to keep him dry. It does when the sun is out.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Wave. A line of troops which goes +"over the top" in a charge. The waves are numbered according to +their turn in going over, viz., "First Wave," "Second Wave," etc. +Tommy would sooner go over with the " Tenth Wave."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Wet Canteen. A military saloon or +pub where Tommy can get a "wet," Most +campaigns and battles are planned and fought in these places.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Whizz Bang." A small German shell +which whizzes through the air and explodes with a "bang." Their +bark is worse than their bite.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Wind up. " Term generally applied +to the Germans when they send up several star shells at once +because they are nervous and expect an attack or night raid on +their trenches.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Windy." Tommy's +name for a nervous soldier, coward.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Wipers." Tommy's name for Ypres, +sometimes he calls it "Yeeps." A place up the line which Tommy +likes to duck. It is even "hot" in the winter time at +"Wipers."</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Wire. See barbed wire, but don't go +"over the top" to look at it. It isn't safe.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Wire Cutters. An instrument for +cutting barbed wire, but mostly used for driving nails.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Wiring Party. Another social affair +for which Tommy receives invitations. It consists of going "over +the top " at night and stretching barbed wire between stakes. A +German machine gun generally takes the place of an orchestra.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Woodbine. A cigarette made of paper +and old hay. Tommy swears by a Woodbine.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Wooden Cross. Two pieces of wood in +the form of a cross placed at the head of a Tommy's grave. +Inscribed on it are his rank, name, number, and regiment. Also +date of death and last but not least, the letters R. I. P.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Working Party. A sort of compulsory +invitation affair for which Tommy often is honored with an +invitation. It consists of digging, filling sandbags, and ducking +shells and bullets.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">Z</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">"Zeppelin" A bag full of gas +invented by a count full of gas. It is a dirigible airship used +by the Germans for killing babies and dropping bombs in open +fields. You never see them over the trenches, it is safer to +bombard civilians in cities. They use Iron Crosses for +ballast.</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 0cm">{Advertisement: FIRST CALL by +Arthur Guy Empey.}</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OVER THE TOP ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law 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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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