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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Over The Top, by Arthur Guy Empey
+
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+
+Title: Over The Top
+
+Author: Arthur Guy Empey
+
+Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7962]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on June 6, 2003]
+[Date last updated: November 15, 2004]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OVER THE TOP ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Daniel Callahan
+
+
+
+
+"OVER THE TOP"
+
+BY
+
+AN AMERICAN SOLDIER WHO WENT
+
+ARTHUR GUY EMPEY
+
+MACHINE GUNNER, SERVING IN FRANCE
+
+TOGETHER WITH
+
+TOMMY'S DICTIONARY OF THE TRENCHES
+
+16 ILLUSTRATIONS AND DIAGRAMS
+
+
+
+Twenty-sixth Impression
+
+
+{Photo: The Author just before Leaving for Home.}
+
+
+TO
+
+MY MOTHER AND MY SISTER
+
+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.
+
+
+
+FOREWORD
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+A. G. E.
+
+NEW YORK City, May, 1917.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+FROM MUFTI TO KHAKI
+
+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:
+
+LUSITANIA SUNK! AMERICAN LIVES LOST!
+
+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.
+
+"Lusitania Sunk! American Lives Lost!"--I DIDN'T RAISE MY BOY TO BE
+A SOLDIER. To us these did not seem to jibe.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Can you direct me to the place of damage?"
+
+He asked me, "What damage?"
+
+In surprise, I answered, "Why, the damage caused by the Zeps."
+
+With a wink, he replied:
+
+"There was no damage, we missed them again."
+
+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.
+
+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?"
+
+I looked at him and answered, "Well, whatever that is, I'll take a
+chance at it."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Before going further I wish to state that I am an American, not too
+proud to fight, and want to join your army."
+
+He looked at me in a nonchalant manner, and answered, "That's all
+right, we take anything over here."
+
+I looked at him kind of hard and replied, "So I notice," but it went
+over his head.
+
+He got out an enlistment blank, and placing his finger on a blank line
+said, "Sign here."
+
+I answered, "Not on your tintype."
+
+"I beg your pardon?"
+
+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.
+
+Then he asked me my birthplace. I answered, "Ogden, Utah."
+
+He said, "Oh yes, just outside of New York?"
+
+With a smile, I replied, "Well, it's up the State a little."
+
+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.
+
+"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.'
+
+"This argument ought to get many recruits, Empey, so go out and see
+what you can do."
+
+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.
+
+Armed with a swagger stick and my patriotic rosette I went out into
+Tottenham Court Road in quest of cannon fodder.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+I recruited for three weeks and nearly got one recruit.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+The doctor came over and exploded, "What do you mean by bringing in a
+man in this condition?"
+
+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."
+
+I think they called it "Yankee impudence," anyhow it ended my
+recruiting.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+BLIGHTY TO REST BILLETS
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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--.
+
+After unloading our rations and equipment, we lined up on the road in
+columns of fours waiting for the order to march.
+
+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.
+
+Coming towards us was an old grizzled Sergeant, properly fed up with
+the war, so I "awsked" him.
+
+"Think it's going to rain, Sergeant?"
+
+He looked at me in contempt, and grunted, "'Ow's it a'goin' ter rain
+with the bloomin' sun a 'shinin'?" I looked guilty.
+
+"Them's the guns up the line, me lad, and you'll get enough of 'em
+before you gets back to Blighty."
+
+My knees seemed to wilt, and I squeaked out a weak "Oh!"
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"Does the straw bother you, mate? It's worked through my uniform and I
+can't sleep."
+
+In a sleepy voice, he answered, "That ain't straw, them's cooties."
+
+From that time on my friends the "cooties" were constantly with me.
+
+"Cooties," or body lice, are the bane of Tommy's existence.
+
+The aristocracy of the trenches very seldom call them "cooties," they
+speak of them as fleas.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+I GO TO CHURCH
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+{Photo: The Author's Identification Disk.}
+
+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.
+
+Now, just imagine my hard luck. Out of five religions I was unlucky
+enough to pick the only one where church parade was compulsory!
+
+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!"
+
+I kept on writing. Turning to me, in a loud voice, he asked, "Empey,
+aren't you C. of E.?"
+
+I answered, "Yep."
+
+In an angry tone, he commanded, "Don't you 'yep' me. Say, 'Yes,
+Sergeant-Major!'"
+
+I did so. Somewhat mollified, he ordered, "Outside for church parade."
+
+I looked up and answered, "I am not going to church this morning."
+
+He said, "Oh, yes, you are!"
+
+I answered. "Oh, no, I'm not!"--But I went.
+
+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.
+
+After church parade we were marched back to our billets, and played
+football all afternoon.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+"INTO THE TRENCH"
+
+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.
+
+For the next ten days we "rested," repairing roads for the Frenchies,
+drilling, and digging bombing trenches.
+
+One morning we were informed that we were going up the line, and our
+march began.
+
+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.
+
+Against the horizon we could see numerous observation balloons or
+"sausages" as they are called.
+
+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."
+
+I immediately quit "chucking my weight about" from that time on.
+
+Just before reaching reserve billets we were marching along, laughing,
+and singing one of Tommy's trench ditties--
+
+  "I want to go home,
+  I want to go home,
+  I don't want to go to the trenches no more
+  Where sausages and whizz-bangs are galore.
+  Take me over the sea, where the Allemand can't get at me,
+  Oh, my, I don't want to die,
+  I want to go home"--
+
+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.
+
+After awhile, we re-formed into columns of fours, and proceeded on our
+way.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 would traverse back and forth with
+his "typewriter" or machine gun.  The bullets made a sharp cracking
+noise overhead.
+
+{Illustration: Diagram Showing Typical Front-Line and Communication
+Trenches.}
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+MUD, RATS, AND SHELLS
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Later on, I found out their names. They belonged to our draft.
+
+I was dazed and motionless. Suddenly a shovel was pushed into my
+hands, and a rough but kindly voice said:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+After an hour's hard work, all my nervousness left me, and I was
+laughing and joking with the rest.
+
+At one o'clock, dinner came up in the form of a dixie of hot stew.
+
+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."
+
+I had learned another maxim of the trenches.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?"
+
+He answered, "Only a rat taking a promenade along the sandbags." I
+felt very sheepish.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Shut your blinkin' mouth, you bloomin' idiot; do you want us to click
+it from the Boches?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+"BACK OF THE LINE"
+
+Our tour in the front-line trench lasted four days, and then we were
+relieved by the--Brigade.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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 1l9. 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:
+
+"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."
+
+It was not long after this that I was one of the "20 lying."
+
+I soon hit the hay and was fast asleep, even my friends the "cooties"
+failed to disturb me.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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, "Pall out for ten minutes," was given, than each Tommy got
+out a fag and lighted it.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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!"
+
+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?"
+
+Without a word in reply I got busy with the mud, and soon my dixie was
+bright and shining.
+
+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:
+
+{Photo: Facsimilie of the "Green" Envelope.}
+
+"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.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+RATIONS
+
+Just before dozing off, Mr. Lance-Corporal butted in.
+
+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.
+
+He ordered me to go with him and help him draw the next day's rations,
+also told me to take my waterproof.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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:
+
+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.
+
+Three tins of jam, one apple, and the other two plum.
+
+Seventeen Bermuda onions, all different sizes.
+
+A piece of cheese in the shape of a wedge.
+
+Two one-pound tins of butter.
+
+A handful of raisins.
+
+A tin of biscuits, or as Tommy calls them "Jaw-breakers."
+
+A bottle of mustard pickles.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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,
+
+"What do you call this, a loaf of bread? Looks more like a sniping
+plate."
+
+The Corporal answered:
+
+"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."
+
+Then the Corporal started on the jam.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Bermuda onions, seventeen."
+
+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.
+
+"Cheese, pounds two."
+
+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.
+
+"Raisins, ounces, eight."
+
+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.
+
+"Biscuits, tins, one."
+
+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.
+
+"Butter, tins, two."
+
+"Nine in one, ten in the other."
+
+Another rumpus.
+
+"Pickles, mustard, bottles, one."
+
+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.
+
+The raffle is closely watched, because Tommy is suspicious when it
+comes to gambling with his rations.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The Company Sergeant-Major sorts the rations, and sends them in.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+(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.)
+
+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.
+
+In addition to the regular ration issue Tommy uses another channel to
+enlarge his menu.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE LITTLE WOODEN CROSS
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+  True to Us God; true to Britain,
+    Doing his duty to the last,
+  Just one more name to be written
+    On the Roll of Honor of heroes passed.
+
+  Passed to their God, enshrined in glory,
+    Entering life of eternal rest,
+  One more chapter in England's story
+    Of her sons doing their best.
+
+  Rest, you soldier, mate so true,
+    Never forgotten by us below;
+  Know that we are thinking of you,
+    Ere to our rest we are bidden to go.
+
+Next morning the whole section went over to say good-bye to Pete, and
+laid him away to rest.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+To get to the cemetery, we had to pass through the little
+shell-destroyed village, where troops were hurrying to and fro.
+
+As the funeral procession passed, these troops came to the
+"attention," and smartly saluted the dead.
+
+Poor Pete was receiving the only salute a Private is entitled to
+"somewhere in France."
+
+Now and again a shell from the German lines would go whistling over
+the village to burst in our artillery lines in the rear.
+
+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.
+
+German machine-gun bullets were "cracking" in the air above us, but
+Pete didn't mind, and neither did we.
+
+When the body was lowered into the grave, the flag having been
+removed, we clicked our heels together, and came to the salute.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+SUICIDE ANNEX
+
+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."
+
+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'?"
+
+I looked at him in contempt, and answered that I did not know.
+
+From the darkness in one of the corners came a thin, piping voice
+singing one of the popular trench ditties entitled:
+
+"Pack up your Troubles in your Old Kit Bag, and
+    Smile, Smile, Smile."
+
+Every now and then the singer would stop to
+    Cough, Cough, Cough,
+
+but it was a good illustration of Tommy's cheerfulness under such
+conditions.
+
+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?"
+
+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.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+"THE DAY'S WORK"
+
+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.
+
+The real work in the fire trench commences at sundown. Tommy is like a
+burglar, he works at night.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+In the trenches one can never tell,--it is not safe to plan very far
+ahead.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+My thoughts generally ran in this channel:
+
+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?"
+
+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.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+OVER THE TOP
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+Our eighteen-pounders were destroying the German barbed wire, while
+the heavier stuff was demolishing their trenches and bashing in
+dugouts or funk-holes.
+
+Then Fritz got busy.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+BOMBING
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+After a lot of men went West in this manner, an order was issued,
+reading something like this:
+
+"To all ranks in the British Army--after igniting the fuse and
+before throwing the jam tin bomb, count slowly one! two! three!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Now that I was a sure enough bomber, I was praying for peace and
+hoping that my services as such would not be required.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+MY FIRST OFFICIAL BATH
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 dean 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."
+
+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.
+
+At the expiration of the time allotted we were turned out and finished
+our dressing on the grass.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The chaplains in the British Army are a fine, manly set of men, and
+are greatly respected by Tommy.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+PICKS AND SHOVELS
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Before entering this trench, word was passed down the line, "no
+talking or smoking, lead off in single file, covering party first."
+
+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.
+
+The communication trench was about half a mile long, a zigzagging
+ditch, eight feet deep and three feet wide.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Upon arrival in the fire trench an officer of the Royal Engineers gave
+us our instructions and acted as guide.
+
+We were to dig an advanced trench two hundred yards from the Germans
+(the trenches at this point were six hundred yards apart).
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+{Illustration: DIAGRAM ILLUSTRATING TYPICAL FIRE TRENCH, SECOND LINE,
+AND COMMUNICATION TRENCHES, FIRST AID STATIONS &c &c.}
+
+
+In extended order, two yards apart, we noiselessly crept across No
+Man's Land. It was nervous work; every minute we expected a machine
+gun to open fire on us. Stray bullets "cracked" around us, or a
+ricochet sang overhead.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The covering party was having a rough time of it; they had no cover;
+just had to take their medicine.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+When the roll was called we found that we had gotten it in the nose
+for sixty-three casualties.
+
+Our artillery put a barrage on Fritz's front-line and communication
+trenches and their machine gun and rifle fire suddenly ceased.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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).
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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--
+
+Next day the General changed the dot on his map and another
+emplacement was completed the following night.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+LISTENING POST
+
+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.
+
+Nothing happened that night, but the next afternoon I found out that a
+bomber is general utility man in a section.
+
+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."
+
+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:
+
+"Empey, you and Wheeler are due, so come down into my dugout for
+instructions at six o'clock."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 bur ears were full
+of mud.
+
+Every few minutes a bullet would crack overhead or a machine gun would
+traverse back and forth.
+
+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."
+
+We were each armed with a rifle and bayonet and three Mills bombs to
+be used for defense only.
+
+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."
+
+He put his ear to the ground and in an unsteady voice spoke into my
+ear:
+
+"Yank, that's a patrol and it's heading our way. For God's sake keep
+still."
+
+I was as still as a mouse and was scared stiff.
+
+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.
+
+Then we plainly heard footsteps and our hearts stood still.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+BATTERY D 238
+
+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.
+
+In the trenches, it is always "first come, first served," and this is
+lived up to by all.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+I will endeavor to give the story as far as memory will permit in his
+own words:
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.'
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"I was carrying on a conversation in our 'tap' code with Cassell at
+the other end. It ran something like this:
+
+"'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?'
+
+"Cassell had a fancy for that particular blonde. The answer came back
+in the shape of a volley of cusses. I changed the subject.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"'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.'
+
+"'Are you game for putting something over on the Boches, and Old
+Pepper all in one?'
+
+"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.
+
+"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.'
+
+"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:
+
+"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.
+
+"Then I waited with beating heart, and watched the Captain like a
+hawk.
+
+"He was beginning to fidget again and was drumming on the sandbags
+with his feet. At last, turning to me, he said:
+
+"'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!'
+
+"I answered, 'Yes sir,' and started sending this opinion over the wire
+to Cassell, but the Captain interrupted me with:
+
+'Keep those infernal fingers still. What's the matter, getting the
+nerves? When I'm talking to you, pay attention.'
+
+"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:
+
+"'Beg your pardon, sir, just a habit with me.'
+
+"'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.
+
+"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 wont fire. A damned shame
+I call it. Oh, just for a chance to turn D 238 loose on them.'
+
+"'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.
+
+"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:
+
+'D 238 Battery. Salvo! Fire !'
+
+"Then a roar through the receiver as the four guns belched forth, a
+screaming and whistling overhead, and the shells were on their way.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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:
+
+"'Good, Fine, Marvelous, Pretty Work, Direct Hits, All!
+
+"Then he turned to me and shouted:
+
+"'Wilson, what do you think of it? Did you ever see the like of it in
+your life? Damn fine work, I call it.'
+
+"Pretty soon a look of wonder stole over his face, and he exclaimed:
+
+"'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?'
+
+"I answered very emphatically, 'No, sir, you gave no command. Nothing
+went through this post. I am absolutely certain on that point, sir.'
+
+"'Of course nothing went through!' he replied. Then his face fell, and
+he muttered out loud:
+
+"'But, by Jove. wait till Old Pepper gets wind of this. There'll be
+fur flying.'
+
+"Just then Bombardier Cassell cut in on the wire:
+
+"'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.'
+
+"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.
+
+"I gave the General's message to the Captain, and started packing up.
+
+"The relief arrived, and as we left the post the Captain said:
+
+"'Now for the fireworks, and I know they'll be good and plenty.' They
+were.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"The door of the General's room opened, and Old Pepper stood in the
+doorway. With a roar he shouted:
+
+"'Which one of you is Cassell? Damn me, get your heels together when I
+speak! Come in here!'
+
+"Cassell started to say, 'Yes, sir.'
+
+"But Old Pepper roared, 'Shut up!'
+
+"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.
+
+"Then the Sergeant-Major's turn came. He didn't come out our way.
+Judging by the roaring, Old Pepper must have eaten him.
+
+"When the door opened, and the General beckoned to me, my knees
+started to play Home, Sweet Home against each other.
+
+"My interview was very short.
+
+"Old Pepper glared at me when I entered, and then let loose.
+
+"'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.'
+
+"I stammered, 'Sir, I know absolutely nothing.'
+
+"'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.'
+
+"I saluted and made my exit.
+
+"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.
+
+"'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.'
+
+"We saluted, and were just going out the door of the dugout when the
+Captain called us back, and said:
+
+"'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?'
+
+"We understood.
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"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!"
+
+Wilson never clicked his crucifixion.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+OUT IN FRONT
+
+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.
+
+At 11.30 that night twelve men, our Lieutenant, and myself went out in
+front on a patrol in No Man's Land.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Fighting in the dark with a bayonet is act 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."
+
+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.
+
+We could see the flashes of their rifles in the darkness, but the
+bullets were going over our heads.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+I turned slowly about and my tunic caught on the wire and made a loud
+ripping noise.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+STAGED UNDER FIRE
+
+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.
+
+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'--.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The proprietor's name was Tom Twistem, his bartender being named
+Fillem Up.
+
+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.
+
+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.)
+
+{Illustration: Programme}
+
+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.
+
+Enter Abe, Sambo, and Ikey, and the fun commences.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+We had eleven three-hour rehearsals before I thought it advisable to
+present the sketch to the public.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+We hoped they all would be soon in Blighty to give us a chance.
+
+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.
+
+I had a sinking sensation when I thought of running my sketch in
+opposition to it.
+
+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.
+
+As our section passed her I yelled out: "Hello, Flossie, Blighty--
+What Hopes?" Her reply made our love die out instantly.
+
+"Ah, go to hell!"
+
+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?'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The next day was Sunday and after church parade we put all our time on
+a dress rehearsal, and it went fine.
+
+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.
+
+We had an orchestra of seven men and seven different instruments. This
+orchestra was excellent, while they were not playing.
+
+The performance was scheduled to start at 6 P.M.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+We figured out that the rafters would seat about forty men and sold
+that number of tickets accordingly,
+
+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.
+
+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,
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+ON HIS OWN
+
+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.
+
+The two most popular games are "Crown and Anchor" and "House."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The French estaminets in the villages are open from eleven in the
+morning until one in the afternoon in accordance with army orders.
+
+After dinner the Tommies congregate at these places to drink French
+beer at a penny a glass and play "House."
+
+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.
+
+Then the game starts. Each buyer places his card before him on the
+table, first breaking up matches into fifteen pieces.
+
+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."
+
+All noise ceases and everyone is attention.
+
+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.
+
+Then another collection is made, a school formed, and they carry on
+with the game.
+
+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.
+
+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.'"
+
+Watkins generally replies, "Well keep out of a draught, you'll catch
+cold."
+
+Another game is "Pontoon" played with cards; it is the same as our
+"Black Jack," or "Twenty-one."
+
+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.
+
+The next in popularity is a card game called "Nap." It is well named.
+Every time I played it I went to sleep.
+
+Whist and Solo Whist are played by the high-brows of the Company.
+
+When the gamblers tire of all other games they try "Banker and
+Broker."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 "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.
+
+{Photo: Right Arm Smashed by Shell (in Plaster Cast); has been Told it
+will Have to be Amputated.}
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+It is needless to say that the servants dispensed with their soft beds
+that particular night.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+It is not necessary to mention the Colonials (the Canadians,
+Australians, and New Zealanders), the whole world knows what they have
+done for England.
+
+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.
+
+Tommy divides the German army into three classes according to their
+fighting abilities. They rank as follows, Prussians, Bavarians, and
+Saxons.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+If an English regiment was to be relieved by the wild Irish, Tommy
+would tell the Saxons, and immediately a volley of "Dormer 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.
+
+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.
+
+The Saxons, though better than the Prussians and Bavarians, have a
+nasty trait of treachery in their make-up.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+"CHATS WITH FRITZ"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The gun we used was the Vickers, Light .303, water cooled.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The raid took the Boches by surprise and was a complete success, the
+party bringing back twenty-one prisoners.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Five of them were brought into my dugout and turned over to me so that
+they would be safe from the German fire.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+{Photo: The Author.}
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+I broached the subject and he shut up like a clam. After a few minutes
+he very innocently said:
+
+"German snipers get paid rewards for killing the English."
+
+I eagerly asked, "What are they?"
+
+He answered:
+
+"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."
+
+Then he paused, waiting for me to bite, I suppose.
+
+I bit all right and asked him why the sniper was, punished for killing
+an English general. With a smile he replied:
+
+"Well, you see, if all the English generals were killed, there would
+be no one left to make costly mistakes."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+We immediately sent up two star shells, and in their light could see
+two dark forms lying on the ground dose 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+One of our officers could speak German and he questioned the dying
+man.
+
+In a faint voice, interrupted by frequent hiccoughs, the Unteroffizier
+told his story.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Without giving us any further information the Unteroffizier died.
+
+We searched the bodies for identification disks but they had left
+everything behind before starting on their foolhardy errand.
+
+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.
+
+They read:
+
+Captain German Army Died--1916 Unknown R. I. P.
+
+Unteroffizier German Army Died--1916 Unknown R.I.P.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+ABOUT TURN
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The Quartermaster-Sergeant issued us two days' rations, in a little
+white canvas ration bag, which we tied to our belts.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+{Photo: Field Post Card Issued Once a Week to the Tommies.}
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+The R.T.O. stuck us all into one car. We didn't care, it was as good
+as a Pullman to us.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+That return journey was misery to us; I just can't describe it.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+I hate to tell you how I was kidded by the boys when I got back, but
+it was good and plenty.
+
+Our Machine Gun Company took over their part of the line at seven
+o'clock, the night after I returned from my near leave.
+
+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.
+
+Crossing No Man's Land without clicking any casualties, we came to the
+German trench and mounted our guns on the parados of same.
+
+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.
+
+Rifles and equipment were scattered about, and occasionally a steel
+helmet could be seen sticking out of the mud.
+
+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.
+
+Tommy, after taking a trench, learns to his sorrow, that the hardest
+part of the work is to hold it.
+
+In our case this proved to be so.
+
+The German artillery and machine guns had us taped (ranged) for fair;
+it was worth your life to expose yourself an instant.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The next day things were somewhat quieter, but not quiet enough to
+bury the dead.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 bad plastered the stump
+over with mud.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+But, nevertheless, when our six days were up, we were tickled to death
+to be relieved.
+
+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.
+
+After the attack we went into reserve billets for six days, and on the
+seventh once again we were in rest billets.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+PUNISHMENTS AND MACHINE-GUN STUNTS
+
+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.
+
+There are about seven million ways of breaking the King's Regulations;
+to keep one you have to break another.
+
+The worst punishment is death by a firing squad or "up against the
+wall" as Tommy calls it.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Next in order is Field Punishment No. 2.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+Tommy many a time has thanked the King for making that provision in
+his regulations.
+
+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.
+
+I have been on it a few times, mostly for "Yankee impudence."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+After constant practice I became quite expert in the tune entitled ALL
+CONDUCTORS HAVE BIG FEET.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Then one of our crew got a brilliant idea and we were all enthusiastic
+to put it to the test.
+
+Here was his scheme:
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The boys in the battalion gave us the "Ha! Ha!" They weren't in on our
+little frame-up.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+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.
+
+To disguise the flare of his gun at night when firing. Tommy uses what
+is called a flare protector.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+{Illustration: Diagram}
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+GAS ATTACKS AND SPIES
+
+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.
+
+Warnings had been passed down the trench to keep a sharp lookout for
+gas.
+
+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:
+
+"There's a sort of greenish, yellow cloud rolling along the ground out
+in front, it's coming--"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Reinforcements were pouring out of the communication trenches.
+
+Our gun's crew were busy mounting the machine gun on the parapet and
+bringing up extra ammunition from the dugout.
+
+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.
+
+We had to work quickly, as Fritz generally follows the gas with an
+infantry attack.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+At times, gas has been known to travel, with dire results, fifteen
+miles behind the lines.
+
+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.
+
+Our eighteen-pounders were bursting in No Man's Land, in an effort, by
+the artillery, to disperse the gas clouds.
+
+The fire step was lined with crouching men, bayonets fixed, and bombs
+near at hand to repel the expected attack.
+
+Our artillery had put a barrage of curtain fire on the German lines,
+to try and break up their attack and keep back reinforcements.
+
+I trained my machine gun on their trench and its bullets were raking
+the parapet.
+
+Then over they came, bayonets glistening. In their respirators, which
+have a large snout in front, they looked like some horrible nightmare.
+
+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
+shells, then it was bomb against bomb, and the devil for all.
+
+{Illustration: A Gas Helmet.}
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+I was awakened by one of my mates removing my smoke helmet. How
+delicious that cool, fresh air felt in my lungs.
+
+A strong wind had arisen and dispersed the gas.
+
+They told me that I had been "out" for three hours; they thought I was
+dead.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Out of our crew of six, we lost two killed and two wounded.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Good. luck, Yank, old boy, don't forget to send tip a few fags to
+your old mates."
+
+I promised to do this and left.
+
+I reported at Headquarters with sixteen others and passed the required
+examination. Out of the sixteen applicants four were selected.
+
+I was highly elated because I was, as I thought, in for a cushy job
+back at the base.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+My heart dropped to zero and Atwell's face was a study. We saluted and
+left.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+After a bit our spirits rose. We were full-fledged spy-catchers,
+because our instructions and orders said so.
+
+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.
+
+After showing the driver our passes we got in. The driver was going to
+the part of the line where we had to report.
+
+The ambulance was a Ford and lived up to its reputation.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+I was riding on the seat with him while Atwell was sitting in the
+ambulance, with his legs hanging out of the back.
+
+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.
+
+From his conversation we learned that he had recently come from
+England with a draft and had never been under fire, hence, his
+nervousness.
+
+We convinced him that there was not much danger, and he appeared
+greatly relieved.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+In the back, Atwell was holding onto the straps for dear life and was
+singing at the top of his voice,
+
+  We beat you at the Mame,
+    We beat you at the Aisne,
+  We gave you hell at Neuve Chapelle,
+    And here we are again.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Without further mishap we arrived at our destination, and reported to
+Brigade Headquarters for rations and billets.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Tell this d--n fool who I am. He's arrested me as a spy."
+
+Atwell was speechless. The sentry butted in with:
+
+"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."
+
+The General's face was a sight to behold. He was fairly boiling over
+with rage, but he shut up.
+
+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.
+
+The sentry and his prisoner arrived at Brigade Headquarters with
+disastrous results to the sentry.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+For several days, Atwell and I made ourselves scarce around Brigade
+Headquarters. We did not want to meet the General.
+
+The spy was never caught.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+THE FIRING SQUAD
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Get on your equipment, and, without any noise, come with me."
+
+This greatly mystified me but I obeyed his order.
+
+Outside of the billet, I asked him what was up, but he shut me up
+with:
+
+"Don't ask any questions, it's against orders. I don't know myself."
+
+It was raining like the mischief.
+
+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.
+
+When he had finished writing, he whispered:
+
+"Go into that billet and wait orders, and no talking. Understand?"
+
+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.
+
+During my wait, three other men entered. Then the officer poked his
+head in the door and ordered:
+
+"Fall in, outside the billet, in single rank."
+
+We fell in, standing at ease. Then he commanded.
+
+"Squad-'Shun! Number!"
+
+There were twelve of us.
+
+"Right--Turn! Left--Wheel! Quick--March!" And away we went. The
+rain was trickling down my back and I was shivering from the cold.
+
+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.
+
+The dawn was breaking and the rain had ceased.
+
+In front of us were four stacks of rifles, three to a stack.
+
+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:
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+We came to attention. Then he left. My heart was of lead and my knees
+shook.
+
+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.
+
+Our officer reappeared and in a low, but firm voice, ordered;
+
+"About-Turn!"
+
+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.
+
+"Ready! Aim! Fire!"
+
+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.
+
+"Order-Arms! About-Turn! Pile-Anns! Stand-Clear."
+
+The stacks were re-formed.
+
+"Quick-March! Right-Wheel'" and we left the scene of execution behind
+us.
+
+It was now daylight. After marching about five minutes, we were
+dismissed with the following instructions from the officer in command:
+
+"Return, alone, to your respective companies, and remember, no talking
+about this affair, or else it will go hard with the guilty ones."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+In the public casualty lists his name will appear under the caption
+"Accidentally Killed," or "Died."
+
+The day after the execution I received orders to report back to the
+line, and to keep a still tongue in my head.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+We will call him Albert Lloyd. That wasn't his name, but it will do;
+Albert Lloyd was what the world terms a coward.
+
+In London they called him a slacker
+
+His country had been at war nearly eighteen months, and still he was
+not in khaki.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Even his landlady despised him, although she had to admit that he was
+"good pay."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 hunted look in his eyes.
+
+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.
+
+The smallest recruit in the barracks looked on him with contempt, and
+was not slow to show it in many ways.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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.
+
+They marched ten kilos, full pack, to a little dilapidated village,
+and the sound of the guns grew louder, constantly louder.
+
+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.
+
+The draft was paraded in front of Battalion Headquarters, and the men
+were assigned to companies.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+One of the older men on guard, turning to his mate, said:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+He remained there all night, listening to the sound of the guns and
+ever praying, praying that his useless life would be spared.
+
+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:
+
+"Pte. H. S. Wheaton, No. 1670, 1st London Regt. R. F. Killed in
+action, April 25, 1916. R. I. P." (Rest in Peace).
+
+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.
+
+In his flight, he came to an old French dugout, half caved in, and
+partially filled with slimy and filthy water.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The Corporal was addressing him:
+
+"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."
+
+Lloyd, trembling and weakened by his long fast, tottered out, assisted
+by a soldier on each side of him.
+
+They took him before the Captain, but could get nothing out of him
+but:
+
+"For God's sake, sir, don't have me shot, don't have me shot!"
+
+The Captain, utterly disgusted with him, sent him under escort to
+Division Headquarters for trial by court-martial, charged with
+desertion under fire.
+
+They shoot deserters in France.
+
+During his trial, Lloyd sat as one dazed, and could put nothing
+forward in his defence, only an occasional "Don't have me shot!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Bully beef, water, and biscuits were left beside him for his supper.
+
+The sentry, seeing that he ate nothing, came inside and shook him by
+the shoulder, saying in a kind voice:
+
+"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."
+
+The good-hearted sentry knew he was lying about the pardon. He knew
+nothing short of a miracle could save the poor lad.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The sentry, seeing his position, came in and tried to cheer him by
+talking to him:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+Looking into the guardhouse, the sentry noticed the cowering attitude
+of Lloyd, and, with a sneer, said to him:
+
+"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 but you won't get another chance to
+disgrace us. They'll put your lights out in the mornin'."
+
+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.
+
+"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.'"
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+  "I want to go home, I want to go home.
+  I don't want to go to the trenches no more.
+  Where the 'whizzbangs' and 'sausages' roar galore.
+  Take me over the sea, where the Allemand can't get at me.
+  Oh my, I don't want to die! I want to go home."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+With the reinforcements, it was an easy task to take the third German
+line.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Get away, you blighter, leave me alone. I don't want any coward
+around me."
+
+The words cut Lloyd like a knife, but he was desperate. Taking the
+revolver out of the holster of the dyings man, he pressed the cold
+muzzle to the soldier's head, and replied:
+
+"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!"
+
+A sunny smile came over the countenance of the dying man, and he said
+in a faint whisper:
+
+"Good old boy! I knew you wouldn't disgrace our Company--"
+
+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!"
+
+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--"
+
+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.
+
+Training it on the Germans, he shouted for joy as their front rank
+went down.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+The sentence of the court had been "duly carried out."
+
+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:
+
+"Boys, it's Lloyd the deserter. He has redeemed himself, died the
+death of a hero. Died that his mates might live."
+
+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.
+
+Arriving at the cemetery, they halted in front of an open grave. All
+about them, wooden crosses were broken and trampled into the ground.
+
+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."
+
+The corpse on the stretcher seemed to move, or it might have been the
+wind blowing the folds of the Union Jack.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+PREPARING FOR THE BIG PUSH
+
+Dejoining 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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The whole attack was rehearsed and rehearsed until we heartily cursed
+the one who had conceived the idea.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+{Photo: Map of German Trenches. Hebuterne, France, 1916. Before the
+"Big Push."}
+
+After three or four of these dummy attacks his nerves must have been
+near the breaking point.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The destruction in the German lines was awful and I really felt sorry
+for them because I realized how they must be clicking it.
+
+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.
+
+Atwell and I had a tough time of it, patrolling the different trenches
+at night, but after awhile got used to it.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+ALL QUIET (?) ON THE WESTERN FRONT
+
+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.
+
+In a few days orders were issued to that effect, and it was common
+property all along the line.
+
+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.
+
+I was accepted, worse luck.
+
+At 9:40 that night we reported to the Brigade Headquarters dugout to
+receive instructions from Old Pepper.
+
+After reaching this dugout we lined up in a semicircle around him, and
+he addressed us as follows:
+
+"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."
+
+The Sergeant on my right, in an undertone, whispered to me:
+
+"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?"
+
+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:
+
+"What did you say?"
+
+The Sergeant with a scared look on his face and his knees trembling,
+smartly saluted and answered:
+
+"Nothing, sir."
+
+Old Pepper said:
+
+"Well, don't say it so loudly the next time."
+
+Then Old Pepper continued:
+
+"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."
+
+These were the instructions he gave us:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+You must grasp the wire about two inches from the stake in your right
+hand and cut between the stake and your hand.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The blood was streaming down my tunic, and the pain was awful. When I
+came to I said to myself, "Temp, old boy, you belong in Jersey City
+and you'd better get back there as quickly as possible."
+
+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.
+
+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, white his rifle flew into the air. Another one wilted and
+fell forward across the sandbags--then blackness.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 bad sneezed and improperly cut the barbed wire.
+
+In the official communique our trench raid was described as follows:
+
+"All quiet on the Western front, excepting in the neighborhood of
+Gommecourt Wood, where one of our raiding parties penetrated into the
+German lines."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+BLIGHTY
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?"
+
+I answered: "I'm all right, but I'd give a quid for a drink of Bass."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Stretcher-bearers came in and began to carry the Tommies outside. You
+could hear the chug of the engines in the waiting ambulances.
+
+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.
+
+I was on a bottom stretcher. The lad right across from me was smashed
+up something horrible.
+
+Right above me was a man from the Royal Irish Rifles, while across
+from him was a Scotchman.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"If you don't stop this bloody death wagon and fix this damned bandage
+on my foot, I will get out and walk."
+
+The girl on the seat turned around and in a sympathetic voice asked,
+"Poor fellow, are you very badly wounded?"
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Nice little soft bunks and clean, white sheets.
+
+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.
+
+{Photo: Cards Used by Red Cross Nurses to Notify Families of Wounded.}
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+Then into another hospital train, a five-hour ride to Paignton,
+another ambulance ride, and then I was carried into Munsey Ward of the
+American Women's War Hospital and put into a real bed.
+
+This real bed was too much for my unstrung nerves and I fainted.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Where do you come from?" I answered:
+
+"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:
+
+"Come here, girls--at last we have got a real live Yankee with us."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+I don't remember having the anesthetic applied.
+
+{Photo: After the Trench Raid.}
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+When a man is sent to a convalescent home, he generally turns over his
+steady visitor to the man in the next bed.
+
+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.
+
+The questions asked Tommy by visitors would make a clever joke book to
+a military man.
+
+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?"
+
+Tommy generally replies that he did not stop to figure it out when he
+was hit.
+
+One very nice-looking, over-enthusiastic young thing, stopped at my
+bed and asked, "What wounded you in the face?"
+
+In a polite but bored tone I answered, "A rifle bullet."
+
+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
+tot of difference myself.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+{Photo: A "Downhearted" Bunch from Munsey Ward, American Women's War
+Hospital.}
+
+One afternoon I received a note, through our underground channel, from
+my female visitor, 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+I immediately got under the covers and feigned sleep. The matron stood
+talking in low tones to the night nurse and I fell asleep.
+
+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."
+
+Next visiting day I had an awful time explaining to my visitor why I
+had not met her at the appointed time and place.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+I answered: "Well, Doctor, Steve Brodie took a chance; he hails from
+New York and so do I."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The spirit of sacrifice is wonderful.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+"TOMMY'S DICTIONARY OF THE TRENCHES"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+SLANG TERMS, SAYINGS, PHRASES, ETC.
+
+A
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"All around traverse." A machine gun so placed that its fire can be
+turned in any direction.
+
+Allemand. A French term meaning "German." Tommy uses it because he
+thinks it is a swear word.
+
+Allotment. A certain sum Tommy allows to his family.
+
+Allumettes. French term for what they sell to Tommy as matches, the
+sulphurous fumes from which have been known to "gas" a whole platoon.
+
+"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.
+
+Ammo Depot. A place where ammunition is stored. It is especially
+useful in making enemy airmen waste bombs trying to hit it.
+
+Ammonal. A high explosive used in the Mills bomb. The Germans are more
+able than Tommy to discourse on its effects.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Apres la Guerre." "After the war." Tommy's definition of Heaven.
+
+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.
+
+B
+
+"Back 'o the line." Any place behind the firing line out of range of
+enemy guns.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Barndook." Tommy's nickname for his rifle. He uses it because it is
+harder to say and spell than "rifle."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Bashed in." Smashed by a shell. Generally applied to a trench or
+dugout.
+
+Batman. A man who volunteers to clean a non-commissioned officer's
+buttons but who never volunteers for a trench raid. He ranks nest to a
+worm.
+
+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.
+
+"Big Boys." Large guns, generally eight inch or above.
+
+"Big Push." "The Battle of the Somme." He often calls it "The First of
+July," the date on which it started.
+
+"Big Stuff." Large shells, eight inch or over.
+
+"Big Willie." Tommy's term for his personal friend, the Kaiser.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Bivouac. A term given by Tommy to a sort of tent made out of
+waterproof sheets.
+
+Blastine. A high explosive which promotes Kultur in the German lines,
+
+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.
+
+"Blighty One." A wound serious enough to send Tommy to England.
+
+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.
+
+"Body Snatcher." Tommy's term for a sniper.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+Brigade Guard. Several men who are detailed to guard Brigade
+Headquarters. They don't go to sleep.
+
+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.
+
+Bully Beef. A kind of corned beef with tin round it. The unopened cans
+make excellent walls for dugouts.
+
+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.
+
+"Busted." Term applied when a non-commissioned officer is reduced by
+court-martial.
+
+Button Stick. A contrivance made of brass ten inches long which slides
+over the buttons and protects the tunic in cleaning.
+
+C
+
+"Called to the colors." A man on reserve who has been ordered to
+report for service.
+
+"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.
+
+Candle. A piece of wick surrounded by wax or tallow used for lighting
+purposes. One candle among six men is the general issue.
+
+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.
+
+Canteen. A mess tin issued to Tommy, who, after dinner, generally
+forgets to wash it, and pinches his mates for tea in the evening.
+
+"Carry on." Resume. Keep on with what you are doing. Go ahead.
+
+"Carrying in." Machine gunners' term for taking guns, ammunition,
+etc., into front-line trench.
+
+Caterpillar. Is not a bug, but the name given to a powerful engine
+used to haul the big guns over rough roads.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+Char. A black poisonous brew which Tommy calls tea.
+
+"Chevaux-de-frise." Barbed-wire defenses against cavalry.
+
+"Chucking his weight about." Self-important. Generally applied to a
+newly promoted non-commissioned officer or a recruit airing his
+knowledge.
+
+Chum. An endearing word used by Tommy to his mate when he wants to
+borrow something or have a favor done.
+
+"Clicked it." Got killed; up against it; wounded.
+
+"Clock." "Trench" for the face.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"Cole." Tommy's nickname for a penny. It buys one glass of French
+beer.
+
+"Coming it." Trying to "put something over."
+
+"Coming the add." Boasting; lying about something.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Company Stores. The Quartermaster-Sergeant's headquarters where stores
+are kept. A general hang-out for batmen, officers' servants, and
+N.C.O.'s.
+
+"Compray." Tommy's French for "Do you understand?" Universally used in
+the trenches.
+
+Conscript. A man who tried to wait until the war was over before
+volunteering for the army, but was balked by the Government.
+
+"Consolidate captured line." Digging in or preparing a captured
+position for defence against a counter-attack.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Cook. A soldier detailed to spoil Tommy's rations. He is generally
+picked because he was a blacksmith in civil life.
+
+Cooties. Unwelcome inhabitants of Tommy's shirt.
+
+Counter Attack. A disagreeable habit of the enemy which makes Tommy
+realize that after capturing a position the hardest work is to hold
+it.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+Crime Sheet. A useless piece of paper on which is kept a record of
+Tommy's misdemeanors.
+
+"Crump." A name given by Tommy to a high explosive German shell which
+when it bursts makes a "Crump" sort of noise.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"Cushy." Easy; comfortable; "pretty soft."
+
+D
+
+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.
+
+D.C.M. Distinguished Conduct Medal. A piece of bronze which a soldier
+gets for being foolish.
+
+D.C.P. Divisional Concert Party. An aggregation of would-be actors who
+inflict their talents on Tommy at half a franc per head.
+
+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.
+
+"Dekko." To look; a look at something.
+
+Detonator. A contrivance in a bomb containing fulminate of mercury,
+which, ignited by a fuse, explodes the charge.
+
+"Deruffs." "Deuxosufs." Tommy's French for "two eggs."
+
+"Dial." Another term of Tommy's for his map, or face.
+
+"Digging in." Digging trenches and dugouts in a captured position.
+
+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.
+
+"Dinner up." Dinner is ready.
+
+Divisional Band. Another devilish aggregation which wastes moat of its
+time in practicing and polishing its instruments.
+
+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 on its sides.
+
+"Doing them in." Killing them. Cutting up a body of German troops.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Draftman. A member of a draft who listens to and believes Tommy's
+weird tales of trench warfare.
+
+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.
+
+"Drill order." Rifle, belt, bayonet, and respirator.
+
+Dry Canteen. An army store where Tommy may buy cigarettes, chocolate,
+and tinned fruit, that is, if he has any money.
+
+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."
+
+Dubbin. A grease for boots.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Du pan." Tommy's French for bread.
+
+E
+
+Efficiency Pay. Extra pay allowed by the Government for long service.
+Tommy is very efficient if he manages to get it from the Government.
+
+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.
+
+Elephant Dugout. A large, safe, and roomy dugout, braced by heavy
+steel ribs or girders.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Equipment on." Put on equipment for drill or parade.
+
+Escort. A guard of soldiers who conduct prisoners to different points.
+Tommy is just as liable to be a prisoner as an escort.
+
+"Estaminet." A French public house, or saloon, where muddy water is
+sold for beer.
+
+F
+
+Fag. Cigarette. Something Tommy is always touching you for, "Fag
+issue." Army issue of cigarettes, generally on Sunday.
+
+Fatigue. Various kinds of work done by Tommy while he is "resting."
+
+"Fed up." Disgusted; got enough of it--as the rich Mr. Hoggenheimer
+used to say, "Sufficiency."
+
+Field Dressing. Bandages issued to soldiers for first aid when
+wounded. They use them for handkerchiefs and to clean their rifles.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Fifteen-pounder." Still another of ours; shell weighs fifteen pounds.
+Used for killing rats on the German parapets.
+
+"Finding the range." Ascertaining by instrument or by trial shots the
+distance from an enemy objective.
+
+"Fireworks." A night bombardment.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Fire Trench. The front-line trench. Another name is for Hell.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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.
+
+"Flags." Tommy's nickname for a Signaler.
+
+Flare. A rocket fired from a pistol which, at night, lights up the
+ground in front of your trench.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"For It." On the crime sheet; up against a reprimand; on trial, in
+trouble.
+
+"Four by two." A piece of flannel four Inches by two issued by the Q.
+M. Sergeant with which to "pull through."
+
+"Four point five." Another of ours. The Germans don't like this one.
+
+"Four point seven." One of our shells 4.7 inches in diameter. Tommy
+likes this kind.
+
+"Fritz." Tommy's name for a German. He loves a German like poison.
+
+Front Line. The nearest trench to the enemy. No place for a
+conscientious objector.
+
+Frostbite. A quick road to Blighty, which Tommy used very often until
+frostbite became a court-martial offence. Now he keeps his feet warm.
+
+"Full pack." A soldier carrying all of his equipment.
+
+Full Corporal. A N.C.O. who sports two stripes on his arm and has more
+to say than the Colonel.
+
+Fumigator. An infernal device at a hospital which cooks Tommy's
+uniform and returns it to him two sizes too small.
+
+"Funk Hole." Tommy's term for a dugout. A favorite spot for those of a
+nervous disposition.
+
+Fuse. A part of shell or bomb which burns in a set time and ignites
+the detonator.
+
+G
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+"Gassed." A soldier who has been overcome from the fumes of German
+poison gas, or the hot air of a comrade.
+
+"Gassing." A term Tommy applies to "shooting the bull."
+
+"Getting a sub." Touching an officer for money. To be taken out of
+soldier's pay on the next pay-day.
+
+"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.
+
+"Ginger." Nickname of a red-beaded soldier; courage; pep.
+
+"Gippo." Bacon grease; soup.
+
+G.M.P. Garrison Military Police. Soldiers detailed to patrol the roads
+and regulate traffic behind the lines. Tommy's pet aversion.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"Going in." Taking over trenches.
+
+"Going out." Relieved from the trenches.
+
+"Gone West." Killed; died.
+
+"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.
+
+"Got the Crown." Promoted to Sergeant-Major.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Grousing. A scientific grumbling in which Tommy cusses everything in
+general and offends no one.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Gumming the game." Spoiling anything, interfering.
+
+H
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"Hard tails." Mules.
+
+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.
+
+"Having a doss." Having a sleep.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+Hun. Another term for a German, mostly used by war correspondents.
+
+"Hun pinching." Raiding German trenches for prisoners.
+
+I
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"In front." Over the top; in front of the front-line trench, in No
+Man's Land.
+
+"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.
+
+Intelligence Department. Secret service men who are supposed to catch
+spies or be spies as the occasion demands.
+
+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.
+
+"Invalided." Sent to England on account of sickness.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"It's good we have a Navy." One of Tommy's expressions when he is
+disgusted with the army and its work.
+
+J
+
+"Jack Johnson." A seventeen-inch German shell. Probably called "Jack
+Johnson" because the Germans thought that with it they could lick the
+world.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+"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.
+
+Jock. Universal name for a Scotchman.
+
+K
+
+"Kicked the bucket." Died.
+
+Kilo. Five eighths of a mile. Ten "kilos" generally means a trek of
+fifteen miles.
+
+"King's Shilling." Tommy's rate of pay per day, perhaps.
+
+"Taking the King's Shilling" means enlisting.
+
+"Kip." Tommy's term for "sleep." He also calls his bed his "kip." It
+is on guard that Tommy most desires to kip.
+
+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).
+
+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.
+
+L
+
+Labor Battalion. An organization which is "too proud to fight." They
+would sooner use a pick and shovel.
+
+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.
+
+"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).
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Legging it." Running away.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+Limber. A match box on two wheels which gives the Army mule a job. It
+also carries officer's packs.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Little Willie." Tommy's nickname for the German Crown. Prince. They
+are not on speaking terms.
+
+"Lloyd George's Pets." Munition workers in England.
+
+"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.
+
+"Lonely Stab." A girl who writes and sends parcels to Tommy. She got
+his name from the "Lonely Soldier Column" of some newspaper.
+
+Loophole. A disguised aperture in a trench through which to "snipe" at
+Germans.
+
+Lyddite. A high explosive used in shells. Has a habit of scattering
+bits of anatomy over the landscape.
+
+M
+
+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.
+
+M.G. Machine Gunner. A man who, like an American policeman, is never
+there when he is badly wanted.
+
+Maconochie. A ration of meat, vegetables, and soapy water, contained
+in a tin. Mr. Maconochie, the chemist who cornpounded this mess,
+intends to commit "hari kari" before the boys return from the front.
+He is wise.
+
+"Mad Minute." Firing fifteen rounds from your rifle in sixty seconds.
+A man is mad to attempt it, especially with a stiff bolt.
+
+Mail Bag. A canvas bag which is used to bring the other fellow's mail
+around.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Mass Formation. A dose 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.
+
+Mate. A soldier with whom Tommy is especially "chummy." Generally
+picked because this soldier receives a parcel from home every week.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+M.O. Medical Officer. A doctor specially detailed to tell Tommy that
+he is not sick.
+
+"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.
+
+Mentioned in Despatches. Recommended for bravery. Tommy would sooner
+be recommended for leave.
+
+"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.
+
+Mess Orderly. A soldier detailed daily to carry Tommy's meals to and
+from the cook-house.
+
+Mess Tin. An article of equipment used as a tea-kettle and dinner-set.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+M. P. Military Police. Soldiers with whom it is unsafe to argue.
+
+"Mills." Name of a bomb invented by Mills. The only bomb in which
+Tommy has full confidence,--and he mistrusts even that.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+Mufti. The term Tommy gives to civilian clothes. Mufti looks good to
+him now.
+
+N
+
+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."
+
+"Napoo-Fini." Tommy's French for gone, through with, finished,
+disappeared.
+
+"Napper." Tommy's term for bead.
+
+Neutral. Tommy says it means "afraid to fight."
+
+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.
+
+"Night ops." Slang for night operations or maneuvers.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+O
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+O. C. Officer commanding.
+
+Officers' Mess. Where the officers eat the mess that the O. S. have
+cooked.
+
+O. S. Officers' servants. The lowest ranking private in the Army, who
+feeds better than the officers he waits on.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Orderly Room. The Captain's office where everything is disorderly.
+
+Orderly-Sergeant. A sergeant who, for a week, is supposed to do the
+work of the Orderly-Officer.
+
+"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.
+
+"Out there." A term used in Blighty which means "in France."
+Conscientious objectors object to going "out there."
+
+"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 the best o' luck and give them
+hell."
+
+Oxo. Concentrated beef cubes that a fond mother sends out to Tommy
+because they are advertised as "British to the Backbone."
+
+P
+
+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.
+
+Pack Drill. Punishment for a misdemeanor. Sometimes Tommy gets caught
+when he fills his pack with straw to lighten it for this drill.
+
+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.
+
+Parapet, The top part of a front trench which Tommy constantly builds
+up and the Germans just as constantly knock down.
+
+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.
+
+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.)
+
+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.
+
+Periscope. A thing in the trenches which you look through. After
+looking through it, you look over the top to really see something.
+
+"Physical torture." The nickname for physical training. It is torture,
+especially to a recruit.
+
+Pick. A tool shaped like an anchor which is being constantly handed to
+Tommy with the terse command, "get busy."
+
+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.
+
+"Pip squeak." Tommy's term for a small German shell which makes a
+"pip" and then a "squeak," when it comes over.
+
+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.
+
+Pontoon. A card game, in America known as "Black Jack" or "Twenty
+One." The banker is the only winner.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+Pump. A useless contrivance for emptying the trenches of water.
+"Useless" because the trenches refuse to be emptied.
+
+"Pushing up the Daisies." Tommy's term for a soldier who has been
+killed and buried in France.
+
+Q
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+R
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Ration Bag. A small, very small bag for carrying rations. Sometimes it
+is really useful for lugging souvenirs.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Red Cap." Tommy's nickname for a Staff Officer because he wears a
+red band around his cap.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+R.P. Regimental Police. Men detailed in a Battalion to annoy Tommy and
+to prevent him from doing what he most desires.
+
+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.
+
+Relaying. A term used by the artillery. After a gun is fired it is
+"relayed" or aimed at something out of sight.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Rest Billets. Shell shattered houses, generally barns, in which Tommy
+"rests," when relieved from the firing line.
+
+"Ricco." Term for a ricochet bullet. It makes a whining noise and
+Tommy always ducks when a "ricco" passes him.
+
+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.
+
+Rifle Grenade. A bomb on the end of a rod. This rod is inserted into
+the barrel of a specially designed rifle.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+R. C. Roman Catholic. One of the advantages of being a R.C. is that
+"Church Parade" is not compulsory.
+
+"Rooty." Tommy's nickname for bread.
+
+Route March. A useless expenditure of leather and energy. These
+marches teach Tommy to be kind to overloaded beasts of burden.
+
+R.A.M.C. Royal Army Medical Corps. Tommy says it means "Rob All My
+Comrades."
+
+R.E.'s. Royal Engineers.
+
+R.F.A.'s. Royal Field Artillery men.
+
+R.F.C.'s. Royal Plying Corps.
+
+Rum. A nectar of the gods issued in the early morning to Tommy.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+S
+
+S.A.A. Small Arms Ammunition. Small steel pellets which have a bad
+habit of drilling holes in the anatomy of Tommy and Fritz.
+
+Salvo. Battery firing four guns simultaneously.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Sausage Balloon. See observation balloon.
+
+S.B. Stretcher Bearer. The motive power of a stretcher. He is
+generally looking the other way when a fourteen-stone Tommy gets hit.
+
+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.
+
+Sentry Go. Time on guard. It means "sentry come."
+
+Sergeant's Mess. Where the sergeants eat. Nearly all of the rum has a
+habit of disappearing into the Sergeant's Mess.
+
+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."
+
+"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.
+
+Shag. Cigarette tobacco which an American can never learn to use. Even
+the mules object to the smell of it.
+
+Shell. A device of the artillery which sometimes makes Tommy wish he
+had been born in a neutral country.
+
+Shell Hole. A hole in the ground caused by the explosion of a shell.
+Tommy's favorite resting-place while under fire.
+
+Shovel. A tool closely related to the pick family. In France the
+"shovel" is mightier than the sword.
+
+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.
+
+"Sicker." Nickname for the sick report book. It is Tommy's ambition to
+get on this "sicker" without feeling sick.
+
+Side Parade. A formation at which the doctor informs sick, or would-be
+sick Tommies that they are not sick.
+
+Sixty-pounder. One of our shells which weighs sixty pounds
+(officially). When Tommy handles them, their unofficial weight is
+three hundred weight.
+
+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.
+
+"Slag Heap." A pile of rubbish, tin cans, etc.
+
+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.
+
+Smoke Helmet. See respirator.
+
+Sniper. A good shot whose main occupation is picking off unwary
+individuals of the enemy. In the long run a sniper usually gets
+"sniped."
+
+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.
+
+"Soldiers' Friend." Metal polish costing three ha' pence which Tommy
+uses to polish his buttons. Tommy wonders why it is called "Soldiers'
+Friend."
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+Stand To. Order to mount the fire step. Given just as it begins to
+grow dark.
+
+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.
+
+Star Shell. See Flare.
+
+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."
+
+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!
+
+"Strafeing." Tommy's chief sport--shelling the Germans. Taken from
+Fritz's own dictionary.
+
+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.
+
+"Suicide Club." Nickname for bombers and machine gunners. (No
+misnomer.)
+
+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.
+
+S.W. Shell wound. What the doctor marks on your hospital chart when a
+shell has removed your leg.
+
+Swamping. Putting on airs; showing off. Generally accredited to
+Yankees.
+
+"Swinging the lead." Throwing the bull.
+
+"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.
+
+T
+
+"Taking over." Going into a trench. Tommy "takes over," is "taken out"
+and sometimes is "put under."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Tear Shell." Trench name for the German lachrymose chemical shell
+which makes the eyes smart. The only time Tommy is outwardly
+sentimental.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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."
+
+"The Old Man." Captain of a company. He is called "the old man,"
+because generally his age is about twenty-eight.
+
+"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.
+
+"Thumbs up." Tommy's expression which means "everything is fine with
+me." Very seldom used during an intense bombardment.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+T.N.T. A high explosive which the Army Ordnance Corps prescribes for
+Fritz. Fritz prefers a No. 9 pill.
+
+"Tommy Atkins." The name England gives to an English soldier, even if
+his name is Willie Jones.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Traverse. Sandbags piled in a trench so that the trench cannot be
+traversed by Tommy. Sometimes it prevents enfilading fire by the
+enemy.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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 "trench fever."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+U
+
+"Up against the wall." Tommy's term for a man who is to be shot by a
+firing squad.
+
+"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."
+
+V
+
+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.
+
+Very-Lights. A star shell invented by Mr. Very. See Flare.
+
+Vickers Gun. A machine gun improved on by a fellow named Vickers. His
+intentions were good but his improvements, according to Tommy, were
+"rotten."
+
+Via Blanc. French white wine made from vinegar. They forgot the red
+ink.
+
+Vin Rouge. French red wine made from vinegar and red ink. Tommy pays
+good money for it.
+
+W
+
+Waders. Rubber hip boots, used when the water in the trenches is up to
+Tommy's neck.
+
+Waiting Man. The cleanest man at guard mounting. He does not have to
+walk post; is supposed to wait on the guard.
+
+Washout. Tommy's idea of something that is worth nothing.
+
+Water Bottle. A metal bottle for carrying water (when not used for
+rum, beer, or wine).
+
+Waterproof. A rubber sheet issued to Tommy to keep him dry. It does
+when the sun is out.
+
+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."
+
+Wet Canteen. A military saloon or pub where Tommy can get a "wet,"
+Most campaigns and battles are planned and fought in these places.
+
+"Whizz Bang." A small German shell which whizzes through the air and
+explodes with a "bang." Their bark is worse than their bite.
+
+"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.
+
+"Windy." Tommy's name for a nervous soldier, coward.
+
+"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."
+
+Wire. See barbed wire, but don't go "over the top" to look at it. It
+isn't safe.
+
+Wire Cutters. An instrument for cutting barbed wire, but mostly used
+for driving nails.
+
+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.
+
+Woodbine. A cigarette made of paper and old hay. Tommy swears by a
+Woodbine.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Z
+
+"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.
+
+{Advertisement: FIRST CALL by Arthur Guy Empey.}
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Over The Top, by Arthur Guy Empey
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OVER THE TOP ***
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