From the fire step; the experiences of an American soldier in the British army. Together with Tommy's dictionary of the trenches

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From the Fire Step

From the Fire Step

The Experiences of an American Soldier
in the British Army

By

Arthur Guy Empey

Machine Gunner

Together with
Tommy's Dictionary of the Trenches

London and New York

G. P. Putnam's Sons
1917

l'"i>in lii >''.>'•

First published November 1917

TO

MY MOTHER AND MY SISTER

I have had many good comrades as I have journeyed
round 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

Forew^ord

During sixteen years of " roughing it," knocking
around the world, I have rubbed against the high
and low and have had ample opportunity of study-
ing, 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
humour, 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
bubbhng over with a fine sense of humour, a man
with a just cause who is willing to sacrifice every-
thing but honour 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

7

8 Foreword

help to bring Tommy Atkins closer to the door-
step 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. B.
New York City

May 1917

Contents

CHAPTBR '^**®

I. FROM MUFTI TO KHAKI "

II. BLIGHTY TO REST BILLETS I9

III. I GO TO CHURCH 28

IV. " INTO THE TRENCH " 3°
V. MUD, RATS. AND SHELLS 3^

VI. " BACK OF THE LINE " 4©

VII. RATIONS 45

VIII. THE LITTLE WOODEN CROSS 51

IX. SUICIDE ANNEX 55

X. " THE DAY'S WORK " 58

XI. OVER THE TOP 63

XII. BOMBING 70

XIII. MY FIRST OFFICIAL BATH 77

XIV. PICKS AND SHOVELS 81
XV. LISTENING POST 9i

XVI. BATTERY D 238 95

XVII. OUT IN FRONT "i

XVIII. STAGED UNDER FIRE "4

XIX. ON HIS OWN 125

XX. " CHATS WITH FRITZ " I35

XXI. ABOUT TURN 142

9

10 Contents

CHAPTER PAOB

XXII. PUNISHMENTS AND MACHINE-GUN STUNTS 149

XXIII. GAS ATTACKS AND SPIES 157
;XXIV. THE FIRING SQUAD 169

XXV. PREPARING FOR THE BIG PUSH 190

XXVI. ALL QUIET (?) ON THE WESTERN FRONT 198

XXVII. BLIGHTY 212

" TOMMY'S DICTIONARY OF THE TRENCHES " 226

CHAPTER I

FROM MUFTI TO KHAKI

It was in an office in Jersey City. I was sitting
at my desk talking to a I^ieutenant of the Jersey
National Guard. On the wall was a big war map
decorated with variously coloured little flags show-
ing 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 head-
lines :

LUSITANIA SUNK!
AMERICAN I.IVES I.OST !

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 1 American lyives I^ost ! " —
" I Didn't Raise my Boy to be a Soldier." To us
these did not seem to jibe.

The lyieutenant 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

12 From the Fire Step

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
lyost ! " 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 lyieutenant 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 waste-basket. 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 I^ieutenant 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.

From Mufti to Khaki 13

The trip across was uneventful. I landed at
Tilbury, England, then got into a string of match-
box cars and proceeded to I^ondon, 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 some one 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 pro-
ceeding 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 oi the passers-
by, 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 lyord Kitchener with his finger 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

14 From the Fire Step

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 lyondon
you know, Yanks are supposed to know everything,
so I was not going to appear ignorant and answered,
" Sure."

After Hstening for one half-hour to Tommy's
tale of their exploits in the firing line, I decided
to join. Tommy took me to the recruiting head-
quarters where I met a typical English Captain.
He asked my nationaHty. I immediately pulled
out my American passport and showed it to him.
It was signed by I^ansing — Bryan had lost his job
a little while previously. After looking at the pass-
port, he informed me that he was sorry, but could
not enHst me, as it would be a breach of neutrahty.
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 enhst me.

From Mufti to Khaki 15

With disgust in my heart I went out in the
street. I had gone about a block when a recruit-
ing Sergeant who had followed me out of the
office tapped me on the shoulder with his swagger
stick and said : " S'y» I can get you in the Army.
We have a ' I^eftenant ' 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 intro-
duction to the Ivieutenant. 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."

i6 From the Fire Step

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 in 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. Whv don't you join ? Now is the
time.*'

" This argument ought to get many recruits,
Kmpey, 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 some one 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

From Mufti to Khaki 17

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 an3rthing over here." I had
been spending a good lot of my recruiting time
in the saloon bar of the " Wheatsheaf " 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 any one who
cannot buy drinks — so I looked around for recruit-
ing 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

B

1 8 From the Fire Step

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 trafiic keeps to the
port side.

I took the applicant over to head-quarters 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, " BHme 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 ? "

I^ooking 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

BI.IGHTY TO REST BII.I.ETS

Thb next morning, the Captain sent for me and
informed me : " Empey, as a recruiting Sergeant
you are a wash-out," and sent me to a training
depot.

After arriving at this place, I was hustled to
the quartermaster's stores and received an awful
shock. The Quartermaster-Sergeant spread a water-
proof 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 ; bhnd 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

19

20 From the Fire Step

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 rein-
forced by steel half-moons. My legs were encased
in woollen puttees, olive drab in colour, with my
trousers overlapping them at the top. Then a
woollen khaki tunic, under which was a bluish-
grey woollen shirt, minus a collar, beneath this
shirt a woollen belly-band about six inches wide,
held in place by tie strings of white tape. On my
head was a heavy woollen trench cap, with huge
ear laps buttoned over the top. Then the equip-
ment : 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 scab-
bard. 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 jack-knife with a
can-opener attachment. The pack contained my

Blighty to Rest Billets 21

overcoat, an extra pair of socks, change of under-
wear, 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 shoebrush and a box of
dubbin, a writing pad, indehble pencil, envelopes,
and pay book, and personal belongings, such as a
small mirror, a decent razor, and a sheaf of un-
answered 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 I^ee-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-Ma j or in the United

22 From the Fire Step

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 head-quarters calling
for a draft of 250 for 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 South-
ampton, where we detrained, and had our trench
rifles issued to us. Then in columns of twos we
went up the gang-plank of a little steamer lying
alongside the dock.

At the head of the gang-plank there was an old
Sergeant who directed that we line ourselves along
both rails of the ship. Then he ordered us to take
lifebelts from the racks overhead and put them
on. I have crossed the ocean several times and
knew I was not seasick, but when I buckled on
that lifebelt, I had a sensation of sickness.

After we got out into the stream all I could think
of was that there were a milUon German sub-
marines with a torpedo on each, across the war-
head 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.

Blighty to Rest Billets 23

but all I could see on the siding were cattle cais.
We climbed into these. On the side of each car
was a sign reading " Hommes 40, Chevaux 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 emplace-
ments. We were given a smattering of trench
cooking, sanitation, bomb throwing, reconnoitring,
listening posts, constructing and repairing barbed
wire, " carrying in " parties, methods used in
attack and defence, 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 colour. 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,

24 From the Fire Step

" 'Ow's it a'goin' ter rain with the bloomin' sun
a 'shinin' ? " I looked guilty.

" Them's the guns up the Une, me lad, and
you'll get enough of 'em before you gets back to
BHghty."

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 of 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 helnet,
(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.

1

Blighty to Rest Billets 25

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
bulldog 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 under-
wear ; 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 '* lyights out "
you can see the Tommies grouped around a candle,
trying, in its dim Hght, 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 Hable to burn holes in the garments if you
are not careful.

Recruits generally sent to Blighty for a brand of

26 From the Fire Step

I

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
spHnters. 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 clobber. 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 ialive.

The greatest shock a recruit gets when he arrives
at his battalion in France is to see the men engag-
ing 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

Blighty to Rest Billets 27

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 dug-out
C 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, pa5dng 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 inspira-
tion, 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 lyondon. 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 fibre - worn
around the neck by means of a string. Most of the
Tommies also used a Httle 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 reHgion.

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.
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 reHgion 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 !

28

I go to Church 29

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-Ma j or put his head
in the door of the billet and shouted : " C. of B.,
outside for church parade ! "

I kept on writing. Turning to me, in a loud
voice, he asked, " Kmpey, aren't you C. of K. ? "

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 semicircle 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 com-
panies. 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 bomb-
ing 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 ofE in the dis-
tance 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

30

"Into the Trench" 3i

dull '' plop." The Sergeant of my platoon in-
formed us that it was a German aeroplane, and I
wondered how he could tell from such a distance,
because the plane seemed Hke a Uttle 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 Hne 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 —

/ want to go home, I want to go home,
I don't want to go to the trenches no more
Where sausages and whizz-hangs are galore.
Take me over the sea, where the Allemand

cant 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-nines, or " coal-

32 From the Fire Step

boxes." A sharp whistle blast, immediately fol-
lowed 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 wa}^

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 '* Whisky 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

34 From the Fire Step

itz f

above us on our right and left. Then a Fritz
would traverse back and forth with his *' type-
writer " or machine-gun. The bullets made a
sharp cracking noise overhead.

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
line. 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
w^ere 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 stick-
ing over the top, and with their eyes trying to
pierce the blackness in " No Man's Land." In
this trench there were only two dug-outs, 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

"Into the Trench" 35

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 steam-
ing 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 SHEl^IvS

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 spJ ashed 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, never-
theless.

36

n

Mud, Rats, and Shells 37

I^ater 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 hell get you if
you're not careful."

Ikying 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 went 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 w^onderfully. 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

^8 From the Fire Step

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 teatime I was dying for a drink, but m3''
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 lyand.
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.

Mud, Rats, and Shells 39

I would watch the arc described by the star-
shell, and then stare into No Man's lyand 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 chal-
lenged 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 ? "

I^ater 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 over-
heard 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 I^and.

CHAPTER VI

BACK OF THE I.INB "

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 every-
thing 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
119. Billet 117 was an old stable which had pre-
viously been occupied by cows. About four feet

40

"BacR of the Line" 41

in front of the entrance was a huge manure pile,
and the odour from it was anything but pleasant.
Using my flashlight I stumbled through the door.
Just before entering I observed a white sign read-
ing : " 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
w^ounded 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 lyance-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. I^ids of
dixies are used to cook the bacon in. After break-
fast 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. Bach Tommy
carried in his hand a thick slice of bread which

42 From the Fire Step

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 sHce 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 cook-
house, 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 equip-
ment 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. CleanUness 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,
*' Fall 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." Some-
times we are lucky, and get " Goldflakes," " Players,"
or '' Red Hussars." Occasionally an issue of " I^ife
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

" BacK of the Line " 43

is a great cigarette smoker. He smokes under all
conditions, except when unconscious or when he
is reconnoitring in No Man's I^and at night. Then,
for obvious reasons, he does not care to have a
lighted cigarette in his mouth.

Stretcher-bearers carry fags for wounded Tom-
mies. When a stretcher-bearer arrives alongside
of a Tommy who has been hit, the following con-
versation 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.

44 From the Fire Step

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 Quarter-
master 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 cook-
house, and went back to the billet with an ex-
hilarated feeHng that my day's labour was done.
I had fallen asleep on the straw when once again
the cook appeared in the door of the billet with :
" 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. I^ance-Corporal butted
in.

In Tommy's eyes, a I^ance-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 lyance-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

45

46 From the Fire Step

when the issue commenced my envy died, and I
reahzed 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 semicircle 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 transporta-
tion.

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

Rations 47

men. Bread, loaves, six." He looked puzzled and
soliloquized in a musing voice :

** Six loaves, nineteen men. I^et'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 ? I^ooks
more like a sniping plate."

The Corporal answered :

*' Well, don't blame me, I didn't bake it, some-
body'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. Nine-
teen 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 jack-knife (corporals
are always borrowing), and sliced the cheese —
each slicing bringing forth a pert remark from the
onlookers as to the Corporal's eyesight.

" Raisins, ounces, eight."

By this time the Corporal's nerves had gone

48 From the Fire Step

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 jack-knife, the Corporal
opened the tin of biscuits, and told every one to
help themselves— nobody responded to this invita-
tion. 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 Fl3dng 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 shiUing 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),

Rations 49

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 prevent-
ing the " carr3dng 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 com-
pany in charge of the Quartermaster-Sergeant, com-
posed 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 Quarter-
master-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-Ma j or 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 mar-
malade, 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 Hke
a gentleman, which seldom happens. Tommy has
the opportunity of making dessert. This is " trench
pudding." It is made from broken biscuits, con-

D

50 From the Fire Step

densed milk, jam — a little water added, slightly
flavoured 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 dug-out, 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-Hke)
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 EngHsh papers a " I^onely 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 IvlTTLE WOODEN CROSS

After remaining in rest billets for eight days, we
received the unwelcome tidings that the next morn-
ing we wotdd "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, and 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 march-
ing 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 commrmica-
tion trench, Pete in my immediate rear. He had
his hand on my shoulder, as men in a communica-
tion 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

51

52 From the Fire Step

had to cross this bashed-in pait. 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 flash-
light, 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
greyish-blue colour was stealing over his counten-
ance. 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 hke 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 Httle wooden shield which we
nailed on Pete's cross :

The Lrittle Wooden Cross 53

True to his God ; true to Britain,

Doing his duty to the last,
Just one more name to he written

On the Roll of Honour 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 hy 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 on to 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 carr5dng
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
column of fours, came the remainder of the section.

To get to the cemetery, we had to pass through
the httle 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.

54 From the Fire Step

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 dug-out 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 dug-out were laugh-
ing 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 dug-out 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.*' lyater on I learned that
machine-gunners and bombers are known as the
" Suicide Club."

That dug-out was muddy. The men slept in
mud, washed in mud, ate mud, and dreamed mud.
I had never before realized that so much discom-
fort and misery could be contained in those three
little letters, MUD. The floor of the dug-out
was an inch deep in water. Outside it was raining
cats and dogs, and thin rivulets were trickling
down the steps. From the air-shaft 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 lead-
ing 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
chute 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

55

56 From the Fire Step

was strengthened with sandbags. Nails had been
driven into these timbers. On each nail hung a
miscellaneous assortment of equipment. The light-
ing 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 air-shaft 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 ' conflagra-
tion ' ? "

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 poptilar
trench ditties entitled :

" Pack up your Troubles in your Old Elit 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 cheerful-
ness under such conditions.

A machine-gun officer entered the dug-out and
gave me a hard look. I sneaked past him, sliding,
and shpping, 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

Suicide Annex 57

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 dug-out happens to be in the near vicinity of the
traverse, and if the night is quiet, they are per-
mitted 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

58

"The Day's WorR" 59

can tell the biggest lie. Some of them perhaps,
with their feet in water, would write home sym-
pathizing 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 armpits, 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 dug-outs, man the fire-step until
it gets Hght, 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 nmst rest his rifle on the top and fire as rapidly
as possible five shots aimed toward the German

6o From the Fire Step

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 BHghty, 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, lyondon, 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 Httle
cemetery behind the lines. He had gone to BHghty.

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 dug-outs and wait
for the *' rum issue " to materialize. Immediately

"The Day's Worfe" 6i

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 Tom.my 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

62 From the Fire Step

knots with rheumatism, caused by the wet and
mud of trenches and dug-outs ? 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 alwa3^s 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

On 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-Hne 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 artil-
lery w^ill open up with an intense bombardment
which will last until four. Upon the Hfting 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' dug-out, and wrote letters home, saying
that in the morning they were going over the top,
informing 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
writers 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

63

64 From the Fire Step

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, whisthng
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 burst-
ing shells lighted up No Man's I^and. 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
9.2s and 1 5 -inch shells commenced dropping into
the German fines. 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 Ger-
man barbed wire, while the heavier stuff was
demolishing their trenches and bashing in dug-outs
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

Over the Top 65

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 your-
self 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 Hfting of the barrage
before going over. At ten minutes to four, word
was passed down, " Ten minutes to go P' " 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 scaHng-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. " I^adders 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 pufiing away at an
unhghted 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* lyuck and Give them Hell.* " The famous

£

66 From the Fire Step

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. Every one 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
sandbag 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 I^and, a Tommy about fifteen feet
to my right front turned around and looking in
my direction, put his hand to his mouth and 3^elled
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.

Over the Top 67

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, Httle 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 teJl the nurse
about it later. The crossing of No Man's I^and
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 Hke mud turtles were scrambHng 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 equip-
ment, by putting your foot on his stomach, and
tugging at the rifle to extricate the bayonet.

68 From the Fire Step

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
Httle Tommies were engaged with him. They
looked like pigmies alongside of the Prussian. The
Tommy on the left was gradually circhng 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 Hke
an eggshell. He pitched forward on his side and a
convulsive shudder ran through his body. Mean-
while, 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. ^g^

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

Over the Top 69

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 unconscious-
ness. 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. vSeveral 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 m^^ name and was accepted. I
had joined the Suicide Club, and my troubles com-
menced. Thirty-two men of the battalion, includ-
ing myself, were sent to L , where we went

through a course in bombing. Here we were in-
structed 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 the^^ 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 pre-
pared in this important department of fighting as
in many others. At bombing school an old Ser-
geant of the Grenadier Guards, whom I had the
good fortune to meet, told me of the discourage-

70

Bombing 71

ments this branch of the service suffered before
they could meet the Germans on an equal foot-
ing. (Pacifists and small-army people in the U.S.
please read with care.) The first Bnghsh Expedi-
tionary Force had no bombs at all, but had clicked
a lot of casualties from those thrown by the Boches.
One bright morning some one 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 fine 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.

72 From the Fire Step

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 imme-
diately pull a button off his timic 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 jack-knife ; both
would be accepted and inserted.

Then the Professor would take another handful
of mud and fill 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 woiild tightly wrap wire around the outside of
the tin and the bomb was ready to send over to
Fritz with Tommy's compHments.

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
Hke 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 " f or a week before
exploding. Back in BHghty the munition workers
weren't quite up to snuff the way they are now.
If the fuse took a notion to bum 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 in-
structs the platoon in throwing them. He takes
a "jam tin " from the fire-step, trembUng a little.

Bombing 73

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, Uke 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.

Ivots 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 Hke this :

'' To all ranks in the British Army — after ignit-
ing 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

74 From the Fire Step

the type of bomb, and did so — substituting the
hairbrush, 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 base-ball 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'', pointing in the direction the bomb is to be
thrown. This position is similar to that of shot-

Bombing 75

putting, only that the right arm is extended down-
ward. Then you hurl the bomb from you with
an overhead bowUng 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
ammonal.

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 base-
ball 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 Httle five-foot-nothing Canadian out-dis-
tance his throw by several yards. I have read a
few war stories of bombing, where base-ball 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 lycague,
when he would be able to set the " Big I^eague " on
fire.

We had had a cushy time while at this school.
In fact, to us it was a regular vacation, and we were

76 From the Fire Step

1

very sorry when one morning the Adjutant ordered
us to report at head-quarters 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 as 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.

I

CHAPTER XIII

MY FIRST OFFlClAIv 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 under-
wear 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. lyook 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

77

78 From the Fire Step ||

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." (Sanitar3'' Police)
in black letters, took charge, ordering us to tak<
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 givei
five minutes to undress, then filed into the bath-j
room. In here there were fifteen tubs (barrels*
sawn in two) half full of water. Each tub con-
tained a piece of laundry soap. The Sergeant
informed us that we had just twelve minutes ij^-
which to take our baths. Soaping ourselves alfll
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 theatre, and received clean underwear
and towels. From here we went into the room
where we had first undressed. Ten minutes was
allowed in which to get into our *' clobber."

My pair of drawers came up to my chin and

:ell

I

My First Official Bath 79

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 woollen
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 offence 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 recog-
nized 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

So

From the Fire Step

inflict harm on the enemy — ^in other words, he
able to get his own back.

But the chaplain is empty handed, and is at t
mercy of the enemy if he encounters them, so it is
doubly brave for him to go over the top, tmder
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 l3dng 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
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 bhnking 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
youVe 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
humour 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 labourer, had a pick and shovel, and
about one hundred empty sandbags. The rest,
about two hundred in all, were equipped Ukewise:
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 Hmbers, artillery, and supplies get past.

8i F

^•^^^^^ — ^ — -^

G B R l^ A N

Dt A CRAM

ILLUSTRATING TYPICAL
rjRE TRENCH.
SECOND LINE AND
COMMUNICATION TRENCH^
FIRST AID STATIONS

CONTOURS ASCALC OMtTTCO

84 From the Fire Step

The marching, under these conditions, was neces-
sarily 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 Hue, " 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 I^ewis
machine-guns. They were to protect us and guard
against a surprise attack, while digging in No Man's
I^and.

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 earthern 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
Hke 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

Picks and Shovels 85

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.

In extended order, two yards apart, we noise-
lessly crept across No Man's Land. It was nervous
work, expecting every minute for 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 Hues, and we would remain motionless until
the glare of its white Hght 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 beUies in the shallow
trench, bullets knocking up the ground and snapping
in the air. Then the shrapnel butted 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

86 From the Fire Step

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 ; they must have, in the darkness,
got lost and wandered 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 bilHons of dollars in print that the signifi-
cance 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 be-
tween six and seven thousand pounds 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-

Picks and Shovels 87

point it is better for a man to be killed than
wounded.

If a man is killed he is buried, and the responsi-
bihty 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

88 From the Fire Step

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 miUtary
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 aiUng him. One whifi 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
ofiicer came over and inquired why the work had
suddenly ceased ; holding our noses, we simply
pointed in the direction of the smell. He went
over to the pick, immediately clapped his hand

PicKs and Shovels 89

over his nose, made an " about turn " and came
back. Just then our Captain came along and in-
vestigated, 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 odour 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 Head-quarters 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 I^ieutenant halted
proceedings and sent word back to head-quarters,
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 odour from a dug-up, decomposed human
body has an effect which is hard to describe. It
first produces a nauseating feeling, which, espe-
cially after eating, causes vomiting. This reheves
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

90 From the Fire Step

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 odour, but
never could get used to it ; the enervating sensa-
tion was always present. It made me hate war
and wonder why such things were countenanced
by civilization, and all the spice and glory of the
conflict would disappear, leaving the grim reaUty.
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

USTENING 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
utihty man in a section.

About five o'clock in the afternoon our I/ieutenant
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 dug-out 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

91

92 From the Fire Step

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 repbrted for instructions. They were
simple and easy. All we had to do was to crawl
out into No Man's Land, He on our bellies with
our ears to the ground and listen for the tap tap
of the German engineers or sappers who might be
tunnelHng under No Man's I^and to establish a
mine-head beneath our trench.

Of course, in our orders we were told not to be
captured by German patrols or reconnoitring parties,
lyots 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 our ears were full of
mud.

Every few minutes a bullet would crack over-
head or a machine-gun would traverse back and
forth.

Then all firing suddenly ceased. I whispered to
Wheeler, " Keep your eye skinned, mate, most

Listening Post 93

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 defence 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, Hsten.'*

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 dug-out.

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 Hfe.
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 BHtzen."
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

94 From the Fire Step

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' dug-out right
near the advanced artillery observation post. This
dug-out 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 dug-out.
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 Hved up to by all.

Two R.F.A. men (Royal Field Artillery) from the
near-by observation post were allowed the privilege
of stopping in this dug-out 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 feehng.

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 endeavour 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 Hcked in jig time, and be able to eat Christmas

95

96 From the Fire Step

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 3^ou 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 tiurned 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 machine-
gun 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

Battery D 238 97

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 communica-
tion 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

G

98 From the Fire Step

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 Uke ours, no timber or concrete reinforce-
ments, just walls and roof of sandbags. From it
a splendid view of the German hues 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 re-
lieving the signaller 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 Head-quarters. Blime me, if any
one disobeyed that command, our General — ^yes, it
was Old Pepper — ^would have court-martialed 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 Hke a pirate. If at any time the devil should
feel lonely, and sigh for a proper mate. Old Pepper
would get the first call. Facing 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

Battery D 238 99

Pepper would send for the commanding officer.
In about half an hour the officer would come back
with his face the colour 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 I^ance-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 dug-out signalhng
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

100 From the Fire Step

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 Signaller's
School back in 19 lo. With an officer in the observa-
tion post, we could not carry on the kind of con-
versation 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 compHments 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 com-
panies of troops down this road in broad daylight.
They were never shelled. Whenever this hap-

Battery D 238 loi

pened, 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 con-
sisted of four * 4.5 ' howitzers, and fired a thirty-
five pound H.K. 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 strcifeing us pretty rough, just like he's doing
now. The shells were pla3dng leapfrog all through
that orchard.

" I was carrying on a conversation in our * tap *
code 'wdth Cassell at the other end. It ran some-
thing like this :

" ' Say, Cassell, how would you like to be in the
saloon bar of the King's Arms down Rye I^ane
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

102 From the Fire Step

have passed the Reichstag, though I beUeve 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 any one could have
slept in that infernal racket !) ' Never mind fram-
ing 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

Battery D 238 103

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 observa-
tion post. Then the battery would open up. After-
wards, 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 dug-out 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 wash-
out. 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.*

104 From the Fire Step

" 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 aiid all.
What a pretty target for our * 4.5's.' The beggars
know we won't fire. A damned shame I call it.
Oh, just for a chance to turn D 238 loose on them.'

" 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.K.'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 over-
head, and the shells were on their way.

" The Captain jumped as if he were shot, and

Battery D 238 105

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 whistHng 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 hmbers and guns, wagons smashed up,
troops fleeing in all directions. The road and road-
side were spotted all over with Httle field-grey 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 — ^Marvellous, 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 w^onder 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.'

io6 From the Fire Step

" ' 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 signaller report at the double
to Brigade Head-quarters 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 rehef 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 Head-quarters started.

" Arriving at Head-quarters the Battery Com-
mander was the first to be interviewed. This was
behind closed doors. From the roaring and explo-
sions 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
colour of a beet. He was speechless. As he passed
the Captain he jerked his thumb in the direction
of the Hon's den and went out. Then the Captain

Battery D 238 107

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

io8 From the Fire Step

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 dug-out. 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 of the door
of the dug-out 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.

" For 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 feeUngs."

When Wilson had finished his story I looked up,
and the dug-out 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 cruci-
fixion. That Captain is the same one that chucked

Battery D 238 109

lis the Goldflakes in his dug-out, and here I have
been ' chucking me weight about in his hearing.' "

Wilson never cUcked his crucifixion.

Quite a contrast to Wilson was another cha-
racter 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 North- West and had served
with the North- West 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 Hke 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 para-
pheruaHa 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

no From the Fire Step

trot out your papers and 111 sign 'em." He told them
he was forty, and shpped 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 yarns 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 Hked 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 dis-
appear 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 BUghty ; 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

Aftkr tea, lyieutenant Stores of our section came
into the dug-out and informed me that I was *' for "
a reconnoitring patrol and would carry six Mills
bombs.

At 11.30 that night twelve men, our I^ieutenant,
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 look out for Boche working parties to see what
they were doing.

At about 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 about thirty strong. Then the
music started, the fiddler rendered his bill, and we
paid.

Fighting in the dark with a bayonet is not very
pleasant. The Germans took it on the run, but
our officer was no novice at the game and didn't
follow them. He gave the order " down on the
ground, hug it close."

Just in time, too, because a volley just skimmed
over our heads. Then in low tones we were told
to separate and crawl back to our trenches, each
man on his own.

Ill

112 From the Fire Step

We cotild 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 undertaker's to order his own cofiin.

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 overhead, 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

Out in Front 113

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
hues. 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
BHghty.

Every one was happy and contented at these
tidings ; all you could hear around the billets was
whistHng 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 O' .

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

114

Staged Under Fire 115

Tommy turned to America for a new diversion.!? I
was up in the air until a happ}^ thought came to
me. Why not write a sketch and break Tommy
in as an actor ?

One evening after " lyights 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. Every one 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
" Kmpey & Wallace Theatrical Co." About twenty
of the section, upon reading this sign, immediately
appUed for the position of office boy. I accepted
the twenty applicants, and sent them on scouting
parties throughout the deserted French xnllage.
These parties were to search all the attics for (£s-
carded civiUan clothes, and an5rthing 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 miscel-
laneous 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 the copy of the programme
to a printing-house in I^ondon. Then I assigned

ii6 From the Fire Step

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 Centre,
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
bar-tender being named Fillem Up.

After meeting Abe, Tom and Fillem Up per-
suaded 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 sug-
gestion 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
J6000 for. (Curtain.)

In the second act the curtain rises on the interior

•m.

KING GEORGE V.
THEATRE

(Erected 1916)

Situated Corner of Sand Bag Terrace and
Ammo Street*

§0ut^^^i0^0^^l^^9

Programme

Under Management of Empey and Wallace*

NOTE. The Management warns all patrons of this
Theatre that they will not he responsible for
injuries received from the unauthorised en-
trance of stray shells, "whizz-bangs," or
rifle bullets.

Prosrrammes Printed by Everett.

Executive Staff

1

A. G. Empey
Jack Wallace
Richard Turpin
George Parsons
Frederick Houghton
William Everett
WilUam Guilford .
Sydney Impey
John Foxcroft

Producer and Playwright
Manager
Cashier
Stage Manager
Property Man
Electrician
Carpenter
Booking Clerk
. Head Usher

^ ^ ^ #»

NOTE

The Management requests that patrons will remove their steel helmets.

In case of an attack, keep your seats, don't interrupt the performance.

If you don't like the show, leave, don't put on your gas hebnets.

Patrons will not bring live bombs into this theatre.

No one allowed past the barbed wire in front of the footlights as it is
the actors' only protection. No firing at actors.

It is earnestly requested that any incivility or inattentiou^'towards
patrons from the employees of this Theatre be reported at the
Bookmg Office, so that the offender may be shot at sunrise (if he
gets up m tune). ^

Ladies Room in rear of first balcony. Matron in attendance.

Loun^g^d Smoking Room for gentlemen in the shell-proof cellar
Identification disc must be shown to prove you are a gentleman!

Gentlemen are requested not to swear aloud at actors, the show plav-
wright, or orchestra It is not their fault that they areirotten
they know it as well as you do. ^c^rytten,

^° ^nmt f^l^ ^^^K^^l Maconochie Rations accepted at the Booking
Office m payment for tickets. *=•

Caste of Characters

{as they appear)

Tom Twistem (gang leader and wise guy, owner and proprietor of the
Diamond Palace Saloon, out for the dough) JACK WAIvLACB

Fii^iyEM Up (bar-tender of the Diamond Palace Saloon, an ex-burglar,
a ticket-of-leave man) WILFRED ISOM

Sambo (a negro from Virginia, always broke and hungry, joined a
minstrel show which went broke and left him stranded in New
York) .EDWARD FITZGERAI^D

IKEY COHENSTEiN (an East Side Jew, New York City, Dealer in
j|, Second-hand Qothes, and a Moneylender) CHARIyKS HONNEY

Abe Switch (a Farmer, Postmaster, Constable, and owner of the only
shop in Pumpkinville Centre, Tennessee, U.S.A. First trip to
New York City, lycft his wife, Miranda, at home) A. G. EMPEY

Weary Wii,i,iE (a bum, never works and always dnmk) aTg. HALL

SiD Cocaine (a morphine fiend, a man of few words)

WILLIAM YERRELL

" Kid " Papes (a tough newsboy) . . . . CHARLES DALTON

" Broadway " Kate (Tom Twistem's lady friend, clever at getting the
dough) MADAME ZARA

Sing Lee Sung (a Chinese Laundryman) . . WILLIAM YERRELL

Al«KAi<i Ike (a Texas Cowboy from the Bad Lands, Texas, expert
revolver shot, quick on the draw and shoots from the hip)

A. G. HALL

Customers, Soi^diers, etc.

Messrs. EMPEY and WALLACE

PRESENT

The Rip Roaring, Side Splitting, Farce Cototdy

ENTITLED

I

A TRAVESTY ON NEW YORK LIFE,
Acted by the All-Star Caste of the

\m BRIGADE MACHINE GUN COMPANY (Snicide Glob),

Section No. I.

WrHUttt rehearsed and produced under fire during
the European War, France, 1916,

Act I

Scene I. Street Scene on the Bowery, New York City.
Time. Any old time.
Note. Five minutes interval to enable actors to get a drink.

Act II

Scene I. {one scene is sufficient) Interior of Diamond Palace Saloon,

corner of 3rd Avenue and 12th Street, New York City.

Time. Same day as Act I.

Musical Programme

Rendered hy the Trench Orchestra.

I. A. M. ROTTE^N . . leader.

Overture .. .. .. .. .. .. " Hymn of Hate "

Selection . . . . . . . . . . " How we lyove der Kaiser "

Intermezzo . . . . . . . . . . " Stick it into a Him "

March " On to Berlin "

Selection . . . . . . . . . . . . . . " Poison Gas "

GOD SAVE THE KING

FINIS

Staged under Fire 121

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
bar-tender 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
cowboy, 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 every one 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 Httle 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 i^roduction. 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.

122 From the Fire Step

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, BHghty — ^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 run-
ning over to me and said he had fovmd 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

Staged under Fire 123

our company would open up that evening at the
icing George the Fifth Theatre, on the corner of
Ammo Street and Sandbag Terrace. General ad-
mission was one franc. First ten rows in orchestra
one franc, and boxes two francs. By this time our
printed programmes had returned from I^ondon,
and I further announced that on the night of the
first performance a programme 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 excel-
lent, 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 wotdd seat about
forty men and sold that number of tickets accord-
ingly.

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 wa^a howl of
indignation, but we had their money and told them
that if they did not Hke it they could write to the
management later and their money would be re-

124 From the Fire Step

funded ; 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 i^istol
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 rim 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's
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 gam-
bling 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

"5

126 From the Fire Step

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 per-
centage 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. Tins 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 after-
noon 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. Bach 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.

On His Own 127

He raps on the table and cries out, " Eyes down,
my lucky lads."

All noise ceases and every one 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 Semetic trace in his veins.

Then another collection is made, a school formed,
and they carry on ^ith the game.

The caller-out has many nicknames for the
numbers such as " Kelly's Eye " for one, " LrCg's
Eleven " for eleven, " CHckety-click " for sixty-six,
or " Top of the house " meaning ninety.

The game is honest and quite enjoyable. Some-
times 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.

128 From the Fire Step

Using a casino deck, the dealer deals each player
three cards. It is similar to our poker, excei)t 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 Tom-
mies 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

On His Own 129

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 L,ight Brigade at Balaclava, to say nothing of
Gallipoli, Neuve Chapelle, and Ivoos. 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 totalled 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.

But from my observation I find that a large per-
centage of the servants do go over the top, but
behind the fines 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

I

130 From the Fire Step

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 Usance -Corporal to account. The
Corporal answered, '* Blime me, sir, the straw was
issued, but there w^asn't enough left over from the
ser\^ants* 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 Hsten 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 see
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 Ijis 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

On His Own 131

soldier, perhaps the one who in civil life delivered
the coal at her back door. To-day 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 i,eads 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 charac-
teristics of the Irish, Scotch, and English soldiers.
The Irish and Scotch are very impetuous, especially
when it comes to bayonet fighting, while the English-
man, 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 wdll 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 ba^^onet 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

132 From the Fire Step

" 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 Httle 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 enem^^'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 con-
sisted of Tommy telHng 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 reheved by Prussians
or Bavarians, they would yell this information across
No Man's I/and, 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 " Donner und Blitzens '*

On His Own 133

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, just hoping
that one of his strays will get some poor unsuspect-
ing 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 mid-
way between the hostile lines. At night when it
was his turn, Tommy would crawl to this stake and
attach some lyondon 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. I^ater 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 BerHn, telling
who was winning the war, some tinned sausages,
cigars, and occasionally a little beer, but a funny
thing. Tommy never retiurned 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.

134 From the Fire Step

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 tliis war. From that time on diplo-
matic relations were severed.

Returning to Tommy, I think his spirit is best
vShown 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 Cap-
tain 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
dug-out 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,

135

136 From the Fire Step

lace^^

then the gun would be dismounted and again pi;
in readiness on the fire-step.

We did eight days in the front-line trench with-
out 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 I^ewis 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 " inter-
mixed. 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 dug-out 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 Wood-
bines. 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 3'Our
kindness."

He told me his name was Carl Schmidt, of the

••Chats with Fritz" i37

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 I^ondon, 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.

He told me he was very sorry to hear that lyondon
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 kilUng 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.

138 From the Fire Step

1

I bit all right and asked him why the sniper was
punished for kilHng an English General. With a
smile he replied :

" Well, you see, if all the Knghsh 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 w^as 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, w^hen we heard a noise imme-
diately 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 foolhardy 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 too star-shells, and in
their light could see two dark forms lying on the

"Chats with Fritz" i39

ground close to our wire. A sergeant and four
stretcher-bearers went out in front and soon returned,
carrying two limp bodies. Down in the dug-out,
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 Unter-
offizier 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 dug-out. 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 hic-
coughs, the Unteroffizier told his story.

There had been a drinking bout among the
officers in one of the German dug-outs, 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 con-
tempt for the English sentries. The wager was
accepted. At eight o'clock the Captain and he
had crept out into No Man's I^and to carry out
this wager.

140 From the Fire Step

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 laughing-stock of the officers' mess if he did
not accomplish his object, but the Captain was
trembHng all over and insisted on returning to the
German lines. In the darkness they lost their bear-
ings 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 fired blindly toward our trench. His bullet
no doubt killed our Captain.

Then the bomb came over and there he was,
d5dng — 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 :

Chats with Fritz" 141

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 bilJets 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 ghbly answered,
" Three hundred francs, sir " ; he just as glibly
handed me one hundred.

142

About Turn 143

Reporting at Brigade Head-quarters, 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 Uttle 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.

At the railroad station at F we re]Jorted to an

officer who had a white band around his arm which
read '' R.T.O." (Railway Transportation Officer).
To us this officer was Santa Claus.

The Sergeant in charge showed him our orders ;
he glanced through them and said, " Make your-
selves 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 were painted the
old familiar sign, " Honimes 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 shding

144 From the Fire Step

^

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 vStupefied, 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.

About Turn i45

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 I^and 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 every-
where, 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 communica-
tion 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

146 From the Fire Step

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 dug-outs were all smashed in and knocked
about, big square-cut timbers spHntered 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 w^as worth your Ufe 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 dayHght
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 b^^ the black

About Turn 147

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 discoloured. 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 had 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

148 From the Fire Step

^

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 w^hy 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 civiHans this must seem dreadful, but out
here one gets so used to awful sights that it makes
no impression. In passing a butcher's 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 reheved.

Our Machine-Gun Company lost seventeen killed
and thirty-one wounded in that little local affair
of " straightening the line," while the other com-
panies 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.

I

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, destro3dng or wilfully
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 under-
taking 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 wilful guilt of a man who has com-
mitted an offence pimishable 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

149

150 From the Fire Step

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 vSheet. 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

Punishments 151

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
endeavour 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 Hue 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

152 From the Fire Step

get our goats, it had the exact range of our ** ele-
phant " dug-out 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 care-
less every day, took all kinds of hberties with us —
thought he was invincible.

Then one of our crew got a brilhant 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 soimd, to locate Fritz
and his gun. After having got the location, they
would mount two machine-guns in trees, in a little
clump 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.

Machine^Gun Stunts 153

Kven 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 Httle 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.

154 From the Fire Step

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 dismoimted
our guns and took cover in the dug-out. 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, conse-
quently, we were all puffed up over the stunt.

There are several w^ays 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 iintil 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 damag-
ing 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 w^hat is called a flare protector.
This is a stove-pipe arrangement which fits over
the barrel casing of the gun and screens the sparks

Machine»Gun Stunts i55

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
and 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.

CEFT OUN SUOPOSeO CUN> RlQHT COM

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."

156 From the Fire Step

^

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 look out 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 3^ou 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 t\\o windows, or glass eyes,
in it, through which you can see. Inside there is
a rubber-covered tube, which goes in the mouth.

157

158 From the Fire Step

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 liis 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 dug-outs with fixed bayonets, to man the fire
step.

Reinforcements were pouring out of the com-
munication trenches.

Our gun's crew were busy mounting the machine-
gun on the parapet and bringing up extra ammuni-
tion from the dug-out.

German gas is heavier than air and soon fills the
trenches and dug-outs, 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
twistings, went West (died). It was horrible to
see him die, but we were powerless to help him.

Gas Attacks and Spies 159

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 sym-
pathize 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
I,and, 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.

i6o From the Fire Step

^

vSuddenly, 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 on to the fire step,
needles seemed to be pricking my flesh, then black-
ness.

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 lyand. In death there is not
much distinction, friend and foe are treated ahke.

After the wind had dispersed the gas, the R. A.M.C.
got busy with their chemical sprayers, sprajdng out

Gas Attacks and Spies i6i

the dug-outs 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
Head-quarters, 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
up a few fags to your old mates."

I promised to do this and left.

I reported at Head-quarters with sixteen others
and passed the required examination. Out of the
sixteen appHcants 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
Head-quarters 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

L

i62 From the Fire Step

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 3''ou 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 Head-quarters 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

Gas Attacks and Spies 163

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.

i64 From the Fire Step

^

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 on to the straps
for dear Hfe, and was singing at the top of his voice

We beat you at the Marne,

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
caj)sized. 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 ambu-
lance, was strung out on the ground, and his rifle
was in the ditch.

I shouted to the driver to stop, and in his nervous-
ness he put on the brakes. We nearly pitched out
head first. But the applying of those breaks 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 Hghts
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

Gas Attacks and Spies 165

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-spHnter 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 desti-
nation, and reported to Brigade Head- quarters for
rations and billets.

i66 From the Fire Step

1

That night we slept in the battalion sergeant-
major's dug-out. 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 Head-
quarters read that we were out to catch spies,
patrol trenches, search German dead, reconnoitre
in No Man's I^and, and take part in trench raids,
and prevent the robbing of the dead.

I had a pass which would allow me to go any-
where at any time in the sector oi the line held
by ot:r 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 enter-
taining. 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 Hke " Bud " Fisher's " Mutt and Jeff "
when together.

We took up our quarters in a large dug-out of the
Royal Engineers, and mapped out our future actions.
This dug-out 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.

Gas Attacks and Spies 167

A certain section of our trenches was held by the
Royal Irish Rifles. For several days a very strong
rumour 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 aroimd his cap, who patrolled the front-line
and communication trenches, asking suspicious ques-
tions as to location of batteries, machine-gun emplace-
ments, and trench mortars. If a shell dropped in
a battery, on a machine-gun, or even near a dug-
out, this spy was blamed.

The rumour gained such strength that an order
was issued for all troops to immediately place under
arrest any one 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 Irish-
man 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 :

i68 From the Fire Step

** None o' that gassin' out o' you. Back to Head-
quarters 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
Head-quarters 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 daj^s. 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 Head-quarters. 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 Head-quarters, 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
some one 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,

169

170 From the Fire Step

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 ! lycft —
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, ploughing through the mud and occa-
sionally 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 :

The Firing Squad 171

" 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 reahty it could not have been over
five minutes, we heard a low whispeiing in our rear
and footsteps on the stone flagging of the courtyard.

Our officer reappeared and in a low, but firm voice,
ordered :

'' About— Turn ! "

We turned about. In the grey 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 sup-
posed 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. Some one
else had received the rifle containing the blank cart-

172 From the Fire Step

1

ridge, but my mind was at ease, there was no blood
of a Tommy on my hands.

" Order — Arms ! About — Turn ! Pile — Arms !
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 BHghty 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."

The Firing Squad i73

In the last ten 3^ears 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 I^loyd. That wasn't his
name, but it will do :

Albert Ivloyd was what the world terms a coward.

In I/ondon 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 enhsting, 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

174 From the Fire Step

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 calHng upon
the Ivord 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 momen-
tous morning the landlady put the morning paper
at his place before he came down to breakfast.
Taking his seat, he read the flaring headline, '' Con-
scription 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.

Every time 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 I4oyd*s
six feet of physical perfection, and thought what
a fine guardsman he would make, but examined his

The Firing Squad i75

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 sHght 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 Hved in deadly fear
of the officers and " Non-Coms " over him. They
also despised him.

One morning about three months after his enlist-
ment, 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 cheer-
fully, '' 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 over-
board to escape, but was afraid of drowning.

176 From the Fire Step

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 Fr event,
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 Hue. 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 BHghty 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

The Firing Squad i77

Head-quarters, and the men were assigned to com-
panies.

Lloyd was the only man assigned to " D '* Com-
pany. Perhaps the officer in charge of the draft had
something to do with it, for he called Lloyd aside,
and said :

" lyloyd, 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 gunneis 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 lauding about a hundred yards in rear
of them, in the second lines.

M

178 From the Fire Step

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, 111 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 fopl knows he can be shot for such tricks as
leavin' his post."

Ivloyd 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 communica-
tion 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 w^hispered 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 mained. 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.

The Firing Squad 179

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, ist I^ondon
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 Httle wooden
crosses, smashing some and tramphng others under
his feet.

In his flight he came to an old French dug-out,
half caved in, and partially filled with slimy and
filthy water.

Ivike 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 dug-out 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, spoiHng
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

i8o From the Fire Step

send it home, the cowardly sneak. Come on, you,
move, we've been looking for you long enough/'

Ivloyd, 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 1 "

The Captain, utterly disgusted with him, sent
him under escort to Division Head-quarters 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 awfiilness of his sentence,
his brain seemed paralysed. 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 par-
doned before morning. I know the way they run
these things. They're only trying to scare you,

The Firing Squad i8i

that's all. Come now, that's a good lad, eat some-
thing. 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.

lyloyd Ustened eagerly to his sentry's words, and
beheved 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 Hues suddenly opened
up with everything they had. An intense bombard-
ment 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 reHeve 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 :

i82 From the Fire Step

'* 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 on to 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 ! 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 1 " 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 Hke 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 I^loyd'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 coimtry. 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 guard-room, but he hardly
noticed them.

While waiting there, the voice of the sentry.

The Firing Squad 183

singing in a low tone, came to him. He was singing
the chorus of the popular trench ditty :

/ want to go home, I want to go home.

I don't want to go to the trenches no more.

Where the " whizz-bangs " 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."

]wloyd 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 guard-room toppled over, and
then — ^blackness.

When Ivloyd recovered consciousness, he was lying
on his right side, facing what used to be the entrance
of the guard-room. 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 '' whizz-bangs " and the
Allemand.

I^ike a flash it came to lyloyd 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

i84 From the Fire Step

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, cheer-
ing, 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 lyloyd 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 blind-sap, and then the
Captain, and what was left of his men, knew they
were in a trap. They w^ould not retire. '* D '*
Company never retired, and they were " D *' Com-
pany. Right in front of them they could see

The Firing Squad 185

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 Germans 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 vdld rush back to
their trench, amid the cheers of ** D " Company.
They were forming again for another attempt, when

i86 From the Fire Step

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 Hne.

After the attack was over, the Captain and three
of his non-commissioned officers w^ended 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.

lyloyd came to the front-line trench, but 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
coloured kilts and bare knees.

Jumping over the trench, I<loyd raced across " No
Man's lyand," 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. I^eaping trenches, and gasping
for breath, lyloyd 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

The Firing Squad 187

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 w^ould never fire again.

I^loyd 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 Ivlo^'^d, 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 of 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 gtm. Stooping over the body, he gently
shook it, and the soldier opened his eyes. Seeing
I^loyd, he closed them again, and in a faint voice
said :

" Get away, you bhghter, leave me alone. I
don't want any coward around me."

i88 From the Fire Step

The words cut I^loyd like a knife, but he was
desperate. Taking the revolver out of the holster
of the dying man, he pressed the cold muzzle to the
soldier's head, and replied :

" Yes, it is Ivloyd, the coward of Company ' D,'
but so help me, God, if 3^ou 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 "

lyloyd 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, sing-song 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 auto-
matic safety latch, and press thumb-piece. Gun is
now firing. If gun stops, ascertain position of crank-
handle "

But lyloyd waited for no more. With wild joy at
his heart, he took a belt from one of the ammunition
boxes l3ang 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,
lyloyd, the coward, had '' done his bit." Releasing

The Firing Squad 189

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 I^loyd, the coward of " D "
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 lyloyd 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 cemeter>^ 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
w^ere 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

Rkjoining 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 any one 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, ammu-
nition, 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 appre-
ciate 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 milHons of men.

Huge fifteen-inch guns snaked along, foot by foot,
190

Preparing for the Big Push 191

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 airmen
must have taken back to their Division Com-
manders, 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 i —
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 lay-out
of the trenches were taken from aeroplane photo-
graphs submitted by the Royal Flying Corps. The
trenches were correct to the foot ; they showed
dug-outs, 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.

192 From the Fire Step

engage in practice attacks, and have night manoeuvres.
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
mihtary 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

Preparing for the Big Push i93

felt sure that we had a great surprise in store for
Fritz.

When we took over the front Hne 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 i
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 I^and, 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-gim, rifle, and shrapnel fire,
thinking we were coming over.

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

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10 From the Fire Step

was terrific, a constant boom-boom-boom in yonr
ear.

At night the sky was a red glare. Our bombard-
ment 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 dug-outs 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 a while got
used to it.

My old outfit, the Machine Gun Company, was
stationed in huge elephant dug-outs about four
hundred yards behind the front-line trench — ^they
were in reserve. Occasionally I would stop in their
dug-out and have a *' confab " with my former mates.
Although we tried to be jolly, still, there was a

J

Preparing for the Big Push 197

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 bombard-
ment 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.

r

CHAPTER XXVI
AI.I. QUIET (?) ON THE WESTERN FRONT

At Brigade Head-quarters 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 front-line trench
smoking fags and making out our reports of the
previous night's tour of the trenches, which we had
to turn in to Head-quarters 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
Head-quarters dug-out to receive instructions from
Old Pepper.

After reaching this dug-out we lined up in a semi-
circle aroimd him, and he addressed us as follows :

198

All Quiet (?) on the Western Front i99

" 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 Hue for
two days and personally I beHeve 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 trembUng, 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 to-morrow
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

200 From the Fire Step

location of the gtins, 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 centre 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 ueber 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

I

All Quiet (?) on the Western Front 201

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 I^and. 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.

202 From the Fire Step

or between you and the German lines, you are safe
from detection, as the enemy cannot see you through
the bright curtain of Hght. 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 motion-
less 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 sufiicient
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 commtmication
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 con-
taining medicines and first-aid appliances. Kind of
a grim reminder to us that our expedition was not

All Quiet (?) on the Western Front 203

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 fol-
lowed 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 any one to the rear, he
would be small and light. Perhaps they looked at
me when wishing, because I could feel an uncom-
fortable, 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 I^and.

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 move-
ments while in No Man's Land, because for various
reasons it is not safe to carry on a heated conversa-
tion a few yards in front of Fritz's lines. The officer

204 From the Fire Step

was on the right of the Hne, while I was on the
extreme left. Two taps from the right would be
passed down the line imtil 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 I^and. Nothing happened. We

All Quiet (?) on the Western Front 205

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 I^and with their rifles lying across the
parapet, straining every sense to see or hear what is
going on in No Man's lyand ; because at night,
Fritz never knows when a bomb w^ith 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 centre, 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
some one 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 half-way through the

2o6 From the Fire Step

wire when, down the centre 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
dug-out, " 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 half-way 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 tmpleasant scene.

All Quiet (?) on the Western Front 207

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
defence. Then in front of me the challenge " Halt,'*
given in EngHsh, 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 to show Fritz that
he could die game. Then came the volley. Machine-
gtms 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,
imder ordinary circumstances, been handsome, but
when I viewed him from the front of his rifle he had
the gobUns 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
d5dng, 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

2o8 From the Fire Step

myself, *' Bmp, 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, " lyook around." I did so ; a bullet caught
me on the left shotdder. It did not hurt much,
just felt as if some one 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 con-
sumed 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 puUed 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.

All Quiet (?) on the Western Front 209

By the flare of the explosion of the bomb, which
luckily landed in their trench, I saw one big Boche
throw up his arms and fall backwards, while his rifle
flew into the air. Another one wilted and fell
forward across the sandbags — then blackness.

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
I^and 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 I^and. 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 '' typewriters " were
traversing back and forth in No Man's I^and, 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

o

210 From the Fire Step

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 coloured kilts were huddled on the ground,
then over came the second wave, also '' Jocks."
One 3^oung 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

All Quiet (?) on the Western Front 211

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 lyand
in that bally hole for a day and a half. It's a wonder
you are alive." He also told me that out of the
twenty that were in the raiding party, seventeen
were killed. The officer died of wounds in crawling
back to our trench and I was severely wounded,
but one fellow returned without a scratch without
any prisoners. No doubt this chap was the one
who had sneezed and improperly cut the barbed
wire.

In the official communique our trench raid was
described as follows :

" All quiet on the Western front, excepting in the
neighbourhood 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.

1

CHAPTER XXVII
BIvlGHTY

From this first-aid post, after inoculating me with
anti-tetanus serum to prevent lockjaw, I was put
into an ambulance and sent to a 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 " Cheer o, 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 dug-out. 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 ?

212

Blighty 213

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 Uke 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 bandaged.

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.

214 From the Fire Step

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. This
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
^x 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

f

Blighty 215

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 Hke 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." I^ater 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.

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. BHghty
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

2i6 From the Fire Step

was carried into Munsey Ward of the Amei
Women's War Hospital and put into a real bed.

This real bed was too much for my unstrimg
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 pyjamas. 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 informa-
tion down in a little book, and then asked : ^i

'* Where do you come from ? " I answered : ^^

" From the big town behind the Statue of lyiberty."
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-theatre 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.

Blighty 217

I don't remember having the anaesthetic applied.

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 treat-
ment 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

2i8 From the Fire Step

a strong Cockney accent would butt in in favour of
a lyondon 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 generall}^ 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.

Many visitors have autograph albums and bore
Tommy to death by asking him to write the par-
ticulars 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

Blighty 219

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 woimded
you in the face ? "

In a poUte 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 lot 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 discipHne. The only fault was that the
men's passes were restricted. To get a pass required
an Act of ParHament. 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 sHp 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 boimds 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 tempta-
tion to let the Commandant know that occasionally
we put it over on him.

One afternoon I received a note, through our
imderground channel, from my female visitor,

220 From the Fire Step

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 shpped into the bushes
and made for the wall. It was dark as pitch and
I was groping through the underbrush, when sud-
denly 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 preci-
pitate 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

Blighty 221

the rescuer would want to know how the accident
happened, and I would be haled before the Com-
mandant 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 "
PhiUips, 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."

222 From the Fire Step

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 sud-
denly, 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

Blighty 223

pointing in a north by north-west direction. I was
very down-hearted and could imagine myseJf during
the rest of my Hfe 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
transporation. 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, Kmpey, 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 wonder-
ful piece of surgery and a marvellous 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, resrdting
from loss of blood and exhaustion caused by his
long journey from the trenches. After an examina-
tion the doctor announces that the only thing that
will save him is a transfusion of blood. Where is

224 From the Fire Step

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 opera-
tion, there are always men wilHng 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 shin-
bone 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 lyiberty
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."

Blighty 225

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 worth-
while cause hke 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 reahzation.
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 any one
higher up. It is just a sort of " ragging " or " kid-
ding," as the American would say, that helps him
pass the time away.

SI.ANG TERMS, SAYINGS, PHRASES, ETC.

** About Turn.** A military command similar to " About face "
or "To the rear, march." Tommy's nickname for Hebu-
terne, a point on the British line.

Adjutant. The name given to an ofi&cer 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 dug-out thirty feet down.
Sometimes it lives up to its reputation.
226

"Tommy's Dictionary" 227

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.

AUemand. 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 ammxmition. 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 head-quarters are generally out of
reach of the enemy's guns. His chief duties are to ride
aroimd in a motor-car and wear a red band around his cap.

** Apr^s 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.

228 From the Fire Step

Baler. A scoop afEair for baling out water from the trenches and
dug-outs. As the trenches generally drain the surrounding
landscape, the sun has to be appealed to before the job is
completed.

Bantams. Men imder 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 sup-
posed to prevent the Germans from taking lodgings in your
dug-outs. 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

trafiic 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 dug-out.
Batman. A man who volunteers to clean a non-commissioned

ofi&cer's buttons, but who never volunteers for a trench raid.

He ranks next 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 nimierous

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

"Tommy's Dictionary" 229

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 that 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 dug-out,
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
Head-quarters. They don't go to sleep.

B.S.M. Battahon Sergeant-Major. The highest ranking non-
commissioned of&cer 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 dug-outs.

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.

230 From the Fire Step

** Busted." Term applied when a non-commissioned of&cer is

reduced by court-martial.
Button Stick. A contrivance made of brass ten inches long

which slides under the buttons and protects the tunic in

cleaning.

N * * Called to the colours. ' ' 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 dug-outs.

Canteen. A mess tin issued to Tommy, who, after dinner, gene-
rally forgets to wash it, and pinches his mate's 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, ammu-
nition, 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.

CCS. 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 gimners 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 defences against cavalry.

"Chucking his weight about." Self-important. Generally
applied to a newly promoted non-commissioned officer or a
recruit airing his knowledge.

"Tommy's Dictionary" 231

Chum. An endearing word used by Tommy to his mate when he
wants to borrow something or have a favour done.

" Clicked it." Got killed ; up against it ; wotmded.

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 acid." 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 head-quarters
where stores are kept. A general hang-out for batmen,
officers' servants, and N.C.O.s.

•'Compray." Tommy's French for "Do you tmderstand ? "
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 Govern-
ment.

*• 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.
Dujring 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.

232 From the Fire Step

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 explo-
sion of a mine. According to ofl&cial 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 misdemeanours.

** Crump." A name given by Tommy to a high-explosive
German shell which when it bursts makes a " Cru-mp " 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.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 Vould-be
actors who inflict their talents on Tommj' 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.

"Tommy's Dictionary" 233

Detonator. A contrivance in a bomb containing fulminate of

mercury which, ignited by a fuse, explodes the charge.
" Der uffs." " Deux oeufs." Tommy's French for " two eggs."
** Dial." Another term of Tommy's for his map, or face.
"Digging in." Digging trenches and dug-outs in a captured

position.
Digging Party. A detail of men told off to dig trenches, graves,

or dug-outs. 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

most of its time in practising 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 it 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.

Draftsman. 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 dug-outs and calls it a " Dug-out 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.

234 From the Fire Step

Dug-out. A deep hole in the trenches dug by the Royal Kngineer
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 con-
tractors at home won't starve.

" Du pan." Tommy's French for bread.

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 Dug-out. A large, safe, and roomy dug-out, 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 to dig 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

woimded. They use them for handkerchiefs and to clean

their rifles.

"Tommy's Dictionary" 235

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
Of&ce sends a card, sometimes.

Field Punishment. 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 courts-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 for hell.

" Five rounds rapid." Generally, just before daylight in the
trenches, the order " Five rounds rapid " is given. Bach
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 Pears' Soap ? "

"Five nine." A German shell 59 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 signaller.

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-o£E shot-
gun, from which flares are fired. When you need this pistol
badly it has generally been left in your dug-out.

Flying Column. A flying column of troops that walks from one
point of the line to another. In case of need they usually
arrive at the wrong point.

236 From the Fire Step

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 Quartermaster-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 courts-martial offence. Now

he keeps his feet warm.
** Full pack." A soldier carrying all of his equipment.
Full Corporal. An 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 dug-out. A favourite spot

for those of a nervous disposition.
Fuse. A part of shell or bomb which burns in a set time and

ignites the detonator.

Gas. Poisonous fumes which the Germans send over to our
trenches. When the wind is favourable 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."

"Tommy's Dictionary" 237

*' Getting a sub." Touching an ofi&cer 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-headed soldier ; courage ; pep.
"Gippo." Bacon grease ; soup.
G.M.P. Garrison Mihtary Police. Soldiers detailed to patrol

the roads and regulate trafl&c 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 rum 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
roimd 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 colour issued to Tommy
once a week. The contents will not be censored regimen-
tally, 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 honour 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 comfort-
able 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 long as he gets back to Blighty.

238 From the Fire Step

1

G.S. Wagon. A four-wheeled wagon drivn by an A.S.C.
driver. It carries supplies, such as food, ammunition,
trench tools, and timber for dug-outs. When Tommy gets
sore feet he is allowed to ride on this wagon and fiUs 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

*' Hairbrush." Name of a bomb used in the earlier stages of the
war. It is shaped like a hairbrush 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 sus-
picion. 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,
breadcrumbs, 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
name 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 corre-
spondents.

*' Hun pinching." Raiding German trenches for prisoners.

Tommy's Dictionary" 239

I

Identification Disk. A little fibre 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 dug-outs
immediately in rear of the front line, who in case of an attack
will support the firing Hne.

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 ques-
tions prisoners as to the colour 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 con-
taining 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.
Jack-knife. 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 " Greengage."

240 From the Fire Step

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.

Labour Battalion. An organization which is ' ' too proud to fight.' '

They would sooner use a pick and shovel.
Lance-Corporal. An N.C.O., one grade above a private, who

wears a shoestring stripe on his arm and thinks the war

should be rim 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

calibre is -303 and the magazine holds ten rounds. When

dirty it has a nasty 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 forty-seven rounds in its " pie-plate" magazine. Under

"Tommy's Dictionary" 241

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 " fim-na-poo "
(Tommy's French) for Mr. Ivewis.

** 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, gushing, and
unloading of cars.

Limber. A matchbox on two wheels which gives the Army mule
a job. It also carries officers' 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 box of " Phosferine 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." Mimition 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 " I^onely 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 police-
man, is never there when he is badly wanted.

Q

242 From the Fire Step

Maconochie. A ration of meat, vegetables, and soapy water,
contained in a tin. Mr. Maconochie, the chemist who
compotmded this mess, intends to commit hara-kiri 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 dug-out.

Manoeuvres. Useless evolutions of troops conceived by some
one higher up to show Tommy how brave his officers are
and how battles should be fought. The enemj'^ never attend
these manoeuvres to prove they're right.

Mass Formation. A close-order formation in which the Germans
attack. It gives them a sort of " Come on, I'm with you "
feeling. They would " hold hands" only for the fact that
they have to carry their rifles. Tommy takes great delight
in " busting up " these gatherings.

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 sick

report when he thinks Tommy is faking sickness. It means

medicine and duty.
Mentioned in Dispatches. 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.

"Tommy's Dictionary" 243

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).

Military Cross. A badge of honour 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.

Minnenwerf er. 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 it 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."

244 From the Fire Step

** Napoo-Fini." Tommy's French for gone, through with,
finished, disappeared.

Napper. Tommy's term for head.

Neutral. Tommy says it means " afraid to fight."

Next of Kin. Nearest relative. A young and ambitious platoon
of&cer 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 manoeuvres.

Nine-point-two. A howitzer which fires a shell 92 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 Ivand " 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 of&cer. 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 nosecap. If the shell bursts
too near them they don't dig.

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 some one 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.

••Tommy's Dictionary" 245

Officers' Mess. Where the officers eat the mess that the O.S.
" have cooked.

O.S. Officer's servant. The lowest ranking private in the
Army, who feeds better than the officer 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 huim anywhere unless it is on the
wheel of a limber.

** On your own." Another famous or infamous phrase which
means Tom my 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 " Ivights 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 dis-
orderly.

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."

0x0. Concentrated beef cubes that a fond mother sends out to
Tommy because they are advertised as " British to the
Backbone."

246 From the Fire Step

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 misdemeanour. 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 con-
tinually 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 con-
stantly builds up and the Germans just as constantly knock
down.

Patrol. A few soldiers detailed to go out in " No Man's I^and "
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. Kach prisoner solemnly swears that when he
gets out of " clink " he is going to shoot this Sergeant, and
when he does get out he buys him a drink.

"Tommy's Dictionary" 247

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 Prance. "^

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 compli-
mented.

Quid. Tommy's term for a pound or twenty shillings. 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 your head " over the top " at night,
aim at the moon, and empty your magazine. If 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 Govern-
ment to Tommy, to kid him into the fact 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
and 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.

248 From the Fire Step

^

Rats. The main inhabitants of the trenches and dug-outs.

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-
UA 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
j^ relieved from the trenches. He uses this " rest " to mend
'(i£ roads, dig trenches, and make himself generally useful while

behind the lines
RestJBillets. Shell-shattered houses, generally bams, 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.

"Tommy's Dictionary" 249

** 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 Honour." The name given to the published casualty
lists of^^the war. Tommy has no ambition for his name to
appear^on the," Roll of Honour " 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.
^3 ,. These marches teach Tommy to be kind to overloaded beasts
IjjJi? 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 Flying Corps.

Rum. A nectar of the gods issued in the early morning to
^:.:f^. Tommy.

Rum| issue. A daily formation at which Tommy receives a
spoonful of rum — ^that is, if any is left over from the Sergeants*
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
1918.

S.A.A. Small Arms Ammtmition. 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 I^and" in the direction of the

German trenches.
Sapper. A man who saps or digs mines. He thinks he is thirty-
t^_ three degrees above an ordinary soldier, while in fact he Is

generally beneath him.

250 From the Fire Step

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."

Sergeants* Mess. Where the Sergeants eat. Nearly all of the
rum has a habit of disappearing into the Sergeants' 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 gun 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. 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 bom in a neutral country.
Shell Hole. A hole in the ground caused by the explosion of a

shell. Tommy's favourite 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.

Sick 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 Tpoimds
(officially). When Tommy handles them their unofficial
weight is three hiindredweight.

Slacker. An insect in England who is afraid to join the Army.
There are three things in this world that Tommy loves : 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.

"Tommy's Dictionary" 251

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 oflE
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 of&cial 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 soimd in Tommy's ears.

Star Shell. See "Flare."

Steel Helmet. A round hat made out of tin 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.

252 From the Fire Step

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.

Swank. 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.

" 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 beat — in 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 instru-
ment 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.

"Tommy's Dictionary" 253

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 them-
selves " 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 suit-
able gift to the men in the trenches." Many are sent out
to Tommy and most of them are thrown way.

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 French 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.

254 From the Fire Step

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 home-
sickness. Mostly home-sickness. 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 "fed-upness" and home-
sickness, experienced by Tommy in the trenches, especially
so 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, con-
densed milk, jam, and mud, slightly flavoured 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
dug-out makes the European argument look like thirty
cents.

Tommy's Dictionary" 255

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.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."
Vin 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.
Vi^aiting Man. The cleanest man at guard mounting. He does

not have to walk post ; is supposed to wait on the guard.
Wash-Out. 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.

256 From the Fire Step

" 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 cheap cigarette. 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 honoured with an invitation. It consists of
digging, filling sandbags, and ducking shells and bullets.

Zeppelin. A bag full of gas invented by a count full of gas. It
is a dirigible airship used by the Germans for killing b.'.bies
and dropping bombs in open fields. You never see £hem
over the trenches : it is safer to bombard civilians in cities.
They use Iron Crosses for ballast.

PRINTED AT THE COMPLETE PRESS

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E56

Empey, Arthur Guy
From the fire step