We were by no means well acquainted with our new position, and one night
shortly after our arrival, two of the men who had been sent out to
reconnoitre, were captured by the enemy, who let them go, however, after
stripping them to the skin.
When they returned they had big bayonet wounds in their hips, and were
suffering greatly both from the wounds and exposure. You can imagine our
feelings at such wanton cruelty.
Previous to this for some time I hadn't been given any scouting duty and
had been resting, but a few nights after this occurrence, shortly after
dusk, I was sent to a listening post, which was situated to the right
front of our open flank. The ground was very broken and the temperature
was touching on the zero mark. Before starting out, we had just got our
night issue of rum. A lance-corporal accompanied me, and after lots of
manoeuvring and stumbling through shell holes half filled with slush, we
arrived at the place where I had to listen for movements of German
artillery, transports, troops, etc.
We crawled to the edge of the bank, which overlooked a creek or canal. We
knew the German lines were just across that short space. The
lance-corporal said he would see that some one should be sent to relieve
me in half an hour; then he departed. He had not gone more than a hundred
paces, I should judge, when the German artillery let loose. It seemed as
if a thousand hells had erupted. I was dumbfounded. I wiggled backward on
my stomach, until I slid into a shell hole full of water and mud. I did
not mind the cold; it helped to brace me--to realize fully the situation
in which I was placed. The shell fire was lighting up the heavens;
splinters, slugs, and bullets filled the air.
I began saying my prayers. (I thought this would be my last listening duty
on earth.) I crouched as low as the slush in the hole would allow me. Even
while in this position, bullets and shrapnel embedded themselves so near
me that, had I lifted my head, I should have been plugged instantly.
The hellish bombardment seemed unceasing. I was cramped and numb. How long
the firing lasted I do not know. At last, however, I became conscious that
the clouds were clearing away and I discerned a pale moon. I tried to drag
myself out of the freezing slush, but couldn't. All the power in my body
seemed gone. The shelling had ceased and there was a dead silence. I knew
I was freezing to death. I once even tried to place the muzzle of my rifle
under my chin and blow my head off, but I was unable to feel for the
rifle. My hands had lost sense of touch. My lower limbs were insensible. I
gave up all hopes of help or of ever leaving the shell hole--alive.
What seemed a long time after I had deemed myself lost I heard some one in
the vicinity. I wasn't able to lift my head. I tried to speak. I was as
one dead, with the exception of my brain.
The next thing I knew something was being poured down my throat. Some one
was attending to me but I was unconcerned. I wanted only to die. If I
could but have spoken, I would have begged the men who were attending me
to put me out of my agony. After a while, I recognized them as our men.
They were rubbing and slapping my body for all they were worth. Now and
again one of them put his water bottle to my mouth. At first I could not
make out what he was trying to pour down my throat, but at last I
recognized it as rum. I forced myself to drink it. Then they rubbed my
abdomen and legs with some of it as briskly as they could. One of them
exchanged his kilt for mine; then they both wrapped their greatcoats
around me, and, between them, managed to carry me back to the trenches--to
safety.
The jolting on the way back started my blood circulating. It is beyond me
to explain exactly the feeling. My stomach began aching as if it contained
boiling lead; then a feeling as if a million electrically charged wires
had commenced to burn in the lower part of my abdomen and down to my lower
limbs. I had the desire to shout out loud; whether or not I did, to this
day I cannot tell. I must have gone completely insane with the pain for a
while, for later I found myself struggling with a group of men, and they
were urging me to keep quiet. They poured lots of rum into me, and I began
to feel much better; in fact, more like myself, except that my legs and
feet were like lumps of lead.
During this time--since my rescue from the shell hole--the Germans had
made a charge and were repulsed. The Black Watch had taken a line of their
trench and were holding it. Two men had been sent out to find what had
happened to the lance-corporal and myself, as the company commander had
been expecting our report. They found the lance-corporal, riddled with
bullets, not far from where he had left me. When they came across me I had
done an eight hours' stretch of duty.
I stayed in the reserve trench until we went to billets, a couple of days
after this. We were looking forward to spending Christmas in billets, but
were disappointed.
We had hardly been "cushy" three days, when we were sent to hold a
position on the left flank of an English battalion of what we believed to
be the Sussex Regiment. It was just two days before Christmas when we took
up this position.
It was much quieter here. Snow had fallen during the night, giving the
ground a sort of peaceful appearance, except for a few dark patches where
some "Jack Johnsons" or "Black Marias" had landed toward dawn. (It was
Christmas Day.) Just after "stand down," our mail was issued. It consisted
mostly of parcels. Our part of the trench was very fortunate. Every man
had at least two letters and as many parcels. I received three in the same
handwriting and a two-pound box of chocolate almonds. Parcels containing
socks, mittens, scarfs, etc., were pounced upon by all hands, as these
articles were very much needed at this time. Next in importance came the
cigarettes, of which we received a goodly supply.
I need hardly say that we all tasted one another's luxuries--shortbread,
chocolates, and currant cakes (which had to be eaten mostly with a spoon
because of the rough handling they had had)--and we exchanged confidences
about our letters whether they were from Miss Campbell, Mrs. Low, or
Uncle Sandy.
Every Tommy, every Jock, learns to know and to love his trench mate as a
brother. The men in the "ditches" feel as if they all belonged to the one
mother, sharing each other's confidences, both pleasant and sad. There is
no selfishness--not even a thought of it--"over there."
We were all sitting round the fire-steps of our trenches, thinking, ever
thinking, and wondering how many of us would live to see the same sun rise
on another Christmas Day. The sun was red. It appeared to be
dripping-red--with blood, when a slight commotion started up along to the
right. I grasped my rifle and at the same time looked round the little
traverse. I saw a few chaps with their heads over the parapet--which
seemed unwise and extremely dangerous. I thought we had been surprised by
the Huns, and took a glance in the direction of their trenches, which
looked as quiet as our own. But I could see thin lines of smoke rising up
at irregular intervals from the fires they had built. Almost at the same
instant my eye caught sight of a figure some six hundred yards to our
right proceeding in the direction of the boches' trenches; and, to crown
all, he was a British Tommy!
I thought the man must have gone out of his mind, and when I looked at
where he came from, it seemed as if the whole regiment was viewing the
daring proceedings of this solitary individual "between the lines." At
that part the trenches were much nearer than at ours. They seemed there
about two hundred yards apart, while ours were about five hundred yards
distant from Fritz.
I saw the solitary Tommy walk right on to within a few yards of the German
entanglements and pause a minute; then a boche's head could be seen. At
this, Tommy picked his way over the entanglements very cautiously.
My heart was in my mouth! I could scarcely keep from shouting when he
reached the edge of the enemy parapet and--disappeared!
By this time our regiment was practically all on the fire-step,
breathlessly watching and ready for what might happen after the
disappearance of this "madcap."
Five minutes more elapsed. Then a head bobbed up at the same spot we had
been watching, and out of the trench came--the selfsame Tommy. He was
carrying something in his hand. My eyes kept steady on him until he
reached his own parapet, where he stood a moment flourishing this article;
then, clasping it to him as if prizing it, he got down into the trench.
While he had stood there for a moment, his fellow trench-mates threw out
their arms to take his precious bundle from him, but as I say, he seemed
to hold tightly on to it. When I looked back at the place he had just
left, the Germans were waving their helmets, with heads above the parapet.
It was Christmas all right! and we certainly got a Santa Claus surprise in
watching these unusual proceedings.
They were getting bolder on both sides at this part of the line, and a few
men began walking on their parapets, finally coming closer and then
meeting men from the enemy trench. Then followed a football match with
regimental shirts tied up. To see those Tommies charging with their
shoulders and explaining the game to the Germans, who were not so well
acquainted with it, was a Christmas festival in itself that will never be
forgotten by those who witnessed it.
[We found out afterward that "Spud" Smith--who had just received a lovely
"currant bun" from home and was overjoyed with it--was jumping round and
making so much noise about it, that the fellows dared him to take it over
to the Germans and wish them "A Merry Christmas." He at once threw off his
equipment and made toward them, where he received his Christmas present in
the form of a bottle of "schnapps." "Spud" Smith was the madcap of his
regiment.]
A few minutes after midnight, we were brought back to war again by the
Germans shelling us all along the line.
Everything was tolerably quiet, with the exception of an occasional
shelling from either side, until New Year's Eve, when an infernal row got
up and on New Year's Day we had about one hundred and thirty casualties.
The shelling grew worse, and we discovered that the Saxons had been
relieved by the Prussians. Twice they charged us in mass formation, and we
were forced to retire to our second-line trenches. It was their idea and
intention to break through our lines to get to Calais in time for the
Kaiser's birthday. This was the beginning of their big drive. Although we
got a severe cutting up, we managed to hold all the ground we had, despite
their mass formation, which is a stern and dreadful thing to face.
One morning, about the middle of January, the coal boxes, Jack Johnsons
and Black Marias were just simply shaking the earth. The German airplanes
had been very active these last few days, and it seemed they were giving
their heavy artillery the proper range on our lines. The Jack Johnsons
were landing to the right of our regiment and were gradually working their
way up toward us. We could see them tearing up parts of the
trenches--smashing up men, whose limbs were sent flying up through the
air. The sight was really too frightful to recall.
Orders were given that the Black Watch should stand to its post and that
no man was to retire. But as the heavy shells drew nearer, smashing
everything up, they proved too much for the recruits who had joined us
only within the last few days, and they made for the reserve trenches. By
this time the Germans were beginning to make their advance in waves. Word
was passed along that our regiment should retire to its reserve trenches,
but it came too late for a few of us,--as we were already pumping it into
the Germans. Those who had retired were firing over our heads at the
advancing Huns, thus making it dangerous for us to withdraw.
Just as I had made up my mind that we must get back somehow, Sergeant
Johnstone crept to my side and said; "Cassells, let's stick it out. This
might last only a few minutes more and then it'll be all right again."
"All right, Johnstone," I said; and we shook hands.
Our own shells were bursting so close to our front that they were
showering us with earth and stones.