"Allenstein."
"Did you see anything of the Russians in 1914?"
"Jawohl"--he had seen plenty of Russian troops. They behaved very well.
"Die sind besser als die Deutschen--They're better than the Germans...."
But the theatre orderly interrupted us and asked us to "send two or
three across."
I went to the Prep. to see if there were any new arrivals. It was full
once again and the wounded were streaming into the station.
It was quite dark outside. The duckboards were lit up by rows of
hurricane lamps. The bombardment was still going on.
When I got back to the waiting-room all the prisoners were gone and
English wounded were taking their places. Soon the benches round the
stove were crowded with dark figures whose hands and faces were lit up
by the glow.
A man with haggard features and a bandage round his head began to talk
in a mournful voice:
"Oh, it's 'ard ter lose yer mates. There was three of us--we was always
together--we couldn't bear the idea o' separatin'. One of us copped a
packet [got wounded] about three months ago an' went inter dock
[hospital]--'e wasn't 'alf upset when 'e left us, though 'e was a sure
Blighty--'e was afeard they'd send 'im to another mob when 'e got well
agin. But 'e came back to us arter all--we didn't 'alf 'ave a bust up
that evenin'. The two of us was absolutely canned to the wide [dead
drunk]--'e wasn't though, 'e didn' drink much--'e was better'n what we
was--well-spoken like--didn' go arter no tarts--didn' do no swearin'.
Yer never came acrorst a better mate'n what 'e was! We was goin' over
the top when a shell busted in front of us. It blinded me for a moment
and then when I could see agin--gorblimy--it must 'a' copped 'im in the
stomach an' ripped it open--ugh!--'e was rollin' over wi' all 'is guts
'angin' out--ugh!--yer should 'a' 'eard 'im groan. 'Me own mate,' I says
ter 'im, but 'e didn't rekkernize nothin' and then we 'ad to go on--yer
can't stop when yer goin' over! Soon arter me other mate copped it too.
Somethin' bowled 'im clean over, but 'e gets up again an' shows me 'is
arm. 'There's a bastard,' 'e says, as cool as yer like--'is 'and was
blown clean orf at the wrist! He just turned round an' was walkin' orf
to the dressin' station when a shell busted atween us. It copped me in
the 'ead an' knocked me senseless. Arterwards I 'eard me mate 'ad bin
blowed ter bits. Oh, it's 'ard when yer've bin together all the time an'
shared everythink."
He buried his face in his hands and made no further sound except an
occasional sniff and a hasty drawing in of the breath through trembling
lips.
"It's bloody murder up the line," said a full Corporal. "We were in a
trench four feet deep and up to our waist in water. A Jerry sniper
spotted us and one man got biffed, [killed] and then the next, and then the
next all along the trench. We were packed together like sardines and had
no cover at all for our heads and shoulders. I got the wind up terribly
'cause I knew my turn was coming. He only gave me a Blighty though--I
reckon I'm bloody lucky!"
"We was ready for to go over the top an' waitin' for the whistle to
blow. We didn't 'alf 'ave the wind up. You could 'ear the teeth
chatterin' all along the trench. I was shiverin' all over, I...."
"Next man!" The conversation stopped while the next man went across, but
having once begun to tell their experiences, the men would not stop
altogether, and after a brief silence an elderly little man with a
bandaged foot said:
"What I couldn't get over was insomnia. I could never sleep at the
right time and I was always dead tired on duty. Once I worked
forty-three hours at a stretch and after that I had to do a guard in our
trench. I felt sleepy all of a sudden. I pinched myself and banged the
butt of my rifle on my toes, but everything seemed to swim round me.
Then, I don't know how, I went off to sleep. I was awakened by an
officer who shook me and swore at me. I was a bit dazed at first and
then suddenly it struck me what had happened. I never had the wind up so
much in all my life and I implored him not to report me. I don't
remember what happened next, I was in such a state. But he did report
me. I got a court martial and was sentenced to death for sleeping at my
post. They put me into the guard-room and I expected to be shot the next
day. It was a rotten feeling, I can tell you. I didn't think about
myself so much as about the wife and the little boy. I wouldn't go
through a night like that again for anything. But I went to sleep all
the same. I woke up the next morning when someone came into the
guard-room. I didn't know where I was for a second or two, and then in a
flash I realized I'd got to die. I don't mind admitting that I rested my
face against the wall and blubbered like a kid. Anyone would have done
the same, I don't care what you say. But the man who'd just come in
said:
"'Pull yourself together, old chap--you're all right for to-day,
anyhow.' I sat bolt upright and stared at him.
"'They're not going to shoot me?'
"'Not to-day,' he answered. 'Cheer up, all sorts of things might happen
before to-morrow.'
"The joy I felt was so big that I can't tell you how big it was. But I
soon felt miserable again. I couldn't understand what had happened. I
didn't know whether I was going to die or live. The uncertainty became
so terrible that I wished I'd been shot that morning--all would have
been over then. They brought me a meal, but I couldn't eat. I asked
them what was going to happen, but they didn't know. Another night came,
but I didn't get any sleep at all. I lay tossing about on my bed, now
hoping, now despairing. I thought of home mostly, but once or twice I
thought of the kids in the school where I taught--to die like this after
the send-off they gave me! Still, they wouldn't know, they'd think I was
killed in an accident, and that was some consolation to me. And the next
morning--I can't bear to think of it--nothing happened: that was just
the terrible thing about it--nothing happened. The day passed and then
another day. At times I longed to be taken out and shot, and once or
twice I felt I didn't care about anything. I didn't care whether I died
or not. A week passed and then another week. I don't know how I lived
through it. Then, one day, I was told to pack up and rejoin my unit. I
don't know exactly what I did, but I think I must have gone hysterical.
I remember some N.C.O. saying I ought to stay a bit because I wasn't
well enough to go up the line. He said he'd speak to the officer and get
me a few days' rest. But the thought of staying in that place made me
shiver. I said I was absolutely all right and went back to my unit.
"But I never found out what had happened--you see, I was only a common
soldier, so they didn't trouble to tell me--until I got a letter from
the Captain who was in charge of me when I was on that forty-three hour
job. He said he'd heard I was in for a court martial for sleeping when
on guard, so he wrote to our headquarters to tell them I'd worked
forty-three hours on end and wasn't fit to do a guard after a spell like
that. Then they must have made a lot of inquiries--I expect there's a
whole file of papers about me at headquarters. Anyhow, that's how I got
off--it's more than a month ago now. Well, yesterday morning I was put
on guard again. I tried to get out of it, but the officer said I was
swinging the lead and he wouldn't listen to any excuses. I told him I'd
had insomnia overnight and could hardly keep my eyes open. I said I'd do
anything rather than a guard--a fatigue job or a patrol, no matter how
dangerous, as long as it kept me on the move. The very thought of doing
a guard made me tremble all over. He swore at me and said he'd heard
these tales before and told me to shut up and get on with it. Well, I
had to stand in the trench in front of a steel plate with holes in it
through which I had to peer. It was just about daybreak. There was a
tree growing about fifty yards off. It had been knocked about pretty
badly, but there were plenty of leaves left on it. I stared at it,
trying hard to keep awake. But soon the trunk began to quiver, then it
wobbled with a wavy motion like a snake. Then the leafy part seemed to
shoot out in all directions until there was nothing but a green blur,
and I fell back against the trench wall and my rifle clattered down. I
pulled myself together, absolutely mad with fear, because I kept on
thinking of the last time I went on guard and the court martial and the
death sentence. I ground my teeth and stared at the tree again. But the
trunk began to wobble with snaky undulations and the green blur grew
bigger and bigger in sudden jerks, while I tried frantically and
desperately to keep it small. But it got the better of me and all at
once it obscured everything with a rush and I dropped forward and
knocked my forehead against the steel plate. I pulled myself together
and prayed for a Blighty or something that would get me out of this
misery. I looked at my watch--O God, only five minutes had gone,
one-twelfth of my time! I had a kind of panic then and I dashed my head
wildly against the trench wall and I bit my lips--I almost enjoyed the
pain. I looked through the hole. The tree was steady at first, but it
soon began to wobble again. Then I said to myself: 'I don't care, I'll
risk it, I won't look out, I'll just keep awake. I don't suppose any
Fritzes will come along--I'll just peep through the holes from time to
time so as to make sure.' I stamped on the duckboard and kicked the
sides of the trench and jerked my rifle up and down just to keep myself
awake. It was all right at first and I was beginning to think I would
get over it somehow, but my feet soon felt as heavy as lead and my head
began to swim until I fell forward once again. Jesus Christ--I didn't
know what to do. I thought of looking at my watch, but I hadn't the
courage at first. Besides, I felt the seconds would slip by while I was
hesitating and so I'd gain at least a little time. I counted the
seconds--one, two, three ... four ... five ... six ... my head dropped
forward and I nearly fell over. I looked at my watch--fourteen minutes
had gone, nearly a quarter of an hour! That wasn't so bad. I felt a
little relieved, but drowsiness came on again. I fought against it with
all my strength, but with an agony no words can describe I realized that
it was too strong for me. I pulled myself together with another
despairing effort. I noticed that my clothing felt cold and clammy--I
had been sweating all over...."
The theatre orderly burst into the waiting-room and shouted: "Are you
all deaf? I've been yelling out 'Next man' the last five minutes, but
you won't take no bloody notice. Send us two or three. The Colonel's in
the theatre--he'll kick up a hell of a row if you don't get a move on."
We were scared and sent three men across. When they had gone, we asked
to hear the end of the story.
"Well, I was absolutely desperate. I kept on looking at my watch, but
the minutes crawled along. I believe I must have started crying once,
but I don't know for certain, I was so sleepy that I don't remember half
of what I did and what I dreamt--I know I did dream, it's funny how you
can start dreaming even when you're standing up or moving about. I
couldn't keep my eyes open and I kept on dropping off and pulling myself
together. Suddenly, there was a terrific crash and a shell burst, it
must have been forty or fifty yards off. I thought, bitterly, that
there'd be no Blighty for me--no such luck. Then, high up in the air, I
saw a big shell-fragment sailing along in a wide curve, spinning and
turning. I looked at it--it was coming my way--Jesus Christ, perhaps I'd
have some luck after all--and in any case a few more seconds would have
passed by. It descended like a flash, I started back in spite of myself
and held one hand out in front of my face. I felt a kind of numb pain in
my right foot--nothing very bad. I looked down and, oh joy, I saw a big,
jagged bit of shell imbedded in my foot. I tried to move it, but the
pain was too great. Joy seemed to catch me by the throat, I began to
dance, but such a pang shot through my leg that I had to stop. I dropped
my rifle and hopped towards the dressing-station. I think it was the
happiest moment in my life. I lost the sensation of weariness for the
time being. But my foot began to hurt very badly and I got someone to
help me along. My wound was dressed. I got on to a stretcher and I
didn't know anything more until I was taken out of the motor ambulance
here at the C.C.S. Anyhow, I'm all right now and I'm going to try and
get across to Blighty and swing the lead as long as I can."
There was silence for a while. It had grown dark outside. But the call
from the theatre sounded again. Gradually the waiting-room emptied
itself until at last there were only two men left sitting in front of
the fire. They both seemed depressed and gloomy. Then one of them broke
the silence and said:
"We was goin' over when a 'eavy one burst. I didn't 'alf cop a packet in
me shoulder. It's the third time too, an' I've got the wind up about
goin' up the line agin when I'm out o' dock. The third time's yer last,
yer know. Fritz'll send one over with me number on it, that's a bloody
cert!"
"If yer number's up it's up," said the other, who had a big patch over
his right ear. "If yer've got ter die yer've got ter die, an' it's no
use worryin' about it."
Their turn came before long and I helped each one to get on to a table.
Then I went over to the Prep. to see if any more walking wounded had
arrived, but there were none at all.
I stood out in the open for a few minutes in order to breathe the fresh
air. There was a roar and rumble of distant drum-fire. The trees behind
the C.C.S. stood out blackly against the pallid flashes that lit up the
entire horizon.
The mortuary attendant came walking along the duckboards.
As he passed by me he growled:
"There's a 'ell of a stunt on--there'll be umpteen slabs for the
mortuary."