was jogging back to the trenches. This was about the sector next but
one north of us. It seems a Boche 'plane was being chased by a British
'plane, and making heavy weather of it. The Englishman had perforated
the other fellow's wings very badly, and partly knocked out his engine,
too. Anyhow, the Boche 'plane was underdog, and descending rapidly
midway between our front line and his own, right over the centre of No
Man's Land. Naturally the men in the trenches on both sides were wildly
excited about it. The story is they forgot everything else and were
simply lining the parapets, yelling encouragement to their respective
airmen as though they had front seats at Brooklands or the Naval and
Military Tournament. Seeing this, a pawky old Scot--it was a Highland
regiment on our side--slipped quietly down on the fire-step in the
midst of the excitement, and began making accurate but leisurely target
practice; carefully picking out Boches forty or fifty yards apart from
each other, so as not to give the show away too soon. He did pretty
well, but was bitterly disappointed when the Boche's Archibald forced
our 'plane to rise, just as the Boche airman managed to jigger his
machine somehow into his own support lines, and the spectators took
cover.
"Och, no a'thegither sae badly, surr," says Scotty to his Platoon
Commander. "Ah managed to get nine o' the feckless bodies; but Ah hopet
for the roond dizen!"
Rather nice, wasn't it?
Those little shows of ours in Cut-Throat Alley were practically all
bombing, you know; but we did rather well in the matter of prisoners
taken in the craters, and of Boches otherwise accounted for. Our own
casualties for the four days were two killed--both in my Platoon,
and both men with wives at home, I grieve to say; thundering good
chaps--and six wounded; two only slightly. We reckon to have got twenty
or thirty Boches wounded, and at least ten killed; and there is no sort
of reckoning needed about the eleven prisoners we certainly did take in
the craters and sent blindfolded down to Headquarters. I believe this
beats the record of the Company we relieved, which, of course, knew the
place better; and our C.O. is pleased with us. I have to go now and
tell off a small carrying party. Though feeling a bit shaky yesterday,
I'm as right as right can be again now, so mind, you have no earthly
reason to worry about your
"_Temporary Gentleman_."
P.S.--"The Peacemaker" has just got word from Battalion Headquarters
itself that it's perfectly correct about the new front-line trench to
be cut; and it is believed "A" Company is to have something to do with
it. So that's real news; and we feel sure it means a push to come.
Everybody very cock-a-hoop.
THE NEW FRONT LINE
A turn out, a turn in, and now we're out again, and barring three Field
Service post cards, I believe all that time has gone without my writing
to you. You must try to forgive me. I can assure you things have been
happening. There hasn't been much idle time. When I last wrote we
had only begun to talk about the new front trench, hadn't we? Things
certainly have hummed since then.
The first move was a tour of inspection and survey of the proposed
new line, by the O.C. of our Field Coy. of R.E., with some other
officers. Somewhat to my surprise--I suppose he really ought not to
expose himself to that extent--our C.O. accompanied this party. The
next night, when the pegs were driven in, definitely marking the whole
new line, the O.C.R.E. allowed me to go with him. The new line, as we
marked it out, was 760 yards long; from down near The Gut right across
to what used to be our centre, cutting off the whole big re-entrant and
equalising the whole sector's distance from the Boche.
The next day our C.O. sent for O.C. Companies, and "the Peacemaker"
took me along when he went, as I'd been over the ground, and he guessed
the pow-wow would be about the new trench. The C.O. told us all about
it, and what the ideas of the authorities were. He said it was the sort
of job which might possibly prove costly in lives. But it had got to
be done, and he was of opinion that if everyone concerned made up his
mind never for a moment to relax the care and watchfulness he would
use in the first half-hour, the job might be done with comparatively
few casualties. He talked longer than he generally does, and I think
he felt what he said a good deal. He said he never expected to have
one moment's anxiety as to the bearing of any officer, N.C.O., or man
of the Battalion in the face of danger. He knew very well we were
all right on that score. But what he did want to impress upon us, as
officers, was that our duty went a good deal beyond that.
"I know very well that none of you would ever show fear," he said;
"and I think you are satisfied that your N.C.O.'s and men will never
fail you in that respect. But, remember, your greatest asset is the
confidence the men have in you. Never do anything to endanger that. If
you use all the care and judgment you can, and if each one of your men
understands exactly what the job before him is, and your influence is
such as to prevent anyone from losing his head, no matter what happens,
then the casualty list will be low. Every casualty you prevent on a job
like this is as good as an enemy casualty gained. When we have to lose
our men, let us lose them fighting, as they themselves would choose to
go down if go down they must. But in this job of the new trench, we pit
our wits and our coolness and discipline and efficiency against those
of the Boche; and it's your job to see to it that the work is carried
through at the minimum cost in man-power."
He said other things, of course, but that was the gist of it, and I
think we were all impressed. He's a martinet all right, is our C.O.;
and, as you know, his tongue is a two-edged sword. He's as stern a man
as I ever knew; but, by Gad! he's just, and, above and before all else,
he is so emphatically a man.
Well, the upshot of our plans was that "A" Company was to provide the
covering party and be responsible for the tactical aspect of the show,
and "C" Company--all miners and farm workers--with one Platoon of "D,"
was to do the digging, for a start, anyhow. The R.E. were to run the
wire entanglement right along the front of the new line, and this was
to be the first operation. It was obvious that as much as possible must
be done during the first night, since, once he had seen the job, as he
would directly daylight came, the Boche might be relied on to make that
line tolerably uncomfortable for anyone working near it without cover.
While we were out of trenches that week our fellows were pretty busy
during the first half of each night carrying material up to the front
line. There was a good number of miles of barbed wire to go up, with
hundreds of iron screw standards for the wire, and hundreds more of
stakes; a lot of material altogether, and I am bound to say I think the
R.E. arranged it very well. They had all their material so put together
and stowed up at the front as to make for the maximum of convenience
and the minimum of delay when they came to handle it in the open and
under fire--as men always must be when doing anything in No Man's Land.
Our men were bursting with swank over the Company's being chosen to
act as covering party; delighted to think that what they regarded as
the combatant side of the show was theirs. Indeed, I rather think
a lot of 'em made up their minds that they were going to utilise
the opportunity of having a couple of hundred men out close to the
Boche trenches for a real strafe of the men in those trenches. "The
Peacemaker" had to get 'em together and talk very seriously and
straight about what our responsibilities were in this job. This was
necessary to make the beggars realise that ours was a defensive and not
an offensive stunt; in which success or failure depended mainly upon
our ability to be perfectly silent.
"All the scrapping will come later," said "the Peacemaker." "We
mustn't invite one single bullet while we've a couple of hundred men
behind us using picks and shovels, and working against time to get
cover. If Boches come along our line, it will be our job to strafe 'em
with our naked fingers if we possibly can. The last thing we'll do will
be to fire a shot. And the one thing that must not happen, not in any
case at all--no, not if the whole Prussian Guard turns out--is for a
single Boche in any circumstances whatever to get through our line."
And that was the basis on which we tackled the job. Of course, the
O.C. knew better than to try to handle his Company as a Company on
the night. Orders could only be given in whispers, you understand. As
a matter of fact, in all such work, as in night attacks, one must be
able to rely, not alone on Platoon Sergeants and senior N.C.O.'s, but
on Corporals and Section Commanders. And if they have not been trained
so that you can rely on their carrying out instructions exactly, one's
chances of success are pretty small.
It was dark soon after five, and by a quarter to six we were moving
out into the open. One and two Platoons went out down Stinking Sap,
myself in command, and three and four Platoons went out from just a
little way above Petticoat Lane. I led my lot and "the Peacemaker" led
the other half-Company, the idea being that when he and I met we should
know that we were in our right position, and could stay there. We moved
with about three paces' interval between men, and kept three or four
connecting files out on our inside flank and a couple on the outer
flank; the business of the inside men being to steer us at an average
distance of forty paces to the front of the foremost line of pegs,
which was the line to be followed by the barbed-wire entanglements; the
line of the new trench itself being well inside that again.
This meant that one flank of our line, just above Petticoat Lane, would
rest within 150 yards of the Boche front trench, and the other flank
about 225 yards. We had drilled the whole business very carefully into
the men themselves, as well as the Section Commanders and Sergeants. We
got out on our line without a sound; and then "the Peacemaker" made his
way back to Stinking Sap to report to Captain ----, of the R.E., that
we had taken on the duty of protection and were all ready for his men
to go ahead. He marched his carriers out then, stringing them out along
the whole line, and the whole of his Company set to work putting up the
screen of wire entanglements behind our line.
This whole business has given me a lot of respect for the R.E.;
a respect which, I think, is pretty generally felt throughout the
Service. The way they planned and carried out that wiring job was fine.
No talk and no finicking once they were in the open; every last peg and
length of binding wire in its right place; sand-bags at hand to fold
over anything that needed hammering; every man told off in advance,
not just to make himself as generally useful as he could, but quite
definitely to screw in standards, or drive in stakes, or fix pegs, or
carry along the rolls of wire, or strain the stays, or lace in the
loose stuff, as the case might be. Every man knew precisely what his
particular part was, and went straight at it without a word to or from
anyone.
Meanwhile, I was working carefully along from end to end of our line,
checking up the intervals, altering a man's position where necessary,
and making sure that all our men were properly in touch and keeping
their right line, watching out well and making no sound. Nobody in our
lot moved, except the officers. All the others lay perfectly still. We
kept moving up and down in front the whole time, except when flares
were up or machine-gun fire swept across our way, and then, of course,
we dropped as flat as we could.
But no machine-gun spoke on that sector, not once while the wire was
going up. Before half-past seven "the Peacemaker" came along to me with
orders to lead my men off to Stinking Sap. The wiring was finished.
There had been a hundred and fifty men at it, and at that moment the
last of 'em was entering Stinking Sap--casualties, nil.
"The Peacemaker" marched his half-Company round the end of the wire
above Petticoat Lane, and I took mine round the end in front of
Stinking Sap-head. Then we wheeled round to the rear of the new wire
entanglement and marched out again, immediately in rear of it, till
"the Peacemaker" and I met, as we had previously met in front. So we
took up our second and final position and got down to it exactly as we
had done in the first position.
When the O.C. reported that we were in position, "C" Company marched
out, half from each end of the line, under their own officers, but with
the O.C.R.E. in command, and his officers helping. They were at three
yards' interval. There was a peg for every man, and the first operation
was for each man to dig a hole in which he could take cover. It had all
been thought out beforehand, and every man knew just what to do. Their
instructions were to dig as hard as ever they knew how, but silently,
till they got cover. All the sections were working against each other,
and the O.C. Company was giving prizes for the first, second, and third
sections, in order of priority, to get underground.
We couldn't see them, of course, and had all the occupation we cared
for, thank you, in looking after our line. I was glad to find, too,
that we could only hear them when we listened. They were wonderfully
quiet. It's a wet clayey soil, and they had been carefully drilled
never to let one tool touch another. I am told they went at it like
tigers, and that the earth fairly flew from their shovels. In our line
there wasn't a sound, and every man's eyes were glued on his front.
The evening had been amazingly quiet, nothing but desultory rifle fire,
and unusually little of that. At a quarter to nine a Boche machine-gun
dead opposite the centre of my half-Company began to traverse our
line--his real objective, of course, being, not our line, but the line
of trench, the old fire trench, in our rear. I know now that at that
moment the slowest of "C's" diggers was underground. That burst of fire
did not get a single man; not a scratch.
A fine rain, very chilling, began to fall, and got less fine as time
went on. The wind rose a bit, too, and drove the rain in gusts in our
faces. By good luck it was coming from the Boche trenches. At half-past
ten they sent over ten or twelve whizz-bangs, all of which landed in
rear of our old front line, except two that hit its parapet. Rifle fire
was a little less desultory now, but nothing to write home about. They
gave us an occasional belt or two from their machine-guns, but our
men were lying flat, and the diggers were below ground, so there was
nothing to worry about in that.
By half-past eleven I confess I was feeling deuced tired. One had been
creeping up and down the line for over five hours, you know; but it
wasn't that. One spends vitality; it somehow oozes out of you on such
a job. I never wanted anything in my life so much as I wanted to get
my half-Company through that job without casualties. And there was one
thing I wanted even more than that--to make absolutely certain that no
prowling Boche patrol got through my bit of the line.
Down on our flank at The Gut there were half a dozen little bombing
shows between six and midnight, and one bigger scrap, when the Hun
exploded a mine and made a good try to occupy its crater, but, as we
learned next day, was hammered out of it after some pretty savage
hand-to-hand work. Farther away on the other flank the Boche artillery
was unusually busy, and, at intervals, sent over bursts of heavy stuff,
the opening salvoes of which rather jangled one's nerves. You see, "A"
Company could have been extinguished in a very few minutes had Boche
known enough to go about it in the right way.
If only one enterprising Boche, working on his own--a sniper,
anybody,--without getting through our line just gets near enough to
make out that it is a line, and then gets back to his own trenches,
our little game will be up, I thought. It wasn't restful. The men were
getting pretty stiff, as you may guess, lying still in the wet hour
after hour.
At half-past two "the Peacemaker" came along and whispered to me to
take my men in: "Finished for to-night."
I wasn't sorry. I put my senior Sergeant on to lead, and myself brought
up the rear. I was, of course, the last to get into Stinking Sap, and
my Platoon Sergeant was waiting for me there to tell me that not one of
our men had a scratch, nor yet a single man of "C" Company. One man of
No. 3 Platoon, in "the Peacemaker's" half-Company, had a bullet through
his shoulder; a Blighty, and no more. And that was our record.
But, look here, I absolutely must stop and censor some of the
Platoon's letters before turning in. I'll write again as soon as ever I
can and tell you the rest of it. But--a trench nearly 800 yards long,
wire entanglements in front--casualties, one man wounded! Nobody felt
much happier about it than your
"_Temporary Gentleman_."
A GREAT NIGHT'S WORK
In my last letter I think I told you all about our first night's work
on the new trench; how it was cut, and the wire entanglements run out,
between six in the evening and half-past two in the morning; and the
casualty list just one man wounded! It may not seem much to you, but to
us it seemed almost miraculous. I think the powers that be would have
been quite pleased with us if we had managed it with, say, thirty or
forty casualties.
Two and a half hours or so later, round about five o'clock, although
you would have thought we should all be pretty tired, as no doubt we
were (though not so tired, I fancy, as we mostly felt at midnight),
everyone was interested in turning out for the morning Stand-to. We
were all anxious to watch Mr. Boche's first glimpse of our night's
work; not that we could see the expression on the faces of the Germans
or hear their comments; but we could imagine a good deal of it, and
wanted to see just what happened, anyhow.
A few sentry groups had been posted along the new line when we came
in from it at half-past two; but these were withdrawn at the first
glimmerings of coming dawn, since we could watch the front as closely
from the original fire-trench, and it was possible, of course, that
Fritz might just plaster the new line with shrap. and whizzes and so on
as soon as he clapped eyes on it.
I was watching before the first greying of the dawn, from a sniper's
post pretty close to the Boche line down near the beginning of
Petticoat Lane. The first thing I made out in the Boche line, when the
light was still only very faint, was the head of a sentry raised well
above the parapet level, as he stared out at the nearest bit of our new
wire. I turned half round and grabbed a rifle from a man in the trench,
but the Boche had disappeared when I looked round again. Then the
idea struck me, "Perhaps he'll bring an officer to look; a sergeant,
anyhow." So I drew a very careful bead on that spot, and got my rifle
comfortably settled on a mud rest.
Sure enough, in a couple of minutes that sentry's head bobbed up again
in the same spot. I held my fire, waiting, on the officer theory. And,
next moment, another head rose beside the sentry's, and came up a good
deal less cautiously. I won't swear to its being an officer because
I couldn't see well enough for that. But I think it very likely was.
Anyhow, I had him most perfectly covered when I fired, and they both
disappeared the instant I had fired, and never showed up again, so I am
certain I got the second one. He was visible down to about his third
tunic button, you see, and with a resting rifle, I don't think I could
miss at that range. It wasn't more than 120, if that; sights at zero,
of course.
It really was rather thrilling, you know, that Stand-to. We had all
our machine-guns ready, and traversed Fritz's parapet very thoroughly.
Upon my word, in the fluster of that first daylight minute or two, with
the new wire under his nose, I believe Fritz thought we were going to
make a dawn attack. I never saw so many Boches expose themselves. As a
rule, they are a good deal better than we are in the matter of keeping
out of sight; they take far fewer chances. But they didn't seem able
to help looking this time, and our sniper did pretty well. So did the
machine-guns, I think; I don't see how they could have helped it.
Then Boche got his machine-guns to work, and poured thousands of
rounds all along our front--a regular machine-gun bombardment, for
which he got precisely nothing at all, none of our people being
exposed. But can't you imagine the excitement in the Boche line? The
evening before they had seen our line exactly as usual. In the night
they had apparently heard and suspected nothing. And now, with the
first morning light, they saw a line of brand-new wire entanglement and
a new trench line, that must have looked most amazingly close to them,
and actually was in parts an advance of 400 yards from the old line.
And then the length of it, you know--just on 800 yards. It certainly
must have startled 'em.
We quite thought they'd start lambasting Old Harry out of the new
line at any moment; but they didn't. I guess they had sense enough to
conclude that we had nobody out there. But during the forenoon Master
Boche registered on the new line at several points; about twenty rounds
of whizzes and H. E., just to encourage us with regard to our work for
that night, I suppose. And beyond that he didn't go--dignified silence,
you know. But I bet he was pretty mad to think of all he'd missed
during the night. In the afternoon Fritz sent a couple of 'planes up,
I dare say with cameras, to get a record of the new line. But our
Archibalds in the rear made it so hot for them I don't think they can
have got any snap-shots.
When "A" Company filed out at six o'clock that night to take up
protective duty along the new wire, as before, while the new trench was
proceeded with, I think we might have been excused for feeling a bit
creepy. I can't say how the men felt, but I confess I had made up my
mind that my own chances of getting back were tolerably thin. One must
move about a good bit to do one's job properly, and keep touch with a
hundred men strung out over 300 yards of ground in pitch darkness. As a
matter of fact, it was barely dark when we filed out. We daren't leave
it a minute later, in case a strong Boche patrol should have worked
inside our line, and been waiting for the working party when it came
out with bombs. We simply had to be beforehand with 'em; and there was
no getting away from the fact that the Boche had had all day in which
to study this new line of ours and make his plans. I say I don't know
how our men were feeling. I do know they were cracking little jokes
themselves about it before we left the sap.
"This way for motor ambulances!" "Change here for Blighty and the Rest
Cure!" "Where'll you have yours, matey?" I heard plenty of remarks like
that as I worked my way down Stinking Sap to get to the head of my lot
before we moved out.
"You'll be all right," said one of mine to a "C" Company man as he
entered the sap. "Mister blooming Fritz can't get at you with 'A'
Company out in front, you take it from me. We'll twist his tail
properly if he does come." The "C" men were for digging again, you know.
It's impossible for an officer to feel shaky, however slight his
experience, when he has men like ours to work with.
It wasn't exactly a proper trench that "C" Company went to work in
that night. There were bits that were almost finished; and then, again,
there were other lengths where it was only a chain of holes, linked
together by bits a yard or two long, in which the surface had been
shifted, just to mark out the trace of the new line. But every man was
able to get into cover right away, even in the worst bits, because of
these holes, and then, being in a hole, his job was to cut his way
along into the next hole just as quick as his strength would allow
him. The trench was cut narrow, you know; not a quarter the width of
the old trenches we have occupied. This doesn't make for comfort in
getting to and fro; but it does give far safer cover from every kind of
projectile, and especially from the deadly shrap. and the slippy whizz.
While "C" slogged away at making connection right through, we lay out
by the wire, as we had done the night before, and I crept up and down
our line. There was no rain, and the night was so quiet that we could
hear every little move among the diggers much more plainly than on
the night before. I wondered if the Boches could hear it. They sent
us little bursts of machine-gun fire now and again, such as they send
throughout every night; and there was the normal amount of rifle fire
and the normal number of flares and different kinds of lights going up
from the enemy lines. Our men all lay as still as mutton, and when the
lights rose near our way, or the M.G. fire came, I naturally kept very
still.
Once I distinctly made out a figure moving very slowly and cautiously
outside the wire. I should like to have fired, and, better still, to
have been able to get quickly and silently through the wire and on to
that moving figure, getting to grips, as we did with that German sniper
not long since, without a sound. But there was no opening in the wire
near; and with regard to firing, my orders were not to draw fire by
expending a single round unnecessarily, and to fire only in defence.
What I did was to get the O.C.'s permission shortly afterwards to
take three men and patrol beyond the front of the wire. But we found
nothing. No doubt I had seen one member of a Boche observation patrol
on the prowl to find out what we were doing; and if only I could have
got him it would have been excellent. From that time on we kept a
continuous patrol going in front of the wire.