FUN AND FURY
We lay here for awhile, every now and then some poor boy going over,
although we were fairly safe from shrapnel if we closely hugged our
holes. But we had no protection whatever from their high explosive
shells; these hit the ground, tearing huge holes, and woe to those
who were near. The shell fire was terrific, but our own guns were
roaring back magnificently. To show how men will rise to the height
of dare-devil coolness, I must tell of the men who were supplying our
guns with ammunition. Six horses on a limber, with three drivers,
and two carriers on the limbers, would trot steadily to the
bomb-proof shelter where the ammunition was kept, load up, and still
at the steady trot return to the guns. All the time heavy shrapnel
was bursting overhead, and the awful crack of this shell is enough to
break the strongest nerve. A huge shell burst right overhead, a few
yards in front of us, killing some of the gun crew, but without a
falter, except to remove their dead comrades, the rest went on
steadily working their guns.
Again we moved forward, and so furious had become the artillery duel,
that we could only advance in small parties. A chum of ours died
here. We were lying down for a time behind a hedge and one of the
heavy shrapnel shells burst a little to the front of us, the forward
sweep of the shrapnel landing the bullets right among us. When a
shrapnel shell bursts the bullets sweep forward and obliquely to the
ground, having a forward range of three hundred yards and a lateral
zone of fifty yards. The three hundred odd bullets of the German
shell fly like a fan. It will be seen that a shell may burst right
over your head without injuring anyone, but the men three hundred
yards or so to your rear are hit.
The report of the explosion stunned us for a few seconds, and this
chum of ours, as soon as we began to feel that we were still alive,
got to his feet and said, "Boys, I'm hit." "Where?" we asked.
"Through the head, I think," said poor Dick, and then dropped dead.
On examining his body we found that a ball had passed right through
his heart.
It was now that the British troops again began to deploy over the
plains toward the trenches. Line after line, for hour after hour,
they pressed steadily on. It was a sight, I can tell you, a lesson
in steadiness and coolness. Again we dug in and were ordered to stay
and be ready to support the attack the British were making. However,
we were not needed and we stayed in our self-made holes for four days
under that hail of shells. The casualties were very heavy and our
own little band was soon minus some well-known faces.
One amusing, yet, in a way, tragic thing happened here. This plain
of which I am speaking was not unlike the prairie. All hedges were
gone except a few here and there. It was mostly grass land and
apparently there had been a crop taken off there the autumn before.
Scattered over this place were farmhouses, which of course were in
ruins, but a bunch of cows had by some means managed to keep alive
here, and this same herd were quietly grazing away, while men all
around them were burrowing in the ground for their lives. It was
most amusing to see a cow calmly lying down and chewing away. Poor
creatures, they did not last long. How they managed to live any time
was marvelous, considering what was flying around them.
Next night, to our great joy, a tea ration was brought up, but our
hopes were dashed to the ground by the O.C's. forbidding any fires to
be lighted. Of course, there were blazing stacks and buildings
everywhere, but not in our vicinity. Water was plentiful enough, but
we were obliged to go some distance for drinkable water. Here we
were, with tea, sugar and water, yet unable to make a dixie of tea,
and it must be remembered that we had had neither hot food nor a hot
drink for twelve days.
Fritz, however, very obligingly solved our difficulty. We were lying
close to a thatched barn, which, by another of those miraculous,
unexplainable things, had not yet been shelled. However, Fritzie
must have known our trouble, for bang! bang! and a couple of "hissing
Jennies" hit the barn plump, and in an instant that barn was ablaze.
It soon burned to the ground and, utterly reckless of shell fire or
machine guns, we crowded round the hot embers and brewed our tea.
The officers raged at us for a bunch of suicidal fools, as exposing
ourselves with a light background was liable to draw half of the
Boche artillery on us. The Old Man himself saw us crowding round the
embers--a splendid mark on the top of that hill. Over he rushed, his
face fairly blazing with rage. "Get into your holes, you suicidal
fools," he roared. But, colonel as he was, some one told him where
he might go. We all feared for the result of this remark, as it was
no less than deliberate insubordination punishable with a very heavy
penalty. If it had been a German private soldier who had answered
his commanding officer in such fashion, he would not have had time to
say his prayers.
But I suppose the Colonel had a heart somewhere under his belt and he
passed it up. It probably brought home to him what his men had been
through. So we got our tea, "and of all the drinks I've drunk" my
gratitude to Fritz far exceeded Kipling's Tommy to Gunga Din.