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"
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 gambling
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 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 percentage 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.
This 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 afternoon 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. Each 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. He raps on the table and cries out, "Eyes down, my lucky
lads."
All noise ceases and everyone 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 Semitic trace in
his veins.
Then another collection is made, a school formed, and they carry on
with the game.
The caller-out has many nicknames for the numbers such as "Kelly's
Eye" for one, "Leg's Eleven" for eleven, "Clickety-click" for
sixty-six, or "Top of the house" meaning ninety.
The game is honest and quite enjoyable. Sometimes 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. Using a casino deck, the
dealer deals each player three cards. It is similar to our poker,
except 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 Tommies 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 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 Light Brigade at Balaclava, to say nothing
of Gallipoli, Neuve Chapelle, and Loos. 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 totaled 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.
{Photo: Right Arm Smashed by Shell (in Plaster Cast); has been Told it
will Have to be Amputated.}
But from my observation I find that a large percentage of the servants
do go over the top, but behind the lines, 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 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
lance-corporal to account. The Corporal answered, "Blime me, sir, the
straw was issued, but there wasn't enough left over from the servants'
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 listen 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 seem 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 his 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 soldier, perhaps the one who in
civil life delivered the coal at her back door. Today 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
LEADS 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 characteristics of the Irish,
Scotch, and English soldiers. The Irish and Scotch are very impetuous,
especially when it comes to bayonet fighting, while the Englishman,
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 will 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
bayonet 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 "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 little 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 enemy'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 consisted of Tommy telling 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 relieved by Prussians or Bavarians, they
would yell this information across No Man's Land 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
Blitzen's" 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,
hoping that one of his strays will get some poor unsuspecting 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 midway between the hostile lines. At night
when it was his turn, Tommy would crawl to this stake and attach some
London 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. Later 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 Berlin,
telling who was winning the war, some tinned sausages, cigars, and
occasionally a little beer, but a funny thing, Tommy never returned
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.
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 this war. From
that time on diplomatic relations were severed.
Returning to Tommy, I think his spirit is best shown in the questions
he asks. It is never "who is going to win" but always "how long will
it take?"