A DAY IN THE "BULL RING"
Just before going into the trenches the British, French, and American
troops take a final course for a few weeks in a training school, where
the expert drill masters put them through a rigorous discipline, and
the finishing touches are given to each regiment. At the moment of
writing our American boys are going through such a course, "somewhere
in France." The men commonly call this training school, or specially
prepared final drill ground, the "Bull Ring." It is a thrilling
spectacle to see many thousands of men across a vast plain going
through the various maneuvers of actual warfare as it is practiced
today at the front. Perhaps a brief description of such a drill ground
may be of interest to those who are following the fortunes of our
soldiers.
At six the bugle sounds and the whole camp is astir. Outside there is
the clatter of feet as the men fall in after a hasty breakfast. The
shrapnel-proof steel helmets are donned, the heavy seventy-pound kits
and rifles are swung to the broad backs, the band strikes up "Pack Up
Your Troubles," and our battalion is on the march for the "Bull Ring."
First comes the ceremonial parade. A whole brigade swings into line
and must prove that it can move as one man, as a perfect machine,
without flaw or friction. One master mind directs every motion, and at
the word of command thousands of feet are moving in exact time,
wheeling, marching, maneuvering with a precision that proves the long
months of patient practice. This finish of discipline and perfection
of unity have their part to play in the winning of the battle raging at
this moment up the line.
Next the men must pass through the deadly gas chambers, to be ready to
meet the attack of the enemy fully prepared. More fatal than the
prussic acid which the Prussian has occasionally employed, is the
deadly mixture of chlorine and phosgene, which has been most commonly
used. In a gentle favoring wind it is put over invisible in the
darkness, and if it catches the foe unprepared, can kill from ten to
fifteen miles behind the lines. The mixture is squirted as a liquid
from metal generators. It quickly forms a dense greenish yellow cloud
of poison vapor, which floats away in the darkness. Its success must
depend on the element of surprise, taking the enemy unprepared and
choking him, awake or asleep, in the first few moments before the
horns, gongs, and whistles send the alarm for miles behind the trenches.
Recently a new so-called "mustard gas" has been used by the enemy with
deadly effect, owing to the fact that it is both invisible and
odorless. It is sent over in exploding shells, and sinks in a heavy
invisible vapor about the sleeping men, creeping into their dugouts and
trenches or enveloping them around the guns or in the shell holes. The
effects do not manifest themselves for several hours. With stinging
pain the man's eyes begin to close, and for a time he may go almost
blind. He is then taken violently sick. The surface of the lungs and
the entire body, especially where it is moist with perspiration, is
burned. The skin may blister and come off. Many cases have proved
fatal and many more suffer cruelly for weeks in hospital. With the men
we attended a lecture on the nature of the various gases used by the
enemy and the proper methods of meeting them. The lecture throughout
was unconsciously couched almost in theological language. The
instructor first disposed of what he called superstitious "heresies"
concerning the gas, in order to prevent the men from having panic and
"getting the wind up." There is a foolish rumor which says, "One
breath and you are ruptured for life, or you fall dead the next
morning," etc., etc., but he warns the men of its deadly nature and
tells them they are to be saved from its fatal effects by knowing the
truth.
The instructor explains that if they take four deep breaths it will
prove fatal: "One breath and you catch the first spasm, two and you are
mad, three and you are unconscious, four and you are dead. If you keep
your presence of mind and hold your breath you will have six seconds to
get on your gas helmet or respirator." The attack, remember, is a
surprise in the dark; brain-splitting gas shells are dropping on all
sides, and it is hard to keep cool and hold one's breath in the moment
of sudden surprise and panic. We are told that there are fifteen
mistakes which are easily possible in getting on this complicated
helmet, or if there is one big blunder in the sudden surprise the man
is done for.
Before going through the death chamber, helmets are inspected, to see
that they are sound and unpunctured, and the men are drilled in the
open to practice putting them on quickly. Suddenly the warning whistle
of an imaginary gas attack sounds. One backward fling of the head and
the steel helmet falls off, for there is no time to lift it off. A
dive into the bag carried on the chest and the respirator is grasped
and with one skilful swoop it is drawn over the face. Your nose is
pinched shut by a clamp, your teeth grip the rubber mouthpiece, and,
like a diver, you must now get your one safe stream of pure air through
the respirator. You draw in the air from a tube which rises from a tin
of chemical on your chest. Then you can breathe in the dense, deadly,
greenish chlorine vapor, for as it passes through the respirator filled
with chemicals, it is absorbed, neutralized, oxidized, and purified
into a stream of pure air. All about you may be choking fumes of death
which would kill you in four seconds, yet you will be completely
immune, breathing a purified atmosphere.
The soldiers are now marched up to this chamber of horrors to walk
through the poison gas. Many have "the wind up" (i. e., they are
afraid inside, but are ashamed to show it). Reliance on the guide, the
expert who has been through it all, and the sense of companionship, the
stronger ones unconsciously strengthening the weak, have a steadying
effect upon all the men. The soldiers have had four hours' drill to
prepare them, but the "padre" and I, who are now permitted to go
through, have had but four minutes. I am trying to remember a number
of things all at once. Above all I must keep cool and assure myself
that there is no danger if only I trust and obey what the expert has
said. I fling on the helmet and we start into the death chamber, but
suddenly a string is loose--will the respirator work? There seems to
be something the matter with my nosepiece which should be clamped shut.
I would like to ask the instructor just one question to make sure, but
I can no more talk than a diver beneath the sea. It is too late, we
are moving, I can only hope and trust the helmet will hold. We have
left the sunlight and are in a long dark covered chamber, like a
trench, groping forward, and looking at a distant point of light
through the dim goggles. We are alone in these deadly fumes, the
instructor is not here, there is a tense silence, and all about us is
the poison of death. Oh, what was that fourth point that I was to
remember? Why has the guide turned back? I thought we were to go out
at the further end, where last week the poor fellow fell who lifted his
helmet a moment too soon after he got out and caught one whiff which
sent him to the hospital, but instead we seem to be turning around and
going back. But there is no time for explanations or questions now; we
just plod on through the darkness and soon we are out in the sunlight
again--safe!--in God's pure air. Oh, why did man ever want to pollute
it and poison his brother with these deadly fumes of hell!
As a special favor, the instructor allows us, without a mask, to take
one swift look into the fumes as we hold our breath. That yellow green
chlorine will corrode the lungs and fill them with pus and blood. The
phosgene is much more deadly and will strike the man down with sudden
failure of the heart.
We were also sent through a chamber of the invisible "tear gas,"
without a mask. The object of this is to take away the fear of the gas
from the men. This particular gas has no effect upon the lungs, but
sends a stinging pain through the eyes, so that one weeps blindly for
some minutes and could not possibly see to shoot or to defend himself.
We are now ready to return to another lecture with more understanding.
No wonder these tired boys under the heavy, hot steel helmets, which
absorb the heat of the scorching sun, are listening with all their
ears, yet one or two fall asleep for very weariness and may again be
caught napping by the enemy's poison gas up the line. The instructor
is in dead earnest, for the life of every man during the coming
conflict may depend upon his message. His words are still in my ears,
for they were strangely like a sermon:
"Men, I am going to tell you the truth about this deadly gas and you
must believe it, for your life will depend upon it. It can kill and no
doubt about it. But for every poison of the enemy there's an antidote
and we have found it. Your helmet is perfect and you simply must
believe in it, you must trust to it. We have made full provision for
your safety. If you go under it will be your own fault from one of
four causes--unbelief, disobedience, carelessness, or fear. If you
carelessly go without your helmet it means death. During an attack,
after putting on the respirator, just stand and wait. There is nothing
you can do for yourself except to keep your helmet on. Your skill,
your strength are nothing. Now if you are caught in an attack unawares
remember if you're still alive at all, there's hope. Don't lose
courage. If your confidence goes, you lose ninety per cent of your
defense, for the sole hope of the enemy in gas is surprise and panic.
If you are gassed, don't move. Keep still, keep warm, don't worry, and
wait. To move or try to save yourself will be fatal.
"The enemy will put over three or four waves with a break between. The
gas may come for some hours. To remove your helmet before the attack
is over will be fatal. Within a quarter of an hour after the gas has
ceased, the charge of the enemy will come and you must never let him
get past your barbed wired entanglements. After exposure to gas, all
food, water, and wells are poisonous. The heavy gas must be expelled
from the trenches by fans before the charge comes. Only remember, you
must believe what I say, keep your helmet on in time of danger and you
are perfectly safe."
There is a vast difference between the warning and the preparatory
exposure to the gas by your guide and the deadly surprise of the enemy.
The former is a trial to prepare you, the latter is an effort to
destroy you. The whole experience was so obviously parallel to the
deadly moral dangers which surround the soldier in war time that it
needs no comment. The one and only safety in the time of temptation is
to put on the whole armor of God, especially the "helmet of salvation,"
then to trust and obey and stand fast.
The writer has just come from a ward in the hospital filled with
patients suffering from the new gas which the enemy has lately put
over. It is, as we have said, invisible and odorless, so the men
receive no warning, and consequently do not put on their masks. They
do not know that they are being gassed until hours afterwards, when
they find they are burned from head to foot. Here are twenty men lying
in this tent, suffering from this new torture. This first boy, with a
wan smile that goes right to your heart, can only whisper from his
burnt-out lungs and cannot tell us his story. The next man was taken
with vomiting five hours after the gas shells exploded. Seven of his
fourteen companions sleeping in the dugout were killed outright, the
others were gassed. He does not know where they are. He lay
unconscious for several days, and now his eyes and skin are burned as
though he had passed through a fire. The next boy is badly burned in
his eyes and chest. Half the men of his battery were killed by gas
while asleep at night. On the next cot is a boy who has been suffering
for seventeen days; the burns on his body have been improving, his
lungs also are better, but he is still blind and fears he may lose his
sight. He asks me to write a letter for him to his mother. "Only," he
says, "don't tell her about my eyes." Together we make up a cheerful
letter, and the boy rests back on his cot to pray for his returning
eyesight. The next two beds are empty. Both the men died in the
night, falling an easy prey to pneumonia in their weakened condition.
The next boy is from the infantry. Out of his squad nine were killed
by the explosion of the shell, eight wounded, and the rest badly
burned. The neck, chest, arms, and legs of this boy are burned and
blistered. The deadly gas fumes have burned right through his clothing.
Such is the effect of this new and latest triumph of modern science,
which will shatter the hopes and happiness of thousands of homes.
After passing through the gas chambers, we visited the bombing section
of the training school. Here each man has to throw one or more live
bombs and receive his final coaching. The bomb is about the size of a
lemon, and is made to break into small fragments. It contains enough
of the high explosive to kill a whole group of men. The boy advances
and grasps the bomb; he draws out the pin and holds down the lever.
Once this is released, it explodes in just five seconds. The man
heaves his bomb over a parapet at a dummy dressed in German uniform.
The whistle blows and we all duck. There is a terrific explosion like
a small cannon and you hear the pieces whizzing through the air. Every
man is holding in his hand and wielding a terrible power. Wrongly
used, it is death to himself and his comrades. The other day a boy's
hand was moist with perspiration and the bomb slipped, killing the
group. Another prematurely exploded as it was being thrown, carrying
away the man's own hand and killing the instructor. So it is a
dangerous business. During the morning there were only four "duds," or
bombs that would not go off.
After the bombing section, we pass with the men to the trenches.
Bayonets are drawn and rifles loaded. After firing several rounds,
comes the command, "Advance." At a bound they are "over the top" and
off, heads down; they run very slowly and keep together. A breathless
man who outruns his comrades is useless and is soon killed by the
enemy. The drill sergeant shouts to the men "Keep together, keep
together, men, one man can't take a trench," and my friend the "padre"
notes his words to tell to his congregation when he goes home, where
the minister can't do all the work. When they are near the enemy's
trench, the final word "Charge" is shouted, the whole line leaps
forward with a wild yell, and the bayonets are driven into the stuffed
sacks which are suspended as dummies to serve in the place of men.
For miles across the great plain the "Bull Ring" is alive with men.
Here in one section they are doing physical drill and learning to go
over all kinds of obstacles--trenches, fences, barbed wire, shell
holes, and ditches. There they are practicing musketry and advancing
under cover. In one place the artillery is in full swing, and in
another you hear the sputter of the machine guns. In one section they
are taught to dig trenches and in another to take them.
Before a great advance where a system of trenches is to be taken, a
"rehearsal" often takes place. From a height of thousands of feet
above the lines the aircraft with powerful telescopic cameras
photograph every foot of the battlefield covered by the enemy's lines.
These photographs are developed and studied and diagrams drawn from
them of the enemy's system of trenches. These diagrams are reproduced
far behind the front in elaborately prepared earthwork and trenches
which are an exact replica of the enemy's lines. The divisions which
are to take part in the attack are sent back to rehearse their exact
duties at just the point corresponding to that which they will have to
take. Each officer knows every nook and crevice, each bay and angle of
the trenches he will have to capture. When all is ready the men are
placed in their exact positions and they execute in reality what they
have rehearsed in theory behind the lines. The lesson of preparedness
and organization is studied and mastered with infinite care.