TRENCH FEVER
Now out in the trenches you'll find to your cost
That the slower you shuffle the sooner you're lost;
There are actions done better the quicker they're done,
Like getting your rations or bombing a Hun,
Or dodging a pip-squeak or catching a flea,--
The quicker you do them the better they be.
(_From "Trench Wisdom."_)
The Irish were back in the trenches again. It was night; the ground was
covered with snow, and Spudhole who did not feel well was glad of an
hour's rest in a dug-out.
The dug-out belonged at one time to the Germans. It was a spacious
apartment stretching out into unfathomable corners. The dry floor was
level as a board and all round the walls snug little crannies were
scraped out in the clay. Here were stored all manner of odds and ends,
bully beef tins, loaves, biscuits, coils of barbed wire, hand grenades,
bandoliers, water jars, tins of jam, candles and firewood.
A brazier burned on the floor, the smoke curled upwards and was sucked
out through a hole in the roof as through a chimney. A dozen men sat
around the fire, their sheepskin jackets steaming and the brass buckles
of their equipment shining like gold. The blaze, burning high, lit up
the steady eyes and ruddied the strong features of the men. Spudhole,
half asleep, leant forward over his knees, his arms folded, his
shoulders humped up and his helmet well down over his face. Bowdy
Benners was writing a letter, his notepaper spread out on Bubb's back,
his knees crossed. An old, wrinkled man of forty-eight, named Bill Hurd,
was telling how his own son had joined the Army at the outbreak of war.
Hurd was an Irishman and had worked as a carpenter on a big estate in
Devon, and his son John had a job in his father's workshop.
"'Twas two days after war was declared," Bill was saying, "and I was
down in the kitchen waitin' till it was time to go out till my job. I
was always an early riser. Upstairs I heard John singin' like a thrush.
'What's wrong with him?' I says till myself, for, though he was a good,
willin' cub, he was not an early riser. When he came down I says till
him, 'What's up wid ye this mornin'?' I says. 'I'm goin' till jine up,'
he says. It most took my breath away. 'But ye're not only eighteen come
the end of next week,' I says till him. 'But I can be nineteen at a
pinch,' he answers, and what was to be said to that? I ups and shakes
him by the hand. 'Ye're a man, that's what ye are,' I says till him.
'And where are ye goin' to jine up?' I asks him. 'In the town,' he says,
meanin' the town nearest where there was a recruitin' station. 'Then
I'll go 'long wid ye an' see that ye're right fitted up,' I says to him.
'I must go out an' do an hour's work,' he then says. 'When I've finished
that I'll be ready to go.' 'Right, me boy,' I says, for I knew that he
wanted to go out and tell the other men what he was going to do.
"So we goes to the recruitin' station and the corp'ral there runs a tape
over John. 'Ye'll do,' he says. 'Ye'll make a fine sodger.' So we went
out, me an' him, and I goes wid him to the nearest tobacco shop. 'Now
think of what ye're goin' to do,' I says till him. 'It's not an easy
job, the job of a sodger. Now think,' I said, 'think, me boy.' He looked
at me straight in the face and said, as if he was offended: 'Ye don't
think I've done wrong, do ye?' Begorra, there and then, I just--and
there were a lot iv people lookin' at us--I just caught him be the hand
and squeezed it. 'Ye're a man,' I says, 'an' I'll get ye a pipe an'
tobacco.'
"And so I did, and would ye misdoubt me when I say that he was as handy
puttin' a match to a pipe as I was meself. But it's not easy to
understand young cubs."
"When did you join up?" asked Snogger, who came into the dug-out at that
moment.
"Long after that," said Billy. "There was a young fellow on the estate,
the son of me mistress. A fine, hearty-lookin' fellow, a rale good lump
iv a cub with laughey eyes and so handsome. He was a great friend iv
mine. Well, he was an officer in the regulars, and he got hit in the
eyes out here be a splinter iv a shell and he was knocked stone blind.
He comes home, goes into hospital, and was there for long enough, but
nothin' could be done. All hope was lost; he would be blind for life.
And his mother, she took it as calm as anything. 'Billy,' she used to
say to me, 'somebody must suffer and it's all for the country when all's
said and done.' She was a brave woman; didn't wear her heart on her
sleeve. I never saw her eyes wet, not until one day. 'Twas when her boy
sent a wee fretwork letter-rack home from hospital as a present to his
mother. He had made it himself, blind as he was, and it was very purty.
I was doin' a bit of woodwork in the hall when it came in a parcel. The
mother opened the parcel and saw what was inside.... And she began to
cry as if she would never stop. After that, when anybody spoke of her
boy, she would burst out weepin'.
"Well, I liked the boy," said Billy. "So I thought 'twas up to me to
have revinge for him on the Germans. So I had a clean shave and went to
the recruitin' office and signed on as a man of thirty-nine."
"Ye should have had more sense," said Bubb, getting to his feet, and
disappearing into a corner. No doubt the boy, who was not feeling well,
wanted to snatch an hour's sleep.
Snogger looked at the men.
"Six of you for rashun fatigue," he said. "Two to relieve the men on
guard. Whose turn is it?"
"I'm one," said Bowdy.
"Me as well," said Billy Hurd.
"Pull yourselves together, then, and git out," said Snogger. "It's two
minutes past time."
Bowdy and Billy got to their feet, buckled their equipment and went out
to their posts. An hour later they came back. Bowdy shook the snow from
his sheepskin jacket and sat down on the ground beside the brazier.
"It's a very cold night outside," he said. "Freeze the horns off a brass
monkey, it would. Where's Spudhole?" he asked.
"Wot's wrong now? Wot d'yer want?" asked a feeble voice, as Spudhole
peeped out from a dark corner by the wall. He rose to his feet and
buttoned his sheepskin jacket which had become loose.
"How are you feeling now, Spudhole?" asked Benners.
"Oh, I'm all right; in the pink," said Spud. "'Ave yer a drop of water
to spare?"
Bowdy handed a water-bottle to Spud; the youngster raised it to his lips
and drank greedily.
"Cold water's not a drink for a night like this," said Bowdy. "What you
want is something hot. If I make a mess-tin of tea, will you have some?"
"Thank you," said Bubb, handing the bottle back.
"I'm goin' to 'ave another kip now," he added. "Rouse me up when it's my
turn for sentry-go."
He lay back, closed his eyes and felt very cold. At intervals he
shivered, shaking from head to foot. Innumerable currents of icy air
seemed to have taken up their abode in the dug-out, living, crafty
currents as cruel as enemies, which stole slyly down his back
penetrating between flesh and underclothing. They blew on the back of
his neck; when he turned round he encountered them on his face, they
stole out from all corners incessantly chilling him with their
treacherous, frozen breath. He fell asleep, woke up, and it seemed to
him that a swarm of ants had got into his throat and that other ants,
thousands of them, were crawling over his arms and legs.
He got up, shook himself. His legs felt very weak, his head was
spinning. He tottered over to the fire. Bowdy, who was pouring a handful
of tea into the boiling water, looked up.
"Good heavens, Spudhole, you are looking bad," he said. "Feeling cold?"
"Cold's not the word," Bubb replied. "I wouldn't be worse off 'andcuffed
to a ghost. Wot's the time?" he asked.
"Ten to eleven," said Bowdy, looking at his wrist watch.
"Just 'bout my time for sentry-go," said Bubb in a weak voice. "I s'pose
I'm gettin' trench fever or somefin'," he added.
Bowdy placed a spoonful of condensed milk in the tea, stirred it and
added sugar.
"This will warm you up," he said, filling the mess-tin lid with tea and
handing it to Bubb. "Then you can lie down agin near the fire and I'll
do your turn as sentry."
Spudhole had the lid half raised to his lips. His hand shook, the tea
splashed out in little drops which fell on the brazier.
"Bowdy!" he said, in a slow voice.
"What is it?"
"I've never failed at my work yet," said Spudhole. "I'm not 'ere in the
trenches to shift my jobs on to other blokes."
"But you're feeling queer," said Bowdy. "If I felt like that I would go
down and see the M.O. and get shoved into hospital."
"Would you!" said Spudhole, placing the mess-tin lid on the floor. "I
know better. Wot did I 'ear yer say once? Ye'd never leave your trenches
when the regiment was there unless you were carried out on a stretcher."
"That was only swank," said Bowdy. "You drink your tea, Spudhole, and
lie down. I'll put a couple of sandbags round you and if you're not
better in the morning, just run down and see the M.O."
"Well, I'm damned if I goes away from the line," said Bubb. "Not until
the battalion is wiv me. That's settled."
He bent down, raised the mess-tin and drank the tea. Snogger came to the
door.
"Next on sentry-go?" he called.
"I'm there," said Bowdy.
"It's my turn," said Bubb.
"No chewin' the fat, or some of ye'll be damned unlucky," said Snogger.
"'Ooever's on's on, that's all; so get some elbow grease on and 'urry
out. Them that's on's a minute and 'arf over their time already."
Spudhole went out, crawled up on the firestep and relieved the sentry.
Leaning both arms on the parapet, he looked over No Man's Land towards
the German trenches. The levels in front, a shell-scarred spread of
ground set off in its ghastly array of barbed wire entanglements, was
covered with snow. Here Nature had only one mood, a mood of sulky menace
which overawed and subdued the tempers of the onlookers. The sky was
coldly clear and a million stars showed in its broad expanse. But Bubb's
circle of horizon was very small, objects quite near at hand stood out
weirdly silhouetted with a blurred, though definite outline. The
trenches were wrapped in ghostly solitude, the brazier aflare in the
dug-out which Bubb had just left added no relieving tint to the blind
helplessness of the night.
The sick boy stood back from the parapet and clapped his hands together
in an endeavour to warm himself.
"Gawd, it's cold 'ere," he muttered. "I wish I was in the dug-out 'avin'
a kip. 'Twould be so much better than standin' out 'ere. But I wouldn't
'ave it, naw, not at any price. I wouldn't shove my job on to any bloke.
Bowdy would do sentry-go for me, good old Bowdy, and so would old Flan
if 'e warn't down at the dump, but why should they? I wouldn't mind
lettin' them do it if it was out o' the trenches."
"How are you getting on, Spud?" asked a voice from the trench. "Feeling
the cold?"
The boy looked down at Captain Thorley. The captain and he were great
friends.
"Cold," said Spud, through chattering teeth. "It's not warm 'ere, is it,
sir? I feel as cold as if I was 'andcuffed to a ghost."
"I hear that you're not feeling well," said the captain.
"I'm orlright, sir. Was a bit dicky a minute back, but the cold air
'asn't 'arf bucked me up."
"Well, you know that Bowdy will do your job for you if you're feeling
queer," said Thorley.
"I know that, sir, but I'm orlright," said Bubb. "Besides, I wouldn't
rob a man of 'is sleep."
Bubb finished his hour, but when his next turn as sentry came round he
was unable to perform his duty. He looked helplessly at his mate.
"Bowdy," he said, in a low, apologetic voice. "I've no guts for anuvver
hour's sentry-go. I'm washed out. I will go down to the M.O. not
to-morrow mornin' but now. If I stay 'ere any longer, I'll 'ave to be
carried out o't. But didn't I stick it to the last, Bowdy?"
"Of course, you did. I'm damned if I'd stick it so long."
"Clear out of it at once, Spudhole," said Billy Hurd. "Ye're like a
ghost, somethin' like what a cat would take in on a wet day."
"Ye think I'm sick enough to leave 'ere then?" asked Bubb. "I don't want
any o' the fellers to say, arter I go, that I was swingin' the lead."
"If ye stop 'ere any longer, they'll say that ye're stayin' here, hopin'
that ye'll be so bad when ye leave that ye'll never be sent back again."
"Then I'm off out't," said Bubb, decision in his voice. "I'll try and be
back as soon as I can."
He went outside and made his way to the dressing station. Dawn found him
snug in a motor ambulance on his way to hospital.