[1] All numerals throughout this volume relate to the stories herein
told--not to chapters in the original sources.
"KITCHENER'S MOB"--ADVENTURES OF AN AMERICAN WITH THE BRITISH ARMY
_Uncensored Account of a Young Volunteer_
_Told by James Norman Hall, of the First Expeditionary Force_
This is a glimpse of life in a battalion of one of Lord Kitchener's
first armies. It gives an intimate view of the men who are so
gallantly laying down their lives for England. Kitchener's Mob
has become the greatest volunteer army in the history of the
world--for more than three million of disciplined fighting men are
united under one flag in this magnificent military organization.
Their fighting has become an epic of heroism in France, Belgium,
Africa and the Balkans. Some of them have seen service in India,
Egypt and South Africa; they might have stepped out of any of the
"Barrack-Room Ballads." The name which they bear was fastened
upon them by themselves--thereby hangs a tale. Stories of their
adventures have been gathered into a volume under title of
"Kitchener's Mob"--and published by _Houghton, Mifflin Company_:
Copyright, 1916, by _Atlantic Monthly Company_; Copyright, 1916, by
James Norman Hall.
[2] I--STORY OF A YANKEE IN THE TRENCHES
With Kitchener's mob we wandered through the trenches listening to the
learned discourse of the genial professors of the Parapet-etic School,
storing up much useful information for future reference. I made a
serious blunder when I asked one of them a question about Ypres, for I
pronounced the name French fashion, which put me under suspicion as a
"swanker."
"Don't try to come it, son," he said. "S'y 'Wipers.' That's wot we
calls it."
Henceforth it was "Wipers" for me, although I learned that "Eeps" and
"Yipps" are sanctioned by some trench authorities. I made no further
mistakes of this nature, and by keeping silent about the names of
the towns and villages along our front, I soon learned the accepted
pronunciation of all of them. Armentières is called "Armenteers";
Balleul, "Ballyall"; Hazebrouck, "Hazy-Brook"; and what more natural
than "Plug-Street," Atkinsese for Ploegsteert?
As was the case wherever I went, my accent betrayed my American birth;
and again, as an American Expeditionary Force of one, I was shown many
favors. Private Shorty Holloway, upon learning that I was a "Yank,"
offered to tell me "every bloomin' thing about the trenches that a
bloke needs to know." I was only too glad to place myself under his
instruction.
"Right you are!" said Shorty; "now, sit down 'ere w'ile I'm going over
me shirt, an' arsk me anything yer a mind to." I began immediately by
asking him what he meant by "going over" his shirt.
"Blimy! You are new to this game, mate! You mean to s'y you ain't got
any graybacks?"
I confessed shamefacedly that I had not. He stripped to the waist,
turned his shirt wrong side out, and laid it upon his knee.
"'Ave a look," he said proudly.
The less said about my discoveries the better for the fastidiously
minded. Suffice it to say that I made my first acquaintance with
members of a British Expeditionary Force which is not mentioned in
official _communiqués_.
"Trench pets," said Shorty. Then he told me that they were not all
graybacks. There is a great variety of species, but they all belong to
the same parasitical family, and wage a non-discriminating warfare upon
the soldiery on both sides of No-man's-Land. Germans, British, French,
Belgians alike were their victims.
"You'll soon 'ave plenty," he said reassuringly; "I give you about a
week to get covered with 'em. Now, wot you want to do is this: always
'ave an extra shirt in yer pack. Don't be a bloomin' ass an' sell
it fer a packet o' fags like I did! An' the next time you writes to
England, get some one to send you out some Keatings"--he displayed a
box of grayish-colored powder. "It won't kill 'em, mind you! They ain't
nothin' but fire that'll kill 'em. But Keatings tykes all the ginger
out o' 'em. They ain't near so lively arter you strafe 'em with this
'ere powder."
I remembered Shorty's advice later when I became a reluctant host to a
prolific colony of graybacks. For nearly six months I was never without
a box of Keatings, and I was never without the need for it.