As we walked through the firing-line trenches, I could quite understand
the possibility of one's acquiring trench legs. Five paces forward,
two to the right, two to the left, two to the left again, then five to
the right, and so on to Switzerland. Shorty was of the opinion that
one could enter the trenches on the Channel coast and walk through
to the Alps without once coming out on top of the ground. I am not
in a position either to affirm or to question this statement. My own
experience was confined to that part of the British front which lies
between Messines in Belgium and Loos in France. There, certainly,
one could walk for miles, through an intricate maze of continuous
underground passages.
But the firing-line trench was neither a traffic route nor a promenade.
The great bulk of inter-trench business passed through the travelling
trench, about fifteen yards in rear of the fire trench and running
parallel to it. The two were connected by many passageways, the chief
difference between them being that the fire trench was the business
district, while the traveling trench was primarily residential. Along
the latter were built most of the dugouts, lavatories, and trench
kitchens. The sleeping quarters for the men were not very elaborate.
Recesses were made in the wall of the trench about two feet above the
floor. They were not more than three feet high, so that one had to
crawl in head first when going to bed. They were partitioned in the
middle, and were supposed to offer accommodations for four men, two
on each side. But, as Shorty said, everything depended on the ration
allowance. Two men who had eaten to repletion could not hope to occupy
the same apartment. One had a choice of going to bed hungry or of
eating heartily and sleeping outside on the firing-bench.
"'Ere's a funny thing," he said. "W'y do you suppose they makes the
dugouts open at one end?"