getting rid of excess weight so as to start early to-morrow morning for
the trenches. The men are glad at the prospect of getting into the game,
and are making considerable noise and having a high old time.
_(Place Unknown),
Wednesday, March 10._
At half-past five o’clock last Monday morning we were up and ready to
start. We left Bouzy at a quarter to seven by the town clock. After
several rests we reached a fair-sized town and had lunch: we were served
hot coffee here. After a spell in the trenches the men return to repose
in this town.
We were divided here to be placed in different battalions, etc., and I
was glad to learn that we were lucky enough to be sent to a battalion
which was then occupying the trenches. We left town together and
proceeded on our way which led through the greatest vineyards I had yet
seen. We paused in a barn for a short time and started off again. There
were about ten of us; Smith and Larney were with me; Pavelka we left in
Bouzy as he is sick. I do not know what is the matter with him, but it
does not amount to much, whatever it is.
We finally arrived in what was once a town. I say once, because as a
town it ceases to exist. It had contained, I should say, about two or
three hundred houses. While in New York I had read of the towns that
were destroyed in the war, but the realization exceeded my most
elaborate ideas. There was not a building in the entire town which had
not received its share of destruction. We walked through several streets
looking for somebody to direct us but could find no one. The place
seemed deserted; and what a scene of ruin. Here was the church with
gaping holes in the roof and one side with four openings large enough to
drive a team through. The other sides were battered and the steeple was
blown off. It is impossible to convey any idea of the ruin which was
everywhere seen. One row of four houses had the connecting walls
completely destroyed. In the entire town there was not a house with its
roof left, nor a pane of unbroken glass.
We finally located a sentinel who showed us headquarters, where we were
assigned to our companies, etc. After lunch we were to proceed to our
trench. While waiting for the repast an occasional shell whistled by and
exploded a short distance beyond. Very pleasant, I assure you. We
finished the meal and were ready. A short distance from the kitchen, to
my great surprise, we entered the famous trenches. Here we were at last.
I wish I could express my feelings when I realized where I was.
It was simply the connecting trench which allowed the men from the line
trenches to proceed to the kitchen and get the meals. The Germans have a
disagreeable habit of shelling these trenches at meal time and quite a
few accidents have occurred in them. They are about five feet deep and
very narrow. The earth is thrown up on both sides, so they are quite
deep. They curve in a horrible fashion and it was not long before I was
dizzy. Meanwhile an occasional shell went merrily by. The trenches are
so narrow that it is difficult for two men to pass. We continued on and
passed the entrance to the second line: after a while we stopped. Where
do you suppose we were? We were at last actually in the first line of
trenches.
We were taken to the lieutenant, who assigned us to our squads. The
first thing we did was to place our rifles in holes in the trench facing
the Germans. I looked over the top of the trench in the direction of the
enemy but could not distinguish much, as it was beginning to get dark.
They were there, however, there was no question as to that for an
occasional bullet whistled by. An intermittent fire is kept up
continually by both sides. Larney and I were put into the 15th squad and
Smith in the 14th. We were assigned to our quarters.
The firing line faces the Germans in a zigzag way. There is a trench
running parallel to and back of it. They are connected by trenches in
which are placed the living quarters of the men. There are two caves or
huts opposite each other in an alley. Of course they are underground.
They are about three and a half to four feet high and about twelve feet
deep. There are six men in ours. When lying down it is impossible to
stretch one’s legs out, consequently you are pretty well cramped after
sleeping.
I was tired after our long march, so prepared to turn in, but found that
we were to be on guard during the night. We turned out presently and I
was placed with another fellow in a trench about twenty yards in advance
of the main one. We were in back of steel shields with our rifles loaded
and on the watch for a German. The fellow I was with was an Italian, so
there was little conversation between us. We were there two hours and it
was very cold. We saw nothing alarming. Both sides exchanged shots
occasionally. I was very glad to be relieved, as a cold wind was
blowing. We went into the guard room and it was not long before I wished
I was on post again. There was no fire in this cave and the ledge upon
which we sat was about four inches wide. It was also cold in there.
Finally we went out on patrol. We put the bayonets on our guns and laid
down on the earth. I was in this position two and a half hours. Let me
here state that I think I have enjoyed two and a half hours more at
other times during my career. This sharp, cold wind continued, so after
a while I was naturally chilled. There was no danger, however, as I
estimated that the nearest bullet which passed us was at least twenty
feet distant.
Nothing happened and at last we returned. I was very sleepy and in due
time turned in. After sleeping about an hour and a half I was awakened
as the captain wished to inspect the new men. After the inspection I had
a good sleep: slept most of the day and all the night. It is rather
uncomfortable in the cramped position but it is possible to keep warm
when under the blanket.
The meals are good, but only lukewarm, as they have to be carried quite
a distance. During the next day we left the trenches and returned to the
town to repose. We are here now for eight days. It is very comfortable
here. Another American was put in our squad; he is from Boston; has been
in France five years and the Legion five months; in the trenches three
months. He is a fine fellow.[3]
Footnote 3:
Kenneth Weeks of New Bedford, Mass. Killed June 16th.
At present, things are very quiet. I think we made quite a record; from
a reserve training station, put in the first line trenches and the first
night there put on patrol and two days after that sent with the
Battalion on repose.
After this letter I will not be allowed to send any mail to any place
for about a month.
Well, mother, I am nearly a full fledged soldier now. You would be
surprised to know how glad I am to be where I am.
_Somewhere in France,
March 12, 1915._
This is a good picture of the actual sights where I am now. Whole towns
are like that shown on the other side. All well.
[Illustration: French Houses Burned By Germans]
RUSSELL.
_Verzenay,
April 9, 1915._
On March 26th we returned to the trenches, and the routine was the same
as before, just the continual rifle and artillery fire and very close
watching of the enemy. The trenches are dry now and fairly comfortable.
We are all in tip-top shape and enjoying ourselves; the only thing we
want is some action.
We are located in a place called Verzenay, which is about ten kilometres
(six and a quarter miles) north of Bouzy. The first line trenches that
we occupy are about five kilometres (three miles) north of the town.
Verzenay is on the side of a high hill, the trenches being in the
valley; a grand view of the town is had from the trenches.
I should judge the town has, normally, four to five thousand
inhabitants. The Germans throw ten to fifteen shells into it daily, but
they do little damage, and more than half of the civil population has
remained here.
We were scheduled to leave town one night for the third line of defence
and had our packs made up when in came a fellow who wanted to see the
Americans. He was an American from the Second _Régiment étrangère_, and
had been transferred at his own request, and as the authorities are
following a plan of segregation by nations, he was sent to our squad. I
was agreeably surprised to learn that he had been at Virginia Military
Institute; he is Kniffin Y. Rockwell. His arrival brought our number up
to five.
[Illustration: Kniffin Yates Rockwell]
In due time we left and during the night reached our destination. They
were the usual huts dug into the side of a slight terrace supporting the
canal. They are about four feet high and six feet wide and long enough
to accommodate a squad of fifteen men. They have been in use since the
beginning of the war and fresh straw has been put into them at
intervals. The old straw, however, has not been removed and when the men
change quarters they leave behind them all discarded junk, so you can
imagine the condition they are in. When I first arrived I tried to clean
up, but the deeper I got into the straw the stronger the philosophy
impressed itself on me that “what one doesn’t know won’t hurt one,” so I
put back the straw and let it go at that.
There are a great number of rats and mice in the huts and the first
night an energetic rat loosened a mass of earth above my head and it
fell directly upon me. It gave me a great start as my first thoughts
pictured a company of Germans on us. These rodents are a great nuisance
on account of their large numbers and I have often wished there was a
Pied Piper amongst us.
There is one man in the company who does not share my feelings. He is an
Italian who is used to a strange diet. Every morning about nine o’clock
he sits down and spreads out his victims of the night: they generally
number five or six. He skins these and as he is a friend of the cook
they are roasted for him. There is no question of his liking for them
because we always have more than enough to eat. I have seen many strange
things over here, but the cold-bloodedness of this fairly turns one’s
stomach.
There is not any regular schedule pursued here, but they always manage
to keep us busy. During the second day Pavelka joined us from the
hospital, which made the number six. This fellow is very handy and
volunteered to make us a base ball. For the centre of the ball he used
the business end of a cartridge and on this wound worsted and thread
alternately. For a cover he cut up a leather puttee and sewed it on the
ball. The complete article was really very good and it rivalled
Spalding’s Official League Ball. Old A. G. would have given considerable
for it for exhibition purposes, but he will never get it. Home-run
Scanlan, the heavy hitter, drove it into the canal and we lost it. He
also broke up the game, much to the chagrin of the entire company who
had gathered around to see us play. We had fun while it lasted, and we
intend to make another one when we go back to the canal.
Aeroplanes are very numerous. There are so many that it became necessary
to resume the aeroplane guard. Each section takes turns at this and it
lasts from sunrise to sunset. Every time a German aircraft flies within
range we fire at it. This occurs many times and considerable ammunition
is used but no damage done. These machines warn us of their approach
before they are located as the sound of the motor carries a great
distance. Both armies shoot at the 'planes with cannon also.
It is quite interesting to follow the course of an aeroplane. Take a
German one, for instance. We may be cleaning up when the faint whir of a
motor is heard. Work ceases and all eyes try to locate the machine. It
proves to be an approaching German 'plane. When the probable range is
computed our artillery opens fire. The report of the piece is heard and
we look in the vicinity of the aeroplane for the result. In a couple of
seconds a puff of smoke is seen and shortly after the noise of the
bursting shell reaches us. It is almost impossible to hit it. I have
seen a great number fired at, but as yet, with no results.
Another thing to be remarked upon is the intrepidity of the aviators.
They don’t seem to pay any attention to the bombardment (if we may call
it such). One beautiful afternoon while I was in the first line, a
French aeroplane made for the enemies’ lines. The Germans saw it coming
and opened fire, using three pieces. The sky was cloudless, so I counted
the puffs of smoke: they appeared all around the plane, but in spite of
this the airman continued on his mission and actually got out of range
behind the guns. All told there were sixty-eight shells thrown. For
fifteen minutes after, it was possible to count the puffs. I have often
wondered when the shells explode near an aeroplane and do not damage it,
how it is that the concussion does not in some way injure the delicate
parts of the machine. We have not seen an aerial combat, but all root
for one.
On our first repose here in town we were treated to a bath: it was a
great event. A soldier holds a hose with a sprinkler arrangement on the
end and two others man the pump. First we are allowed a little water to
get up a lather, then the master of ceremonies at the hose bellows a
command and the boys at the pump bend to their work with a will, with
the result that there is a free-for-all fight to get into the spray. It
is rather a crude method, but as the water is hot we are very thankful
for it. I had my second yesterday and we hope to bathe daily at the
canal.
This canal reminds me greatly of the old Erie, save for the locks.
Changing levels is accomplished by one single lock as against the single
and double locks used on the Erie. Canal boat fleets are unknown in this
country: the boats travel singly and are towed by horses. Considering
the depth and width of the canal and the general appearance of the
banks, one can almost imagine he is travelling through New York state on
the old waterway. The type of boat used is practically the same as ours,
save that over here they are somewhat larger and with a more pointed
bow.
The other night Weeks took us out to dinner: the meal was served in the
home of one of the native vineyard workers. We all filed into the
kitchen of the house. This room was located on the ground floor and had
a window opening onto the street. It served also as the pantry, dining
room, and was also used for minor purposes. It was about ten by twelve
feet. A common kitchen table occupied the centre of the room under a
hanging oil lamp. There were eight chairs (the majority rickety)
scattered around, and the deep window sill would accommodate three
persons. Into the corner opposite the main door was fitted a triangular
closet which accommodated odds and ends; the wine supply was kept here.
Curtains decorated the window; the floor was bare. They used a good
range.
Weeks was acquainted with the family as he had dined here throughout the
winter when on repose. They also did his and other soldiers’ washing and
the clothes were hung in this room on lines from the walls to dry;
consequently one was uncomfortable until seated. After a while our host
gave his order and the woman went to purchase the food. Meanwhile
children of the family were constantly coming and going. After the sixth
had made his appearance I grew confused and decided not to try to keep
track of them. They certainly were numerous, and starting from four feet
six they descended in regular intervals of six inches down to the young
baby, making a natural stairway for Father Time.
The food came at last; it was a chicken and some incidentals. The next
thing was to prepare the chicken for the pot. The good housewife
searched high and low for a knife, and failing to locate one borrowed
Smith’s famous weapon (he paid six sous for it in Lyon at a bazaar). Ah!
I forgot. She singed the fowl first over the table around which we were
seated. This was accomplished by means of burning newspapers, the ashes
of which fell into the wine. We did not mind this, only the smell of
burning hair was rather disagreeable. I had recovered from this, when,
picture my chagrin, the good lady started to butcher the bird right
under our noses and placidly strewed the table with the chicken’s guts.
I think grape picking trains the hands to quick, vigorous action;
anyhow, the way those giblets and other parts of the chicken’s anatomy
were flying around caused us to dodge continually, and with great
foresight I placed my hand over the glass to protect the wine.
The lady was not an expert butcher; when she could not locate a joint
the members were torn apart by main strength. As for the flesh, it was
actually ripped off in shreds and the whole business thrown into a pot.
Smith’s heart was almost broken as the blade of his knife was bent all
out of shape: it was ruined. The meal consisted of rice, soup, fried
chicken and bread, with coffee at the end. It was very tasty, indeed.
What struck me forcibly was the way the children ate. They came in just
long enough to swallow a few mouthfuls. Through carelessness I think the
young folks are not receiving the proper amount of nourishment. Anyway
the children of France do not shape up as being sturdy. We all enjoyed
the novel incident greatly.
We eventually got to the first line again and occupied the same hut as
on our previous stay. There were seven of us in there, six Americans and
the corporal. It was not wide enough to lie cross ways, so we slept at
an angle. It reminded me of the story of the six men in one bed; when a
man became tired lying on one side and gave the signal to turn, all
turned at once and if any one failed to hear the signal it broke up the
party. This was the case here; we were cramped to an uncomfortable
degree. The first night we were disturbed by a great racket. It proved
to be Smith forcing Larney back into his proper location. It might be
well to remark here that Larney is a considerable sleeper. He talks
almost nightly and would you believe me, back in Bouzy he actually sang
one verse of “My Country, ’Tis of Thee.” It was in a far away, hollow
voice, but he carried the tune fairly well. Some nights we grow alarmed
over his welfare; he groans and mumbles so.
At the first line we are on guard every other night, and as the weather
was cold it was not very enjoyable. One night I was on guard from one a.
m. to three a. m. with Larney. We were in a trench running at right
angles from the main one and about twenty feet from it. It is so
arranged that the earth is on a level with our eyes. You would be
surprised to know how hard it is to keep awake. Even as near the enemy
as we are, an almost unconquerable desire to sleep overcomes us. It must
be that the constant searching and the straining of the eyes into the
darkness hypnotizes one, but be this as it may, it required a great
effort to keep awake. We all complain of this.
On the night I speak about, I was struggling to keep awake when all of a
sudden my heart almost stopped beating. I was thoroughly wide awake
instantly: I could have sworn that there were two figures directly in
front of me about one hundred and fifty feet away. One seemed to be
standing and the other kneeling, and as we maintain a trench running
parallel to the main one and about one hundred and fifty feet beyond, my
mind pictured all kinds of things. I watched them intently and they
seemed to be working at something, but in the uncertain light it was
maddening. The large figure appeared to be motionless but the small one
seemed to rise and bend like a man at a pump. This continued for what
seemed ages. I am well aware that at night objects take strange forms,
but I could not account for these. Our rifles are constantly loaded and
cocked while on guard and I was tempted to take a shot at it, but I
wanted to see them actually move before I fired. I looked over and saw
Larney observing the same thing.
We talked it over and decided that it was part of the landscape; the
next morning we went into the trench and came to the conclusion that it
was two trees.
Another time while on guard in the second line position, I was looking
out of a small port hole in the trench. I had just come to the
conclusion that guard duty was a waste of time when I saw what looked to
be a figure crawling slowly under the barbed wires in front of the
trench.
It was a wretched night, raining and very dark. I could have sworn that
this was really a man. I almost pictured him freeing himself from the
barbs. I thought a better view would be gained from over the trench, so
I noiselessly climbed up until my head was clear of the earth, but it
was impossible to see when my eyes were above the surface of the earth,
so I got back again.
The object was still in the same position. Would you believe I actually
kept my eyes glued on the thing for nearly two hours. A number of lights
were sent up by both sides, but their positions were such they did not
help me. Finally, a German white light went up in a direct line with my
eyes and the object. What do you think my creeping German was? Nothing
but a frame to roll wire on. I certainly was disgusted when I made this
discovery.
One cannot help imagining things. Everything keys the imagination up;
the steady rifle fire, the occasional cannon, the bursting mines, the
flare of the night lights and distant bombardments all tend to put one
in a condition to see anything.
It is interesting to observe the difference of speed between sight and
sound. For instance, a cannon far in our rear will discharge a shell;
the flash is visible from the piece, the whir of the shell as it passes
is heard, and the flash as it bursts is seen, then both reports sound
almost simultaneous, the discharge of the gun and bursting of the shell.
This, of course, only happens when one’s position is almost in the
middle of the trajectory.
Another idea of mine which was shattered by actual experience was the
action of a bursting shell. From war pictures I drew the inference that
at the moment a shell bursts it was possible to see the fragments; not
so. The report of the piece is heard, then the whistle of the shell, a
puff of smoke is seen and finally a loud report. That’s all, but believe
me there is a great deal of power in a shell.
In the second line the quarters were fair. Wide enough for us to stretch
out and about five feet high. Each one accommodates a section. The
condition of the straw was the same as described before. One night it
began to rain and in about half an hour the rain soaked through the
earth and dripped on us. We hung our shelter-halves up under the roof to
catch the water. These covers performed their duty O. K., but the water
leaked in all around them. The first night was not so bad, although the
place was wet in spots. It rained during the second day and things
became worse: the trenches were in an awful condition, the water being
ankle deep in places and the mud beating Cedarhurst’s best to a
fare-you-well.
That night, however, was the worst of all. The rain was dripping through
pretty steadily and it had begun to get the best of the tent covers in
spite of the fact that we emptied them regularly. We eventually turned
in and as an almost steady stream was dropping on my head I put my
overcoat over it and grappled with Morpheus. I had him flat on his back
and was about to rise to the cries of the spectators when my
subconscious mind differentiated between the voice of applause and the
wail of dismay. Instantly I was awake and poked my head out to see what
the fuss was about, but the steady stream forced my cranium under the
coat again.
Out of the confusion I gleamed that a tent cover had fallen with the
weight of the water and drenched a Greek, two fellows down from me. He
was very active vocally: I’ll bet he cursed a few. We were all very
uncomfortable. I was telling myself how good it was to be dry when I
realized that I was not as dry as I might be. From my shoulders to my
feet I was awash in three inches of water. It surely did feel fierce,
but it was impossible to better the condition as everything was wet. It
was only two a. m. and I prayed for day-light. We managed to dry out
pretty well during the day.
I wish we had some of those new patented trench digging machines the
World’s Advance tells about, because I have dug about one thousand miles
of trenches, or nearly that many. We are constantly digging new and
repairing old trenches, so now we have an elaborate system of
underground streets.
I certainly do feel fine and enjoy the life, but there is no question
about it, war is an asinine thing.
V
REMOVED TO THE ARRAS SECTEUR
_(Place Unknown),
May 6, 1915._