least I did. She did most of the listening. That wine sure untied my
tongue; another drink or two and I would have promised her Buckingham
Palace. I was just fool crazy in love with her. Once I caught her
stifling a yawn when I was in the midst of one of my verbal barrages,
but the pretty smile which quickly followed once again had me in a
fool's paradise.
"'My back was to the door leading to the stables. Suddenly it opened. I
sprang for my rifle which I had left leaning against the table close at
hand. It wasn't there. I faced around and there in the door stood Lance
Corporal Hawkins. A pretty looking sight he was, with hay in his hair,
cap gone, and no rifle. One look at his eyes was enough. They were red
rimmed and watery. The fool was drunk, I could see that at a glance,
but he seemed to be fighting it off; he wabbled on his pins, blinked
his eyes, and rubbed his forehead with his hand as if bewildered.
"'Angry at being disturbed, I yelled at him, "Well, what do you want?
What's the matter?"
"'This seemed to sober him momentarily, because he blurted out in a
thick voice, "'Scuse me, Sergeant, but--hic,--back in Blighty,--I
could drink 'em all under the table, 'ad the name for a-doin' it in the
pubs. Was champeen of 'em all--an' I know this blinkin' red ink I been
a drinkin' ain't made me drunk--hic--it's mighty damned queer" (a hard
look from me) "excuse me, Miss, but my 'ead's like a buzz saw."
"'I was getting madder and madder. Adrienne seemed to be getting
fidgety. She was looking around nervously. I could stand it no longer,
so I let out on Hawkins.
"'"You get back to that stable, you drunk, you're a disgrace to that
uniform; I'll attend to you in the morning. You're under arrest."
Hawkins didn't move and after a strong effort started talking, more to
himself than to me,--he seemed in a daze.
"'"Sergeant, I--there's a horse--there's a horse, it's missing--the
rifles are gone--can't find a nary one--only thirteen horses--one from
fourteen's thirteen--had fourteen--one from thirteen's fourteen--"
"'I looked for my rifle. Adrienne smiled at me and reassuringly pointed
to the far corner of the room. There was my rifle. But how did it get
there? I was getting alarmed and uneasy. Noting this, Adrienne with her
sweetest smile said,--
"'"I see my Sergeant is not used to our French wine; it plays many
tricks on the mind." And she glanced significantly at Hawkins.
"'Hawkins, giving me a wondering look, mumbled, "Sergeant's got same
kind of drunk--hic--I got--rifles walk--hic--horses fly."
"'Adrienne gave me a look of disdain which decided me. Turning to
Hawkins, I ordered,--
"'"You get back to that stable, quick; not another word from you. I
tell you, you are drunk."
"'Hawkins gave me a sarcastic salute and muttered loud enough for me
to hear, "Sergeant has more brains than Lance Corporal--or wouldn't be
sergeant--don't know there's a war on--thinks this is a blinkin' peace
time maneuver--ter 'ell with the bloody horses--a bloomin' rifle's only
extra weight." Then he turned around and stumbled out of the door.
"'I was mad to the core. Still I was uneasy about Hawkins's report
concerning the rifles and horses and intended immediately to
investigate.
"'Adrienne came over to me and, putting a hand on each of my shoulders,
looked up into my eyes and said, "My sergeant has taken too much wine.
I am sorry. I thought he was strong and could laugh at such trifles,
but I see I was mistaken."
"'This sent me up in the air completely. I would show her. Removing
her hands from my shoulders, I reached for the glass of wine. She
gently took it from me and, just touching the edge of the glass to her
pretty lips, passed it back and said in a voice of silver, "Drink, my
Sergeant, drink to our betrothal. Drink to the honour of France. Drink
to the honour of England. Drink to the confusion of our enemies."
"'I drank with my fool heart pounding against my ribs.
"'She started to fade into a mist,--she was laughing--there were three
Adriennes--why was the table floating in the air--the horses--the
rifles--we had been betrayed--crash--bang--a shell hit the house. Then
blackness.
"'When I awoke, I was lying on the floor. My head seemed to be
bursting with pain. The gray dawn was filtering through the curtained
windows, and there in the middle of the room, with my Adrienne in his
arms, stood a captain of Uhlans. I was a prisoner. I saw it all in a
flash. She had betrayed me. Now I knew why she had wanted no guard
posted,--why the horse was missing, the rifles gone. The wine we
pledged our troth in was drugged. What an ass I had been! Hawkins was
right.
"'I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. They were talking in
German. Pretty soon the captain came over and roughly shook me. I only
grunted. With an exclamation of disgust, he called out in German. Two
troopers came in, and, lifting me by the shoulders and feet, carried me
out into the air. I slightly opened my eyes, and saw that I had been
carried out to the gate, where two horses were standing with their
reins thrown over a hitching post. By the equipment I knew one of the
horses belonged to the captain, while the other was the orderly's. The
two troopers dumped me down on the road, one giving me a kick with
his boot. I was lying on my left side, and by a certain hard pressure
on my ribs, I knew they had neglected to search me. That pressure was
my automatic pistol. A feeling of exultation rushed over me. I had a
fighting chance.
"'Fate worked into my hands. A hail in German came from the stables,
and one of the troopers left to answer it. The odds were even, one
against one. I slowly turned over on my face, as if in sleep, and my
fingers grasped the butt of the automatic. But just then I heard steps
on the gravel walk. The captain and Adrienne were coming toward me.
She stopped beside me, and said in English: "You poor English fool!
Make love to me, will you? Good-bye, my idiotic sergeant. While you are
rotting in prison, think of your Adrienne, bah!"
"'My hand gave the butt of my automatic just the slightest squeeze. I
was thinking of her hand on my shoulder. Well, two could play that game.
"'The captain said something to the orderly, who left in the direction
of the house. Now was my chance. Springing to my feet and leveling the
pistol at the captain, I grabbed the reins of his horse from the post
and mounted. The orderly came running toward me, yelling out in German,
and I could see Uhlans emerging from the stable. I had to work quickly.
"'When I mounted, the captain reached for his revolver. I covered him
with mine. With a shriek of terror, Adrienne threw herself on his
breast to protect him. I saw her too late. My bullet pierced her left
breast, and a red smudge showed on her white silk blouse as she sank to
the ground. I shot the orderly's horse to prevent immediate pursuit.
Then I set off at a mad gallop down the road. It was a long chase, but
I escaped them.
"'So that is my story, Yank. Just forget that I ever told it to you.
Enough to make a fellow get the blues occasionally, isn't it? Just pass
me a fag, and take that look off your face.'
"I gave him the cigarette, and, without a word, went out of the
dugout, and left him alone. I was thinking of Adrienne. Upon reaching
the trench I paused in wonder and fright. The sky was alight with
a red glare. The din was terrific. A constant swishing and rushing
through the air, intermingled with a sighing moan, gave testimony
that our batteries were sweating blood. The trench seemed to be
rolling like a ship. I stood in awe. This bombardment of ours was
something indescribable, and a shudder passed through me as I
thought of the havoc and destruction caused in the German lines. At
that moment I really pitied the Germans, but not for long; suddenly
hell seemed to burst loose from the German lines as their artillery
opened up. I could hear their 5.9's screeching through the air and
bursting in the artillery lines in our rear. Occasionally a far off
rum-rum-rump-rump-Crash! Bru-u-un-nn-ng-g! could be heard as one of
their high calibered shells came over and burst in our reserve. I
crouched against the parados, hardly able to breathe. While in this
position, right overhead, every instant getting louder, came a German
shell--whi-z-z! bang-g-g! I was blinded by the flash. Down I went, into
the mud. Struggling to my feet in the red glare of the bombardment,
I saw that the traverse on my left had entirely disappeared. Covered
with mud, weak and trembling, I staggered to my feet, and again rested
against the parados, trembling with fear. I could hear what sounded
like far distant voices coming from the direction of the bashed-in
traverse.
"'Blime me, get 'is bloomin' napper out a th' mud; 'e's chokin' to
death. Pass me a bandage--tyke 'is b'yonet fer a splint. Blime me, 'is
leg is smashed, not 'arf h'it h'ain't. Th' rest o' you blokes 'op it
fer a stretcher. 'Ello, 'e's got another one--quick, a tourniquet, the
poor bloke's a-bleedin' to death. Quick, h'up against the parapet, 'ere
comes another.'
"Whiz-z-z! Bang-g-g!
"Another flare, and once again I was thrown into the mud. I opened my
eyes. Bending over me, shaking me by the shoulder and yelling into my
ear, was Atwell. His voice sounded faint and far away. Then I came to
with a rush.
"'Blime me, Yank, that was a close one. Did it get you?'
"He helped me to my feet and I felt myself all over. Seeing I was all
right, he yelled into my ear:
"'We've got to leg it out of 'ere. Fritz is sure sendin' over
whizz-bangs and Minnies. Number 9 platoon in the next firebay sure
clicked it. About eighteen of them have gone West. Come on, we'll see
if we can do anything for the poor blokes.'
"We plowed through the mud and came into the next firebay. In the light
of the bursting shells an awful sight met our eyes. The traverses were
bashed in, the firestep was gone, and in the parados was a hole that
looked like a subway entrance. There was mud and blood all around. An
officer of the Royal Army Medical Corps and several stretcher-bearers
were working like Trojans. We offered our aid, which was gladly
accepted.
"Every now and then ducking as a whizz-bang or Minnie came over, we
managed to get four of the wounded on the stretchers, and Atwell and I
carried one to the rear to the First Aid Dressing Station. We passed
the dugout which I had left a few minutes before, or, at least, what
used to be the dugout, but now all that could be seen was a caved-in
mass of dirt; huge, square-cut timbers sticking out of the ground and
silhouetted against the light from bursting shells. A shudder passed
through me as I realized that if we had stayed in the dugout we would
have now been lying fifteen to twenty feet down, covered by that
caved-in earth and wreckage.
"Atwell jerked his head in the direction of the smashed-in dugout
and, as was his wont, remarked: 'How about that fancy report you were
writing out a few minutes ago? Didn't I tell you that it never paid to
make out reports in the front line? It's best to wait until you get to
Headquarters, because what's the use of wasting all that bally time
when you're liable to be buried in a dugout?'
"Turning my head to listen to Atwell, I ran plump into a turn in the
trench. A shout came from the form on the stretcher we were carrying:
'Why in the bloody 'ell don't you blokes look where you're a-goin'?
You'd think this was a bloomin' Picadilly bus, and I was out with
my best girl on a joy-ride.' I mumbled my apologies and the form
relapsed into silence. Then the muddy Tommy on the stretcher began to
mumble. Atwell asked him if he wanted anything. With a howl of rage, he
answered: 'Of all the bloody nerve,--do I want anything? No, I don't
want anything--only a bloody pair o' crutches, a dish of "fish and
chips" and a glawss of stout.'
"When we came to the First Aid Dressing Station we turned our charge
over to some R.A.M.C." (Royal Army Medical Corps) "men, and, ducking
and running through the communication trench, we at last reached one
of the roomy 'Elephant Dugouts.' We were safe. Stumbling over the feet
of men, we came to an unoccupied corner and sat down in the straw.
Several candles were burning. Grouped around these candles were a lot
of Tommies, their faces pale and with a frightened look in their eyes.
Strange to say, the conversation had nothing to do with themselves.
They were sympathizing with the poor fellows in the front line who were
clicking it.
"I must have dropped off to sleep. When I awoke it was morning, and
after drinking our tea and eating our bread and bacon, Atwell and I
reported to Brigade Headquarters, and again returned to the front line
trench."
WINNING A D.C.M.
As Told by Ikey
WINNING A D.C.M.
The gun's crew were sitting on the straw in the corner of the billet,
apart from the rest of the section. The night before they had been
relieved from the fire trench, and were "resting" in rest billets.
Their "day's rest" had been occupied in digging a bombing trench, which
was to be used for the purpose of breaking in would-be bombers.
Hungry was slicing away at a huge loaf of bread, while on his knee he
was balancing a piece of "issue" cheese. His jack-knife was pretty dull
and the bread was hard, so every now and then he paused in his cutting
operation to take a large bite from the cheese.
Curly whispered to Yank: "Three bob to a tanner, Yank, that he eats the
cheese before he finishes slicing that 'rooty.'"
Yank whispered back: "Nothing doing, Curly, you are Scotch, and did
you ever see a Scotchman bet on anything unless it was a sure winner?"
He answered in an undertone: "Well, let's make it a pack of fags. How
about it, Yank?"
"That's a bet," replied Yank.
(Curly won the fags.)
Sailor Bill was sitting next to Curly, and had his dog, Jim,
(named after his former pet dog, Private Jim)--a scroggly-looking
cur,--between his knees, and was picking hard pieces of mud from its
paws. Jim was wagging his stump of a tail and was intently watching
Hungry's operation on the bread. Every time Hungry reached for the
cheese, Jim followed the movement with his eyes, and his tail wagged
faster. Hungry, noting this look, bit off a small piece of the cheese
and flipped it in Jim's direction. Jim deftly caught it in his mouth,
and then the fun began. Jim hated cheese. It was amusing to watch him
spit it out and sneeze.
Ikey reached over, took the candle, and started searching in his pack,
amid a chorus of growls from the rest at his rudeness in thus depriving
them of light. Yank was watching him closely and suspected what was
coming. Sure enough, out came that harmonica and Yank knew it was up
to him to start the ball of conversation rolling before Ikey began to
play; for after he had once started nothing short of a German "five
nine" shell-burst would stop him. Yank slyly kicked Sailor Bill, who
immediately got wise, and then Yank broke the ice:
"Sailor, I heard you say this afternoon, while we were digging that
trench, that in your opinion darn few medals were really won: that it
was more or less an accident or luck. Now, just because your D.C.M.
came up with the rations, and, as you say, was wished on you, there is
no reason in my mind to class every winner of a medal as 'accidentally
lucky.'"
This medal business was a sore point with Sailor Bill, and he came
right back:
"Well, if any of you lubbers can tell me where a D.C.M. truly came
aboard in a ship-shape manner; that is, up the after gangplank, and
piped over the side, then h'I will strike my colors and lay up on a lee
shore for a keel 'auling."
Ikey had just taken a long, indrawn breath, and his cheeks were puffed
out like a balloon, preparatory to blowing it into the harmonica which
he had at his lips. But he paused, and, removing the musical instrument
of torture, exploded:
"Blime me, I know a bloke who won a D.C.M., and it wasn't accidental
or lucky, either. I was right out in front with him. Blime me, I sure
had the wind-up, but with French it was 'Business as usual.' He just
carried on."
The rest chirped in, "Come on, Ikey, let's have the story."
"I will if you'll just let me play this one tune first," answered Ikey.
He started in and was accompanied by a dismal, moaning howl from Jim.
Ikey had been playing about a minute, when the Orderly Sergeant poked
his head in the door of the billet, and said:
"The Captain says to stop that infernal noise."
Highly insulted, Ikey stopped playing and said, "Some people 'ave no
idea of music." The gun's crew unanimously agreed with him.
Somewhat mollified, he started:
"Corporal French is the same bloke who just returned from Blighty and
joined the 3rd Section yesterday.
"We were 'oldin' a part o' the line up Fromelles w'y, and were about
two 'undred yards from the Germans. This sure was a 'ot section o' the
line, h'against the Prussians, an' it was a case, at night, o' keeping
your ears an' eyes open. No Man's Land was full o' their patrols and
ours, an' many fights took place between them.
"One night we would send over a trench-raiding party, an' the next
night over would come Fritz.
"There was a certain part o' our trench nicknamed 'Death Alley' an' the
company which held it were sure to 'click' it hard in casualties.
"John French--'e was a Lance Corporal then--was in charge o' our
section. This was before I went to Machine Gunners' School an'
transferred to this outfit. This French certainly was an artist when
it came to scoutin' in No Man's Land. 'E knew every inch o' the ground
h'out in front, an' was like a cat--'e could see in the dark.
"On the night that 'e won his D.C.M., 'e 'ad been out in front with
a patrol for two hours, an' had just returned to the fire trench. A
sentry down on the right o' Death Alley reported a suspicious noise out
in front, an' our Captain gave orders for another patrol to go out an'
investigate.
"Corporal Hastings was next on the list for the job, but, blime me,
'e sure 'ad the wind-up, an' was shakin' and tremblin' like a dish o'
jelly.
"A new Leftenant, Williams by name, 'ad just come out from Blighty,
an' a pretty fine officer, too. Now, don't you chaps think because
this chap was killed that I say he was a good officer, because, dead
or alive, you would 'ave to go a bloomin' long way to get another man
like Williams. But, this young Leftenant was all eagerness to get out
in front. You see, it was 'is first time over the top. 'E noticed that
Hastings was a bit shaky, an' so did French. French went up to the
officer an' said:
"'Sir, Corporal Hastings 'as been feeling queer (sick) for the last
couple of days, an' I certainly would deem it a favor if I could go in
'is place.'
"Now, don't think that Hastings was a coward, because 'e was not. The
best of us are liable to get the 'shakes' at times. You know, Hastings
was killed at La Bassée a few months ago,--killed while goin' over the
top.
"There were seven in this patrol,--Leftenant Williams, Corporal
French, myself an' four more from B Company.
"About sixty yards from Fritz's trench an old ditch--must have been
the bed of a creek, but at that time it was dry--ran parallel with
the German barbed wire. Linin' the edge of this ditch was a scrubby
sort o' hedge which made a fine hidin'-place for a patrol. Why Fritz
had not sent out a workin' party an' done away with this screen was a
mystery to us. French leadin', followed by Leftenant Williams, myself
third, an' the rest trailin' behind, the patrol crawled through a gap
under our barbed wire leadin' out to a listenin'-post in No Man's Land.
Williams carried a revolver--one of those Yankee Colts,--and his cane.
Blime me, I believe that officer slept with that cane. He never went
without it. The rest of us were armed with bombs and rifles, bayonets
fixed. We had previously blackened our bayonets so they would not shine
in the glare of a star-shell. Reachin' the listenin'-post, French,
under orders from Williams, told us to wait about five minutes until
he returned from a little scoutin' trip on his own. When he left,
we, with every nerve tense, listened for his comin' back. We could
almost 'ear h'each h'other's 'eart pumpin', but not a sound around
the listenin'-post. Suddenly, a voice, about six feet on my right,
whispered, 'All right, the way is clear; follow me an' carry on.' My
blood froze in my veins. It was uncanny the way French approached us
without being heard.
"Then, with backs bendin' low, out of the listenin'-post we went,
in the direction of the ditch in front of the German barbed wire.
We reached the scrubby hedge and lay down, about six feet apart, to
listen. French an' the officers were on the right of our lines.
"About twenty minutes 'ad elapsed, when suddenly, directly in front of
the German wire, we could see dark, shadowy forms rise from the ground
and move along the wire. Silhouetted against the skyline these forms
looked like huge giants and took on horrible shapes. My 'eart almost
stopped beating. Sixty-two I 'ad counted as the last form faded into
the blackness on my left. A whisper came to my ear: 'Don't move or
make a sound; a strong German raidin' party is going across.' It was
French's voice. I did not hear him approach me, nor leave--Yank, he
must have got his trainin' with the Indians on your Great Plains along
the Hudson River." (Yank snickered, but it was unnoticed by Ikey.) "I
could hear a slight scrapin' noise on my right and left. Pretty soon
the whole reconnoiterin' patrol was laying in a circle, heads in.
French had, in his noiseless way, given orders for them to close in on
me, and await instructions.
"Leftenant Williams' voice, in a very low whisper, came to us: 'Boys,
the men, in our trenches 'ave received orders not to fire on account of
our reconnoiterin' patrol bein' out in front. A strong German raidin'
party has just circled our left, an' is makin' for our trench. It's up
to us to send word back. We can't all go, because we might make too
much noise and warn the German party, so it's up to one of us to carry
the news back to the trench that the raidin' party is on its way. With
this information it will be quite easy for our boys to wipe them out.
But it's up to the rest of us to stick out here, and if we go West on
account of the fire from our trench, well, we have done our duty in
a noble cause. Corporal French, you had better take the news back,
because you are too valuable a man to sacrifice.'
"French, under his breath, answered: 'Sir, I've been out since Mons,
and this is the first time that I've ever been insulted by an officer.
If this patrol is going to click it, I'm goin' to click it too. If we
come out of this you can try me for disobedience of orders, but here I
stick, an' I'll be damned if I go in, officer or no officer.'
"Williams, in a voice husky with emotion, answered:
"'French, it's men like you that make it possible for our little Island
to withstand the world. You are a true Briton, an' I'm proud of you.'
"I was hopin' that he would detail me to go back, but he didn't.
Henderson was picked for the job. When Henderson left, Williams shook
hands all around. I felt wet all over.
"You see, fellows, it was this way: Henderson was to tell the men in
the trench that we had returned an' that it was all right for them to
turn loose on the raidin' party with their rifle and machine-gun fire,
without us clicking their fire. It was a damned big lie, but it would
save the blokes in our trench from a bloody bashing. That Leftenant
Williams sure was a lad, not 'arf he weren't.
"The next twenty minutes of waiting was Hell. Our man must have got
in safe, because from out of the blackness, over towards our trench,
rang that old familiar ''Alt! who goes there?' I recognized Corporal
Johnson's voice as doing the challengin' and I said to myself, 'You
lucky bloke, Johnson, in a trench, an' me out here to click it.' We
hugged the ground because we knew what was comin'. Then, a volley
from our trench, and four 'type-writers' (machine-guns) turned loose.
Bullets cracked right over our head. One hit the ground about a foot
from me, ricocheted, and went moanin' and sighin' over the German lines.
"Leftenant Williams sobbed under his breath:
"'God, we're in direct line of our own fire. The trench-raidin' party
must have circled us.'
"Our boys in our trenches were sure doin' themselves proud. The bullets
were crackin' an' bitin' the ground all around us. I wished I was safe
in Blighty, or jail, it didn't matter.