UNDERGROUND
The trenches in Flanders consist, in the front line at least, of
sand-bag breastworks, and are not regular trenches at all. The country
is so flat that it would be impossible to drain properly a series of
trenches cut in the original soil. As a result of the lack of
drainage, the consequent difficulties and hardships can be well
understood. Each night the enemy would tear big holes in our
breastworks in the front line, and we would have to duck and run past
them on the following day, and at night repair them again, under their
machine-gun fire. The fact that their snipers and machine-gunners had
the gap well taped in the daytime didn't add to our pleasure in
repairing them at night.
The trenches on our company front here, which included underground
galleries emanating from about 16 different shafts, or mine-heads, on
about a half-mile front, averaged from 70 to 120 yards distance from
the enemy. As the water-level was about 25 feet, the underground
tunnels were shallow, mostly about 20 feet in depth. Many of our mines
would be entirely flooded out, and it was only by constant and
energetic work on the hand-pumps that we kept the water down in the
existing galleries. It was a common thing for us to have to wade in
rubber hip-boots through tunnels with over a foot of water in them. We
worked in these mines twenty-four hours of the day, Sundays and
holidays--in fact, no one knew when a Sunday came around, every day
being the same in the trenches. Every officer and non-commissioned
officer knows the date, however, as numerous and elaborate progress
and other reports were furnished to the staff daily. The "padres," or
chaplains, sometimes reminded us of the fact that Sundays do occur
when we were out in billets back of the line. We worked usually three
shifts of eight hours each, and all of our timber and tools, the
latter of the most primitive kind, rendered necessary under the
unusual circumstances, were brought up at night by company trucks to
our advanced billets, which were situated about a mile behind the
front line, and close to the entrance of communication-trenches.
The enemy had started his underground mining operations several months
before they were discovered by the British and had caused many
casualties in the ranks of the infantry; in fact this was the case
everywhere on the western front, both in the British and French lines.
The Hun has a text-book rule which enjoins him to start underground
operations from any trenches which are not farther than 100 metres
from the enemy, and in many cases where the distance exceeded this, or
where he wished to specially defend any observation-posts, machine-gun
posts, or strong points of tactical advantage, he would commence
mining from trenches still farther distant.
Handicapped as were the British and French from this cause, they have
succeeded by energetic and daring work since that time in more than
outmatching the enemy below ground, until now mining beneath the
trenches no longer consists, as it did then, in almost exclusively
defensive operations. Of its use as an offensive measure, the
launching of the attack in the battle of Messines last year serves as
an excellent illustration.
In our part of the line at Fromelles, however, at that time the
Germans had succeeded in exploding many mines with disastrous effect
under our trenches, with the resulting loss of life of many
infantrymen and some engineers, and in our early operations they gave
us much cause for concern. They "blew," that is, exploded mines, under
several of our shaft-houses or mine-shafts whilst the latter were
under construction, and destroyed several of our galleries before we
could get within striking distance of them. When I joined the company,
many of our shafts had been constructed and a considerable footage of
galleries completed. In this work below ground in clay it was
necessary, of course, to be as quiet as possible so that the Germans
could not locate our exact position. Of the fact that we were engaged
in counter-mining, and that they were mining also, every one on both
sides of No Man's Land was aware, but the point was to keep the Hun
guessing as to our exact whereabouts while we discovered all we could
about his. Many devices were employed both by the enemy and ourselves
to try and fool the other. Our lives and the lives of the men on top
depended on our success in outwitting them. Silence below ground was
absolutely essential, and every possible precaution to secure this was
rigorously insisted on. When we approached, as we often did, in these
clay galleries, to within three or four feet, before firing our mines,
the men underground would work without boots, often without lights;
blankets would be hung at different places along the galleries to
drown noise; the floors of the tunnels covered with sand-bags; all
timbering done by wedging, no nails being allowed in construction,
screws being used instead, and any and every other device thought of
to prevent noise adopted.
On many occasions, and particularly when engaged in loading a
mine-charge (work always done by the officers), connecting up the
detonators or electric leads necessary, etc., when within a few feet
of the enemy, and when at the same time we could hear them plainly at
work, and were convinced they were employed, by the sound, on the same
errand as ourselves; namely, laying a charge of high explosives with
which to blow us to eternity, some crazy sapper would fail to stifle a
cough or subdue some throat trouble. We always felt inclined to brain
these chaps with anything handy, although, poor fellows, they were
doing their best to be quiet. Luck certainly was with us on these
occasions, and not in one instance in our work in Flanders did the
Germans succeed in blowing us when we had more than one or two men
underground at the time. How we escaped I don't know. I am sure it was
only by the exercise of great care and good judgment, a lot of luck
and a kind Providence. Farther south in the chalk country of France
everybody below was killed by the resulting concussion, or poisonous
gas, which developed on several occasions when the enemy caught us.
The "jumpiness" which all new troops are subject to at first had its
influence on us, as on the troops above ground; and in the month or
two previous to my joining the company sometimes a mine had been fired
when probably by delaying it a little longer we might have secured
more satisfactory results in damage and casualties to the enemy. That
condition, however, wore off and we very seldom blew any mine unless
we had the most certain evidence that we could get a good toll of
Germans. We would frequently hold our mines for several days or a week
or two, and when the listeners reported that the enemy could be heard
in sufficient number in their tunnels just near our charges, we would
connect our double set of electric leads to dynamo exploders or
blasting-machines, push the handles home hard, and lift them to a
higher sphere of operations.
Our galleries in the clay were for the most part from four and a half
to five feet in height and from thirty inches to three feet in width,
with numerous listening-tunnels, or "rabbit-holes," in size three feet
by two, leading off them as we approached the enemy lines.
It was our practice to build a rough mine-chamber or shelter,
constructed of walls of sand-bags filled with clay with a few
corner-posts of wood, and to cover this shelter with a sheet or two of
corrugated iron and sometimes a layer of sand-bags.
These chambers were built usually at from ten to twenty feet back of
the sand-bag breastworks which formed our only protection from enemy
fire. From these so-called mine-chambers we sank vertical
telescope-shafts, sometimes using case-timbers, and sometimes
collar-sets with logging or spiling driven in behind. In Flanders,
where only these surface shelters can be built, we would usually
construct a dugout alongside or connected with a mine-chamber. In the
trenches farther south we used the deep dugouts, twenty or thirty feet
deep, and often started our systems of tunnels or galleries from them.
Much difficulty was experienced in sinking these shafts. On account of
the shallow water, level pumps were resorted to at once, often two or
three being necessary to keep the water down. With constant pumping
and digging we attained depths of from twenty to twenty-five feet
below the surface. At the bottom of the shaft we put in sumps from
which to pump the water, and then proceeded to drive our galleries
ahead. For the smaller tunnels we used two-inch case-timbers or small
timber-sets and excavated the clay with small, specially constructed
shovels which we called "grafting-tools."
The man in the face would lie with his back across a plank stretcher
placed across the nearest timber set, and would work the grafting-tool
with his heel, whilst a second man would very carefully shovel the
dirt into sand-bags, and pass them when filled to the man behind him.
The latter would in turn pass the sand-bags along to other men as far
as the foot of the shaft, when the bags would be attached to a rope
and hauled to the surface by means of a rough prospector's windlass.
As the work progressed we would often screw wooden rails to the floors
of galleries, and then use small rubber-tired trolleys or cars to move
our sand-bags from the face.
During the cold, damp winter of 1915-1916 we could always get warmed
up by going below. In the chalk-mines in the succeeding summer it was
also quite pleasant to go below and cool off. The men working
underground were certainly lucky in this respect. Down below, the
rumble of the shelling overhead could be very distinctly heard, and it
interfered much with our effective listening to enemy mining
operations. It was a great relief sometimes though to get away from
the ear-splitting Kr-r-r-umps all around.
In the "rabbit-holes" we were, of course, obliged to crawl on our
hands and knees, and would spend many long hours listening to enemy
work, which we heard close to us in these "rabbit-holes" most of the
time.
Despite all attempts, it was impossible to keep these holes dry. I can
remember several occasions when I was so thoroughly dead beat and "all
in" that for a few minutes I dozed or slept whilst listening,
incidentally lying in several inches of water, and only a few feet
from the enemy's work. It was necessary for us to have experienced
"listeners" to keep in touch at all times with the progress of enemy
work whilst our own was going on, and naturally the officers on duty
had to do a large part of this to satisfy themselves. Regular reports
were kept in the dugouts on the surface as to the enemy's activity in
every direction, and these were carefully studied and plotted on maps
by all subalterns when relieving. Our dugouts, as they were called,
although they differed very much from the more or less elaborate
dugouts which we now use farther south in France, were really only
splinter-proof shelters, and consisted of walls of sand-bags with a
sheet of corrugated iron on top, and one or two rows of sand-bags on
that. A direct hit of any kind was fatal to all occupants. Many hours
have I spent in those dugouts with trench mortars and shells dropping
all around, and wondering whether their next mortar was going to crack
our "egg-shell" of a shelter. However, when things got too hot, we had
a big advantage over the infantry in the fact that we could suddenly
recollect at these times some very important work twenty feet below
ground in our mines which demanded our immediate attention. Like the
infantry, though, we were of a rather fatalistic turn of mind, and
usually trusted to our luck. One of the half-dozen men who came over
to the trenches from England with me was unfortunate enough to be
caught in a dugout of this description the very first time he entered
the trenches, a mile or two down the line from us, when a "rum-jar"
landed on it. Another officer with him at the time was killed, and
several men also, but he got off with a bad head wound which sent him
back to an English hospital for a few months. Near us was an infantry
company headquarters' dugout and we would go there for a little change
from time to time. When fate was kind to us we would share some very
decent meals together, usually the contents of some one's parcels from
England.
These meals were not served in "Palais Royal" style, and often fingers
were employed in lieu of forks, but nevertheless we had some merry
times. Humor and tragedy touch elbows in the trenches. A man is
laughing one minute--the next he is lying dead with a bullet crashed
through his heart or brain; or what is more usual and worse to the
survivors, with his body so mutilated that it is difficult to find
enough of his pitiful remains to bury. So it was with us. We would
wear that anxious look occasionally when Fritz would lob over some
form of frightfulness which landed very close to us; but it seldom
disturbed us for long. One night I had accepted an invitation to
dinner with some friends of a very famous old British regiment, the
Rifle Brigade, who were garrisoning the trenches we were in. The
company commander was a young man about twenty-three, one of the very
finest types of the old British regular army officer, and we had been
very good friends. Friendships are made quickly under such
circumstances. We had "blown" a mine the previous evening, and it was
the duty of the infantry here to wire the crater formed by the
explosion. The mine had been blown as a defensive measure in
preventing the wily Hun from coming closer to this point underground
and was located about midway between the trenches in No Man's Land.
While we were at dinner, a runner reported that one of Captain G.'s
corporals had been wounded while finishing some work on the wire.
Notwithstanding the fact that even at this time orders were in effect
that no infantry company commander should go into No Man's Land unless
in emergency or on a regular attack, my gallant friend, Captain G., at
once got up from dinner and said he was going out to bring his
corporal in. We endeavored to dissuade him, and suggested the usual
course of sending out the company's stretcher-bearers to get the man
in. He would not listen, but hurried out. Climbing over the slimy
parapet he attempted to reach the wounded corporal, but was shot
through the head just as he reached the edge of the crater. Two
stretcher-bearers at once went out and were also shot in a minute or
two. Two of his subalterns then very cautiously proceeded to go out
through one of the cunningly devised "sally ports" which issue at
frequent intervals from the breastworks out to No Man's Land,
recovered the bodies, and brought in the wounded corporal. The loss of
this fine officer made a great impression on me at the time, but so
many incidents of a similar nature were constantly happening that one
becomes callous in time without sensing it. I only know that if one
gave way to his feelings his nerves would shortly break, and his
usefulness would be ended--a somewhat brutal philosophy, but necessary
in a war such as this that the German fiends have forced upon us.
By night we would get rid of our spoil or clay from the underground
workings, dumping them from sand-bags or gunny sacks into shell-holes,
mine-craters, abandoned trenches, depressions in the ground, behind
hedges, and in other places offering some concealment from enemy
observation. This work was all done under the enemy's machine-gun and
rifle fire. Both we and the Boche would fire the "Very" or star lights
at more or less regular intervals during the night; the enemy much
more frequently than we; and the parties or individuals working on top
would have to be very careful when they happened to come within the
range of these ghostly silver flares. Usually it was sufficient if one
kept quite still, but where trenches are very close and the light
drops behind you and throws your figure into relief, the wise course
is to immediately drop flat and remain motionless. It isn't quite so
easy as one might imagine to stand still on these occasions; but it is
quite effective. Any movement of a soldier is spotted in an instant,
and at once every sniper and machine-gun operator, constantly on the
alert on the enemy parapet, opens fire. One night I was working with
my men on top in this way disposing of our sand-bags, and I noticed an
infantry officer with a party of four men placing sand-bags on top of
a dugout near us. An enemy "Very" light flashed over and behind us,
throwing all of our figures into relief. We dropped pronto, as did the
men with the infantry officer, but he, poor chap, then only three days
in the trenches, was too slow, and got a bullet square through his
head. It is strange to note the confidence with which men will work on
top of the trenches at night after a little experience. At first it
seems impossible that the enemy machine-guns can miss you in their
frequent and thorough traverse or sweeps of the lines opposite them,
but you gradually gain confidence and find that, unless you expose
yourself carelessly by moving when their lights go up in your
neighborhood, you usually get off scot-free.
There are many complaints of the monotony of trench life, and
certainly some of them are well founded, but in our work there was not
much room for monotony.
During my first month or two I was intensely interested in every
weapon that the British were using, and whenever a machine-gun,
trench-mortar, grenade, or sniper officer was about to start a "shoot"
in my sector, I was invariably invited to witness the affair and
learned to operate them all in time, much to my satisfaction. My
particular delight consisted in using a Vickers machine-gun at night
in traversing up and down the enemy's communication-trenches. I guess
we soon acquire bloodthirstiness; at any rate, one develops without
conscious effort an instinct to "strafe the Hun," not only on general
principles, but particularly to avenge the loss of comrades. The
artillerymen share this feeling; the F.O.O., or forward observing
officers, for each artillery battery, can be found prowling around the
trenches at all times, searching the enemy's lines with their powerful
field-glasses for targets, and continually discussing the
possibilities of new ones with the infantry and engineers in the
lines; and at nearly all times lamenting the fact that they can get
nothing to shoot at.
While we were here they sent us a bantam division to relieve the old
division. These little fellows, hardly a man of them being over five
feet two inches in height, were certainly not short of pluck. Nearly
all of their officers by way of contrast were exceptionally big men,
all over six feet. It was very amusing to see the bantams climbing on
to their fire-steps and building up sand-bags to step on so they could
see well over the parapet. It's a useful thing, anyway, to be short in
trench warfare. You don't have to duck so much.