Part 11

By his fondness for all such petty tricks as these--and, of course, they have dozens of dirtier ones than this--the Boche has rather shut the door on chivalry. Given half a chance, the natural inclination of our men is to wage war as they would play cricket--like sportsmen. You've only to indicate to them that this or that is a rule of the game--of any game--and they're on it at once. And if you indicated nothing, of their own choice they'd always play roughly fair and avoid the dirty trick by instinct. But the Boche washes all that out. Generosity and decency strike him as simply foolishness. And you cannot possibly treat him as a sportsman, because he'll do you down at every turn if you do; and here in Petticoat Lane being done down doesn't only mean losing your money. As a rule, you haven't any of that to lose. It means--"going West for keeps"; that is, being killed. It's that sort of thing that has made Petticoat Lane life savage and primitive; and the fact that it's so close and intimate as to be pressing on you all round all the time, that is what gives the additional nerve strain.

It is, of course, a great place for little raids. The trenches are so close that you're no sooner out of your own than you're on top of theirs. And I take it as evidence of the moral superiority being on this side of the line, that we see very much more of their trenches than they ever see of ours. It is a great deal more difficult to repair trenches here than it was when we were a couple of hundred yards away from the enemy, because of the frequency of the oil-cans and bombs. The consequence is that, from the point of view of the cover they give, both our trenches and the Boches' are much inferior to those we had before. But, curiously enough, we have some very decent dug-outs here, deep and well protected.

In fact, take it all round, we are not so badly off at all. And "interesting" the place most certainly is. ("The Peacemaker" generally means "dangerous" when he says "interesting.") There's something doing in the strafing line pretty nearly all the time; and strafing is a deal more interesting than navvying, pumping, and mud-shovelling. The chances for little shows of one sort and another are more numerous here than where we were before. We've tried one or two already, and when we get back into the support line you shall have full particulars from your somewhat tired but quite jolly

"_Temporary Gentleman_."

THEY SAY----

We were relieved in Petticoat Lane by "D" Company last night, and took the place they'd held in the support line; "a corner of Heaven itself," of course, after The Gut. And I have had a most luxurious and delightful day to-day, out of trenches altogether.

Our O.C. "the Peacemaker"--you do remember, don't you, that the Officer Commanding the Battalion is the C.O., and the Officer Commanding the Company the O.C.: saves confusion--is an awfully good chap. He didn't say anything about it, but I feel sure he put me on my job of to-day--chose me for it--because he thought it would be good for me. He was ordered to send an officer to arrange about billets for the Company in ---- ready for when we go out. Taffy's been a bit under the weather in Petticoat Lane, and is able to get a rest here in support. This meant rather more sticking to it for me in the front line, and, as a matter of fact, I didn't get an hour's sleep while we were there. We had little strafes going most of the time, and I was rather cheap when we came out last night; bit shaky, you know; that's all. Two Boche mines were exploded in The Gut while we were there; both with extraordinarily little loss to us. But I was lifted out of the trench by one of 'em; and I suppose these things do indirectly affect one a bit, somehow, even when there is nothing to show for it; at all events, when they are combined with shortage of sleep.

Anyhow, I'm as right as ninepence to-night, and had a fine sleep after midnight yesterday. And to-day, with "the Peacemaker's" horse for company, I've been playing the country gentleman at large and fixing up billets for the Company, and done pretty well for 'em, too. It was something of a race between Grierson of "D" and myself for the best officers' mess and sleeping quarters in ----; but Grierson hadn't much chance, really. He hasn't even my smattering of French, and his O.C. had not lent him a horse.

The goodwife at the place I've got for ourselves is a torrential talker, and in rounding up the boys and girls working on her farm she shows a bit of a temper; but I'm certain she's a jolly capable manager, and she has promised to cook for us, which will mean a fine change from the batman's efforts in that line. Also the billets themselves are good, those for the men being the best I've seen anywhere: dry as a chip, and thoroughly sheltered from the wind. We shall be in clover for our week out, especially as I think ---- is a bit too far back to admit of our being on trench fatigues at all while out.

I did enjoy the pottering about on my own, and the nearest firing being three or four miles away all the time, made everything seem so extraordinarily peaceful after the roaring racket and straining watchfulness of Cut-Throat Alley; where one's eyes sort of ache from trying to look all ways at once, and one's ears and head generally get dead from the effort of recording the precise meaning of each outstanding roar in the continuous din. Also I met two or three interesting people, including the Town Major in ----.

I had some grub about one o'clock in a big _estaminet_, almost a restaurant, really; and it was most interesting, after the trenches, to listen to the gossip and eat without feeling you had to look out for anything. There are a number of French residents left in this place, and this makes it different from the village we were last in, just behind the line, where the inhabitants have left, and the place is purely a camp, and partly in ruins at that. This place still has a natural human sort of life of its own, you know. And there are women in it, and a priest or two, and cows and sheep, and a town-crier, and that sort of thing--something fascinatingly human about all that, though it is within four miles of the firing line.

The café was simply full of rumours and gossip. Military gossip is, of course, taboo with strangers and civilians, and rightly, since one cannot be sure who is and who is not a spy. But I suppose there's no harm in it among people who can recognise each other's uniforms and badges. Anyhow, I heard a lot to-day, which may or may not have anything in it.

The things that interested me most were things about our own bit of front, and there were two definite reports about this. First, I heard that we are to throw out a new front-line trench to bridge the re-entrant south of Petticoat Lane. And then I heard we are to make a push to collar the Boche front line on the bend opposite us, because a few hundred yards of line there would mean a lot to us in the straightening of our front generally, and in washing out what is undoubtedly a strong corner for the Boche now, because it gives him some fine enfilading positions. If this were brought off it would wash out The Gut altogether as firing line, and that in itself would be a godsend. Also it would mean a real push, which is naturally what we all want. We think the fact of that extra Division having been fitted into our line rather endorses the report, and are feeling rather bucked in consequence. The whole Battalion, and for that matter the whole Division, is just spoiling for the chance of a push, and I doubt whether we've a man who wouldn't volunteer for the front line of the push at this moment, and jolly glad of the chance.

I said in my last letter that I'd tell you about our little strafing stunts while we were in Petticoat Lane. But, really, this new prospect of a push and the report about the new front-line trench to be cut make them seem pretty small beer, and quite a long way off now, anyhow. You remember I told you there was a startling difference between the left of our present sector and the right of the one we were in before. It wasn't only the difference between clay and sand, you know. It was that, whereas the right of the old sector was hundreds of yards away from the Boche--as much as six and seven hundred in parts--the left of the present sector runs down to sixty or seventy yards where it joins Petticoat Lane.

That means a big re-entrant in the line, of course, and a part where our front runs almost at right angles to Fritz's, instead of parallel with it. The new trench would be to bridge the mouth of this re-entrant, and equalise the distance between our line and the Boche's, right along. Apart from anything else, it would make any subsequent push much easier. It's a low-lying, wet, exposed bit, that re-entrant; but this wouldn't matter if we were just going to use it as a jumping-off place, which is what we hope.

However, as there's no official news, one mustn't think too much about it.

It seems there's been some sickness at our Brigade Headquarters, which is a château marked large on the map, though out of sight from the Boche line. The sickness among the orderlies was attributed to something queer about the drains, and I suppose the thing was reported on. Anyhow, as the story I heard to-day goes, a tremendous swell arrived in a car to have a look at the place; an Olympian of the first water, you understand. No doubt I should be executed by means of something with boiling oil in it if I mentioned his name. As he stepped from his car outside the château two shells landed, one on the lawn and one in the shrubbery. The Olympian sniffed at Fritz's insolence. Before he got into the doorway another shell landed very near his car, and spattered it with mud from bonnet to differential. The august one is reported to have greeted the Brigadier by saying rather angrily:

"This is obviously a most unhealthy spot, sir; most unhealthy. Ought never to have been chosen."

But a better yarn was the one a subaltern of the R.E. told me as I was jogging back to the trenches. This was about the sector next but one north of us. It seems a Boche 'plane was being chased by a British 'plane, and making heavy weather of it. The Englishman had perforated the other fellow's wings very badly, and partly knocked out his engine, too. Anyhow, the Boche 'plane was underdog, and descending rapidly midway between our front line and his own, right over the centre of No Man's Land. Naturally the men in the trenches on both sides were wildly excited about it. The story is they forgot everything else and were simply lining the parapets, yelling encouragement to their respective airmen as though they had front seats at Brooklands or the Naval and Military Tournament. Seeing this, a pawky old Scot--it was a Highland regiment on our side--slipped quietly down on the fire-step in the midst of the excitement, and began making accurate but leisurely target practice; carefully picking out Boches forty or fifty yards apart from each other, so as not to give the show away too soon. He did pretty well, but was bitterly disappointed when the Boche's Archibald forced our 'plane to rise, just as the Boche airman managed to jigger his machine somehow into his own support lines, and the spectators took cover.

"Och, no a'thegither sae badly, surr," says Scotty to his Platoon Commander. "Ah managed to get nine o' the feckless bodies; but Ah hopet for the roond dizen!"

Rather nice, wasn't it?

Those little shows of ours in Cut-Throat Alley were practically all bombing, you know; but we did rather well in the matter of prisoners taken in the craters, and of Boches otherwise accounted for. Our own casualties for the four days were two killed--both in my Platoon, and both men with wives at home, I grieve to say; thundering good chaps--and six wounded; two only slightly. We reckon to have got twenty or thirty Boches wounded, and at least ten killed; and there is no sort of reckoning needed about the eleven prisoners we certainly did take in the craters and sent blindfolded down to Headquarters. I believe this beats the record of the Company we relieved, which, of course, knew the place better; and our C.O. is pleased with us. I have to go now and tell off a small carrying party. Though feeling a bit shaky yesterday, I'm as right as right can be again now, so mind, you have no earthly reason to worry about your

"_Temporary Gentleman_."

P.S.--"The Peacemaker" has just got word from Battalion Headquarters itself that it's perfectly correct about the new front-line trench to be cut; and it is believed "A" Company is to have something to do with it. So that's real news; and we feel sure it means a push to come. Everybody very cock-a-hoop.

THE NEW FRONT LINE

A turn out, a turn in, and now we're out again, and barring three Field Service post cards, I believe all that time has gone without my writing to you. You must try to forgive me. I can assure you things have been happening. There hasn't been much idle time. When I last wrote we had only begun to talk about the new front trench, hadn't we? Things certainly have hummed since then.

The first move was a tour of inspection and survey of the proposed new line, by the O.C. of our Field Coy. of R.E., with some other officers. Somewhat to my surprise--I suppose he really ought not to expose himself to that extent--our C.O. accompanied this party. The next night, when the pegs were driven in, definitely marking the whole new line, the O.C.R.E. allowed me to go with him. The new line, as we marked it out, was 760 yards long; from down near The Gut right across to what used to be our centre, cutting off the whole big re-entrant and equalising the whole sector's distance from the Boche.

The next day our C.O. sent for O.C. Companies, and "the Peacemaker" took me along when he went, as I'd been over the ground, and he guessed the pow-wow would be about the new trench. The C.O. told us all about it, and what the ideas of the authorities were. He said it was the sort of job which might possibly prove costly in lives. But it had got to be done, and he was of opinion that if everyone concerned made up his mind never for a moment to relax the care and watchfulness he would use in the first half-hour, the job might be done with comparatively few casualties. He talked longer than he generally does, and I think he felt what he said a good deal. He said he never expected to have one moment's anxiety as to the bearing of any officer, N.C.O., or man of the Battalion in the face of danger. He knew very well we were all right on that score. But what he did want to impress upon us, as officers, was that our duty went a good deal beyond that.

"I know very well that none of you would ever show fear," he said; "and I think you are satisfied that your N.C.O.'s and men will never fail you in that respect. But, remember, your greatest asset is the confidence the men have in you. Never do anything to endanger that. If you use all the care and judgment you can, and if each one of your men understands exactly what the job before him is, and your influence is such as to prevent anyone from losing his head, no matter what happens, then the casualty list will be low. Every casualty you prevent on a job like this is as good as an enemy casualty gained. When we have to lose our men, let us lose them fighting, as they themselves would choose to go down if go down they must. But in this job of the new trench, we pit our wits and our coolness and discipline and efficiency against those of the Boche; and it's your job to see to it that the work is carried through at the minimum cost in man-power."

He said other things, of course, but that was the gist of it, and I think we were all impressed. He's a martinet all right, is our C.O.; and, as you know, his tongue is a two-edged sword. He's as stern a man as I ever knew; but, by Gad! he's just, and, above and before all else, he is so emphatically a man.

Well, the upshot of our plans was that "A" Company was to provide the covering party and be responsible for the tactical aspect of the show, and "C" Company--all miners and farm workers--with one Platoon of "D," was to do the digging, for a start, anyhow. The R.E. were to run the wire entanglement right along the front of the new line, and this was to be the first operation. It was obvious that as much as possible must be done during the first night, since, once he had seen the job, as he would directly daylight came, the Boche might be relied on to make that line tolerably uncomfortable for anyone working near it without cover.

While we were out of trenches that week our fellows were pretty busy during the first half of each night carrying material up to the front line. There was a good number of miles of barbed wire to go up, with hundreds of iron screw standards for the wire, and hundreds more of stakes; a lot of material altogether, and I am bound to say I think the R.E. arranged it very well. They had all their material so put together and stowed up at the front as to make for the maximum of convenience and the minimum of delay when they came to handle it in the open and under fire--as men always must be when doing anything in No Man's Land.

Our men were bursting with swank over the Company's being chosen to act as covering party; delighted to think that what they regarded as the combatant side of the show was theirs. Indeed, I rather think a lot of 'em made up their minds that they were going to utilise the opportunity of having a couple of hundred men out close to the Boche trenches for a real strafe of the men in those trenches. "The Peacemaker" had to get 'em together and talk very seriously and straight about what our responsibilities were in this job. This was necessary to make the beggars realise that ours was a defensive and not an offensive stunt; in which success or failure depended mainly upon our ability to be perfectly silent.

"All the scrapping will come later," said "the Peacemaker." "We mustn't invite one single bullet while we've a couple of hundred men behind us using picks and shovels, and working against time to get cover. If Boches come along our line, it will be our job to strafe 'em with our naked fingers if we possibly can. The last thing we'll do will be to fire a shot. And the one thing that must not happen, not in any case at all--no, not if the whole Prussian Guard turns out--is for a single Boche in any circumstances whatever to get through our line."

And that was the basis on which we tackled the job. Of course, the O.C. knew better than to try to handle his Company as a Company on the night. Orders could only be given in whispers, you understand. As a matter of fact, in all such work, as in night attacks, one must be able to rely, not alone on Platoon Sergeants and senior N.C.O.'s, but on Corporals and Section Commanders. And if they have not been trained so that you can rely on their carrying out instructions exactly, one's chances of success are pretty small.

It was dark soon after five, and by a quarter to six we were moving out into the open. One and two Platoons went out down Stinking Sap, myself in command, and three and four Platoons went out from just a little way above Petticoat Lane. I led my lot and "the Peacemaker" led the other half-Company, the idea being that when he and I met we should know that we were in our right position, and could stay there. We moved with about three paces' interval between men, and kept three or four connecting files out on our inside flank and a couple on the outer flank; the business of the inside men being to steer us at an average distance of forty paces to the front of the foremost line of pegs, which was the line to be followed by the barbed-wire entanglements; the line of the new trench itself being well inside that again.

This meant that one flank of our line, just above Petticoat Lane, would rest within 150 yards of the Boche front trench, and the other flank about 225 yards. We had drilled the whole business very carefully into the men themselves, as well as the Section Commanders and Sergeants. We got out on our line without a sound; and then "the Peacemaker" made his way back to Stinking Sap to report to Captain ----, of the R.E., that we had taken on the duty of protection and were all ready for his men to go ahead. He marched his carriers out then, stringing them out along the whole line, and the whole of his Company set to work putting up the screen of wire entanglements behind our line.

This whole business has given me a lot of respect for the R.E.; a respect which, I think, is pretty generally felt throughout the Service. The way they planned and carried out that wiring job was fine. No talk and no finicking once they were in the open; every last peg and length of binding wire in its right place; sand-bags at hand to fold over anything that needed hammering; every man told off in advance, not just to make himself as generally useful as he could, but quite definitely to screw in standards, or drive in stakes, or fix pegs, or carry along the rolls of wire, or strain the stays, or lace in the loose stuff, as the case might be. Every man knew precisely what his particular part was, and went straight at it without a word to or from anyone.

Meanwhile, I was working carefully along from end to end of our line, checking up the intervals, altering a man's position where necessary, and making sure that all our men were properly in touch and keeping their right line, watching out well and making no sound. Nobody in our lot moved, except the officers. All the others lay perfectly still. We kept moving up and down in front the whole time, except when flares were up or machine-gun fire swept across our way, and then, of course, we dropped as flat as we could.

But no machine-gun spoke on that sector, not once while the wire was going up. Before half-past seven "the Peacemaker" came along to me with orders to lead my men off to Stinking Sap. The wiring was finished. There had been a hundred and fifty men at it, and at that moment the last of 'em was entering Stinking Sap--casualties, nil.

"The Peacemaker" marched his half-Company round the end of the wire above Petticoat Lane, and I took mine round the end in front of Stinking Sap-head. Then we wheeled round to the rear of the new wire entanglement and marched out again, immediately in rear of it, till "the Peacemaker" and I met, as we had previously met in front. So we took up our second and final position and got down to it exactly as we had done in the first position.

When the O.C. reported that we were in position, "C" Company marched out, half from each end of the line, under their own officers, but with the O.C.R.E. in command, and his officers helping. They were at three yards' interval. There was a peg for every man, and the first operation was for each man to dig a hole in which he could take cover. It had all been thought out beforehand, and every man knew just what to do. Their instructions were to dig as hard as ever they knew how, but silently, till they got cover. All the sections were working against each other, and the O.C. Company was giving prizes for the first, second, and third sections, in order of priority, to get underground.

We couldn't see them, of course, and had all the occupation we cared for, thank you, in looking after our line. I was glad to find, too, that we could only hear them when we listened. They were wonderfully quiet. It's a wet clayey soil, and they had been carefully drilled never to let one tool touch another. I am told they went at it like tigers, and that the earth fairly flew from their shovels. In our line there wasn't a sound, and every man's eyes were glued on his front.