Part 3

A few nights ago just as I was on the point of going to sleep a soldier came rushing through our quarters yelling “Fire.” In two shakes of a lamb’s tail we were all downstairs, formed in ranks and on double time in the direction of the fire, and as it was only a short distance off, we were soon there. As is the local custom, the house was set back and shut off from the road by an eighteen-inch brick and stone wall covered with cement. Next to, and in fact part of the house was the hay shed; some cavalry men were quartered here.

When we came into the courtyard the shed and nearest half of the top or second floor of the house were in flames. Already some of the furniture had been carried out from the ground floor rooms, and taking the hint, we rushed through the doorway to bring out more. It was one of the best houses in town and well furnished. By this time nearly everybody in town had arrived, but there was no sign of any fire fighting apparatus, and the fire was quickly destroying the house. Soon there were many triumphant cries, and with much gusto the Fire Department of Bouzy burst upon the scene, and was greeted by the crowd with many acclamations of joy. The Fire Department was carried by eager hands, and seeing a couple of vacant inches, I took hold. Everybody was yelling and giving orders, so the Department was carried all over the yard and frequently came near being deposited on the ground, when some one with an extra loud voice would tell of a more advantageous spot, so there the Department would go. This procedure was kept up for about five minutes before the machine was placed.

It consisted of a heavy iron tank four feet long, three feet wide and two feet high with two cylinders and a long two-handled bar for the man-power. Soon the hose was arranged and men formed for a bucket-brigade. Think of it: a machine to which the water must be brought and then pumped through the hose to the blaze. It was a long time before the water arrived and we frequently had to suspend for lack of water. Smith mounted to the roof of the building and Larney was conspicuous on an adjoining roof. Just as Smith reached the roof a stream from a nearby house started to play, but lacked force enough to reach the flames; it landed directly on Smith and continued playing on him. In a short time he was drenched and the spray also wet Larney through.

Well, to make a long story short, the building was completely destroyed, but no damage was done to any nearby structure. Smith slept in his wet clothes and the next morning when he unrolled from his blanket a cloud of steam arose. He surely must have had an enjoyable evening trying to sleep.

The helmets worn by the firemen were of brass and resembled the German helmet, only lacking the spike. They were highly polished and quite showy.

IV IN THE FIRST LINE TRENCHES

_Somewhere in France (Bouzy), March 7, 1915._

We were outfitted unexpectedly this evening and are busy packing and 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.

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.

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.