Part 6 (1/2)
”I only felt like that once before,” he said, ”that's when I was spliced.”
”Wot, frightened of something?”
”Yes, and,” gloomily in abrupt relapse, ”it came right, too.” The cherubic tones of Stumpy emanated from somewhere.
”Wot I say is, respect a man's principles. Any teetotalers about yere wot wants to find a 'appy 'ome for their rum ration? Wot I say is, respe--yes, yere I am, old son, pa.s.s the sinful liquor over.”
Half an hour later he warbled a jumbled melody:
”In Ari--Arizona. It's there a girl in Ari--Ari....”
VII
HOLDING THE LINE
MASNIERES
The night was far more lively than any preceding. Fritz trench mortar batteries sending over a series of particularly nastily ranged sh.e.l.ls.
This is a type of sh.e.l.l that can be heard coming from far in the air and its flight, by an acute observer, can be gauged to within a dozen yards or so of the point of impact with the earth. Situated right up in the forward line this dangerous little weapon, at a range of one thousand or less (according to distance between opposing lines) yards, is fired at an almost perpendicular elevation and therefore descends again in approximately a direct line into the trenches: this factor naturally increases its probability of getting INTO the narrow excavation where a long-range sh.e.l.l at a more acute angle would merely dig itself into the parapet. And the havoc among human bodies confined within a small area that this small sh.e.l.l creates is conceivable only by those who have been of a party devastated by such a visitation. It must be borne in mind that three men can be almost obliterated by an explosion while the fourth may pick himself up dazedly, white and shaken, but unscathed.
Take it as a concrete fact that any man, however courageous, who comes close enough into contact with a sh.e.l.l to be conscious of its hot breath on his face and to be violently thrown by its concussion, will regain his feet with shaken nerves to a degree necessitating half-hour or more before restoration to normal. Some few never recover--hence the term ”sh.e.l.l shock.”
There are tales of iron men who are unaffected by a dozen such experiences--perhaps! The writer was blown clean through an open door in Marcoing and had difficulty in keeping his hand steady afterwards to light a pipe--but he does not consider himself particularly brave. Quite the reverse. I could get round a corner with more rapidity than any man in the Battalion if a sh.e.l.l came my way.
Masnieres, if external and internal appearances of buildings is a criterion of financial status, must have been peopled by a moderately wealthy cla.s.s. In fairness to Fritz it must be granted that in three years' occupation he had not purloined to any large extent from the larger houses--with the exception perhaps of a few dozen clocks, a piano or two, and a few similar articles.
Tho cause of this may, of course, be found in the knowledge that right up and during the British attack all these towns--Marcoing, Noyelles and Masnieres--unvisited by sh.e.l.l fire, were still occupied by their owners.
Coming up from where they had hidden trembling in their cellars during our advance, they were immediately advised to go ”down the line,” and in accordance treked away from their old homes with what few personal belongings they could take with them. The road from Masnieres to Marcoing was strewn with the pitiful remnants of lost bundles, which, unable to carry further, sobbing women had cast down by the wayside.
They had crowded in tearful, grateful groups around a few of the Guernsey and other battalions. Young and old. Old! Bent of shoulder, white-haired old dames; from whose kindly care-lined faces grateful tears were fast flowing, poured out volumes of thanks to the Normans in their mother tongue. Upon old backs that had long since earned repose were bundles, sad little bundles, tied up in red handkerchiefs.
Ambulances were used for the conveyance of the old and spent to safety zones. Rough, big Britishers picked up the frail old frames in muscular arms, carried them with infinite gentleness to the ambulance and esconsed them securely there.
”'Ow's that, mother. A bit of all right, eh?” And the ready tears would course again down the old withered cheeks; words would not come; she could only grasp tightly on the firm young hand. How that lump WOULD rise in the throat; how one fought to appear unconcerned.
Big, awkward phlegmatic Britishers; unhappy beneath all this honouring--it makes a man feel such a bally goat.
Thus the people returned to France, while on the ground near by the still figures smiled serenely at the sky. Perhaps they knew! Renouf, a plucky, good-humoured Private, walked down just afterwards with the blood dripping from his side.
The ensuing week, during which the Ten Hundred partook in wiring off the sector, completion of the poorly-dug trench system, and kindred work, was ardous not only in the physical sense, but from the constantly increasing attention of Hun airmen, artillery, and machine guns.
Casualties increased, and of them Death claimed a singularly high proportion, one unfortunate Lewis-gun team coming in for a welter that shattered practically every man and ended two young lives in a fearful state of dismemberment.
Wiring const.i.tutes in itself an operation of fatal possibilities. It has to be constructed at night, without sound; but posts have to be driven into the earth; someone will inevitably slip, accompanied by a loud clatter. Then--ping, ping, ping!!! A hundred rounds fly whining through the night from a Fritz machine-gun.
The utter wretchedness of that wiring; the sickening knowledge that any moment a trail of bullets may spring without warning at you--and if ONE machine-gun shot gets you, another FIVE will be somewhere in your body before you reach the turf. It appears an impossibility to carry on alive in such an undertaking from night to night; but still you DO IT. It is funny--afterwards.
Robin hated it, after falling and introducing twenty barbs to that portion of him utilised usually in a chair; he had to reline a little to one side for a couple of days. Then blood poisoning set in, he reported ”sick,” and was sent down the line as a casualty.
”Of all bloomin' luck.” Stumpy growled; ”'ere's me wots fallen down two sh.e.l.l 'oles and nearly twisted me bloomin' neck, been knocked over by a sh.e.l.l wot capsized all my rum issue--an' not a sign of a Blighty one.”