IN THE BILLET.

Auckland Star, Volume XLIX, Issue 11, 12 January 1918, Page 13

IN THE BILLET.

PICK -AND SHOVEL BRIGADE. I " ALL KILLING ; NO MEDALS." | (By PATRICK MacGILL.) The men in the barn billet of Moulin i Farm had been out working all the night previous, and they had slept for the better part of that day. Now that the autumn dusk had fallen these men (who expected to be sent up to tne firing line) were told that they were not to leave their billets that night. In the morning they were to go back for a rest to a village far away to the rear. And the men were pleased, for "they had quite enough of it for the time being," as they themselves said when speaking to one another. "Let others get a chance now, for turn about is fair in a job where there's a deal more killing than medals," they remarked. The battalion to which the men be-' longed had been supplying working parties to the frpnt line for close upon a fortnight, and soldiers who work with pick and shovel in No Man's Land have the most trying labour of war. Kot for them is that fighting exhilaration whichcomes to soldiers who wweep forward on the enemy. Then men, purged of fear and even of*thought, no longer are con-! scious of the weakness of the flesh. They become one great resistless purpose, able and ready to accomplish any feat. But war, as exemplified in the mundane occupation of digging saps or laying wires, is a different matter. "The men are struck by the enemy's high explosives and cannot strike back; they are killed and cannot have revenge. For the man with the shovel and pick war is all killing and no medals. j The men in the barn were pleased to be out of it for a time, for their casual- I ties had been heavy as working parties. Now that they had not to go up to the ' trenches that night they lay back in the I straw, took off their puttees, lit their I cigarettes, aud talked of war, the tale ! of one deed of daring leading, to another. SHELLS OF YESTERYEAR. "Mind a year gone yesterday?" asked a red-haired Irishman named Gahey, who had just finished .writing a letter by I candlelight. "The candle stood on an empty ammunition box in the centre of ( the apartment, and the Irishman sat on 1 the straw, his writing-pad on his knee. "We wor down by the Somme. We wor sittin' in a barn like this one and playing' cards, with the Jerry's trenches hardly the crow iv a cock away." "An the bloomin' shells shakin' the' tiles when they burst outside," said a second man of the party, a young, narrowchested Cockney, nicknamed Spudhole. /'Blimey, 'twasn't 'arf a place to' be playin' cards, and I 'ad some luck that evenin' 'fore the bloomin' roof went west."' "Blown off?" inquired a youngster, whose life of active service began three nights previously. "Off," laughed the red-haired Irishman. "It did go off —like a leaf from a tree in the big wind And poor old Sergeant Sharron .went with it." "A damned good bloke 'c was too," eaid Spudhole. " 'Twas the cards that saved us." "How was that?" a middleaged man with a white moustache inquired from a dim angle of the Toom •where tlie sheaves were huddled up in a big ungainly heap. "Twas like this," said the Irishman. "CardplajMng for money is not allowed, as ye know, in the army. It's gamblin' and gamblin' is not for soldiers. It can be done on the Stock Exchange, but it ! can't he done here. Which is right, for |if a man is blown from a gamblin' school lup to heaven by a shell, what excuse has he to give to' St. Peter? We worn't Igamblin', for there was no money on the table."

! "We just tallied up and settled our accounts after." Spudhole informed the company. "I made 6ome dibs that day. Seven francs in all I made." ' "And won it "all from-me-, yeJimb,iv perdition," said the Irishman. "And you borrowed ten francs from mc the next day, and I've never got it back since," Spudhole remarked in a mock-serious, .voice. "Of course ye'v6 saved my life a couple o' times 6ince then," he remarked as an afterthought. "Then we'll cry quits," said the Irishman, "though yer life is'dear enough at the price. Now, hold yer tongue till I finish mc story. Where was I? Oh, yes, 'twas the card-playin' in the barn at the Somme." "Some barn it was, too." Spudhole remarked, and. ducked in the straw to avoid the mess-tin which the ..Irishman threw at him. "There was no money on the table," Galley went on, "and I was losin' hand over "fist. Spudhole and meself had a dispute. What it was about I misrimimber, but I was nettled, and I took some money out iv mc pocket and handed it to him. , 'That's yers,' I says, 'so hold yer tongue." THE ARMISTICE. ; *- ---"Were the two of you always quarrelling'!" asked the rooky. "Always, except when we were killin' Germans," said the Irishman. "Then Aye always agreed, save once, when I ihad to give a lesson to Spud on the best way iv usin' a bay'net." I "I was a done one, a goner, that time if old Gahey hadn't risked his bloomin' life to save mine," Spudhole remarked, addressing the barn at large. "I went a bit too far forard, and " "Hold yer tongue, ye ," exclaimed the Irishman, rising to his feet and gripping Spudhole by the shoulder with a big callous hand. He twirled the Cockney round, buried him in the straw, and sat on him. I "Now I'll get on with mc story," 6aid ' Gahey. "I handed Spudhole the money, | as I said, and who should come into the ' barn at that moment but Sergeant ! Sharron. He was a devil for discipline, but at heart a good fellow, and one that ud stand up for his platoon. Sharron looks at mc, and, 'Gahey,' he said, 'what's this that I see?' 'I'm payin' Spudhole back a debt that I owe. him,' says I. Sharron bends down and lifts the cards any puts them in his pocket. | 'No more playin' cards this night,' he i says, and there Wasn't, not in that barn, I anyway. Meself and Spudhole and the others goes out then, and what we did when we vjent out doesn't matter. I'm not here to bring evil into the minds iv young rookies by tellin' them things. They'll learn soon enough. Anyway, j we went out. and we worn't gone five minutes when along comes a shell and away goes the barn and them that was inside iv it." "So this shows ye how a game iv cards saved mc life as well as Spudhole's i life on that occasion," Gahey con- ! eluded. l "If you, you big 'ulkin Irishman, don't get up from sittiu' on mc at once, I'll ! lose my bloomin' life on this occasion," said a muffled voice from the straw. "I wonder why men like you are allowed to join the army?""We're allowed in to teach civility to things like yourself, Spudhole," said the 1 Irishman, getting to his feet. "Now ; come out iv it and keep a civil tongue in yer head. Also help mc to make a i mess-tin iv tay, for that last parcel that i I had from home is not finished yet." Spudhole crept out, .shook himself, and became busy over the tea. Probably, , the two men would have another argu- , ment before, their meal came to an end, ' for, though they loved one another i greatly, they quarrelled like twin bro- ; thers. The friendship of Gahey and • Spudhole is a friendship, cemented by war, made durable by argument, and ; whole by quarrelling. The readiness of ; one to risk his life for the other had : almost become an article of faith with the battalion. .