THINGS THAT HAPPEN IN THE TRENCHES.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 11267, 22 December 1914, Page 1

THINGS THAT HAPPEN IN THE TRENCHES.

* i (By ONE WHO HAS BEEN THERE.) People at home do not know much whac life m the trenches is really like. Most of them imagine it a "lark" or a picnic, but I can tell them it is anything, hut that. I will try to describe how mv comrades and 1 lived it for ten days and nights on the bank of the Aisne. Afetr having marched the whole day and most of the previous night we finally make a. halt in the dark, eagerly longing for our weSi-deserved supper and still more well-deserved rest and sleep. But immediately after halting a shout goes up : "No grub! The supplies have been captured by the Germans I" « D the Germans!" we say, and with empty stomachs we prepare for rest. But no sooner have wo rolled ourselves in our overcoats than the order'comas: "Trenches to be dug immediately aud to bo finished before dawn." Now the digging of such trenches is no small work. Each trench is about two yards broad and five feet sis inches deep, and from half a mile to a mile in length. One side is perpendicular and the other slants upwards to give easy access to the rear, or sometimes to the front, as the case may be. When the trench slants frontwards it is to enable the boys the more easily to get_ at the enemy with the bayonet, a thing that the Tommy loves but the German fears. He shudders before the steel, as a Tommy said, and he had occasion to know.

There is neither time to cover the bottom or the sides of the'trench nor any material at hand to do it with. Yoti just jump down into the raw earth and there you stand up and fire if you get the chance, and there yon sleep and there yon eat. But very soon the trench gets wet from moisture in the soil and the rain, and then the water soaks the bottom of the trench and you sometimes stand ankle-deep in it. In these comfortable apartments you stay dav and night and n : ght and day. Your "grub" is from your emergency rations—tinned beef and biscuits—and the water that you are able to get hold of. The beef is all ristht when it istinned. But very often the tin is pricked when you come to use it by accidentally hivinc been hit against something hard, such as the metal fittings of a waggon or a spur or a bnvonet. or by having been nctnall" struck by a piece of an exploded and th».n the formerly ml and nourishing bepf is green and filthy and n°rhnps able to "walk by itself." But' it sops down just tho same, for your liunprer has to be stilled in- some way or other.

THE OFFICER AND THE BEEF

There are- several stories connected with "prubbmg" which show what a fine fellow our Tommy is. An officers's tin had been pricked, but of course h'r said nothing above some mild oaths al' by himself and sat down on .-his coat to munch the green stuff which once had. been beef. But suddenly\a-priya.tp stood in front of him with his red and fresh tin in his hand and htld it ou. and said: "Let me have yours, sir, and you take mine; it makes littk difference to me—l am used to it." Of course the officer : refused and sent the man back to his place, but he forgot neither the man nor his offer. Tlie trench being .entirely uncovered is open to sun and rain and storm and shells. A covering of boards and earth and grass would De very nice against rainstorms, but nothing can proteel you from the shells except perhaps a concrete roof a couple or yards thick at least. For when a shell bursts on the ground it digs a hole in the earth three yards deep. We in the trenches consider the "life-danger radius" of the shell to be about hi teen yards., but there is nothing to prevent you from being killed by a shell bursting more than a hundred yards away from you. Once a shell exploded just on the surface of the Aisne, and it threw up a spout big enough to drench every man in our trench, which lay about two hundred yards away from the bank. One can imagine the size of the spout. 1., was a magnificent s'ght, and we wished the Germans' would give us some more " water-pantomimes." But unfortunately they gave us something, else. Their aeroplanes had a very unpleasant habit of finding out just where our trenches lay and signalling the position with, puffs of smoke, and then the shells began to drop dow-a to us, sometimes into the very trench itself.

Now there you stay in the trench with the shells bursting and mangling and killing around you, and you can do nothing. If you show as much as your little finger above the edge of th« trench a volley of bullets is immediately fired at that finger. We amused ourselves by sticking a cap on a r.fle barrel and popping it up above thu edge of the trench like a man peering out, just to see how many volleys the Germans would fire before they found out that it was only an empty cap. And often when we left a trench to occupy a new one, which always had to be done at night, we left in the old one a few caps sticking up! Theu it was great fun the next day to see the Germans firing volley upon volley at those caps and shell ; ng the empty treiica. Next night perhaps we would again return to the old trench.

There were brave and fine fellows on both sides. A Londoner, a fellow always joking and in high spirits, was struck by a bullet which went through the soft part of his cheek, knocked off one tooth, and went out again through his mouth, which he fortunately held opeu. Feeling the blood and the missing tooth he laughingly remarked: " Now isn't tha-t kind ot the Germans? I wanted to pick that tooth, and I had no toothpick at hand. Now the Germans have picked it for me." And there was a German lad who was a soldier any army would be proud of. His comrades wore half crazy from thirst when this fellow gathered up a dozen water-bottles and ran through a hellish lire down the bare slope to the. water of the Aisne. Here he was under temporary cover and calmly filled his bottles. But all the time he knew that every man in the trenches on the other side was watching the spot where lie should reappear. And there he came, running for life with tho water-botties rattling in his hands. It seemed a miracle that be could escape, but be escaped, and if still alive is still thinking ihat it was a miracle. "jut when the I'bifdish officer in the. trench nearest to tho river asked his men whether they were such peer marksmen that they c.n.'d not hit a mark as'easy as that, ttey answered him as one man: ''"We ctm'd but v.'e wimidn'l, sir. That p'ueky i'..'"J(n\' deserved to pet back to his iliirsiy pa's uit.h the wafer. Hut we hi him have it about his ens just to warn dim not u> get thirsty too o'i >.■■•:).'' And the ol'lk'i ■; smiled and nas in iuil a"eonl with his .uen.

\\\: r .:\ 'ii;:'n I';/!'.-, limse Those turn, j ir is kii'-'.'k o!" tor Ai:e\>. They sleep 'vj'ere il..y av spread their coats on | the enr;.h i\ iuoy have brought their; ■OL'Lt> with thorn, and if they li: ve not ; thev lie down' as they are in the dirty i and wet ditch. And sometimes sleep! ecv'i/i'S, b'.?.t !.]"".'b' nerves, are sJnwff ».

to such a pitch that sleep is impossible.

The others watch. And, leliere me or not, a night there on the tank of the Aisnc is one of the grandest sights 1 have ever seen. Imagine a deep blue; sky dotted with myriads of stars. Below float tho quiet waters of the river, a broad velvet band; bluish green with sudden streaks of silver, and on both sides dark green slopes with trees in the background. And that background is lined with puffs, of fmoke, little white balloons fringing tho torder all the way'. And suddeuly a light blazes out, a sharp, yellowish-white light which lifts everything into a fantastic day so that you can see the little blue blades of grass moving. But with the same suddenness all again sit.ks into night. It was a shell exploding. And it' it were .not for the hideous noise of the shells one could not wish for a grander scene. But in spite of the horrors of dirt and disease and death I hope soon to be again in the trench among my pals. . There is life for me there, although death may lie in waiting.