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Show JHWffi II If JfpW mimcmmm JpW WHO WENT r- AKHlll (iUYKilPEY & y MACHINE OJNrtaERVIHGIMfRAWCE ' fes I 19(7 BY I i I ARTHUR 61Y EflPry EMPEY JOINS PICK AND SHOVEL SQUAD AND DIGS TRENCHES IN NO MAN'S LAND. Synopsis. Fired by the sinking of the Lusitanla, with the loss of American lives, Arthur Guy Empey, an American living in Jersey City, goes to England and enlists as a private In the British army. After a short experience as a recruiting officer in London, he is sent to training train-ing quarters in France, where he first hears the sound of big guns and makes the acquaintance of "'cooties." After a brief period of training Empey's company is sent into the front-line trenches, where he takes his first turn on the fire step while the bullets whiz overhead. Empey learns, as comrade falls, that death lurks always in the trenches. Chaplain distinguishes himself by rescuing wounded men under hot fire. With pick and shovel Empey has experience as a trench digger in No Man's Land. T1 CHAPTER XIII Continued. 9 We lined up in front of the baths, soaked with perspiration, and piled our rifles into stacks. A sergeant of the It. A. M. C. with a yellow band around his left arm on which was "S. P." (sanitary police) in black letters, let-ters, took charge, ordering us to take off our equipment, unroll our puttees and unlace boots. Then, starting from the right of the line, he divided us into squads of fifteen. I happeued to be in the first squad. We entered a small room, where we were given five minutes to undress, then filed into the bathroom. In here there were fifteen tubs (barrels sawed In two) half full of water. Each tub contained a piece of laundry soap. The sergeant Informed us that we had just twelve minutes in which to take our baths. Soaping ourselves all over, we took turns in rubbing each other s backs, then by means of a garden hose, washed the soap off. The water was Ice cold, but felt fine. Pretty soon a bell rang and th water wa-ter was turned off. Some of the slower ones were covered with soap, but this made no difference to the sergeant, who chased us into another room, There we lined up in front of a little window, resembling the box office in a theater, and received clean underwear ' - $t c,A' -" v ' I Pa it', ' ' ' ' A Bathroom at the Front. and towels. From here we went into the room where we had first undressed. Ten minutes were allowed In which to get Into our "clabber." My pair of drawers came up to my chin and the shirt barely reached my diaphragm, but they were clean- no strangers on them, so I was satisfied. At the expiration of the time allotted allot-ted we were turned out and finished our dressing on the grass. When all of the company had bathed it was a case of march back to billets. That march was the most uncongenial line imagined, just cussing and blinding blind-ing all the way. We were covered with while dust and felt greasy from sweat. The woolen underwear issued was itching like the mischief. After eating our dinner of stew, which had been kept for us It was now four o'clock we went Into the creek and had another bath. If "Holy Joe" could have heard our remarks about the divisional baths and army red tape he would have fainted at our wickedness. But Tommy Tom-my is only human after all. I just mentioned "Holy Joe" or the chaplain in an irreverent sort of way, but no offense was meant, as there were some very brave men among them. There are so many instances of heroic he-roic deeds performed under fire in rescuing res-cuing the wounded that it would take several books to chronicle them, but I have to mention one instance performed per-formed by a chaplain, Captain Hall by name, In the brigade on our left, because be-cause it particularly appealed to me. A chaplain is not a fighting man; he is recognized as a noncorubatant and carries no arms. In a cnarge or trench raid the soldier gets a feeling of confidence con-fidence from contact with his rifle, revolver, re-volver, or bomb he is carrying. He has something to protect himself with, something with which he can inflict harm on the enemy in other words, he is able to get his own back. But the chaplain is empty-handed. and is at the mercy of the enemy if he encounters them, so It is doubly brave for him to go over the top, under fire, and bring In wounded. Also a chaplain is not required by the king's regulations to go over In a charge, but this one did, made three trips under the hottest kind of fire, each time returning re-turning with a wounded man on his back. On the third trip he received a bullet through his left arm, but never reported the matter to the doctor until late that night just spent his time administering ad-ministering to the wants of the wounded wound-ed lying on stretchers. The chaplains of the British army are a fine, manly set of men, and aro greatly respected by Tommy. CHAPTER XIV. Picks and Shovels. I had not slept long before the sweel voice of the sergeant informed that "No. 1 section had clicked for another blinking digging party." I smiled to myself with deep satisfaction. I had been promoted from a mere digger to a member of the Suicide club, and was exempt from all fatigues. Then came an awful shock. The sergeant looked over in my direction and said: "Don't you bomb throwers think you are wearing top hats out here. 'Cord-in' 'Cord-in' to orders you've been taken up on the strength of this section, and will have to do your bit with the pick and shovel, same as the rest of us." I put up a howl on my way to get my shovel, but the only thing that resulted re-sulted was a loss of good humor on my part. , We fell in at eight o'clock, outside of our billets, a sort of masquerade party. I was disguised as a common laborer, had a pick and shovel, and about one hundred empty sandbags. The rest, about two hundred In all, were equipped likewise: picks, shovels, sandbags, rifles and ammunition. The party moved out In column of fours, taking the road leading to the trenches. Several times we had to string out In the ditch to let long columns col-umns of limbers, artillery and supplies get past. The marching, under these conditions, condi-tions, was necessarily slow. Upon arrival ar-rival at the entrance to the communication communi-cation trench, I looked at my Illumi nated wrist watch it was eleven o'clock. Before entering this trench, word was passed down the line, "no talking or smoking, lead off In single file, covering cov-ering party first." This covering party consisted of 30 men, armed with rifles, bayonets, bombs, and two Lewis machine guns. They were to protect us and guard against a surprise attack while digging dig-ging in No Man's Land. The communication trench was about half a mile long, a zigzagging ditch, eight feet deep and three feet wide. Now and again, German shrapnel would whistle overhead and burst In our vicinity. We would crouch against the earthen walls while the shell fragments frag-ments "slapped" the ground above us. Once Fritz turned loose with a machine ma-chine gun, the bullets from which "cracked" through the air and kicked up the dirt on the top, scattering sand and pebbles, which, hitting our steel helmets, sounded like hailstones. Upon arrival In the Are trench an officer of the Eoyal Engineers gave us our instructions and acted as guide. We were to dig an advanced trench two hundred yards from the Germans (the trenches at this point were six hundred yards apart). Two winding lanes, five feet wide, had been cut through our barbed wire, f f Trench Digging. for the passage of the diggers. From these lines white tape had been laid on the ground to the point where we were to commence work. This in order or-der that we would not get lost In the darkness. The proposed trench was also laid out with tape. The covering party went out first. After a short wait, two scouts came back with information that the working work-ing party was to follow and "carry on" with their work. In extended order, two yards apart, we noiselessly crept across No Man's Land. It was nervous work ; every minute we expected a machine gun to open fire on us. Stray bullets "cracked" around us, or a ricochet sang overhead. over-head. Arriving at the taped diagram of the trench, rifles slung around our shoulders, we lost no time in getting to work. We dug as quietly as pos sible but every now and then the n,,ico of a pick or shovel striking a stone would send the cold shivers down our backs. Under our breaths we heartily cursed the offending Tommy. At Intervals a star shell would go up from the German lines and we would remain motionless until the glare of its white light died out. When the. trench had reached a depth of two feet we felt safer, because be-cause it would afford us cover In case we were discovered and fired on. Tho digging had been In progress about two hours, when suddenly hell seemed to break loose In the form of machine-gun and rifls fire. We dropped down on our bellies In the shallow trench, bullets knocking up the ground and snapping In the air. Then shrapnel butted In. The music was hot and Tommy danced. The covering parly was having a rough time of It; they had no cover; just had to take their medicine. Word was passed down the line to beat It for our trenches. We needed no urging; grabbing our tools and stooping stoop-ing low, we legged It across No Man's Land. The covering party got away to a poor start but beat us In. They must have had wings because we lowered low-ered the record. Panting and out of breath, we tumbled tum-bled into our front-line trench. I tore my hands getting through our wire, but, at the time, didnt notice it; my journey was too urgent. When the roll was called we found that we had gotten K In the nose for G3 casualties. Our artillery put a barrage on Fritz' front-line and communication trenches and their machine-gun and rifle fire suddenly ceased. Upon the cessation of this fire, stretcher bearers went out to look for killed and wounded. Next day we learned that 21 of our men had beea killed and 37 wounded. Five men were missing; lost in the darkness, they must have wandered over into the German Ger-man lines, where they were either killed or captured. Speaking of stretcher bearers and wounded, it Is very hard for the average aver-age civilian to comprehend the enormous enor-mous cost of taking care of wounded and the war In general. He or she gets so accustomed to seeing billions of dollars dol-lars in print that the significance of the amount Is passed over without thought From an official statement published in one of the London papers, It Is stated that it costs between six and seven thousand pounds ($30,000 to $35,-000) $35,-000) to kill or wound a soldier. This result was attained by taking the cost of the war to date and dividing it by the killed and wounded. It may sound heartless and Inhuman, but it is a fact, nevertheless, that from a military standpoint it Is better for a man to be killed than wounded. Empey tells of many ways the soldiers have of amusing themselves, them-selves, in the next installment. it (TO BE CONTINUED.) |
