Between the Lines

by Boyd Cable

'"Number One gun add twenty-five yards," calls down the F.O., an' then gives some more corrections an' calls for one round battery fire. By this time the rifle fire out in front was pretty thick and the bullets was hissin' an' whinin' past us an' crackin' on the walls. Another one came through the window an' perforated the old lady's poke-bonnet, but none o' them was comin' near me, an' I was just about happily concludin' I wasn't in the direct line o' fire an' was well covered from strays. So I was snuggin' down in my big easy chair with the D Mark III. on my knee, puffin' my pipe an' repeatin' the F.O.'s orders as pleasant as you please when crack! a bullet comes with an almighty smack through the back o' the arm-chair, bare inches off my ear. Comfort or no comfort, thinks I, this is where I resign the chair, an' I slides out an' squats well down on the wet floor. It's surprisin' too the amount o' wet an ordinary carpet can hold, an' the chap that designed the pattern o' this one might 'ave worked in some water lilies an' duckweed instead o' red roses an' pink leaves if he'd known 'ow it would come to be used. This 'ouse 'as been rather a swagger one, judgin' by the style o' the furniture, but one end an' the roof 'aving gone west with the shellin' the whole show ain't what it might be. An' when the missus as it belongs to returns to 'er 'appy 'ome there's going to be some fervent remarks passed about the Germs an' the war generally.

'But to get on wi' the drill—the row in the trenches got hotter an' hotter, an' our house might 'ave been a high-power magnet for bullets, the way they was comin' in, through that open window special. The old lady lost another eye an' half an' ear, an' 'er Sunday gown an' a big gold brooch was shot to ribbons. A bullet cut the cord at last, an' the old girl came down bump. But I'd been watchin' 'er so long I felt she oughtn't to be disgraced lyin' there on 'er face before the German fire. So I crawled out an' propped 'er up against the wall with 'er face to the window. I 'ope she'd be glad to know 'er photo went down with flyin' poke-bonnet.'

'It was shortly after this our wire was first cut—about ten ac emma [A.M.] that would be. I sings out to the F.O. that I was disc[1], but what wi' the bullets smackin' into the walls, the shells passin' over us, the Coal-Boxes bursting around, an' the trenches belting off at their hardest, the F.O. didn't 'ear me an' I 'ad to crawl up the stairs to 'im. Just as I got to the top a shrap burst, an' the bullets came smashin' an' tearin' down thro' the tiles an' rafters. The bullets up there was whistlin' an' whinin' past an' over like the wind in a ship's riggin', an' every now an' then whack! one would hit a tile, sending the dust an' splinters jumpin'. The F.O. was crouched up in one corner where a handful o' tiles was still clingin', an' he was peepin' out through these with 'is field glasses. "Keep down," 'e sez when 'e saw me. "There's a brace o' blanky snipers been tryin' for a cold 'alf-hour to bull's-eye on to me. There they go again——," an' crack . . . smack two bullets comes, one knockin' another loose tile off, a foot over 'is 'ead, an' t'other puttin' a china ornament on the mantel-piece on the casualty list.

'I reported the wire cut an' the F.O. sez he'd come along wi' me an' locate the break. "We'll have to hurry," he says, "cos it looks to me as if a real fight was breezin' up." So we crawled out along the ditch an' down the trench, followin' the wire. We found the break—there was three cuts—along that bit o' road that runs from the Rollin' River Trench down past the Bomb Store, an' I don't ever want a more highly excitin' job than we had mendin' it. The shells was fair rainin' down that road, an' the air was just hummin' like a harpstring wi' bullets an' rickos.[2] We joined up an' tapped in an' found we was through all right, so we hustled back to the Post. That 'ouse never was a real 'ealth resort, but today it was suthin' wicked. They must 'ave suspicioned there was a Post there, an' they kep' on pastin' shells at us. How they missed us so often, Heaven an' that German gunner only knows. They couldn't get a direct with solid, but I must admit they made goodish shootin' wi' shrapnel, an' they've made that 'ouse look like a second-'and pepper-caster. The F.O. was 'avin' a most unhappy time with shrapnel an' rifle bullets, but 'e 'ad 'is guns in action, so 'e just 'ad to stick it out an' go on observin', till the wires was cut again. This time the F.O. sez to look back as far as the wire ran in the trench, an' if I didn't find the break up to there come back an' report to 'im. But I found the break in the hedge jus' outside, an' mended it an' went back, the bullets still zipping down an' me breakin' all the hands-an'-knees records for the fifty yards. I found the F.O. 'ad reined back a bit from 'is corner an' was busy wi' the bedroom poker breakin' out a loophole through the bricks of the gable-end wall. 'E came down an' told the Major about it. It was getting too hot, 'e said, an' the two snipers must 'ave 'im located wi' field-glasses. One bullet 'ad nearly blinded 'im wi' broken-tile dust, an' another 'ad tore a hole across the side of 'is "British warm"[3]; so he was goin' to try observin' through a couple of loopholes. Then 'e went up an' finished 'is chippin' an' brought the guns into action again. Just in the middle o' a series I feels a most unholy crash, an' the whole house rocked on its toe an' heel. The brickdust an' plaster came rattlin' down, an' when the dust cleared a bit an' I got my sense an' my eyesight back, I could see a splintered hole in the far corner of my ceilin'. I made sure the F.O. upstairs was blotted out, 'cos it was that corner upstairs where 'is loophole was; but next minute 'e sings out an' asks was I all right. I never felt less all right in my life, but I told 'im I was still alive, far as knew. I crawled up to see what 'ad 'appened, an' there was 'im in one corner at 'is peep-'ole, an' the floor blowed to splinters behind 'im an' a big gap bust in the gable wall at the other corner. A shell had made a fair hit just about on 'is one loophole, while he was lookin' thro' the other. "I believe we'll 'ave to leave this," he sez, "an' move along to our other post. It's a pity, 'cos I can't see near as well."

'"If we don't leave this 'ouse, sir," I sez, "seems to me it'll leave us—an' in ha'penny numbers at that."

'So he reports to the Major, an' I packs up, an' we cleared. The shelling had slacked off a bit, though the trenches was still slingin' lead hard as ever.

'"We must hurry," sez the F.O. "They're going to bombard a trench for ten minutes at noon, and I must be in touch by then."

'We scurried round to the other post, and just got fixed up before the shoot commenced. And in the middle of it—phutt goes first one wire an' then the other. The F.O. said things out loud when I told him. "Come along," he finished up; "we must mend it at once. The infantry assault a trench at the end of the ten minutes. There they go now," and we heard the roar of the rifles swell up again. He took a long stare out through his glasses and then we doubled out. The Germs must have thought there was a big assault on, and their gunners were putting a zone of fire behind the trenches to stop supports coming up. An' we had to go through that same zone, if you please. 'Strewth, it was hot. There was big shells an' little shells an' middle-sized shells, roarin' an' shrieking up and bursting H.E. shrapnel or smashing into the ground. If there was one threw dirt over us there was a dozen. One buzzed close past and burst about twenty feet in front of the F.O., and either the windage or the explosion lifted him off his feet and clean rolled him over. I thought he was a goner again, but when I came up to him he was picking himself up, an' spittin' dirt an' language out between his teeth, an' none the worse except for the shakin'. We couldn't find that break. We had to tap in all along the wire to locate it and all the time it was a race between us finding the break and a shell finding us. At last we got it, where we'd run the wire over a broke-up shed. The F.O. was burnin' to talk to the Battery, knowing they'd be anxious about their shoot, so he picked a spot in the lee of a wall an' told me to tap in on the wire there. Just as he began talkin' to the Battery a Coal-Box soars up an' bumps down about twenty yards away and beyond us. The F.O. looks up, but goes on talkin'; but when another shell, an' then another, drops almost on the exact same spot, he lifted the 'phone closer in to the wall and stoops well down to it. I needn't tell you I was down as close to the ground as I could get without digging. "I think we're all right here," sez the F.O., when another shell bust right on the old spot an' the splinters went singin' over us. "They look like keepin' on the same spot, and we must be out of the line the splinters take."

'It looked like he was right, for about three more fell without touchin' us, and I was feeling a shade easier in my mind. There was some infantry comin' up on their way to the support trenches, an' they filed along by the wall that was coverin' us. Just as they was passin' another shell dropped. It was on the same spot as all the others, but blow me if it didn't get three of them infantry. They fell squirmin' right on top o' us an' the instrument, so I concluded that spot wasn't as safe as the F.O. had reckoned, an' there was a flaw in 'is argument somewheres that the Coal-Box 'ad found out. The F.O. saw that too, an' we shifted out quick-time. After that things quietened down a bit, an' the short hairs on the back o' my neck had time to lie down. They stood on end again once or twice in the afternoon, when we'd some more repairin' under fire to do; an' then to wind up the day they turned a maxim on just as we was comin' away from the post, an' we had to flop on our faces with the bullets zizz-izz-ipping just over us. We took a trench, I hear; an' the Jocks in front of us had thirty casualties, and the Guards on our left 'ad some more, 'cos I seed 'em comin' back to the ambulance.

'On the 'ole, it's been about the most unpleasantest day I've spent for a spell. What wi' wadin' to the knees in the trench mud, getting soaked through wi' rain, not 'aving a decent meal all day, crawlin' about in mud an' muck, an' gettin' chivvied an' chased all over the landscape wi' shells an' shrapnel an' machine-guns an' rifles, I've just about 'ad enough o' this King an' Country game.'