From time to time wild geese crossed the trenches in the winter, and their appearance was usually a signal for a fusillade in which every rifle and machine-gun that could be brought to bear on both sides took part. Very rarely was one brought down, though it is possible that along the whole front in the years of war a dozen may have been killed. One in particular, on a wild and stormy evening, was shot by the British and fell in the German lines. The enemy the next day hoisted a sign on which was painted in English the words: “So many thanks!”—which was indeed hard to bear!
There is another incident into which birds also came which occurred on the Brick-stacks front of the First Army. It was when our sniping had reached its high-water mark in the 11th Corps. Not very long before we had been dominated on this front, but the 33rd Division had put all that right.
One day Lieut. Gray was coming down the trenches on a tour of inspection, when he found a private soldier with five partridges lying before him on the fire step.
“How did you get them?” said Gray.
“Shot them, sir.”
“Yes, but I mean how did you get their bodies?”
“Crawled out, sir, and picked them up.”
“By daylight, and in full view of the Germans?”
“Yes, sir. It’s all right, sir; they never shoot now.”
Gray gave the private in question a good dressing-down, but the incident was not without its significance.