"O, go to hell, you black-whiskered devil. Your face is too damned homely to be spoiled, or I'd smash it with this rifle."
I wasn't feeling any too chipper as it was, but I knew full well that it was his own peculiar method of displaying his affection for me, and thus was it answered.
The day passed uneventfully, except for a lively duel between a bunch of regulars and Canucks and some frisky snipers in a house about three hundred yards off. None of our boys were hit and they silenced Fritz for awhile. Every time we moved the snipers would let go, but we had become wary and no further casualties happened. The day turned out fairly warm, for which we were very thankful. Toward half-past four in the afternoon one of the Tommies near me remarked, "It's time he started the Woodpecker." "Woodpecker! What do you mean?" "Oh," said he, in a matter of fact tone, "they have a machine gun laid on the way out and he takes a few sighters to get her right for us when we go out." "Lord!" thinks I, "more of it."
True enough, about four thirty-five Fritz started the "Woodpecker" and we could see the bullets striking the corner of an old house, just where we were to pass that night. You can imagine how I felt when our relief came and we started our journey out. We stooped as low as possible, expecting every minute to be opened on, but for some reason he did not let her speak to us that night. One of the fellows, however, had three fingers sniped off by a stray bullet before we were out of the danger zone. It was almost worth the price to hear the exuberance of his swearing; but he was lucky; it was a comfortable Blighty for him, and some of us were positively green with envy.
An amusing thing happened on our way out. We were green at that time, of course, and we went down the road and across the country as if we were treading on eggs, our heads between our shoulders and our backs humped. Morgan walking directly behind me, remarked, "What the devil are you ducking for? You don't have to duck, you poor little mite; they can't hit you, you're too small." My retort was big enough to suit even him.
Presently we met a big bunch of the Lancashire Fusileers going in; they were striding along, heads up, talking freely to one another as if out for an ordinary day's work. Immediately we saw their attitude we determined we were not going to be disgraced. Up went our heads and I can honestly say every man walked along like a seasoned veteran. But in order that this record may be true in every detail I desire to say that it was the hardest effort I ever put forth in my life.
That finished our baptism in the trench brotherhood. Twenty-four hours for a start and not many casualties; in the whole battalion we had two killed and fourteen wounded.
We were taken back to billets in Armentieres and next day we rested and sported with the people, fell in at dusk and after two days marching, trench digging, etc., were marched to take our own line of trenches at a place called Fleur Baix.
In the afternoon before we started, Morgan and I agreeing for once in our career, set out to have a "time." A few hundred yards from our lodging was an estaminet kept by two Belgian girls; these girls were already a by-word in the army for their tremendous physique. We entered and a lively scene indeed it was. On the floor were Tommies and Johnnie Canucks dancing to a rag-time tune played by an American musical box. One of the famous sisters, as well as what few girls were available, were dancing with the soldiers and some of the boys were lending an accompaniment by keeping time, hammering the floor with the wooden shoes worn by the peasantry.
"Hello, runt," from one; "Come in, Shorty," from another, while my immediate pals set up a howl of welcome. But the acme of my welcome was reached when the other of the giant sisters, leaning over the counter of the estaminet and greeting me, "Hello, chick," almost the only English words she knew, grabbed me with one hand, pulled me half way over the counter, hoisted me with perfect ease clear over and sat me gently down on a chair at the back. I was like a baby in her grasp, and you can imagine the side-splitting roars that ensued. I felt so humiliated that had I been able I would gladly have smacked her face, but that was physically out of the question. However, I made the best of my uncomfortable feelings for the moment and managed to enjoy myself thoroughly while I was there, because the hospitality of the sisters knew no bounds; everything they had to eat or drink was at our disposal; they seemed to be unable to do enough for us.