We lay here for awhile, every now and then some poor boy going over, although we were fairly safe from shrapnel if we closely hugged our holes. But we had no protection whatever from their high explosive shells; these hit the ground, tearing huge holes, and woe to those who were near. The shell fire was terrific, but our own guns were roaring back magnificently. To show how men will rise to the height of dare-devil coolness, I must tell of the men who were supplying our guns with ammunition. Six horses on a limber, with three drivers, and two carriers on the limbers, would trot steadily to the bomb-proof shelter where the ammunition was kept, load up, and still at the steady trot return to the guns. All the time heavy shrapnel was bursting overhead, and the awful crack of this shell is enough to break the strongest nerve. A huge shell burst right overhead, a few yards in front of us, killing some of the gun crew, but without a falter, except to remove their dead comrades, the rest went on steadily working their guns.
Again we moved forward, and so furious had become the artillery duel, that we could only advance in small parties. A chum of ours died here. We were lying down for a time behind a hedge and one of the heavy shrapnel shells burst a little to the front of us, the forward sweep of the shrapnel landing the bullets right among us. When a shrapnel shell bursts the bullets sweep forward and obliquely to the ground, having a forward range of three hundred yards and a lateral zone of fifty yards. The three hundred odd bullets of the German shell fly like a fan. It will be seen that a shell may burst right over your head without injuring anyone, but the men three hundred yards or so to your rear are hit.
The report of the explosion stunned us for a few seconds, and this chum of ours, as soon as we began to feel that we were still alive, got to his feet and said, "Boys, I'm hit." "Where?" we asked. "Through the head, I think," said poor Dick, and then dropped dead. On examining his body we found that a ball had passed right through his heart.
It was now that the British troops again began to deploy over the plains toward the trenches. Line after line, for hour after hour, they pressed steadily on. It was a sight, I can tell you, a lesson in steadiness and coolness. Again we dug in and were ordered to stay and be ready to support the attack the British were making. However, we were not needed and we stayed in our self-made holes for four days under that hail of shells. The casualties were very heavy and our own little band was soon minus some well-known faces.
One amusing, yet, in a way, tragic thing happened here. This plain of which I am speaking was not unlike the prairie. All hedges were gone except a few here and there. It was mostly grass land and apparently there had been a crop taken off there the autumn before. Scattered over this place were farmhouses, which of course were in ruins, but a bunch of cows had by some means managed to keep alive here, and this same herd were quietly grazing away, while men all around them were burrowing in the ground for their lives. It was most amusing to see a cow calmly lying down and chewing away. Poor creatures, they did not last long. How they managed to live any time was marvelous, considering what was flying around them.
Next night, to our great joy, a tea ration was brought up, but our hopes were dashed to the ground by the O.C's. forbidding any fires to be lighted. Of course, there were blazing stacks and buildings everywhere, but not in our vicinity. Water was plentiful enough, but we were obliged to go some distance for drinkable water. Here we were, with tea, sugar and water, yet unable to make a dixie of tea, and it must be remembered that we had had neither hot food nor a hot drink for twelve days.
Fritz, however, very obligingly solved our difficulty. We were lying close to a thatched barn, which, by another of those miraculous, unexplainable things, had not yet been shelled. However, Fritzie must have known our trouble, for bang! bang! and a couple of "hissing Jennies" hit the barn plump, and in an instant that barn was ablaze. It soon burned to the ground and, utterly reckless of shell fire or machine guns, we crowded round the hot embers and brewed our tea. The officers raged at us for a bunch of suicidal fools, as exposing ourselves with a light background was liable to draw half of the Boche artillery on us. The Old Man himself saw us crowding round the embers—a splendid mark on the top of that hill. Over he rushed, his face fairly blazing with rage. "Get into your holes, you suicidal fools," he roared. But, colonel as he was, some one told him where he might go. We all feared for the result of this remark, as it was no less than deliberate insubordination punishable with a very heavy penalty. If it had been a German private soldier who had answered his commanding officer in such fashion, he would not have had time to say his prayers.
But I suppose the Colonel had a heart somewhere under his belt and he passed it up. It probably brought home to him what his men had been through. So we got our tea, "and of all the drinks I've drunk" my gratitude to Fritz far exceeded Kipling's Tommy to Gunga Din.