Williams news., 1918-05-24

I want to go home, want to go home don't want to go to the trenches nc
 more
 Where sausages and whizz-bangs are gs-
 lore
 Take me over the sea, Where the Alls-
 mand can't get at me,
 Oh, my, don't want to die,
 l want to go home-'
 when overhead came 'swish" through the air. rapidly followed by three oth- CTS. Then about two hundred yards to our left in large field, four columns of black earth and smoke rose into the air, and the ground trembled from the report-the explosion of four German fve-nine's, or "coalboxes.' A sharp whistle blast, immediately followed by two short ones, rang out from the head of our column. This was to take up ''artillery formation" We divided into small squads and went into the fields on the right and left of the road, and crouched on the ground. No other shells followed this salvO. It was our first baptism by shell fire. From the waist up was all enthusiasm, but from there down, everything was missing. thought should die with fright.
 After awhile, we reformed into col umns of fours, and proceeded on Our way.
 About five that night, we reached the ruined village of H., and I got my first sight of the awful destruction caused by German Kultur.
 Marching down the main street we came to the heart of the village, and took up quarters in shellproof cellars (shellproof until hit by shelD. Shells were constantly whistling over the vil- lage and bursting in our rear, search ing for our artillery.
 These cellars were cold, damp and smelly, and overrun with large rats big black fellows. Most of the Tom mics slept with their overcoats over their faces. did not. In the middle of the night woke up in terror. The cold, clammy feet of a rat had passed over my face. I immediately smoth- cred myself in my overcoat, but could not sleep for the rest of that night.
 Next evening, we took over our sec tor of the line. In single file we wend- ed our way through a zigzag com munication trench, six inches deep with mud. This trench was called whisky street, On our way up to the front line an occasional flare of
 
 sky and we could hear the fragments skipping the ground above US on our right and left. Then a Fritz would traverse back and forth with his type writer" or machine gun. The bullets made a sharp cracking noise overhead.
 The boy in front of me named Prem tice crumpled up without a word. A piece of shell had gone through his shrapnel-proof helmet. felt sick and weak.
 In about thirty minutes we reached the front line. It was dark as pitch. Every now and then a German star shell would pierce the blackness out in front with it's silvery light. I was trembling all over, and felt very lonely and afraid. All orders were given in whispers. The company we relieved filed past us and disappeared into the blackness of the communication trench leading te the rear. As they passed us, they whispered, 'The best O luck mates.''
 I sat on the fire step of the trench with the rest of the men. In each traverse two of the older men had been put on guard with their heads sticking over the top, and with their eyes try ing to pierce the blackness in 'No Mans Land" In this trench there were only two dugouts, and these were used by Lewis and Vickers machine gunners, so it was the fire step for ours. Pretty soon it started to rain. We put on our "macks," but they were not much protection. The rain Ii ickled down our backs, and it was not long before we were wet and cold. How passed that night will never know, but without any unusual occurrence, dawn arrived.
 The word "stand down" was passed along the line, and the sentries got down off the fire step. Pretty soon the rum Issue came along, and it was a Godsend. It warmed our chilled bodies and put new life into us. Then from the communication trenches came dixies or iron pots, filled with steam ing tea, which had two wooden stakes through their handles, and were car ried by two men. I filled my canteen and drank the hot tea without taking it from my lips. It was not long be- fore I was asleep in the mud on the fire step.
 My ambition had been attainedl | was in a front-line trench on the west ern front, and oh, how wished I were back in Jersey City.