The Manning times. [volume] (Manning, Clarendon County, S.C.) 1884-current, 1918-08-07
WESTERNER WRITES CT
LIFE At THE front

The following letter was written by
a young WeSterner to his father. Be
cause of the real human and descrip
tive matter in it, it was copied by the
censor, Lieut.. w. NJ. Bomar and sent
to his brother, II. j. Bomar of Man
ming.
Anywhere in France,
Dear Dad:
| Well, we surely arc getting cducat-
ed IN the way of war anyway. ] can
tell you our rest camp is very diff.
fcrent from what the front is like
! true tits only a barn-but oh! such a
barn.
! We wer" back from our first trip
to the front. We were resting on easy
duty, and just beginning to enjoy rest
when the order came to "makc our
packs" You know over here that
means a ticket to "Nowherc." The
drinking crowd began to wine up, and
soon everything was lively. The rest
could on "aqua pura."
Then what followed seems like an
awful dream, the long ride in trucks,
ana" "Mother Machrec," "The Girl |
Left Behind Me-" etc., etc, till the Or
der came for absolute quiet and no
, smoking. We had struck the danger
zone. The short jostlcd and iolted
sleep Of the worried boys was con-
stantly interfcrcd with by the grind
ing Of the brakes, constantly :tarting
and slipping of the trucks, and the
noise Of guns and bursting shells.
Then the final step followed by the
! long, long march The pack straps
cut our shoulders like wires, the can
teens ratified empty in the cups, and
tlc bunch who had owned up" against
orders, wabblnd and rolled sidcwisc
with WEAKNESS, and utter exhaustion
as they walked, but walked on and on
n the dark tso dark that each man
held the rifle of the lad in front so
that he'd know where to go and, too,
! it helped to tell you tie fellow in
front was still thcre) till The brood
'pounds through your temples, your
mouth is parchcd with thirst. We
walked on up hill, down hill, through
fields and woods, bitches and banks,
and shell holes and mud, the Who'll"
line making no sound save the dull
thud of many feet, except occasionally
the rattle of stray pieces of equip
ment-a rifle touched helmet a
! bayonet scabbard ratified on its belt
hooks, or n canteen clanked in its cup
that was all--save the shells
down the line, "IIalt." Then came the
inevitable "Rear of line lost, Private
lost" Then the short wait, fol-
lowed by "Forward," and again we
were off. The flash, flash Of the high
Explosives, the roar and crack of
shrapncl and the whine of the splin-
ters, The rising cresccndo that let a
man know 2 shell was coming, all
tended to show us that our journey
would soon be ever The front could
not be far away. Then can tie roar
sound in flight and its muff,cd cxplo-
sion, til: eagging end choking trcmor
of the new men in Their fret gas at
tack. Suddenly our guide stopped. A
man had risen on each eide of him
placed cooked automatic toward the
place where he had stored his last hot
mcal-his hurried explanation and
we were on the front ut last .,fter a
long hard night and dawn just start
ing in the East. The came the plac-
ing Of the mcn--thc licutcnant's
cheerful (?) mvigorating CD "Boys,
here we arc-wc'vo got TO dig in be-
fore morning. The Bochcs Are one
hundred yards forward. Be sure and
camouflagc carefuIly-Wcll | guess
better go and dig some myself"
Did | dig? Dig? Dig? BY God, Dad,
Dig? One good husky, well scared
American was ready for Just such an
order. With my toy trenching tool
went down through that French dirt
like rain in the sand country. 1t was
root hog or die i'm the morning"
And then tho second morning after
much ranging by one gun and the
aid of Bochc plane, the Hun got our
range, and we were glad we had dug.
We had real shelling, till our heads
swan from the ring and scream of
the flying pieces and the shrapncl and
high explosive with its sickcning
sinking A. +. gas-cvcry muscle
crampcd i'm involuntary terror when
the shells would burst almost on top
of us.
But scarcd--Dad wc Just thought
we were scared then.
We went on an outpost one night,
and got too far out in front and some
cntcrprising American machine gun
ncr turned his weapon on us. Crawl?
We couldn't. Move? We darcsn't.
Think? We scarcely had room for
that. And / wondered why / had not
more often thought of the girl | left
behind me, and the sins of my youth
full days, for Dad, your son Luke was
just about to cash in his checks. a
machine gun fire from two feet above
your head to within sixteenth of an
inch of your backbone has tendencies
to make you retrospective. And when
that gun is in direct line with YOUR
own back bone, it makes the real
nastiest sound | ever heard. That
d----d gunner moved the grass over
our heals and If fell ovo, re ond 7