Martinsburg W Va evening journal. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1913-1920, 1918-03-08
bis meal Is finished.

/ his meal Is finished.
i There is no way to get rid OF them
permanently No matter how often
Won battle, and that is not very often,
or how many times You change your
underwear. your friends the coolies
are always in evidence The billetS are
| infested with them, especially so II
there is straw on the floor
! ] have taken bath and put on
brand-new underwear in fact, u com
pIete change OF uniform, and then
turned in for the night. The next morn
| ing my shirt would be full of them. 1t
| is common sight to see eight or ten
soldiers sitting under tree with their
shirts over their knees engaging in a
''shirt hunt"
At night about half an hour before
| Sights OUT you can see the Tommies
grouped around candle, trying, IN its
dim light, to rid their underwear of
the vermin. A popular and very quick
method is to take your shirt and draw
ers, and run the seams back and for
ward In the flame from candle aud
burn them out. This practice Is dam
gerous, because you are liable to burn
holes in the garments If you are not
careful.
Recruits generally sent to Blighty
for brand of insect powder adver-
tised as "Good for body lice" The adj
vertiscn7cnt is quite right; the powder
is good for Coolies they simply
thrive GA it.
The older men Of our battalion were
wiser and made scratchers out Of
wood. These were rubbed smooth with
d bit of stone or sand to prevent spin
tiers. They were about eighteen inches
long, and Tommy guarantees that q
scratcher of this length will reach
any part of the body which may be at
tackled. Some of the fellows We're lazy
and only made their scratchers twelve
inches, but many night when on
guard, looking over the top from the
fire step Of the front-line trench, they
would have given II thousand "quid"
for the other six inches.
Once while we were In rest billets an
Irish Hussar regiment camped In an
open field opposite our billet. After
they had picketed and fed their horses,
Ia general shirt hunt took place. The
troopers ignored the call "Dlnner up"
and kept on with their search for big
game. They had curious method of
procedure. They hung their shirts over
a hedge and beat them with their en-
trenching tool handles.
/ asked one of them why they didn't
pick them off by hand, and he an
swered, "We haven't had bath for
nine weeks or change of clabber. II
/ tried to pick the coolies of my shirt,
l would be here for duration of war;
After taking close look at his shirt, !
agreed with him; 1t was alive.
The greatest shock recruit gets
when he arrives at his battalion In
Trance is to see the men engaging in a
,"cootie" hunt. With an air of con-
tempt and disgust he avoids the COM
pany of the older men, until a couple
Of days later, In a torment of itching,
he also has to resort to shirt hunt
Or spend many a sIeepless night Of
misery. During these hunts there are
lots of pertinent remarks banded back !
and forth among the explorers, such
Us, "Say, Bill, I'll swap You two little
ones for big one" or. 1--WE got a
black one here that looks like Kaiser
BILL"
One sunny day in the front-line
trench, saw three officers sitting out
side of their dugout ('cooties" are no
respecters Of rank have even noticed
a suspicious uneasiness about a certain
well-known general), one Of them was
major, two Of them were exploring
their shirts, paying no attention to the
occasional shells which passed over
head. The major was writing letter !;
every now and then he would lay aside
his writing-pad, search his shirt for q
few minutes, get an inspiration, end
then resume writing. At last he fin
ished his letter and gave it to his sruns
ner." ] was~curious to see whether he
was writing to an insect firm, so when
the runner passed me I engaged him
In conversation and got glimpse at
the address on the envelope. 1t was
addressed to Miss Alice Somebody. In
London. The runner" informed me
that Miss Somebody was the majors
sweetheart and that he wrote to her
every day. Just imagine it, writing ~
love letter during "cootie" hunt; but
such is the creed of the trenches.
---- esf
CHAPTER III. III