The Washington herald., 1918-02-11
ESTABLISHED "a YEARS AGO

had reversed the order Of things.
After forty-eight hours in these
trucks We detrained at Rouen. At
this place We went through an in
tensive training for ten days.
This training consisted Of the rudI-
ments Of trench warfare. Trenches
had been dug, with barbed-wire en-
tanglements, bombing saps, dugouts,
observation posts, and machine-gun
emplacements We were given a
smattering Of trench cooking, sani-
tation. bomb throwing, reconnoiter-
ing. listening posts, constructing and
repairing barbed wire, carrying in
parties, methods used in attack and
defense, wiring parties. mass forma-
ton. and the procedure for poison
gas attacks.
On the tenth day We again met our
friends 'Hommes 10. Chevaux s."
Thirty-six hours more OF misery, and
We arrived at the town of F.
After unloading our rations and
equipment, We lined up on the road
in columns Of fours waiting for the
order TO march.
A dull rumbling could be heard.
The sun was shining. / turned 10 the
man on my left and asked, What's
the noise, Bill?" He did not know,
but his face was of a pea-green color.
Jim on my right also did not know.
but suggested that 'awsk" the ser
geant
grizzled sergeant, properly fed up
with the war. so "awsked" him.
Think it's going TO rain, sergeant?''
a 1nnEaI - Er
grunted. lows IL a'goin' ter rain
with the bloomin' sun a 'shinin'?" ]
looked guilty.
lad. and you'll get enough OF 'em be-
fore you gets back 10 Blighty."
Ny knees seemed to wilt, and
squeaked out a weak OH
Then we started our march up 10
the line in ten kilo tricks. After the
first days march We arrived at our
rest billets. In France they call them
rest billets. because while in them.
Tommy works seven days a week and
on the eighth day of the week he is
given twenty-four hours "on his
own"
Our billet was a spacious affair, a
large barn on the left side of the
road. which had 100 entrances, ninety
nine for shells. rats, wind, and rain,
and the hundredth one for Tommy,
I was tired out, and using my
shrapnel-proof helmet Cshrapnel-proof
until piece Of shrapnel hits iO, or
tin hat, for a pillow, lay down in
the straw, and was soon fast asleep.
must have slept about two hours,
when awoke with a pricklIng SEN
sation all over me. As l thought, the
straw had worked through my uni
form. woke up the fellow lying on
my left, who had been up the line
before. and asked him.
Does the straw bother you. mate?
It's worked through my uniform ana
1 can't sleep"
In a sleepy voice. he answered,
That amt straw, them's cooties.'
From that time on my friends the
''cooties" were constantly with me.
''Cooties." or body lice, are the bane
OF Tommy's existence.
The aristocracy of the trenches very
seldom call them 'cooties," they
speak of them as fleas.
To an American, flea means a
small insect armed with a bayonet.
who is wont to jab it into you and
then hop, skip, and jump TO the next
place to be attacked. There is an
advantage in having fleas on you in
stead Of "cooties" in that in one Of
his extended jumps said flea is liable
to land on the fellow next to you;
he has the typical energy and push OF
the American, while the ''cootie" has
the bulldog tenacity OF the English
man, he holds on and consolidates or
digs in until his meal is finished.
There is no way to get rid Of them
permanently. No matter how often
you bathe, and that is not very often,
or how many times you change your
underwear, your friends, the 600
ties" are always in evidence. The
billets are infested with them. es-
pecially so, if there is straw on the
floor.
I have taken a bath and put on
brand-new underwear; in fact, a COM
plete change of uniform, and then
turned in for the night. The next
morning my shirt would be full of
them. 1t is a common sight to see
eight or ten soldiers sitting under a
tree with their shirts over their knees
engaging in a shirt hunt"
At night about half an hour before
lights out" you can see the Tom
mics grouped around a candle, try