Connecticut western news., 1918-08-22

were gone.
I stuck my head out of the dugout
and there was the captain discussing
the matter with himself, cursing the
Germans from here to Helgoland and
putting in a word for the bombs every
once in q while. All up and down the
trenches you could hear our men
cursing the Germans in all kinds OF
languages. Believe me, / did my BIZ
and I could hear somebody else using
good old United States cuss words
too. It certainly did not make me fee
any better, but it gave me something
to do. I think that was why all OF
us cursed so much then, though we
were pretty handy with language at
any time. But when you are under
heavy fire like that and cannot give
it back as good as you get, you go
crazy unless you have something to do.
Cussing is the best thing we could
think of.
Up the trench the third bay was
simply smashed in and the Germans
were placing bomb after bomb right
out that he was going up to the next
bay to examine it, but no more had
he got there than he had his head
taken clean off his shoulders.
At daybreak our trenches were all
pounded in and most Of our dugouts
were filled up. Then Fritz opened up
with his artillery fire right on US. We
thought they were going to charge and
we figured their barrage would lift
and we could see them come over.
We received orders to stand to with
fixed bayonets. Then the man at the
periscope shouted, "They come"
A battery directly behind us went
into action first and then they all
Joined in and inside of five minutes
about eight hundred guns were raising
Cain with Fritz. The Boches were
caught square in No Mans Land and
our rifles and machine guns simply
moved them down. Many of them
came half way across then dropped
their guns and ran for our trenches
to give themselves up. They could not
have got back to their own trenches.
1t was a shame to waste a shell on
these poor fish. If they had been civ
vies the law would prevent you from
hitting them-you know the kind.
They could hardly drag themselves
along.
That is the way they look when you
have got them. But when they have
got 'you-kicks, cuffs, bayonet jabs-
there is nothing they will not do to
add to your misery. They seem to
think that it boosts their own courage.
An artillery fire like ours was great
fun for the gunners, but it was not
much fun for Fritz or for US in the
trenches. We got under cover almost
as much as Fritz and held thumbs for
the gunncrs to get through in hurry.
Then the fire died down and 1t was
so quiet it made you jump.
We thought our parapet was busted
up a good deal, but when we looked
through the periscope we saw what
had happened to Fritz trenches and,
believe me, they were practically
ruined.
Out in No Mans Land it looked like
WOolworth's f1ve-and-ten; everywhere
were gray uniforms, with tincups and
accouterments that belonged to the
Germans before our artillery and ma
chine guns got to them.
Our stretcher bearers were busy,
carrying the wounded back to first-aid
dressing station, for, of course, we had
suffered too. From there the blesses
were shipped to the clearing station.
The dead lay in the trenches all day
and at night they were carried out
by working parties to "Stiff park" as
I called 1t.
A man with anything on his mind
ought not to go to the front-line
trenches. He will be crazy inside of
a month. The best way is not to
care whether it rains or SHOWS: there
are plenty of important things to
worry about.