The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1918-05-03

we were marching along, laughing, and
singing one of Tommy's trench ditties:
want to go home. want to go home,
l don't want to go to the trenches no
Where sausages and whizz-bangs are ga
lore.
Take me over the sea, Where the ALLIE
mand can't get at me.
Oh, my. don't want to die,
want to go home"
when overhead came "swish" through
the air, rapidly followed by three 9TH
ers. Then about two hundred yards to
our left in a large field, four columns
Of black earth and smoke rose into the
air, and the ground trembled from the
rep0rt-the explosion of four German
five-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. I
thought should die with fright.
After awhile, we reformed into col
umns of tours, 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 shefproof cellars
(shellproof until hit by SHELLY. Shells
were constantly whistling over the viii
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. I did not. In the middle
of the night / woke up in terror. The
cold, clammy feet Of 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 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
bursting shrapnel would light up the
sky and we could hear the fragments
slapping the ground above us on our
right and left. Then q 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 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. 1t was dark as pitch.
Every now and then German star
shell would pierce the blackness out
in front with its 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 to the rear. AS they passed us,
they whispered, 'The best O. luck
mates"
1 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 trickled
down our backs, and 1t was not long
before we were wet and cold. How I
passed that night I will never know,
but without any unusual occurrence,
dawn arrived.
The word "stand down" was passed
along the line, and the sentries got
down of the fire step. Pretty soon the
rum issue came along, and 1t was
Godsend. Itwarmed our chilled bodies
and put new life into us. Then from
the communication trenches came
dixies or iron pots, filed with steam
ing tea, which had two wooden stakes
through their handles, and were car
rled by two men. filled my canteen
and drank the hot tea without taking
1t from my lips. 1t was not long be-
fore was asleep in the mud on the
fire step.
My ambition had been attainedl !
was in front-line trench on the west
ern front. and oh, how I wished were
back In Jersey City.