Rockingham post-dispatch. [volume] (Rockingham, N.C.) 1917-1965, 1918-04-18

had exploded ri the next traverse. Men
were digging into the soft mass Of mud
In a frenzy Of haste. Stretcher-bear-
ers came up the trench on the double.
After few minutes Of digging, three
still, muddy forms on stretchers were
carried down the communication
trench to the rear. Soon they would
be resting somewhere in France" with
little wooden cross over their heads.
They had done their bit for king and
country, had died without firing shot,
but their services were appreciated,
nevertheless.
Later on, found out their names.
They belonged to our draft
l was dazed and motionless. Sud-
denly shovel was pushed into my
hands, and a rough but kindly voice
said:
Here, my lad, lend q hand clearing
the trench, but keep your head down,
and look out for snipers. One of the
Fritz's is daisy, and he'll get you If
you're not careful"
Lying on my belly ON the bottom of
the trench, I filled sandbags with the
sticky mud, they were dragged to my
rear by the other men, and the work of
rebuilding the parapet was on. The
harder I worked, the better felt. Al
though the weather was cold, was
soaked with sweat.
Occasionally a bullet would crack
overhead, and a machine gun would
kick up the mud on the bashed-in para
pet. At each crack I would duck and
shield my face with my arm. One of
the older men noticed this action Of
mine, and whispered:
Don't duck at the crack Of a bull
let, Yank; the danger has passed-you
never hear the one that wings you.
Always remember that If you are going
to get it, you'll get it, so never worry"
This made great impression on me
at the time, and from then on, adopt
ed his motto, IF you're going to get it,
you'll get it."
1t helped me wonderfully. used 1t
so often afterwards that some Of my
mates dubbed me, IF you're going to
get 1t, you'll get it."
After an hours hard work, all my
nervousness left me, and l was laugh.
Ing and Joking with the rest.
At one o'clock, dinner came up in
the form Of a dixie of hot stew.
I looked for my canteen. It had
fallen off the fire step, and was halt
buried in the mud. The man on my
left noticed this, and told the corporal,
dishing out the rations, to put my
share in his mess tin. Then he whis.
pered to me, "Always take care Of your
mess tin, mate"
had learned another maxim Of the
trenches.
That stew tasted fine. was az
hungry as bear. We had seconds
or another helping, because three Of
the men had "gone West" killed BY
the explosion of the German trench
mortar, and we ate their share, bu
still I was hungry, so filled in will
bully beef and biscuits. Then drained
my water bottle. Later on I learned
another maxim of the front line, &c,
sparingly with your water" The bull!
beef made me thirsty, and by tea tim,
l was dying for drink, but my prid,
would not allow me to ask my mate!
for water. I was fast learning tn,
ethics of the trenches.
That night was put on guard will
an older man. We stood On the fir,
step with our hands over the top, peer
ing out into No Mans Land. 1t wa
nervous work for me, but the other fel
low seemed to take it as part of tn
nights routine.
Then something shot past my face
My heart stopped beating, and ducke'
my head below the parapet. A sof
chuckle from my mate brought me t,
my senses, and I feebly asked, $50
heavens sake, what was that?"
He answered. "Only a rat taking {
promenade along the sandbags."
felt very sheepish.
About every twenty minutes the sen
try in the next traverse would fire {
star shell from his fare pistol. Tn
'plop" would give me start of fright
I never got used to this noise durini
my service in the trenches.
would watch the arc described b.
the star shell. and then stare into N,
Mans Land waiting for 1t to burst. Il
its lurid light the barbed wire ant
stakes would be silhouetted against 1t
light like q lattlced window. TheI
darkness.
Once, out in front Of our wire,
heard a noise and saw dark form
moving. My rifle was lying across tn
sandbagged parapet. I reached for II
and was taking aim to fire, when m.
mate grasped my arm, and whispered
Don't fire." He challenged in a Low
voice. The reply came back Instant.
from the dark forms:
"Shut your blinkin' mouth, 70,
hoomin' idiot; do you want us to clicl
it from the Boches?"
Later we learned that the word, "Nt
challenging or firing, wiring party on
in 'front.'" had been given to the sentr!
on our right, but he had failed to pas
it down the trench. An officer had over
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