In the Firing Line: Stories of the War by Land and SeaAdcock, Arthur St. John
History
In the Firing Line: Stories of the War by Land and Sea
Adcock, Arthur St. John
World War, 1914-1918
In such tales of these men in hospital, and in the letters they have
written home, there is a common agreement that the German rifle
shooting is beneath contempt--“they shoot from the hip and don’t seem
to aim at anything in particular;” but their artillery practice is
spoken of with respect and admiration. The German artillery is very
good, writes Private Geradine, of the 1st Northumberland Fusiliers,
but their aeroplanes help them a lot. It is a pretty sight to see the
shells burst in the night, he adds--it’s like Guy Fawkes Day!
I like too, such robust cheerfulness and gay good-humour in face of the
horrors of death as sounds through the letter of Sapper Bradley:
I have never seen our lads so cheery as they are under great trials.
You couldn’t help being proud of them if you saw them lying in the
trenches cracking jokes or smoking while they take pot shots at the
Germans.... We have very little spare time now, but what we have we
pass by smoking concerts, sing-songs, and story-telling. Sometimes we
have football for a change, with a German helmet for a ball, and to
pass the time in the trenches have invented the game of guessing where
the next German shell will drop. Sometimes we have bets on it, and the
man who guesses correctly the greatest number of times takes the stakes.
And surely no less do I like the equally courageous but more sombre
outlook of the Scottish Private who complained of the famous retreat
from Mons, It was “Retire! retire! retire!” when our chaps were longing
to be at them. But they didn’t swear about it, because being out there
and seeing what we saw makes you feel religious.
I like that wonderful diary kept by a driver of the 4th Ammunition
Column, 3rd section, R.F.A. It was sent over from Paris by Mr. Harold
Ashton, _The Daily News_ correspondent, and is as naïvely and minutely
realistic as if it were a page out of Defoe. The driver’s interests
are naturally centred in his horses, they hold the first place in his
regard, the excitements of the war coming second. He records how he
went from Hendon to Southampton on the 21st August:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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