World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, Canadian
When we reached the line of dugouts we stuck our head into one and
asked where we would find the officer in charge. A voice from a far
corner called out, "_Oui_, the bleeder is in the end dugout, old cock!"
We found the officer's dugout without any trouble and reported for
duty. He told us that we would not be needed till night, and that we
had better go and find a dugout to rest in, so away we went back to the
place where we had inquired for Headquarters. It was our first brush
up against the English Tommy, and we were anxious to see more of him.
We went into the dugout and found about a dozen men lying around, some
of them rolled in their blankets trying to sleep, and others smoking.
I went over beside the chap who had answered my first question, and
after telling him who I was and what I was there for, he made room for
me and I sat down. He was a funny-looking little chap about the build
of a wooden toothpick, but he looked as if he was made of steel wire.
We soon struck up a conversation, and his "Cockney" sure did sound
funny to me; he was one of the sappers, and when he found that I had
left the Infantry to join them he was disgusted. "Well," said he, "you
are a bloomin' ass. Why, blime me, mite, this here's the worst
bleedin' job in the Army; a man digs till the sweat rolls off, and all
he gets for it is a bleedin' shilling, and he has to give six-pence of
that to the old woman; blime, it doesn't leave ye enough for bacca, and
all the fellas think this is a bomb-proof job--why, blime, you dig and
sweat for days, and Fritz sends along a blinkin' torpedo and fills up
the tunnel, and there's all your hard work gone to 'ell, and you with
it too if you 'appen to be around," and believe me I found out that
most of what he told me was true, and sapping was no bomb-proof job.
Well, we sat around all day enjoying the conversation of our Cockney
friends. I found that my new friend was nicknamed "Skinny," and during
the next few months he took a great liking to Mac and me, and he stuck
around with us most of the time.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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