Nothing of Importance: A record of eight months at the front with a Welsh battalion, October, 1915, to June, 1916Adams, Bernard
History
Nothing of Importance: A record of eight months at the front with a Welsh battalion, October, 1915, to June, 1916
Adams, Bernard
World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, English
As I went along with that tower of strength, the company
sergeant-major, followed by an orderly carrying two rum jars produced
from under my bed, I discussed the subject of working-parties for the
night, and other such dull details of routine. Also we discussed leave.
His dug-out was at the corner of Old Kent Road and Park Lane, and there
I found the “Quarter” (Company Sergeant-Major Roberts) waiting with the
five dixies of hot tea, just brought up on the ration trolley from the
Citadel.
Sergeant Roberts saluted, and informed me that all was correct. Then
the sergeant-major spilled the contents of the two jars into the five
dixies, and as he did so the ten orderlies, two from each platoon,
and two Lewis gunners, made off with the dixies. Then I made off, but
followed by Sergeant Roberts with several papers to sign, and five pay
books in which entries had to be made for men going on leave. One
signed the pay-book, and also a paper to the quartermaster authorising
him to pay 125 francs (the usual sum) to the undermentioned men, out of
the company balance which was deposited with him on leaving billets.
I signed everything Sergeant Roberts put before me, almost without
question.
“Well, Clark,” I said, as we sat down to a tea of hot buttered toast,
jam and cake. “How goes it?”
“I’ve just been down a mine-shaft with that R.E. officer, I forget his
name--the fellow with the glasses.”
“I know,” I replied; “I don’t know his name either, but it doesn’t
matter. Did you go right down, and along the galleries? How frightfully
interesting. I always mean to go, but somehow don’t. Well, what about
it?”
“By Jove,” said Clark. “It’s wonderful. It’s all as white as snow,
dazzling white. I never realised that before, although you see these
R.E.’s coming out all covered with white chalk-dust. First of all you
go down three or four ladders; it’s awfully tricky work at the sort
of halts on the way down, because there’s a little platform, and very
often the ladder goes down a different side of the shaft after one of
these halts; and if you don’t notice, you lower your foot to go on down
the same side as you were going before, and there’s nothing there. The
first time I did this and looked down and saw a dim light miles below,
it quite gave me a turn. It’s a terrible long way down, and of course
you go alone; the R.E. officer went first, and got ahead of me.”
“Have some more tea, and go on.”
“Well, down there it’s fearfully interesting. I didn’t go far up the
gallery where they’re working, because you can’t easily pass along; but
the R.E. officer took me along a gallery that is not being worked, and
there, all alone, at the end of it was a man sitting. He was simply
sitting, listening. Then I listened through his stethoscope thing ...”
“I know,” I interposed. It is an instrument like a doctor’s
stethoscope, and by it you can hear underground sounds a hundred yards
away as clearly as if they were five yards off.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account