One young man : $b The simple and true story of a clerk who enlisted in 1914, who fought on the western front for nearly two years, was severely wounded at the battle of the Somme, and is now on his way back to his desk.
History
One young man : $b The simple and true story of a clerk who enlisted in 1914, who fought on the western front for nearly two years, was severely wounded at the battle of the Somme, and is now on his way back to his desk.
World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, British
"_Q. No. 6._--Do you get acquainted with French civilians,
and have you picked up any of their language?
"_A._--There are a few civilians in the deserted villages
near the firing line, and by dint of repetition and purchase
I have picked up a little, but I cannot possibly spell it.
You see we do not enter towns.
"_Q. No. 7._--When one series of trenches is built, how does
the enemy get a chance to build close to them?
"_A._--How? Why, under cover of darkness, either by putting
a line of men to form a screen and keep up firing with men
digging behind, or by digging a trench at right angles, and
making a T. The first method is mostly used as it is
quicker, but more casualties occur.
"_Q. No. 8._--Do you have any fear of air raids over the
trenches?
"_A._--No, because a trench is too small an object to be
likely to be hit by a bomb dropping from a height. The
flying men would very possibly hit their own people instead.
However they drop them on our rest billets. We get used to
the shells, and this is only another way of presenting them.
"_Q. No. 9._--What about gas?
"_A._--They very seldom use it now. Our helmets are so
efficient, they cannot do any harm in sending it over. They
might catch one or two who were slow in getting their
helmets on, but we have gongs to give warning."
One Young Man's Leave
CHAPTER XI
ONE YOUNG MAN'S LEAVE
He again writes:
"We had done two days out of our six in the trenches a
little south of Albert. They were in such a state that it
was impossible to walk from one post to another. The mud was
over our knees and all communication was cut off by day. At
night we fetched our rations, water, and rum by going over
the top--a little sought-after job, for Fritz was most
active and cover scarce. I had just finished my two hours at
the listening-post, and had crawled into my dug-out for a
four-hour stretch. It was bitterly cold, and although I had
piles of sandbags over me I couldn't get warm, and, like
Bairnsfather's 'fed-up one,' had to get out and rest a bit.
Two hours of my four had passed when word came down that I
was wanted by the Sergeant-Major. Hallo, thinks I, what am I
wanted for? Ah, letters! I was a source of continued
annoyance to the Captain because of my many letters.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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