Paths of Glory: Impressions of War Written at and Near the FrontCobb, Irvin S. (Irvin Shrewsbury)
History
Paths of Glory: Impressions of War Written at and Near the Front
Cobb, Irvin S. (Irvin Shrewsbury)
World War, 1914-1918 -- Campaigns -- Western Front; World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives
Thereby we arrived safely and very speedily and without mishap at a
battery of twenty-one-centimeter guns, standing in a gnawed sheep
pasture behind an abandoned farmhouse, what was left of a farmhouse,
which was to say very little of it indeed. The guns stood in a row, and
each one of them--there were five in all--stared with its single round
eye at the blue sky where the sky showed above a thick screen of tall
slim poplars growing on the far side of the farmyard. We barely had
time to note that the men who served the guns were denned in holes in
the earth like wolves, with earthen roofs above them and straw beds to
lie on, and that they had screened each gun in green saplings cut from
the woods and stuck upright in the ground, to hide its position from the
sight of prying aeroplane scouts, and that the wheels of the guns were
tired with huge, broad steel plates called caterpillars, to keep them
from bogging down in miry places--I say we barely had time to note these
details mentally when things began to happen. There was a large and much
be-mired soldier who spraddled face downward upon his belly in one of
the straw-lined dugouts with his ear hitched to a telephone. Without
lifting his head or turning it he sang out. At that all the other men
sprang up very promptly. Before, they had been sprawled about in sunny
places, smoking and sleeping, and writing on postcards. Postcards,
butter and beer--these are the German private's luxuries, but most of
all postcards. The men bestirred themselves.
"You are in luck, gentlemen," said the lieutenant. "This battery has
been idle all day, but now it is to begin firing. The order to fire
just came. The balloon operator, who is in communication with the
observation pits beyond the foremost infantry trenches, will give the
range and the distance. Listen, please." He held up his hand for
silence, intent on hearing what the man at the telephone was repeating
back over the line. "Ah, that's it--5400 meters straight over the tree
tops."
He waved us together into a more compact group. "That's the idea.
Stand here, please, behind Number One gun, and watch straight ahead of
you for the shot--you must watch very closely or you will miss it--and
remember to keep your mouth open to save your eardrums from being
injured by the concussion."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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