World War I

July 27th 1916

I was a signaler, this implied the bayonet drill, bombing practice, in short, all those exercises that were supposed to make an efficient soldier, had been carefully and cunning dodged. I began to regret this. Already I could see myself outclassed by some talented German in a hand-to-hand encounter.

That was when I started wondering what would happen to me if I were lying in a trench or shell hole, weighted down with a rifle, flapper, telephone and lamp. I wondered what it might feel like to be wounded- to be killed.

All through the night, I never had a wink of sleep. And so the night passed and we remained where we were.

July 29th 1916

Today we actually started at the front line. Where we had been lying in the headquarters, the noise of the guns had been an continuous thunder. We found time to pity the poor devils who were already in the think of it. Now we fond ourselves approaching the monster.

Gradually, as we moved we were wrapped into that almost immutable sea sound and shells bursting nearer and nearer. Stumbling along in the inky darkness, the intensity of which was persevered by on going explosions, I can hardly attempt to describe my thoughts and feelings.

Then the darkness was temporarily relieved. A dump of lights had been exploded, and a fireworks display, enough to confuse the most carefully unnatural arm signals, shed a fantastic light upon this hell on earth.

Just before arrived in our jumping-off trench something happened which I can never forget. A young soldier of my section was struck by a shell fragment square between the eyes. After that horrific moment the poor soldiers cries where haunting me I thought I was going mad.

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I cannot remember the date today, but in just a few minutes, we will be put to a supreme test. Cautious soldiers over the strong hold revealed nothing of the enemy trenches, for the mist had spread itself out everywhere. What if our artillery failed? Were the enemy’s machine guns waiting to mow us down as we struggled to break a way through his entanglements? The repetitive question had different effect on different men.

Suddenly the noise of the guns eased off. For a second or two there was quiet. Then the fury of our fire dropped like the wall of roaring sound before us. We walked into a mist that seemed to grow ever thicker. The noise was so great that in order to keep in touch with one another was to shout our hardest.

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All at once, I became conscious of another sound. A noise like crisp crackle of twigs and branches, burning in a bonfire just beyond my vision in the mist, made me thing I must b approaching some burning building. Then I realized when my neighbor on the right collapsed with a bullet in his abdomen, that noise was not fire or a burning building, it was the noise of a machine-gun and rifle-fire.

Immediately we came to the first enemy trench- that was when we saw that our weapons had done their job.

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After scrambling over what remained of this trench, I found myself with another signaler, cut off completely from the rest by the mist. We had come closer together in our scramble and remained together. Roger, my new companion’s name, and myself cut off from our comrades, not knowing where we were going or how fare should go. What should we do? We did what any irresponsible solider could do- drop into the nearest shell hole.

An hour later, I was nudged awake by Roger. It was very quite, but bullets were still firing past. Te mist had cleared and you could see a little. Together we both raised our heads, cautiously, above the shell hole, and nothing. Suddenly, Roger sharply whispered “Down! Keep down!”

“What are you playing at?” I asked, “Look behind.” Carefully I raised my head again and looked. Behind us, in a part of the trench we had crossed that had escaped form the high explosives, was a German. A brave man, braver than either Roger or I, was standing in that bit of the trench.

With a rifle to his shoulder he was firing increasingly in the direction of our front line, and by his side, keeping under what little cover there was, was another, busily loading a second rifle. I raised my own to shoot the first German enemy I had seen, but Roger pulled me back. “Don’t be a fool,” he said. “Don’t you see we are surrounded?