LAND AND WATER 
October 2, 1918. 
LIFE IN THE TRENCHES. 
By An Officer. 
UPON waking of a morning, the Inst sound 
that always came to one's cars was the 
sizzling of bacon in a pan. For me this 
sound will ever have a peculiar quality. A 
ray of light comes streaming in through the 
opening of tiie dug-out. It would be about nine o'clock. 
Captain T. is still asleep, breathing regularly. I turn 
over and, according to habit, indulge in a little leisurely 
contemplation previous to waking up properly. I re- 
member how infernallv cold my feet were in the early 
hours of the morning wlien I crept in to sleep. But 
now they are warm and comfortable, wrapped around 
with sandbags and covered over with a rug and great- 
coat. The interior of the dug-oul is moist and clammy. 
It is also exceedingly untidy. For the coverings and 
equipment of mv companion and myself are strewn 
about the ground, grievously intermixed with straw, 
mud, newspapers, books, notebooks, and ration tins. 
,We have rigged up little shelves, each in his corner, 
upon which are set those smaller things, such as matches, 
pencils, &c., that are so apt to get lost. A candle stuck 
to the board by its own grease serves to illuminate the 
dug-out at night. 
Breakfast is Ready. 
Now a face is pushed in through the opening, a 
hand prods my lower extremities, and a voice says, 
" Breakfast is' ready, sir." At the same moment Ic 
capitainc wakes up. Smith, the faithful cook and ser- 
vant, begins to pass in the food and the knives and the 
tin plates. First a plate of porridge, most welcome, and 
milk in a dark green bottle. Then bread, and Belgian 
butter on a piece of paper, and marmalade from Picca- 
dilly. Finally, steaming hot bacon and a poached egg 
on a plate. These we poise on the lap and eat vora- 
ciously. .'\s you see, we don't fare badly. 
Feeling like nothing on earth, we don't talk, but J. 
reads the Westviinster Gazette and I have a copy of the 
WVeehly Times. It is rather like being in bed when you 
are ill. Presently the cook produces some port, after 
drinking which we feel better, and one of us swears 
down the telephone for about a quarter of an hour. 
The field telegraph is useful in more ways than 
one; it acts as a kind of safety valve. Disentangling 
myself by degrees from the rugs and the coats and the 
.sandbags, I crawl outside. There is a narrow passage- 
way under the front parapet between our own dug-out 
and that of the servants. Here, as usual, Smith and 
iWalter have lighted their fire, over which they are now 
crouching, eating their own breakfast. 
I climb over this, and turn to the right into the 
fort, where a number of the men are sitting around 
smoking, mending their clothes, and cleaning their 
rifles. It is a sunshin}' morning with a sharp little wind, 
and the country behind looks quite attractive with its 
fields and farms. There is no shooting or sound of war, 
since the Germans, barely eighty yards away, are doubt- 
less as leisurely engaged as we. I exchange a few words 
with the artillery observation N.C.O. and take a look 
through the periscope, which, however, discloses 
nothing be3'ond the white facing of the enemy parapet 
.showing here and there amid the irregularities of the 
ground. It is now about time to go down to the otlier 
end of the section held by the company, since in half an 
hour the Brigadier and CO. are due to inspect it. 
One of the chief penalties of trencli life— though one 
gets used to it — is that one can seldom stand upright. 
Being somewhat above six feet in lieight, I have to bend 
low as I pass down the line. In places, too, the breast- 
Work IS lower than in others, and there are often bits 
without any protection at all. The whole section, which 
is bordered at the further end by a road, is about 500 
jrards long. At intervals of about 150 yards there are 
- forts —I.e., small walled-in areas of ground contain- 
ing a macliine-gun emplacement or observation post. I 
creep along rapidly from one to another of these, since 
it is not advisable to waste much time in between. 
Plank Bridges to Cross. 
At one point there has not been an opportunity of 
building up sandbags, so hurdles have been put up in- 
stead, with the earth banked up behind them and a 
shallow ditch dug on the inside. There is more than 
one plank bridge to cross. About half-way along, after 
emerging from a muddy pit, the path dips down into a 
veritable maze of deep narrow trenches, boarded at the 
bottom, with numerous communication trenches run- 
ning out from them. Here and there are open spaces 
where the fires are lit, and around these are the dug- 
outs, which make the place look like nothing so much 
as the exposed section of a rabbit-warren. 
Through all these difficulties the Brigadier has to 
make his way— minus the gold lace, the red cap, and the 
Staff. For he, well known as a model of well-groomed 
smartness, is now just like the rest of us, clad in gum- 
bcKits and an old uniform without a hat. At otlier limes 
this officer has been known to ride horseback down the 
road to within a few hundred yards of the enemy, red 
cap, aide-de-camp, and all ; and, as it happened, not a 
shot was fired. The inspection does not take long, and 
presently we are back again in the dug-out, making 
arrangements for the following night's work. Reports 
and diaries have to be written up, and there is much 
teleplioningtoheadquarters concerning the strength of the 
working parties about to be detailed. Thenitisluncheon- 
time, which important event is preceded by an appetising 
whiff of cooking from the crackling fire outside. 
After-Luncheon Sleep. 
Luncheon is followed by a long and deep sleep, 
which, however, is apt to be disturbed on fine afternoons 
by the conversation of the guns. One wakes up with a 
start to find the ground quaking with their detonation, 
while "boom" after "boom" proclaims that an artillery 
bombardment is in progress. In the midst of it from the 
recesses of the next dug-out can be heard the business- 
like voice of the artillery N.C.O. reporting the result of 
each shot to his battery as it is shouted across to him by 
the observation officer with the periscope. Going out- 
side, one learns that this affair has been in progress for 
an hour or more. Our own guns are just beginning to 
find the range of the enemy's fire trench. Almost yard 
b}' yard the observation officer brings them down to it, 
until presently a shell evidently lands right in the trench, 
the explosion being followed by a great upheaval of 
earth and stones, in the midst of which tiiere sails up- 
ward a German's trousers. 
During this time the air whines and whistles willi 
the passage of the shells, and you feel almost surprised 
that you cannot see them hurtling through the air. 
Desultory rifle-shots puncture this monotony of sound, 
while British aeroplanes constantly come circling and 
whirring overhead. It is not long, either, before the 
enemy shells begin to burst not so far away, and the 
languid interest shown by the men in these proceedings 
is considerably livened when a common shell lands on 
the parapet a couple of hundred yards along, knocks it 
down, and blows a number of sandbags sky-high, with- 
out, however, doing any more serious damage. 
As the afternoon wears on one loses interest in this 
little display of temper by either side, and the next enter- 
tainment is the persistent efforts of an enterprising sniper 
to knock down the telephone post above the dug-out. 
Probably he thinks he has spotted an extra large peri- 
.scope. It is amusing to hear the bullets pinging over- 
head and smacking or fattening themselves against the 
parapet while we eat our tea comfortably behind it. Nor 
does the sniper, persistent as he is day 'after da), ever 
hit his mark. 
16 
