November i6, igi6. 
LAND & WATER 
17 
loosing the straps and braces of the man with tlie bhio 
hps. " Tlicy do hinder 'spiratory haction ; it be the fust 
tiling to do, 7.\\r," he said to me a moment later as he 
panted after me, lifting his feet in the mud. 
We found the Battalion H.Q. in a dark dug-out. It 
had no boarding, merely a few pit-props to hold \ip the 
roof, the floor and the walls were of the earth earthy. The 
O.C, with three days growth of beard and a huge and 
indecent hole in his breeches, sat on an oil tin studying 
a trench-map with the aid of a pungent tallow ■' dip " 
stuck in a bottle. My friend discussed with him the 
strengthening of the position ; there was talk of strong 
posts and saps and how to consolidate. 
" Yes, it's pretty lively just now," said the O.C. to us. 
" I lost ten per cent, of my stretcher-bearers yesterday." 
I left the O.C, and my friend engaged over the map 
in that dark hole like two conspirators and dragged mv 
feet along the trench, carrying about three pounds of 
ochreous mud upon each of them. The men not on look- 
out duty were sitting down in the mud stolidly eating 
bully beef as though it were an occupation rather than 
a meal. But as I elbowed my way round a traverse I 
heard the cheerful sound of animated chatter and loud 
laughter. The sound is not so common in the trenches 
as to be unnoticeable. It is only in the music halls that 
life in the trenches appears to be one uproarious farce. 
That is a stage convention the imperiousness of which all 
soldiers cheerfully acknowledge. It would never do to 
allow the civilian to feel depressed. 
" He-he-he " " Haw-Haw-haw. It do do a bloke good 
to have the likes of you to talk to," said one of these 
voices. "Whose 'elmet did you say it was, mate ? " 
chuckled another. " Bhmey, if the orficer 'ad a pinched 
mine, wouldn't I 'ave copped it. Not arf ! Why I uses 
mine ter . . . " The speaker lowered his voice to a 
whisper and I could not hear the rest. " Well, so long, 
young feller, and thanks for the Woodbines." As I came 
round the traverse I ran into the signaller. 
" I hope you and the Colonel ain't been kep' waiting. 
• zur. It do cheer the chaps up to talk to 'em a bit and 
pass the time o' day. It ain't all beer and skittles for 
'crn, zur, if you don't mind my saying it." 
It never seemed to occur to him that he ran greater 
risks than they. Every day he was in the habit of cross- 
ing the ground between Brigade H.Q. and the first- 
hne trenches, and everyone knovvs that, except when the 
enemy are about to attack, such ground is infinitely 
more unhealthy than the front line itself. 
As I rejoined the Colonel at the entrance of the Battalion 
dug-out I heard a low droning hum overhead and instantly 
every face in the trench was turned skywards. One of 
our biplanes was returning from her reconnaissance, 
flying straight as a crov.-. A number of woolly skeins, 
black as ink, suddenly appeared one after the other 
around her and she changed her course to a series of 
giddy spirals, hke a snipe. Every eve followed her. 
" Time to get back," said the Colonel, " we'll do the whole 
way back across the open. It's quicker. That com- 
munication trench was a delusion and a snare. It doubles 
the time without halving the risks. We're within ma- 
chine gun range, of course, but I doubt if the Hun 'II 
think it worth while." And without another word he 
clambered out of the trench. 
The signaller and I followed. As we gained the open 
a small black shell about six inclies long fell vertically 
and without noise about five yards in front of me, as the 
hum of the aeroplane grew more distinct. "A dud " said 
Colonel dispassionately, " they'll never hit her," and we 
hurried on. 
" It do knock the stuffing out of a chap when he do 
see what _ warfare really is," ruminated my guide. 
" There ain't much room for pride and vainglory out 
here. And it do seem as though one becomes like a 
httle 'un again, a'hcaring of the collects and the catechism. 
Them things do kind o' come back to one. Every marn- 
ing as I goes over the top of the ridge I thinks o' them 
words, ' Defend us thy humble servants.' " 
His speech was good homespun English ; he .often spoke 
dialect but never slang— and between the two there is 
all the difference in the world. It was a well of English 
undefiled in whicli there were no impurities. He wa's an 
unlettered man and his speech had no literary quality, 
but he used naturally and unaffectedly the diction of the 
Bible, for it was the nnU? rliVtinn li<^ i-r,^^,, \-nA +v.r,T-o ic 
none better. 1 liere arc combes and uplands in Wiltshire 
in which men still talk as he talked, and I recognised 
his speech and felt as I \\alked something of the ex- 
hilaration of the air otf the Wiltshire chalk. Also that ho 
and I v\ere of the same folk. 
All this time his ej'es were always on duty, and now 
and again he called to the ,Colonel, " Bear to the right, 
zur " — " Mind thuck maze o' wire, zur." The Colonelhad 
a theory, which was largely sound, that if you have to go 
through a " strafing " the simplest and safest plan is 
to get through it as (]uickly as possible. He did not fear 
shells — barring the signaller, I think he is about the most 
fearless man I know — but he respected them. His 
trained ear seemed to have the most exrtaordinary 
acoustic properties, and to watch him waiting for an 8-inch 
shell to burst was like watching a setter point. My 
throat was parched and there was a painful stitch in 
my side ; also at times I felt as if I had been beaten all 
over. I was feeling something of the same fear as I 
felt when I first flew over London in a Morris-Farman 
and we occasionally got into a " pocket " and dropped 
like a stone only to pull up with a sudden luxurious 
security and find ourselves '' as you were." It was the 
same after each explosion ; the feeling of relief was only 
equalled by the tensioji which had preceded it. And 
always there was an exultant feeling that we had scored 
again. It was absurdly like a game. 
Effect of Sympathy 
Meanwhile the signaller continued to talk, and the more 
vigorous the strafing the more animated he became, until 
I found myself elaborating a theory of sympathetic con- 
nection, which I am sure is totally devoid of scientific 
support, between brain-waves and shell trajectories. As 
we glanced towards our right at the churchyard of G 
where the Hun shells were busy at their ghoulish task, 
his talk took a fresh direction. It was occasionally 
interrupted, but never seriously disturbed, by the necessity 
of lying flat in the mud, nor was it discountenanced by 
the fact that I rarelj' returned any answer, my whole 
attention being earnestly concentrated on the Colonel 
in front whose premonitory symptoms had an almost 
hypnotic effect upon me. But the signaller never lost 
the thread of his discourse. 
"... It do seem to I as the ancient Britons were god- 
fearing men in a manner of speaking . . . though par.son 
do call 'em heathens as worshipped graven images. They 
did some tidy burying in them barrows up en the downs, 
which do seem a Christian thing to do — I allers buries a 
poor chap if I 'as time and an entrenching tool . . .' Do 
seem to lie easier like," he fidded, as we passed a grave 
in the open with a wooden "cross. " I ain't up in the 
burial service hke feyther, what can say it backwards, 
but I do say the Lord's Prayer as the next best thing. 
D'you think it matters, zur ? " 
But by this'time we had gained the ridge and the com- 
parative security (it is very comparative) of Brigade 
H.Q. Our way back was now clear and our guide's 
task was done. He abruptly ceased to talk and his whole 
bearing changed. He and I were no longer two way- 
faring West-countrj'men but private and officer, and he 
stood sharply at attention. He was quite incapable of 
presumption. Had he divined that I, a youthful " brass 
hat," was under Are for the first time ? Had his friendly 
musings 'been designed to beguile my attention from the 
dangers which beset us, or were they merely the naive 
speculations of a mind as simple as it was brave ? I 
shall never know. 
The signaller saluted us and itiy superior officer returned 
his salute. He stood looking after us, holding his stake 
as though it were a quarter-staff ; the sun fell upon his 
cheerful homely face and glinted on the brass letters of 
his shoulfler straps. There came into my mind that feel- 
ing of perplexed recognition which sometimes attends 
the casual encounters of life. Surely, I speculated, I 
had met him somewhere before. And in a flash I re- 
membereid the first book I had ever read. I saw once 
again th^ Hill Difticulty and the Ground of Enchantment, 
the thunderbolt that smote Mr. Not-right, and the 
snares, pits, traps! and gins over which the stout-hearted 
guide took the pilgrims with fortifying discourse. And 
then I knew that I had met our signaller before. 
