CHAPTER XXIV
THE BOCHES BALKED
After we had rested somewhat in the spot to which we had retired, the corporal, of whom I spoke before, asked for someone to go with him to try and find out what Fritz was up to. I felt I would be all right with him, and I almost preferred instant death to the odor of that foul water-hole, so I went along with him.
To my horror the first thing he did when we got fairly out was to strike a match and light his pipe. Like lightning I jumped from his side.
"My God! Corporal, what are you doing?"
"What's the excitement?" he asked, puffing calmly.
"You'll get sniped as sure as fate."
Then it was he showed the typical fatalism of the soldier.
"Son, if I'm going to get hit, I'll get it; but if it's not my turn, I wouldn't get it if I lit a bloomin' bonfire."
"If you take unnecessary chances you'll get it."
"Don't be afraid, lad, I'm not throwing my life away. You are as safe with me as you would be up in the trench."
We soon ran on to their listening patrol, but my corporal had not been in three campaigns for nothing. He took me, to my excited imagination, almost to their very feet. They were talking like mad and we had evidently been seen a few minutes before, for they rushed to the spot we had occupied just before they got there. We circled about for a few hours and finally decided that Fritz had dug in for the night.
Toward daylight, an order came for all Canadians who had stayed behind to go down to the rear, as the Canadians had been relieved. How tired we all were; I did not care if I lived or died. We ran on isolated bunches of Germans, with some of whom we exchanged a few shots.
At last we emerged on the road, and, to my dying day, I shall never forget the sights that met our eyes. Everywhere were shell craters, both on the road and on each side of us. In every shrine, where the Belgians placed their crucifixes, men in agony from the gas had crawled and died there; dead bodies, dead horses, wrecked ambulance cars, gun limbers, ammunition limbers, and in one place were six of the very finest horses I have ever seen, with their drivers, dead. Villages, where the people had been living when we went up, were now utterly desolate; everything a smoldering mass of ruins, such had been the fury of that shell fire. And it was still going on, shells screaming over us or bursting close by.
At one place the Boches had pushed so far forward that they were only a short distance from the road and they opened up on us, but only succeeded in wounding a few. Finally we came down to an open space and found the brigade busily cooking breakfast. "Hurrah," thought I, "grub and a sleep." Hastily I began to look around for something to eat, but alas, the order came to be ready to advance again. I was utterly weary, but it couldn't be helped.
Finding my own crowd, who had been fortunate enough to get in a few hours' sleep and were correspondingly cheerful, I fell in, and in skirmishing order we began the advance.
Suddenly at our backs came an ear-splitting report, and of all the music I ever heard that was the sweetest. It was our own heavy artillery replying to the Germans. We skirmished on in long lines until the order came to "Dig in." I was so hungry and tired that I absolutely did not care whether I got hit or not. Happening to notice my condition, Sergeant Campbell came up to me:
"What the hell is wrong with you?" said he.
"Well, if you want to know, Sergeant, I'm hungry, thirsty, and tired out. You people have had an hour or so's rest; I've had none. I'm dead beat and if I get it, so much the better."
I spoke the absolute truth, because that was the one time in my life I honestly wanted to die.
"You get busy and dig in; we need you; not that you're worth much anyway, but you're the only trained runner we've got around."
"Not till I get something to eat," I answered, deliberately defying him. Again that wonderful understanding spirit of dear old Ken showed forth. Instead of telling me the punishment that would follow my insubordination, he said, "All right, son, I'll see what I can do."
I lay exhausted on the ground and in a few minutes, to my great happiness, the sergeant returned, bringing a dirty old bone, but covered with meat. It was aged, and the flies played upon it, but to my mind and memory no meat ever tasted so sweet. I sunk my teeth in it and the very first bite gave me a new inspiration to live.
Again we advanced, but I clung to my bone, and as soon as we halted to dig in again, I buried my face up to the ears in the meat. As soon as I was full I carefully slipped the bone in my belt in order to be prepared for the next hunger-pinch. I then felt a very earnest desire to live, and when the next halt came and the shells were coming over in a never-ending stream, I had an intense desire to explore the bowels of the earth. On feeling for my entrenching tool, to my dismay, I found it gone. Grabbing my bayonet from the scabbard I went to work, and the way I burrowed with my hands on that bayonet was a caution. I would not have taken a back seat to a prairie badger.