Читать книгу To Fight Alongside Friends: The First World War Diaries of Charlie May - David Crane - Страница 30

I see that last evening I boasted that it would take more than rats to disturb us. I was badly mistaken. They beat us – easily. The trouble was that Buntingⁱ had laid my bed across a favourite run of theirs and they did not intend being put off it by a mere intruder like myself.

They ran over my legs, body, chest and feet, and I was adamant. But when they started on my face I must own that I slavishly surrendered, fell to cursing horribly and finally changed my lying place. Thereafter I fared better but Murray dropped in for it. They ate his iron ration and, evidently liking some, which incidentally proves that they are but lowly people, knawed [sic] through Prince’s pack and ate his also. I can tell you they are some rats, these.

Well we are here at last, in the fire trenches and are learning our job under the hospitable care of the East Lancs.ⁱⁱ We are in the fire trenches and I can hardly express how strange it felt to stand on the fire slip for the first time, look out over the plain and see the Bosche trenches just ahead. And it has all struck one as so apparently safe. There is nothing to be seen bar sinuous lines of chalk mounds on the hill-sides. Nothing at all. One hears bangs, or the occasional popping of a Maxim, but one sees absolutely nothing and it is hard indeed to realise the danger, the more especially that our kind friends the East Lancs treat it all so jovially and in such casual fashion. I would not at first believe that the wily Germany lay tucked up just across there. It is only the fact that five men have been hit this afternoon has made me realise it at all.

The last three were out on a reconnoitring patrol when suddenly some bullets pinged past our listening post, the men heard a shriek and in a minute or two the patrol came staggering back. Quite cheerful they were, but a sergeant with a bullet through his foot made their going bad. The Bosche keeps pretty wide awake, evidently.

We are attached to B Coy [of the East Lancs] and the OC of it is a Lieutenant Salt.ⁱⁱⁱ And well worthy of his [MC] he is. He is really quite a boy and his officers more so but he is older than many in soldiering. He is anyway a great deal older than myself. He has been at it since Mons,^iv has been three times wounded and now wears the Military Cross. Yet he is most unassuming and diffident of imparting advice. I think he is a fine young fellow and a typical example of the British subaltern.

Murray and I have a dug-out to ourselves. A most pretentious place, lined with gathered silk and possessing an iron bed with a spring mattress. Corn in Egypt. A comfort-loving Frenchman built it for himself when they held the line. They say it leaks. I do not know, since now it is only freezing. But be that as it may, I am much obliged of my unknown pal, the Parisian decorator.