DIY History | Transcribe | World War I Diaries and Letters | Conger Reynolds newspaper clippings, 1916-1919 | 1918-06-08 Clipping: ""To The Trenches"" Page 1

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Conger Reynolds newspaper clippings, 1916-1919

1918-06-08 Clipping: ""To The Trenches"" Page 1

SATURDAY, JUNE 8, 1918
TO THE TRENCHES.
We paraded at sundown to march to the trenches, and started off, marching first through a wood and then over open ground.  I saw many shell holes, and thrilled as I realized that each step took me farther into the land of adventure.
A rising mist shrouded the fields and darkness came as we passed another wood containing many dug-outs and thickly planted with artillery.  Then we came upon a village full of the ghosts of houses.  Weird and spectral in the moonlight lay the shattered church; the tower was gone, the roof also, and through the gaping walls I glimpsed a litter of broken masonry.
We turned right and followed a road.  On the left a trench extended parallel with the road, and in the fields---astonishingly near they seemed---Verey lights rose and fell.
Suddenly a stone cracked with a flash of sparks almost at my feet, and something whined shrilly between the man in front and me.
"What's that?" I cried.
"A stray bullet looking for a billet," an "old hand" answered.
The road was crowded with ammunition and food limbers going forward and an occasional quietly moving ambulance returning.  At last we came to a dump, and here entered a communication trench.
I was sweating profusely; my pack straps galled my shoulders, and I had my work cut out to keep harry, who was in front, in view.  The trench was narrow, and a soldier in full pack pretty well filled it.  The sides were strewn with telephone wires---which in many cases had become detached and drooped, ready traps for the unwary, or zigzagged across so that our rifles and impedimenta became entangled and each man had to disentangle his comrade.
The trench was floored with duck-boards.  These were excellent in themselves, but there were always gaps where shells had fallen, missing boards, or others placed see-saw-wise on a bump so that on placing one foot on, the duck-board rose up and smote the unwary with surprising suddenness.
Messages were continually passing from front to rear of the procession---"'War hole."  "Step up," "Step down," "Mind the wire," "Keep up," "Don't lose touch," "Hurry up," "Are you all up yet?"  While from the rear came appeals to "Halt in front," "We're losing touch."
I became wedged in a broken part of the trench and had to wait until Bill, who was behind, caught up and unwedged me, during which process I shed some skin.  I retaliated by dragging Bill clear in his turn.
On we went through trenches occupied by men so weary that they neither waked nor protested when we trod on their sleeping bodies.
At last we halted.  A Verey light sailed overhead and I saw we were relieving men who were preparing to depart.
"Don't take your packs off yet," ordered our corporal.
"Are we here at last?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Is this the front line?" I whispered to a soldier whose one idea seemed to be to get away from the place.
"Yes, mate, you've got it," he said as he departed.  "The very front line---the one next the Germans.  Good-by-ee!"
SIDNEY HOWARD.

Saving...

SATURDAY, JUNE 8, 1918 TO THE TRENCHES. We paraded at sundown to march to the trenches, and started off, marching first through a wood and then over open ground. I saw many shell holes, and thrilled as I realized that each step took me farther into the land of adventure. A rising mist shrouded the fields and darkness came as we passed another wood containing many dug-outs and thickly planted with artillery. Then we came upon a village full of the ghosts of houses. Weird and spectral in the moonlight lay the shattered church; the tower was gone, the roof also, and through the gaping walls I glimpsed a litter of broken masonry. We turned right and followed a road. On the left a trench extended parallel with the road, and in the fields---astonishingly near they seemed---Verey lights rose and fell. Suddenly a stone cracked with a flash of sparks almost at my feet, and something whined shrilly between the man in front and me. "What's that?" I cried. "A stray bullet looking for a billet," an "old hand" answered. The road was crowded with ammunition and food limbers going forward and an occasional quietly moving ambulance returning. At last we came to a dump, and here entered a communication trench. I was sweating profusely; my pack straps galled my shoulders, and I had my work cut out to keep harry, who was in front, in view. The trench was narrow, and a soldier in full pack pretty well filled it. The sides were strewn with telephone wires---which in many cases had become detached and drooped, ready traps for the unwary, or zigzagged across so that our rifles and impedimenta became entangled and each man had to disentangle his comrade. The trench was floored with duck-boards. These were excellent in themselves, but there were always gaps where shells had fallen, missing boards, or others placed see-saw-wise on a bump so that on placing one foot on, the duck-board rose up and smote the unwary with surprising suddenness. Messages were continually passing from front to rear of the procession---"'War hole." "Step up," "Step down," "Mind the wire," "Keep up," "Don't lose touch," "Hurry up," "Are you all up yet?" While from the rear came appeals to "Halt in front," "We're losing touch." I became wedged in a broken part of the trench and had to wait until Bill, who was behind, caught up and unwedged me, during which process I shed some skin. I retaliated by dragging Bill clear in his turn. On we went through trenches occupied by men so weary that they neither waked nor protested when we trod on their sleeping bodies. At last we halted. A Verey light sailed overhead and I saw we were relieving men who were preparing to depart. "Don't take your packs off yet," ordered our corporal. "Are we here at last?" I asked. "Yes." "Is this the front line?" I whispered to a soldier whose one idea seemed to be to get away from the place. "Yes, mate, you've got it," he said as he departed. "The very front line---the one next the Germans. Good-by-ee!" SIDNEY HOWARD.