(Continued from last week.)
SYNOPSIS.
CHAPTER I—Fired by the news of the
ing of the Lusitania by a German
bmarine, Arthur Guy Empey, an Ameri-
n, leaves his office in Jersey City and
es to England where he enlists in the
ritish army.
CHAPTER II—After a period of train-
ing, Empey volunteers for immediate serv-
jce and soon finds himself in rest billets
“somewhere in France,” where he first
makes the acquaintance of the ever-pres-
ent ‘‘cooties.”
CHAPTER III-Empey attends his first
church services at the front while a Ger-
man Fokker circles over the congregation.
CHAPTER IV—Empey’s command goes
into the front-line trenches and is under
fire for the first time.
CHAPTER V—Empey+learns to adopt
the motto of the Brtish Tommy, “If you
are going to get it, you'll get it, so never
worry.”
CHAPTER VI—Back in rest billets, Em-
pey gets his first experience as a mess
orderly.
- CHAPTER VII—Empey learns how the
British soldiers are fed.
CHAPTER VIII-Back in the front-line
trench, Empey sees his first friend of the
trenches ‘go West.”
CHAPTER IX—Empey makes his first
visit to a dugout in “Suicide Ditch.”
CHAPTER X—Empey learns what con-
stitutes a ‘‘day’s work” in the front-line
trench.
CHAPTER XI—Empey goes ‘‘over the
top” for the first time in a charge on the
German trenches and is woun ed by a
bayonet thrust.
CHAPTER XII—Empey joins the ‘‘sui-
cide club” as the bombing squad is called.
CHAPTER XIII—Each Tommy gets an
official bath.
CHAPTER XIV—Empey helps dig an
advanced trench under German fire.
CHAPTER XV-On «yistening post” in
No Man's Land.
He put his ear to the ground and
fn an unsteady voice spoke into my
ear:
«Yank, that’s a patrol and it’s head-
fing our way. For God's sake keep
still.”
I was as still as a mouse and was
scared stiff.
Hardly breathing and with eyes try-
ing to pierce the inky blackness, we
waited. I would have given a thou-
sand pounds to have been safely in
my dugout.
Then we plainly heard footsteps and
our hearts stood still.
A dark form suddenly loomed up in
front of me; it looked as big as the
Woolworth building. I could hear
the blood rushing through my veins
and it sounded as loud as Niagara
falls.
Forms seemed to emerge from the
darkness. There were seven of them
in all. I tried to wish them away. ¥
never wished harder in my life. They
muttered a few words in German and
melted into the blackness. I didn’t
stop wishing either.
All of a sudden we heard a stumble,
a muddy splash, and a muttered “Don-
mer und Blitzen.” One of the Boches
had tumbled into a shell hole. Neither
of us laughed. At that time—it didn’t
strike us as funny.
About twenty minutes after the Ger-
mans had disappeared something from
the rear grabbed me by the foot. I
nearly fainted with fright. Then a
‘welcome whisper in a cockney accent.
i §'y, myte, we've come to relieve
you.”
Wheeler and I crawled back to our
trench; we looked like wet hens and
felt worse. After a swig of rum we
were soon fast asleep on the fire step
in our wet clothes.
The next morning I was as stiff as a
poker and every joint ached like a
bad tooth, but I was still alive, so it
did not matter.
CHAPTER XVI
Battery D 238.
The day after this I received the
glad tidings that I would occupy the
machine gunners’ dugout right near
the advanced artillery observation
post. This dugout was a roomy affair,
dry as tinder, and real cots in it.
These cots had been made by the
R. B’s who had previously occupied
the dugout. I was the first to enter
and promptly made a signboard with
my name and number on it and sus-
pended it from the foot of the most’
comfortable cot therein.
In the trenches it is always “first
come, first served,” and this is lived:
up to by all
Two R. F. A. men (Royal Field ar-
tillery) from the nearby observation
post were allowed the privilege of
stopping in this dugout when off duty.
One of these men, Bombardier Wil-
son by name, who belonged to Bat-
tery D 238, seemed to take a liking
to me, and I returned this feeling. :
In two days’ time we were pretty,
chummy, and he told me how his bat-
tery in the early days of the war had
put over a stunt on Old Pepper, and
had gotten away with it.
I will endeaver to give the story as
far as memory will permit in his own
‘words :
“I came out with the first expedi-
fionary force, and, like all the rest,
thought we would have the enemy
licked in jig time, and be able to eat
Christmas dinner at home. Well, so
far, T have eaten two Christmas din-
ners in the trenches, and am liable to
eat two more, the way things are
A
AN AMERICAN SOLDIER
WHO WENT
ANTHURGUY EMPEY
MACHINE GUNNER, SERVING IN FRANCE—"
f Nn
©1917 BY
ARTHUR GUY EMPEY
pointing. That is, if Fritz don’t drop
a ‘whizz-bang’ on me, and send me to
Blighty. Sometimes I wish I would
get hit, because it’s no great picnic
out here, and twenty-two months of it
makes you fed up.
“It's fairly cushy now compared to
what it used to be, although I admit
this trench is a trifle rough. Now,
we send over five shells to their one.
We are getting our own back, but in
the early days it was different. Then
you had to take everything without
reply. In fact, we would get twenty
shells in return for every one we sent
over. Fritz seemed to enjoy it, but
we British didn’t; we were the suf-
ferers. Just one casualty after an-
other. Sometimes whole platoons
would disappear, especially when a
‘Jack Johnson’ plunked into their
middle. It got 30 bad that a fellow,
when writing here, wouldn't ask for
any cigarettes to be sent out, because
he was afraid he wouldn’t be there to
receive them.
«After the drive to Paris was turned
back, trench warfare started. Our
general grahbod a map, drew a pencil
across it. and said Dig here!
he went back to his tea, and Tommy
armed himself with a pick and shovel
and started digging. He's been dig-
ging ever since.
“Of course we dug those trenches at
night, but it was hot work, what with
the rifle and machine-gun fire. The
stretcher bearers worked harder than
the diggers.
“Those trenches, bloomin’ ditches, I
call them, were nightmares. They were
only about five feet deep, and you used
The:
————————————
munication trench read, ‘To Blighty,’
while the other said, ‘Suicide Ditch,
Change Here for Stretchers.’
«Farther down from this guide post
the trench ran through an old orchard.
On the edge of this orchard our bat-
tery had constructed an advanced ob-
servation post. The trees screened it!
from the enemy airmen and the roof
was turfed. It wasn’t cushy like ours,
no timber or concrete re-enforcements,
just walls of sandbags. From it a
splendid view of the German lines
could Be obtained. This post wasn't
exactly safe. It was a hot corner,
shells plunking all around, and the
bullets cutting leaves off the trees.
Many a time when relieving the sig-
paler at the ‘phone, I had to crawl on
my belly like a worm to ‘keep omy
being hit.
«It was an observation post sure |
enough. That's all the use it was. Just |
observe all day, but never a message |
back for our battery to open up. You
see, at this point of the line there |
were strict orders not to fire a shell, |
unless specially ordered to do so from
brigade headquarters. Blime me, if
anyone disobeyed that command, our
general—yes, it was Old Pepper—
would have court-martialed the whole
expeditionary force. Nobody went out
of their way to disobey Old Pepper in
those days, because he couldn't he
called a parson; he was more like a
pirate. If at any time the devil should
feel lonely and sigh for a proper mate,
Old Pepper would get the first call.
Facing the Germans wasn't half bad
compared with an interview with thet
old firebrand.
“If a company or battalion <hould |
give way a few yards against a su-
perior force of Boches, Old Pepper
would send for the commanding offi-
cer. In about half an hour the officer
would come back with his face the
color of a brick, and in a few hours |
what was left of his command would |
be holding their original position.
«I have seen an officer who wouldn't
say d n for a thousand quid spend
five minutes with the old boy. and
when he returned the flow of language
from his lips would make a navvy
blush for shame.
«What I am going to tell you is how
two of us put it over on the old scamp,
‘and got away with it. It was a risky
thing, too, because Old Pepper wouldn’t
have been exactly mild with us if he
had got next to the game.
“Me and my mate, a lad named Har |
ry Cassell, a bombardier in D 238 bat-
|
One of the Big Guns Barking.
to get the backache from pending
down. It wasn’t exactly safe to stand
your napper showed over the top a
bullet would bounce off it, or else come
so close it would make your hair stand.
«We used to fill sandbags and stick
them on top of the parapet to make it
‘higher, but no use; they would be
there about an hour and then Fritz
‘would turn loose and blow them to
bits. My neck used to be sore from
ducking shells and bullets.
«Where my battery was stationed a
hasty trench had been dug, which
the boys nicknamed ‘Suicide ditch,’
and, believe me, Yank, this was the
original ‘Suicide ditch.” All the others
are imitations. :
«When a fellow went into that
trench it was an even gamble that he
would come out on a stretcher. At one
time a Scotch battalion held it, and
when they heard the betting was even
money that they'd come out on
stretchers, they grabbed all the bets
in sight. Like a lot of bally idiots, sev-
eral of the battery men fell for their
game, and put up real money. The
Jocks’ suffered a lot of casualties, and
the prospects looked bright for the
battery men to collect some easy
money. So when the battalion was re-
lieved the gamblers lined up. Several
‘Jocks’ got their money for emerging
safely, but the ones who clicked it
weren't there to pay. The artillery-
men had never thought it out that
way. Those Scotties were bound to
be sure winners, no matter how the
wind blew. So take a tip from me,
never bet with a Scottie, ’cause you'll
lose money.
“At one part of our trench where
a communication trench joined the
front line a Tommy had stuck up a
wooden signpost with three hands or
arms on it. One of the hands, point-
ing to the German lines, read, ‘To Ber-
qin: the one pointing down the comm
. tery, or lance corporal, as you call it
in the infantry, used to relieve the
upright, either, because as soon as |
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telephonists. We would do two hours
on and four off. I would be on duty
in the advanced observation post,’
while he would be at the other end of
the wire in the battery dugout signal-
ing station. We were supposed to send
through orders for the battery to fire
when ordered to do so by the observa-
tion officer in the advanced post. But
very few messages were sent. It was
only in case of an actual attack that
we would get a chance to earn our
‘two and six’ a day. You see, Qld Pep-
per had issued orders not to fire ex-
cept when the orders came from him.
And with Old Pepper orders is orders,
and made to obey.
«The Germans must have known
about these orders, for even in the day
their transports and troops used to
expose themselves as if they were on
parade. This sure got up our nose,
sitting there day after day, with fine
targets in front of us but unable to
send over a shell. We heartily cussed
‘Old Pepper, his orders, the govern-
ment, the people at home, and every-
thing in general. But the Boches
‘didn’t mind cussing, and got very. care-
less. Blime me, they were bally in-
sulting. Used to, when using a certain
road, throw their caps into the air as
a taunt at our helplessness.
«Cassell had been a telegrapher in
civil life and joined up when war was
declared. . As for me, I knew Morse,
learned it at the signalers’ school back
in 1910. With an officer in the obser-
‘vation post, we could not carry on the
kind of conversation that’s usual be-
tween two mates, so we used the
‘Morse code. To send, one of us would
tap the transmitter with his finger
nails, and the one on the other end
would get it through the receiver.
Many an hour was whiled away in this
‘manner passing compliments back and
forth. :
in the observation post the officer
used to sit for hours with a powerful
pair of field glasses to his eyes.
Through a cleverly concealed loophole
he would scan the ground behind the
German trenches, looking for targets
and finding many. This officer, Cap-
tain A—— by name, shad a habit of
talking out loud to himself. Some-
times he would vent his opinion, same
as a common private does when he's
wrought up. Once upon a time the
captain had been on Old Pepper’s staff,
so he could cuss and blind in the most
approved style. Got to be sort of a
habit with him.
“About six thousand yards from us,
behind the German lines, was a road
in plain view of our post. For the last
three days Fritz had brought eompa-
nies of troops down this road in broad
daylight. They were never shelled.
Whenever this happened the captain
! would froth at the mouth and let out
a volume of Old Pepper's religion
which used to make me love him.
“Rvery battery has a range chart on
which distinctive landmarks are noted,
with the range for each. These land-
marks are called targets, and are num-
bered. On our battery's chart, that
road was called ‘Target 17, Range
6000, 3 degrees 30 minutes left’ D 238
battery consisted of four ‘4.5’ howit-
zers, and fired a 35-pound H. E. shell.
As you know, H. E. means ‘high ex-
plosive.’ I don’t like bumming up my
own battery, but we had a record in
the division for direct hits, and our
boys were just pining away for a
‘chance to exhibit their skill in the
eyes of Fritz.
«On the afternoon of the fourth day
of Fritz’ contemptuous use of the road
mentioned the captain and I were at
our posts as usual. Fritz was strafe-
ing us pretty rough, just like he’s doing
now. The shells were playing leap-
frog all through that orchard.
“] was carrying on a conversation
in our ‘tap’ code with Cassell at the
‘other end. It ran something like this:
«Say, Cassell, how would you like
to be in the saloon bar of the King’s
Arms down Rye lane with a bottle of
Bass in front of you, and that blonde
barmaid waiting to fill ’em up again?
“Cassell had a fancy for that par-
ticular blonde. The answer came back
in the shape of a volley of cusses. I
changed the subject.
“After a while our talk veered
round to. the way the Boches had been
exposing themselves on the road down
on the chart as Target 17. What he
said about those Boches would never
have passed the reichstag, though I
believe it would have gone through
our censor easily enough.
“The bursting shells were making
such a din that I packed up talking
and took to watching the captain. He
was fidgeting around on an old sand-
bag with the glass to his eye. Occa-
sionally he would let out a grunt, and
make some remark I couldn’t hear on
account of the noise, but I guessed
what it was all right. Fritz was get-
ting fresh again on that road.
«Cassell had been sending in the ‘tap
code’ to me, but I was fed up and,
didn’t bother with it. ‘Then he sent
0. 8., and I was all attention, for this
was a call used between us which
meant thar something important was
on. I was all ears in an instant. Then
Cassell turned loose.
«you blankety blank dud, I have
been trying to raise you for fifteen
minutes. What’s the matter, are you
asleep? (Just as if anyone could
have slept in that infernal racket!)
‘Never mind framing a nasty answer.
Just listen.
«“ipAre you game for putting some-
thing over on the Bockes and Old Pep-
per all in one?
“T answered that I was game enough
when it came to putting it over the
Boches, but confessed that I had a
weakening of the spine, even at the
mention of Qld Pepper’s name.
“He came back with, ‘It’s so absurd-
ly easy and simple that there is no
chance of the old heathen rumbling it.
Anyway, if we're caught, T'll take the
blame.’
«Under these condition I told him to
spit out his scheme. It was so daring
and simple that it took my breath
away. This is what he proposed : ’
«If the Boches should use that road
again, to send by the tap system the
target and range. I had previously
told him about our captain talking out
loud as if he were sending through
orders. Well, if this happened, I was
to send the dope to Cassell and he
would transmit it to the battery com-
mander as officially coming through |
the observation post. Then the bat-
tery would open up. Afterwards, dur-
ing the investigation, Cassell would
swear he received it direct. They
would have to relieve him, because it
was impossible from his post in the
battery dugout to know that the road
was being used at that time by the
Germans. And also it was impossible
for him to give the target, range and
degrees. You know a battery chart is
not passed around among the men like
a newspaper from Blighty. From him
the investigation would go to the ob-
servation post, and the observing offi-
cer could truthfully swear that I had
pot sent the message by ‘phone, and
that no orders to fire had been issued
by him. The investigators would then
be up in the air, we would be safe, the
Boches would receive a good bashing,
and we would get our own back on Old
Pepper. It was too good to be true.
1 gleefully fell in with the scheme,
and told Cassell I was his meat.
«Then I waited with beating heart
and watched the captain like a hawk.
«He was beginning to fidget again
and was drumming on the sandbags
with his feet. At last, turning to me,
fie said:
« «Wilson, this army is a blankety
plank washout. What's the use of hav-
ing artillery if it is not allowed to fire?
The government at home ought to be
hanged with some of their red tape.
It’s through them that we have no
shells.”
«] answered, ‘Yes, sir, and started
sending this opinion over the wire to
Cassell, but the captain interrupted
me with:
“Keep those infernal fingers still.
What's the matter, getting the nerves?
When I'm talking to you, pay atten-
tion. .
“My heart sank. Supposing he had
rumbled that tapping, then all would
be up with our plan. I stopped drum-
ming with my fingers and said:
«Beg your pardon, Sir, just a habit
with me.
«And a d——d silly one, too,’ he an-
swered, turning to his glasses again,
and I knew I was safe. He had not
tumbled to the meaning of that tap-
ping.
“All at once, without turning round,
he exclaimed:
« «well, of all the nerve I've ever run
across, this takes the cake. Those
Boches are using that road
again. Blind my eyes, this time it is a
whole brigade of them, transports and
all. What a pretty target for our
45's’ The beggars know that we
won't fire. A d d shame, I call it.
Oh, just for a chance to turn D 238
loose on them.’
“] was trembling with excitement.
From repeated stolen glanees at the
captain's range chart, that road with
its range was burned into my mind.
«Over the wire I tapped, ‘© 238 bat-
tery, Target 17, Range 6000, 3 degrees
30 minutes, left, salvo, fire’ Cassell
0. Kd my message, and with the re-
ceiver pressed against my ear, I wait-
ed and listened. In a couple of min-
utes very faintly over the wire came
the voice of our battery commander
issuing the order: D 238 battery.
Salvo! Fire?
«Then a roar through the receiver
as the four guns belched forth, a
screaming and whistling overhead, and
the shells were on their way.
“phe captain jumped as if he were
shot, and let out a great big expressive
d——n, and eagerly turned his glasses
fn the direction of the German road.
I also strained my eyes watching that
target. Four black clouds of dust rose
up right in the middle of the German
column. Four direct hits—another
record for D 238.
“The shells kept on whistling over-
head, and I had counted twenty-four
of them when the firing suddenly
ceased. When the smoke and dust
clouds lifted the destruction on that
road was awful. Overturned limbers
and guns, wagons smashed up, troops
fleeing in all directions. The road and
roadside were spotted all over with
little field gray dots, the toll of our
guns.
“The captain, in his excitement, had
slipped off the sandbag, and was on
his knegs in the mud, the glass still at
his eye. He was muttering to himself
and slapping his thigh with his disen-
gaged hand. At every slap a big
round juicy cuss word would ‘escape
from his lips follewed by:
«“sGood! Fine! Marvelous!
Work! Direct hits all.
“Then he turned to me and shouted :
« «wilson, what do you think of it?
Did you ever see the like of it in your
life? D——n fine work, I call it’
“pretty soon a look of wonder stole
Pretty
! over his face and he exclaimed:
«But who in lh—l1 gave them the
order to fire. Range and everything
correct, too. I know I didn’t. Wilson,
did 1 give you any order for the bat-
tery to open up? Of course I didn’t,
did 1? :
«] gnswered very emphatically, ‘No,
sir, you gave no command. Nothing
went through this post. I am abso-
lutely certain on that point, sir.’ Y
« «Of course nothing went through,”
he replied. Then his face fell, and he
muttered out loud:
«But, by Jove, wait till Old Pep-
per gets wind of this. There'll be fur
flying.’ :
Just then Bombardier Cassell cut in
on the wire:
««General’s compliments to Captain
A——. He directs that officer and sig-i
naler report at the double to brigade
headquarters as soon as relieved. Re-
lief now on the way.
“In an undertone to me, ‘Keep a,
brass front, Wilson, and for God’s
sake, stick.” I answered with, ‘Rely on
me, mate,” but I was trembling all over.
“] gave the general’s message to the:
captain, and started packing up. :
«he relief arrived, and as we left
the post the captain said :
« «Now for the fireworks, and I know
they'll be good and plenty.” They were.
«When we arrived at the gun pits
the battery commander, the sergeant
major and Cassell were waiting for us.
We fell in line and the funeral march
to brigade headquarters started.
“Arriving at headquarters the bat-
tery commander was the first to be
interviewed. This was behind closed
doors. From the roaring and explo-
sions of Old Pepper it sounded as if.
raw meat was being thrown to the
lions. Cassell, later, described it as
sounding like a bombing raid. In about
two minutes the officer reappeared.
The sweat was pouring from his fore-
head, and his face was the color of a
beet. He was speechless. As he
passed the captain he jerked his thumb
in the direction of the lion’s den and
went out, Then the captain went in,
and the lions were once again fed.
The captain stayed about twenty min-
utes and came out. I couldn’t see his.
face, but the droop in his shoulders
was enough. He looked like a wet hen.
«The door of the general's rooni
pened and Old Pepper stood in the
doorway. With a roar he shouted :
“Which one of you is Casseil?
D—n me, get your heels together
when I speak! Come in here r
«Cassell started to say, ‘Yes sir.’
«But Old Pepper roared, ‘Shut up ¥
«Oassell came out in five minutes.
le said nothing, but as he passed me
he put his tongue into his cheek and
winked, then, turning to the closed,
door, he stuck his thumb to his nose
and left.
“Then the sergeant majors turn
came. He didn’t come out our way.
Judging by the roaring, Old Pepper
must have eaten him.
«When the door opened and the gen-
eral beckoned to me, my knees started
to play ‘Home, Sweet Home’ against
each other.
“My interview was very short.
«Old Pepper glared at me when I
entered, and then let loose.
« «Of course you don’t know anything
about it. You're just like the rest
Ought to have a nursing bottle around
your neck and a nipple in your teeth.
Soldiers—by gad, you turn my stom-
ach to look at you. Win this war,
when England sends out such samples.
as IT have in my brigade! Not likely!
Now, sir, tell me what you don’t know
about this affair. Speak up, out with
it. Don’t be gaping at me like a fish.
Spit it out”
«] stammered, ‘Sir, I know absolute-
ly nothing’
«aphat's easy to see’ he roared ;
‘that stupid face tells me that. Shut
up. Get out; but I think you are 2
d——d liar just the same. Back to
your battery.
«] saluted and made my exit.
“That night the captain sent for us.
With fear and trembling we went to
his dugout. He was alone. After sa-
luting we stood at attention in front
of him and waited. His say was short.
«Don’t you two ever get i¢ into your
heads that Morse is a dead language.
T've known it for years. The two of
you had better get rid of that nervous
habit of tapping transmitters; it’s dan-
gerous. That's all’
«We saluted, and were just going out
the door of the dugout when the cap-
tain called up back and said:
«igmoke Goldflakes? Yes? Well,
there are two tins of them on ay tabie.
(Go back to the battery, and keep, your
tongues between your teeth. Under-
stand?
“We understood. :
“For five weeks afterwards our bat-
tery did nothing but extra fatigues.
We were satisfied and so were the
men. It was worth it to put one over
on Old Pepper, to say nothing of the
injury caused to Fritz’ feelings.”
When Wilson had finished his story
I looked up and the dugout was
jammed. An artillery captain and two
officers had also entered and stayed
for the finish. Wilson spat out an
enormous quid of tobacco, looked up,
saw the captain, and got as red as a
carnation. The captain smiled and
left. Wilson whispered to me:
«Blime me, Yank, I see where I click
for crucifixion. That captain is the
same one that chucked us Goldflakes
in his dugout and here I have been
‘chucking me weight about in his
hearing.’ ”’
Wilson never clicked his crucifixion.
Quite a contrast to Wilson was an-
other character in our brigade named
Scott; we called him “Old Scotty” on
account of his age. He was fifty-seven,
although looking forty. “Old Scotty”
had been born in the Northwest and
had served in the Northwest Mounted
police. He was a typical cowpuncher
and Indian fighter and was a dead shot
with the rifle, and took no pains to
disguise this fact from us. He used to
take care of his rifie as if it were a
baby. In his spare moments you could
always see him cleaning it or polish-
ing the stock. Woe betide the man
who by mistake happened to get hold
of this rifle; he soon found out his
error. Scott was as deaf as a mule,
and it was amusing at parade to watch
him in the manual of arms, slyly
glancing out of the corner of his eye
at the man next to him to see what
the order was. How he passed the
doctor was a mystery to us; he must.
have bluffed his way through, because
he certainly was independent. Beside
him the Fourth of July looked like,
Good Friday. He wore at the time al
large sombrero, had a Mexican stock
saddle over his shoulder, a lariat on
his arm, and a “forty-five” hanging
from his hip. Dumping this parapher-
nalia on the floor he went up to the
recruiting officer and shouted: “I'm:
from America, west of the Rockies,
and want to join your d——d army.
I've got no use for a German and can
shoot some. At Scotland Yard they!
turned me down; said I was deaf and
so Iam. I don’t hanker to ship in with
a d——da mud-crunching outfit, but the,
cavalry’s full, so I guess this regi-
ment’s better than none, so trot out
your papers and I'll sign em.” He told
them he was forty and slipped by. I
was on recruiting service at the time
he applied for enlistment.
It was Old Scotty’s great ambition’
to be a sniper or “body snatcher,” as
Mr. Atkins calls it. The day that he
was detailed as brigade sniper he cele-
brated his appointment by blowing the
whole platoon to rags.
Being a Yank, Old Scotty took a lik-
ing to me and used to spin some great:
yarns about the plains, and the whole.
platoon would drink these in and ask
for more. Ananias was a rookie com-
pared with him.
The ex-plainsman and discipline
could not agree, but the officers all
liked him, even if he was hard to man-
age, so when he was detailed as a
sniper a sigh of relief went up from
the officers’ mess.
Old Scotty had the freedom of the
brigade. He used to draw two or
three days’ rations and disappear with
his glass, range finder and rifle, and we
would see or hear no more of him
until suddenly he would reappear
with a couple of notches added to
‘those already on the butt of his rifle.
Every time he got a German it meant
another notch. He was proud of these
notches.
BR
(Continued next week).
de
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