Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

 

 

 

Chapter Ten

Hiking

On the following night orders were given for a twenty-mile hike which almost took our breath away. But surprises are not unusual, so we soon rolled our packs, and, with full equipment, fell in line. We marched for hours at a time in chilling rains and north winds over roads of rock and rubbish which blistered our aching feet, through woods, muddy swamps, over hills, until, completely worn out, we stopped at daybreak in the ghostly, shell torn town of Beaumont. Here in a half reclining position I managed to get a little rest. We remained here a day, spending the time in cleaning up our guns, equipment and also ourselves, as we were a pitiful looking lot, exhausted, caked with mud and full of fleas and cooties. It was a tough life, but we had no other way to live. The following morning, half frozen and aching in every bone, we got orders to continue our hike. During these times we suffered for want of water. We carried such heavy loads, as our packs, rifles, ammunition, steel helmet, gas mask, reserved rations, etc., that our one-pint canteen gave out long before we reached our next supply. This we often got from shell holes of greenish hue, around which many of the dead lay buried. Arriving near a small town on the Verdun front we continued our march through shell-torn series of rocks, entanglements of barbed wire, through brush and mud, for hours without food. We had days of near-starvation and begged for just anything to eat from passing trucks. Many times we picked up from the ground around the camp bits of bread and cold potatoes. Sometimes we almost fought over these scraps. I remember on one occasion how good turnips and raw cabbage tasted, that we picked up from shell swept gardens. We soon left the hillside, hiking again many miles into a thick woody region. It was a veritable danger zone for Boche aeroplanes, as sixteen horses had been killed by aerial bombs the night previous. Here I was put on gas guard and walked around all through nights in cold drizzling rains, the big guns firing away just ahead of me, while shells occasionally dropped around our camp wounding a few of our men. It was here a piece of shrapnel flew by scratching my shoe; another close call that made me apprehensive.

 

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