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Page 13
After a time the sing-songs in a trench some little distance away from
"Leicester Lounge" knocked spots off all the others anywhere, thanks to
the acquisition of a piano for them--probably the only instrument of its
kind which has ever been in the British trenches at the front. It came
from "Dirty Dick's." The picture of "Dirty Dick's" gives a rough idea of
the devastation of war. The portion of a building to the right was all
that remained of what, but a few weeks before, had been a handsome and
prosperous hotel, and the wall with window and door spaces left, shown
to the left, had been the residence of a prominent citizen. All that was
left of the hotel was a shaky wall, though the sign-board remained,
having escaped the enemy's fire.
We were placed in the trench shown in the foreground, and the Germans
were also entrenched in the space seen in the distance between the
ruins. When we first took up our position the hotel was intact except
that the roof had been destroyed. The wall towards our trench was
standing, and when it fell the bricks came tumbling over us, and the
dust of the red masonry turned us into copper-coloured men. But prior to
this three "Jocks" and three of our own regiment crawled out of the
trench and into the house, and we spotted a piano on the ground floor.
The temptation was too great; we decided to remove it. The operation
took us two and a half hours' hard struggle. Eventually we got the
instrument into our trench, somewhat battered about and minus one leg,
but still answering to the keyboard. Unfortunately two of the party were
wounded in doing this, but they didn't mind. Night after night we had
sing-songs accompanied on the piano in proper style, and used to give
forth with the full strength of our lungs--
"The Germans are coming--
Hurrah! Hurrah!"
The "harmony" of this stunt used to be wafted on the silent night air to
the German trenches, and we soon saw how it upset Fritz and Karl. They
got so annoyed that they trained their artillery in the direction of
the sounds, and used to shell us all along the line in the hope of
silencing our concerts. However, they could never quite locate the exact
spot in which the instrument was temporarily placed.
[Illustration: "ENTRENCHING" THE PIANO.]
One night, while one of our concerts was at its height, the officers
even joining in, the order came to advance. So we had to bid a hasty
farewell to our much-prized "Johanna," which had given us so much
pleasure.
"SEVENTY-FIVE HOTEL."
[Illustration: SEVENTY-FIVE HOTEL.]
Now I think of it, there was another ex-"pub" where we touched lucky in
the matter of finding things--though they didn't include a piano. This
was "Seventy-five Hotel." We called it that because the enemy fired
seventy-five shells into it in seventy-five minutes on one memorable
occasion, and then only killed one man. The building, which had been the
scene of fierce fighting even before our battalion arrived on the scene
of action, still bore the sign "Estaminet," and so we could safely
conclude that it had been the village "pub," or wine lodge. There were a
few bottles of wine still in the cellar, which the Germans must have
overlooked when they were in possession, or had not time to take away.
We found many articles, some useful, some otherwise; amongst them a
large warming-pan, which caused amusement. The article we put to the
best use was the dinner bell. This was turned to great account. In front
of the estaminet was our "listening post," where we kept watch and guard
at night. Well, by aid of the dinner bell we installed our own brand of
telephone system. This was to connect the bell by string to the wrists
of those out on the watch. Whenever they saw anyone approaching or any
other indication of possible danger they gently pulled the string, the
bell tinkled, it was heard by our companions in the trench, word was
passed along, and everyone prepared for emergencies.
"CHICKEN FARM."
[Illustration: "CHICKEN FARM."]
Here something really like a little bit of sport came in our way. When
we arrived there the farm was deserted, its lawful owners having found
the situation too hot for them. Cows roamed about at random, and so did
pigs. But after we had dug ourselves in and made our position secure,
the chickens were what interested us most. There were two hundred and
fifty of these at the least, and they used to parade on the strip of
ground shown in the picture and the bolder spirits peep over the edge of
our trench. Catching them was good sport, but eating them was something
finer. What a nice change from bully beef and biscuit! Cooking not quite
a la Carlton or Ritz, but more on prehistoric principles. So many fowls
were caught, killed and plucked for cooking and eating that the wet mud
was completely covered with feathers, and resembled a feather bank. As
for ourselves, the feathers, sticking to the wet mud on our uniforms and
equipments, turned us into Zulus, wild men of the woods, or Chippeway
Indians. The enemy presumably did fairly well also with a poultry farm
in the distance. They appeared to have a portable kitchen. We often
watched the funnel moving about their trench. One day a line was
stretched from this funnel to a pole and German officers' uniforms were
hung out on the line to dry over the stove. It made us a lovely target.
Shooting at officers' uniforms was a pleasant diversion, and they had
been well pierced with bullets before they were taken in.
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