{ title: 'The Rio Grande rattler. ([McAllen], Hidalgo County, Tex.) 1916-1917, December 15, 1917, Page 5, Image 5', download_links: [ { link: 'http://www.loc.gov/rss/ndnp/ndnp.xml', label: 'application/rss+xml', meta: 'News about NYS Historic Newspapers - RSS Feed', }, { link: '/lccn/sn87030234/1917-12-15/ed-1/seq-5/png/', label: 'image/png', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn87030234/1917-12-15/ed-1/seq-5.pdf', label: 'application/pdf', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn87030234/1917-12-15/ed-1/seq-5/ocr.xml', label: 'application/xml', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn87030234/1917-12-15/ed-1/seq-5/ocr.txt', label: 'text/plain', meta: '', }, ] }
Image provided by: New York State Military History Museum
THE WADSWORTH GAS ATTACK a n d RIO GRANDE RATTLER 3 A Night in the Camp Trenches A Senator, A General, A Colonel and a Passel of Assorted Officers Bagged by Shivering Sentries in Fire Trench [By Private W. A. Davenport, Company M, 107th Infantry.] N a turally the trenches we’ll occupy in France and Belgium will he a bit different. The circum stances will be slightly altered. The H u n will be out yonder m a k ing earnest endeavor to wipe us out and the trenches with us. And the business of capturing an enemy will consist in som ewhat sterner practice than merely th a t of inform ing him th a t you see him quite plainly and th a t he should advance at once and give his name and rank immediately. And, on the other hand, it is altogether likely th a t the adventurous one who comes w ithin rifle shot of the trenches we occupy over there will have no further need of a name. But, taking the game as it is , be ing played in the W adsw o rth trenches, it is a fairly equitable affair and one with just claim to being excellent training for the life before us in the big ditches in Europe. Off In the Stilly Night. It was som ewhat after nine o’clock at night. We had left the company street— the fourth platoon first—enjoined w ith re peated em phasis th a t silence was to be the cardinal virtue of the night. We swung along the road queerly thrilled. We were doing som ething new, on a dark, cheerless night. There was som ething of m y stery about trenches any way. The word, really, was alm ost synonymous w ith battle and attendant danger. Again, on the road, the lieutenants w h is pered hoarsely th a t we m u st m a intain ab solute silence; th a t we should make no more noise w ith our feet, even, than wras abso lutely necessary. Sneezing became a crime fit to head the decalogue. To cough m eant to fetch down upon one’s self the scowls of the platoon. It has been the w riter’s unenviable ex perience to have seen ten m iserable creatures die for m u rder in Sing Sing’s electric chair. W ith but two exceptions, the electrocutions took place some time between nightfall and daybreak—always in moments of darkness. And always, \before the witnesses were led by the w arden to the execution chamber, he bound them to SILENCE'. Well, there was som ething of the same eery feeling about these sepulchral w a rn ings against breaks in the silence. Sergeant Whoozis, Guide. We halted, a hundred feet from the n a r row runw a y th a t slips down into the last line trenches. Sergeant Whoozis of Some thing or Other reported as guide. And we followed Sergeant Wh-oozis through the trenches. The first twelve miles were not so had de spite the fact you couldn’t see the hat of the man in front of you, the red clay wall to your left nor the firing step to your right. But after that, the continual stumble for ward to the fire or first line trench became monotonous. You became dizzy enough to drop but couldn’t. You couldn’t fall for ward. Your file leader was too close to you. You couldn’t sway backward. Al ready the fellow on your heels was dem and ing to know (in a terrific w h isper) w h a t in h— was scaring you. The trench was too narrow to perm it of more than tw o or three inches leeway on either side. We carried blanket rolls, haversacks, canteens, picks, shovels and rifles. Above us—and how far above us it seem ed—wTe beheld a narrow strip of sky. Like a narrow, blue-black band of velvet ribbon, it was, studded by ten m illion stars. There was much stum b ling. The turns were vi cious. The firing steps had, here and there, been rivetted and the rough clubs and stakes driven into the mud, caught the skirts of long overcoats or ripped the laces of loose leggins. An Eerie Trip. Occasionally a m an stumbled or jammed his foot against a rock. H o arsely but w ith vast emotion he cursed—cursed the war, the trenches, the kaiser and like obnoxious things. Ghostly figures appeared above our heads. They peered over the edges of the gullies. They were muffled to the ears and, as we got nearer the fire trench and the light became better, we noted th a t they wore white bands around their hats—the observ ers, to be sure. The long, tortuous trip ended w ith the fourth platoon in the fire trench, and the nrst, - second and third platoons scattered in and throughout the support and cover trenches. By squads we were posted—we fellows in the fire trench—at points most likely to be assailed. 'We were scattered along—say every fifty feet or so. Prone in the Fire Trench. 'We were to lie on our stomachs on the parapet or stand on the firing step looking over the parapet, our rifles at ready and our ears and eyes doing hair trigger duty. Where we were placed we were to stay until relieved. If grub reached us, well and good. If it didn’t, it didn’t. The penalty “ Contributions to the Community Tree Fund will not only be received, but. WELCOMED by Mrs. J. F. O.’Ryaxi, 235 Pine Street, Spartan burg^ S. C.” for sleeping on post over on the other side is death. We were inform ed th a t they wouldn’t shoot us for sleeping in the W ads w o rth trenches but, th a t by the tim e our punishm e n t had ceased, we would have wished more than once th a t they had shot us. Two hundred yards across the valley lay the camp of the enemy—the observers. Be tween us and the enemy stretched a jaded harbed-wire fence, a narrow creek and a scant strip of woods. The moon had come out but a dismal, ill sm elling fog had floated in from somewhere and the effects of the moon were dissipated thereby. Grabbing the W hite-Banded Observers. We were told to capture, identify and fetch in, all observers or other persons found near by our posts. We were inform ed th a t this was our night. We, privates, Jones, Smith, Brown and Robinson, were the bosses, col lectively and individually. ■ MILITARY COURTESY WAS CALLED OFF. If a Ma jor General started hanging around, grab him. If a Colonel sassed you, give him h—. We w e ren’t supposed to recognize rank nor station outside our own lines. Our orders were unm istakable. We waited an hour for the first assault; a stealthy, scout-like assault th a t kept nerves on edge and the eyes roving. A sergeant or two and a scattering of corporals made the first attem p t to crawl past the outposts and into the trenches thus to show we were far from our job. They were snagged w ith a prom p titude th a t made them w rangle am o ngst them selves who had betrayed their presence on the edge of the woods. On Come the Stealthy Foe. From m idnight until five in the morning, through a fog th a t froze the m arrow and a hard, dull bitterness of cold th a t contracted the innards, the enemy came creeping up the creek gully, along the woods and through the pine trees. Now and then a man on the firing step whose eyes had begun to play him tricks set up a hoarse challenge that received no answer. Angered, he’d leap over the parapet and into the thicket w h erein he had espied the stealthy enemy. He’d find h e ’d been chal lenging a bit of vagrant paper or a clump of cotton bolls nodding in the heavy, slow breeze th a t seemed w a te r laden. And soon thereafter, another sentry would rush crashing through the copse of stunted oak and pine to snarl a final challenge at a m y sterious figure who would cufse him to perdition in reply. The m y sterious one was one of our own scouts craw ling along the (Continued on page 20)
