Section 8 of The Lieutenant and Others. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Jeffrey Wilson, Ames, Iowa. The Lieutenant and Others by Sapper. The Mine. Some are born Huns, and Others have Huns thrust upon them. Last night we exploded a mine under a redoubt in the enemy's trenches, and successfully occupied the crater. A considerable number of Germans were killed. Thus the official communicate. And yet the great powers that be have no idea that this small local success was entirely due to David Jones, some time minor in a coal field in South Wales. In fact, the betting is about a fiver to an acid drop that they have no idea that he exists. Bar the police in his local village who disliked him intensely, and his NCOs out here who disliked him still more, very few people do know that he exists. Undersized in every way an undesirable acquaintance, a silent and morose man, it is nevertheless an undoubted fact that had it not been for David Jones, the aforementioned crater would not have been occupied, and the considerable number of defunct Germans would now be alive. And this was the way of it. The presence of David in such an unhealthy locality as Flanders was entirely due to his regrettable lack of distinction between Mayum and Tuum. Exactly what occurred is immaterial, but deciding that the evils he knew of in the shape of prison were probably worse than the evils he did not know of in the shape of the Hun, our friend managed to evade the two pressing attentions of the police. And in due course found himself across the water in one of the new formed tunneling companies. These companies are composed almost entirely of those who from their earliest infancy have been reared in the atmosphere of moles rather than in the atmosphere of men, and have as their work out here the great game of mining and countermining. Early in the proceedings it became apparent to those whose duty and privilege it was to command David Jones that his affection for woolly bears, pipsqueaks, crumps, marias, and others of the great genus Obus was not of that type which passeth the love of women. It is even rumored that on one occasion in a wood behind the line which was receiving attention from the Hun and in which lay our hero's temporary abode he made a voluntary confession of several real and a few imaginary misdeeds of his early use in the hope of being sent back to prison and safety. Which is all by the way. In the course of time however the tunneling company was called upon to justify its existence to become again as moles and not men, to gasp and sweat in the bowels of the earth and thus the wood where they had been knew them no more. In front of our line poked out a little from the German lines there lay a semi-circular redoubt. It was strong, very strong, as many officers in many regiments of foot will confirm. The ground in front of it bore eloquent testimony to frequent unsuccessful attempts to dislodge the enemy. Gunners had gunned it preparatory to assaults. Gunners had gunned it all day and every day for many days. But so far in vain. Always where the infantry met with the same deadly cross machine gunfire did they set foot over our parapet. Wherefore having failed to subdue it from the air and over the ground they set for the miners and told them to try from underneath. And thus it was that David Jones came again to his natural element. Now I venture to think that of that natural element comparatively little is known by those who remain in the island over the water. The charge of cavalry, the thunder of guns, the grim infantry attack through the swirling mists of dawn. These can be visualized, can be imagined.  But of David Jones' natural element of that work which goes on day and night ceaselessly burrowing under the ground nearer, ever nearer the goal there are no pictures to draw. And so before I come to tell of what my ruffian miner did under the earth in the place where the infantry had charged so often in vain and of the German engineer officer who was discovered with part of his helmet forced into his brain and his head split asunder I would digress for a space and try to the best of my ability to paint that setting in which the human moles live and move and have their being. I would take those who may care to follow me to the front line trenches where at a certain place a sap head perchance or a Johnson hole just behind or even in the trench itself a deep shored up shaft has been sunk. From the front nothing is visible and by suitable screening the inquisitive ones who fly overhead are prevented from seeing anything to cheer them up and make them excited. At the bottom of the shaft two men are sitting shoveling a heap of loose earth into buckets. Each bucket as it is filled is hoisted up on a rope working on a pulley only to be lowered again empty when the earth has been tipped into some convenient shell hole screened from the site of the gentleman opposite. If seen the steady exodus of earth from a trench at one point is apt to give the hun furiously to think always an unwise proceeding. In front of the two men is a low black hole from which at regular intervals there comes a man stripped to the waist glistening with sweat pushing a small trolley on leathered wheels. While the two men silently tip up the trolley and empty out the earth he stands blinking for a moment at the patch of blue sky only to disappear into the low black hole his trolley empty. Everything is silent there is no hurry.  And now mind your head let us follow the man with the empty trolley from far ahead comes the muffled thought of a pick and behind one the light of day is streaming through the opening of the gallery bend almost double when creeps forward guiding oneself by one's hands as they touch walls that feel dank and cold then a turning and utter absolute darkness until far ahead a faint light appears the light at the front face of the mine. Another man pushing a full trolley squeezes past you his body gleaming faintly white in the darkness while steadily without cessation by the light of an electric lamp the man on the front face goes on picking picking his body glistening as if it had been dipped in oil when he is tired another takes his place there is no pause each yard as it is taken out is shored up with mine cases and sheeting otherwise the whole thing may collapse on your head as you go on your hands against the sides you will find possibly an opening on one side or the other the opening of another gallery a gallery with a teahead at the end all finished no earth is being carted from here there is for the time no one in it it is a listening gallery and with the listening gallery and all it stands for we come to grips with the real drama of mining were it merely the mechanical removal of earth the mechanical making of a tunnel from one place to another it would perhaps be a safer occupation but just as inspiring to write about as a new cure for corns moreover it was from a listening gallery that David Jones still all in good time mining like most games is one at which to can play and it is not a matter of great surprise that neither side will allow the other one to play on molested therefore where there is mining there also is counter mining and the two operations are not exactly the same for while mining is essentially an offensive act designed to blow up a portion of the enemy's trenches and form a crater in which men may shelter counter mining is essentially a defensive act designed merely to wreck the advancing mine thus both sides may at the same time be running out a mine towards the opposite trenches and also a counter mine in another part of the line to meet the hostile mine moreover in a mine the charge is large to affect as much damage as possible in a counter mine the charge is small in order not to make too large a crater in which the enemy may unscrupulously take up his abode all of which is essential for the proper understanding of David Jones is act at periods therefore during the 24 hours all work in the mine is suspended the muffled tapping of the pick ceases and silence as of the grave rains in the underground world and during this period in each of the listening galleries skilled men stand with their ears glued to the earth and some with instruments of which I may not speak and listen there under the earth with their dead lying above them that no man's land between the trenches with ears strained in the silence a silence that can be felt they listen for that dread noise the muffled tap tap of the enemy's miners counter mining towards them sometimes the mine goes through without any counter mine at all more often not frequently the counter mine is exploded too soon or the direction is wrong and no damage is done but sometimes it is otherwise sometimes there will be a dull rumbling explosion a few mine cases will fly upwards from the center of the ground between the trenches perhaps a boot or a head but nothing more and the miners will mine no more the counter mine has been successful but the estimation of distance and direction under the ground by listening to the muffled tap of the other man is a tricky business and depends on many things a fissure in the right direction and it will sound close to when in reality it is far away an impervious strata across your front and it will sound far off when in reality it is near which all goes to show that it is a game of chance but I would ask the armchair critic, the man in the street if he have a spark of imagination to transport himself to a mine where there is yet ten yards to go whenever for a space the moles stop and the underworld silence settles like a pall they hear the tap tap of the other workers ghostly fingers coming out to meet them and then the tap tap ceases have the others gone in the wrong direction bearing away from them or are they close to three or four feet away even now charging the head of their counter mine with explosive shall they go on for time is precious and finish that ten yards or shall they stop a while and see if they fire their counter mine is it safe to do another two yards before they stop or is it even now too late is that great tearing explosion coming at once next second or isn't it coming at all and all the time those glistening sweating men carry on pick pick pick it is for the officer in charge to decide and until then now I don't for a moment think that David Jones regarded the matter at all in that light an over mastering relief at being in a place where whiz bangs cease from troubling and pipsqueaks are at rest drove out all lesser thoughts when it happened he was as nearly contented as he was capable of being the mine was ready to fire its head was well under the center of the German redoubt and all the morning slabs of gun cotton had been carried up to the head with loving care the electric leads had been taken up the detonator fixed up everything was ready the earth to damp the charge so laboriously carted out had been brought back again to prevent the force of the explosion blowing down the gallery instead of going upwards and to the casual observer it seemed that the gallery ended merely in a solid wall of earth into which vanished two harmless looking black leads now the mine was going to be fired at seven o'clock in the evening one does not repair with great trouble and elaborate affair of that sort and then loose it off at any old time all the infantry were warned the gunners were warned staff officers at discrete distances buzzed like blue bottles as soon as it went off the infantry were to rush the redoubt the gunners were to shell behind to prevent the counterattack and the staff were to have dinner which was all very right and proper the only one of these details which interested David was the hour at which the mine was to go off until that time he had fully made up his mind that the T-head listening gallery where he was comfortably smoking on a pile of sandbags was a very much more desirable place than the trench up above where at or about the hour of 5.30 the Hun was wont to hate with shells of great violence coming from a direction which almost inflated the trench he recalled with distinct aversion the man next to him the previous evening who had stopped a large piece of shell with his head at the same time he had no intention of remaining in the T-head when the mine went off 6.30 struck him as a good and propitious moment to take his departure to the dangers of the upper air David Jones was not a man to take any risk that could be avoided and the mere fact that everyone had been ordered out of the mine had no bearing on the subject whatever like his personal courage his sense of discipline was nil and so in the dark silence of the mine gallery lying at ease on sandbags with no horrible whistlings overhead David Jones settled himself to rest and ruminate and in the fullness of time he slept now the mining operations had gone without a hitch apparently the Hun had no idea that his privacy was going to be invaded and no sounds of counter-mining had been heard once very faint in the distance a tapping had been heard about three days after the head started since then it had not been repeated and the officer in charge was not to be blamed for thinking that he had the show to himself nevertheless it is an undoubted fact that the thing which woke David Jones was a large piece of earth falling on his face and a light shining through the face of the listening gallery the next moment he heard a muttered ejaculation in a language he did not know and great masses of earth rained down on his face while the light was extinguished his training as a miner enabled him to see in a moment what had happened that part of his mind worked instinctively a German gallery had opened into their listening gallery some strata of soil had rendered it almost soundless and his sleep during the last two hours had prevented him hearing the approach through the final two feet all that he grasped in a flash but what was far more to the point he realized that in about two seconds he would be face to face with a horrible hunt a prospect which turned him cold with horror had he been capable of getting up had his legs been capable of overcoming his terror there is but little doubt that he would have fled to the safety of the open air after all a problematic shell is better than an encounter with a large and brutal man underground but before he could move a head and shoulders followed by a body came through the opening and fell almost on top of him a torch was cautiously flashed and by its light the trembling David saw a large and brutal looking man peering round then the man moved forward evidently he had seen that he was in a gallery off the main one and had failed to see our hero sheltering behind the sandbags for a long while there was silence David could hear the Germans heavy breathing as he stood a few feet from him just where the main gallery crossed the entrance to the teahead he realized that he was afraid to flash his torch until he was quite certain there was no one about but now David's mind was moving with feverish activity so far he had escaped detection but supposing more of these terrible beings came supposing this one came back and did not overlook him again the thought nerves him to action cautiously without a sound he raised himself from behind the pile of sandbags and crept to the spot where the teahead left the short gallery that connected it to the main one and there he stood in the inky darkness with the German a few feet in front of him his plan was to make a dash for safety when the Germans started to explore the main gallery it seemed in eternity in reality it was about half a minute before the light was again flashed cautiously into the darkness it cast round in a circle and then came to a halt he heard the sharp intake of the Germans breath and saw the light fixed on the two black leads then things moved quickly the German laid down his pick and fumbled in his pocket for his wire cutters those leads told their story plain for all to read again in a flash the dangers of his position struck David this accursed hun would cut the leads and then return and run straight into him he wouldn't bother to explore the gallery further he would merely murder him and pass on a horrible thought with infinite caution he reached for the pick the German was muttering to himself and trying to detach his wire cutters from his belt at last he had them free and flashing his torch once again stooped forward to cut the lead and as he did so with a grunt David Jones struck struck at the center of the head outlined in the circle of the light there was a dreadful half choked cry and silence two minutes later David Jones was in the trench looking fearfully over his shoulder as if expecting pursuit the idea of warning the officer in charge that a German gallery had struck through into theirs never even entered his head it was a matter of complete indifference to him if another hun came in and cut the wire so long as he wasn't on hand to be cut too so it was fortunate perhaps that David had overslept himself as one minute after his arrival in the upper earth there was a deafening thunderous roar a great mass of earth, roots, wood and other fragments flew upward and then came raining down again the infantry were across in a flash the curtain of shrapnel descended and the staff had dinner there were two things that no one ever cleared up satisfactorily one was the presence of a miner's pick of a pattern different to that in use in the British army in the tool dump of a certain tunneling company but it was a very small thing and no one worried the other was the presence of a German engineer officer in the mineshaft with his helmet or part of it in his brain various opinions were given by various people but as they were all wrong they don't matter anyway the mine had been most successful and everybody shook hands with everybody all that is except David Jones who was undergoing field punishment number one for stealing the emergency rum ration and getting drunk on it which is really rather humorous when you come to think of it End of Section 8 Section 9 of The Lieutenant and Others this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Lieutenant and Others by SAPA Driver Robert Brown to the great army of those who have passed down the long veil unsung, unhonoured four or five years ago in the dim hazy time when Europe lay at peace they arrived at the station in England where I was fortunate enough to be serving a batch of eight recruits they were very raw and very untrained and it was the doubtful pleasure of the unit in which I was to undertake periodically the training of such batches in order to relieve a somewhat overtaxed Epo elsewhere this batch, like unto other similar batches aspired to become drivers in His Majesty's Corps of Royal Engineers occasionally their aspirations were realised more often not for the terms of their service were two years with the colours and ten with the reserve and at the end of two years the average man may just about be considered capable of looking after two horses and a set of harness looking after them and not before then they go, or most of them and the service knows them no more however, all that is beside the point wandering dispassionately round the stables one day I perceived the eight mounted on blankets sitting on their horses while a satirical and somewhat livery rough riding corporal commented on the defects of their figures their general appearance and their doubtful claim to existence at all in a way that is not uncommon with rough riders then for the first time I saw Brown driver Robert Brown to give him his full name I had a hunt once number three she was sixty-four and weighed twenty stone and if she had been sitting on that their horse of yours should have looked just like you only her chest grew in front and not behind like yours number three was driver Robert Brown I passed on the presence of an officer sometimes tends to check the airy purse of age which flows so gracefully from the lips of the riding instructors a week after I inquired of the corporal as to the progress of his charges not bad sir he said the best of them easy is that they're brown he don't look much on a horse in fact he looks like a sack of potatoes but he's a trier and we'll turn him into something before we've done then one day about four in the afternoon I happened to wander through the stables they were deserted apparently save for the stableman until in a corner I came upon driver Brown he was giving his horse sugar and making much of him to use the riding school phrase we had a talk and he told me things when he got over his shyness about his parents and where he lived and that he loved animals and a lot else besides from then on I kept my eye on Brown and the more I did so the more I liked him he was no beauty he was not particularly smart but he was one of the best his NCOs swore by him his two horses had never looked better his harness was spotless in addition to that he played back in the football 11 if not with great skill at any rate with immense keenness he had exactly the figure for a zealous fallback and was of the type who kicked with such vim when he missed the ball which he generally did he invariably fell heavily to the ground thus Robert Brown recruit when his two years were up Brown elected to stay on in the service the service consisting in this case of his commanding officer his NCOs and myself he would find no reason why he shouldn't in fact and on the contrary many very excellent reasons why he should so Brown took on for his seven shortly afterwards owing to a marked propensity of my servant to combine the delights of old scotch with the reprehensible custom of sleeping off those delights in my very best easy chair one bought on the high system not the government issue where sleep under any circumstances is completely out of the question owing as I say to this unpleasant propensity I approached my commanding officer NCOs were annoyed they entreated they implored and the issue was in doubt till a providential attack of influenza laid my commanding officer low for the time and the senior subaltern, myself reigned in his stead then the sergeant major laughed and resigned himself to the inevitable driver Robert Brown became my servant and the desecrator of my padded armchair retired after a short period of durance vile to seek repose on stable buckets during the forthcoming six months I am bound to admit I suffered dreadfully you do not make a servant in a day but he tried his level best we had shirt parades in which I instructed him in the art of studying shirts with little hints thrown in as to the advisability of reeking his will on the shirt for dinner before he cleaned my parade boots for the following morning not after we delved into the intricacies of washing lists and he waxed indignant over the prices charged they seemed to me quite ordinary but Brown would have none of it I did not often study them bills were never one of my hobbies but one day it suddenly struck me that the months bill was smaller than usual that was the awful occasion when changing quickly for cricket I thought something was wrong with the shirt it seemed rather stiffer in front than the average flannel moreover it had no buttons howls for Brown vituperation for lack of buttons but sir, that's an evening shirt you've got on one I wash myself to save the washing bill tableau then I prepared lists on pieces of paper as to the exact things I required packed in my suitcase when I departed for weekends there was the hunting weekend and the ball dance weekend and the weekend when I stayed beneath the parental roof and other weekends to numerous to mention I would grunt, dance, or home or brighten at him when he brought me my tea on Friday morning and then during the morning he would, with the aid of the correct list packed the necessary there were occasional lapses once I remember it was lunchtime on a Friday and we were being inspected the mess was full of brass hats and my train was 245 I had held dance at Brown as I passed my room before lunch and was hoping for the best when the mess waiter told me my servant wanted me for a moment I went outside play sir, them thin ones of yours is full of holes and the other three are at the wash his voice, like himself, was good and big shall I run down and buy a pair and meet you at the station all the general said when I returned was did he mean socks? then there was a dreadful occasion when he sent me away one weekend with one of his dickies in my bag he had been promoted to Mufti instead of a dress shirt and another, even more awful when he sent me to an austere household presentate, etc from the owner of which I had hopes I had boots wrapped in a paper of orange hue which had better be nameless I could continue indefinitely the mistakes that lad made would have built a church but with all I never wish for a better servant a truer hearted friend and all this happened in the long dim ages way back before we started with thousands of others for the land across the water where for a space he remained my servant until in the fullness of time he passed down that long valley from which there is no return many have passed down at these last months many will pass down it before finness is written on this world war but none deserve a gentler crossing over the great divide than Robert Brown, driver, royal engineers and sometime Batman now, should there be any who, having read as far as this hopefully continue in the belief that they are getting near the motto in the shape of some wonderful deed of heroism and daring I am afraid be disappointed I have no startling pegs on which to hang the tail of his life like thousands of others he never did anything very wonderful he never did anything at all wonderful he was just one of the big army of Browns out here of whom no one has ever heard one of that big army who have done their bit unrewarded unknown because it was the thing to do a feeling unknown to some of those at home I allude to the genus Maidenhead maggot still seen in large quantities resting and yet for each of those Browns their death recorded so tersely in the paper some heartbroken woman has sobbed through the long night watching the paling dawn with tear-stained eyes aching for the sound of footsteps forever still conjuring up again the last time she saw her man now lying in a nameless grave would the maggot get as much? I wonder as I have said afraid I haven't got anything very wonderful to describe you can't make a deathless epic out of a man being sick dreadfully sick beside the road and an hour afterwards getting your food for you it doesn't sound very romantic I admit and yet it was in the morning I remember about three o'clock that we first smelt it and we were lying about half a mile behind the line that first sweet smell of chlorine turning gradually into the gasping throat-wracking fumes respirators weren't regarded with the same importance then as they are now but we all had them of course I'd lost mine since early childhood I have invariably lost everything Brown found it and I put it on and then he disappeared some two hours later when the shelling had abated a little and the gas had long since passed I found him again he was white and sweating and the gas was in him not badly you understand but it was in him for three or four hours he was sick very sick and his head was bursting I know what he felt like and I said to the major I'm sorry it's Brown but it will teach him a lesson not to lose his respirator again for that is the way with Thomas Atkins they are not attached to him by chains it doesn't sound at all romantic all this does it and yet well I found my respirator in the pocket of another coat and as Brown came in with some food he'd recovered about an hour I handed him back his respirator and I asked him why he'd done it well I thought as how you might have to be given orders like and would want it more than me he spoke quite naturally I didn't thank him I couldn't have spoken to save my life but the lad knew what I thought there are some things for which thanks are an insult there was another thing which comes to me too as I write nothing very wonderful again and yet in the course of our wanderings we were engaged upon a job of work that caused us to make nightly a pilgrimage through wipers at the time wipers was not healthy that stage of the war of attrition I understand that many of the great thinkers call it a war of attrition though personally I wish they could be here when the Hun is attritting or whatever the verb is that stage then known as the second battle of Ypres was in progress and though all of that modern Pompeii was unhealthy at the time there were certain marked places particularly so one such was the devil's corner there nightly a large number of things men and horses were killed and the road was littered with well fragments now it chanced one night that I had taken brown with me to a point inside the salient and at midnight I had sent him away back to the field the other side where for the time we were lying two or three hours after I followed him and my way led me past the devil's corner all was quite quiet the night's hate there was over at any rate for the moment one house was burning fiercely just at the corner and the only sounds that broke the silence were the crackling of the flames and the occasional clatter of a limbered wagon traveling fast down a neighbouring road and then suddenly I heard another sound clear above my own footsteps it was the voice of a man singing it was a noise of sorts also there was no mistaking the owner of the voice too often had I heard that same voice apostrophizing a beautiful picture in a beautiful golden frame I stopped surprised for what in the name of fortune brown was doing in such an unsavory spot was beyond me in fact I felt distinctly angry the practice of remaining in needlessly dangerous places is not one to be encouraged I traced that noise it came from behind an overturned limber with two defunct horses lying in the ditch I crossed the road and peered over sitting in the ditch was Robert Brown and on his knees was the limber driver in the breaking dawn you could see that the end was very near the driver had driven for the last time from the limp sag of his back I thought it was broken and a bit of shell had removed well no matter but one could hear the beating of the wings Brown didn't see me suddenly gentle as a woman he bent over him and wiped the death sweat from his forehead while all the time under his breath mechanically he hummed his dirge then the man lying half under the limber stirred feebly what is it mate said Brown leaning forward take the letters out of my pocket matey he muttered then blokes at the war-office take so long and send them two, two the lips framed the words feebly but no sound came who too pal whispered Brown but even as he spoke the poor maimed form quivered and lay still and as I watched Brown lay his head gently down and close his eyes the road the houses seemed to grow a trifle misty when I next looked up I saw him stomping away down the road and as he rounded the corner a dreadful noise stating that with regard to a lady named Thora he had been live too little he had loved her in death too well came floating back in the still air yet me thinks no great man's soul speeded on its way by organ and anthem ever had a nobler farewell than that limber driver if the spirit of the singer has anything to do with it but as I said before I could continue indefinitely was then not the terrible occasion when I found him standing guard over a perfectly harmless Belgian interpreter with a pick in his hand and the light of battle in his eye under the impression that he had caught a German spy the wretched man had laid on the ground for three hours every movement being greeted with a growl of warning from Brown and a playful flourish of his pick also the awful moment when in an excessive zeal he built the major a canvas chair which collapsed immediately he sat in it thereby condemning my irate commanding officer to walk in a bent up position with the framework attached to his person till his hells of rage produced deliverance but time is short and the pegs are small he was just one of the Robert Browns that's all and the last peg in the lad's life is perhaps the smallest of all it was wet two or three days ago very wet his eye as usual had gone out without a macintosh we were away back west of Ypres in a region generally considered safe it is safe as a matter of fact by comparison but occasionally the hunt treats us to an obus or two lest we forget his existence I got back very wet very angry very bored and howled for Brown there was no answer save only from the doctor's orderly and he it was who told me Brown had started out when the rain came on six or seven hours before with my macintosh and not returning they had gone to look for him in a ditch they found him with the water dyed crimson a few minutes before he died it was just a stray shell that found its mark on the lad I can see him in my mind stomping along the road humming his song and then without warning the sudden screech close on top of him the pitiful sagging knees the glazing film of death with none to aid him through as he had helped that other for the road was little used thank God they found him before the end but he only made one remark I couldn't get no farther dick he muttered but the mac ain't stained I went up to see him in the brewery where they'd carried him and I looked on his honest ugly face for the last time the mac ain't stained no lad it isn't may I when I come to the last fence be able to say the same though he spoke it literally there is a man's religion in those last words of Robert Brown driver royal engineers time batman end of section 9 section 10 of the lieutenant and others this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Phil Shamp the lieutenant and others by Sapper the coward to come from say to pardon me James Dallish's soul was sick within him his tongue was cleaving to the roof of his mouth parched and dry his eyes gazed dully out of his white face at the pack of the man in front of him who like himself and 50 others crouched huddled up in the ditch beside the road away in front stretched the pave road gleaming white dim light of dusk the road that ran straight as only French roads can until topping the rise three quarters of a mile ahead it merged into the darkness of the two lines of trees that guarded it and 20 yards beyond that rise lay the German lines then suddenly it came again out of the silent evening air the sudden salvo of six sharp hisses and six deafening cracks the angry zipping of high explosive shrapnel through the trees over his head the little eddies of dust in the road the little thuds in the banks of the ditch where he crouched put baldly in the language of the army the Germans were searching the road with whiz bangs and had been doing so for 20 minutes and the soul of James Dallish was sick within him all around him and men were muttering laughing cursing each after his kind in front an officer very young very new was speaking to his sergeant major what he said is immaterial which is perhaps as well as he did nothing but repeat himself the sergeant major was a man of understanding grown as used to shells as men may grow for that matter so had the others they were not a new regiment James Dallish was not new either it was not his baptism of fire he had been shelled many times before but for all that he was afraid terribly horribly afraid the psychology of fear is a strange thing it is perhaps paradoxical but I venture to think that without fear there can be no bravery bravery that is in the true sense of the word there are I believe some men who are without fear literally an absolutely fearless such a condition of mind may be induced by sincere fatalism but I rather think in the majority of cases it is due to a peculiar and fortunate twist of the brain in as much as one man will without thought dive 40 feet into the sea and enjoy it so will another whose limbs would treble at such a thought boldly enter a cage of lions temperament temperament only at the bottom of it and so it may well be that we're the wonderful soul-stirring heroism of some VC to be weighed in the balance of mind and soul rather than in the balance of deed he would be found less worthy to hold that coveted ribbon than a man whose soul contribution to fame was that he didn't run away not so James dolish with him fear seemed to be cumulative each time he came under fire his terror of it increased with most of us who lay no claim to be without fear sooner or later a merciful callousness settles down not that if we think about it our dislike of the genus obus is any less far from it but as time goes on and a man does not get hit though one day the dugout he had just left was flattened by a crump and another the man he was talking to was killed before his eyes though he may have had a hundred narrow escapes yet in time it becomes to a greater or less extent his natural element apart and parcel of his life a thing of routine as much as breakfast more so in some cases but that man is no braver now than he was more fearless perhaps but no braver it is then with most of us the factor of custom that pulls us through the male and preserves our reason but to James dolish that factor was denied fate had decreed that the brain of James dolish should be so fashion that no immunity from death in the past should detract one iota from the hideous terror of death in the present every tour of duty in the trenches he died a thousand deaths he saw himself left dying between the lines stabbed in a sudden German rush the recipient of the attentions of a black Mariah he pictured to himself countless forms of death each one more unpleasant than the last only the routine the discipline of the army had held him up to date that and the complete lack of opportunity to run away it is easier said than done to run away from the frontline trenches especially when things are quiet which all boils down to the one essential fact that James dolish was a coward in the true sense of the word hundreds of men have lost their nerve temporarily hundreds of men huddled in a scratch in the ground with their senses deadened and crushed by an inferno of bursting shells have done things which the thoughtless dub cowardly men suddenly exposed to gas with no means of protection men waking to find the trench full of liquid fire these and countless other cases no man may judge unless he has stood beside them in similar circumstances and not have been found wanting but James dolish was not one of these to him every moment of his life was a living death a torture worse than hell if one looks back to the cause of things it was I suppose his misfortune and not his fault he had been made so fear was a part of him and pity rather than contempt is perhaps the fairest feeling to entertain for him he could no more help his state of permanent terror than a cat can help its dislike of water get up the word came down the line the shelling seemed to have stopped the men in front of him were moving off up the road but still he remained a man tripped over him and cursed but James dolish sat fumbling with his patees no scheme was in his head he had no intention of not going up to the front line but clear out of the jumble of his thoughts in his brain was his feverish desire to postpone if only for five minutes his nearer acquaintance with those great green flares that lobbed into the sky so near him he could almost hear the faint hiss as they felt burning to the ground God how he hated it then they started shelling across road a hundred yards behind him any coward still closer in the ditch almost whimpering for it had suddenly struck him that he was alone his platoon had gone on and left him he had not even got the faint comfort of another man beside him he was alone utterly alone on a shell swept road with an occasional spare bullet pinging down it and the trees throwing fantastic shadows around him then suddenly above his head he heard voices and the soft thrumming of a motor they'll stop hating in a moment and then we'll rush it said a voice James dolish looked up and in that moment the idea was born in his bemused brain safety away from those cursed shells away from those hissing green flares what matter the right or wrong what matter the penalties nothing entered into his calculations saving only the thought of escape and so with infinite caution he got out of the ditch and approached the driver of the ambulance as if he had been coming down the road give us a lift mate will you he asked casually right hole hop in they've stopped shelling the ambulance was off the drivers unsuspicious many isolated men walk about behind the trenches at night and anyway it was none of his business thus it came about that number one two three four private James dolish of the second battalion of the loam shires went on active service deserted his majesty's forces now Thomas Atkins alone in a strange country despite all the rumors to the contrary is a somewhat helpless individual he will generally contrive to feed himself and he has an infallible instinct for spotting those as dominates that contain the unpleasing liquid which passes as beer and Flanders but when it comes to getting from one place to another he gives up the unequal contest and throws himself on the mercy of the nearest officer and this was precisely what James dolish could not do in the first place he didn't know where he did want to go he didn't much care so long as he kept out of the trenches and in the second place he was quite an old enough soldier to realize what he had done and what was far more to the point to realize the penalty death or such less punishment as in this act mentioned detection he knew would not come from the regiment too many men are reported missing for his absence to evoke any awkward questions it was the people behind he had to fear military police assistant provost marshals and such like abominations to the evil doer if only he could lie hid for a time and finally borrow someone else's clothes and disappear that was his half formed play hazy and nebulous true but anything anything on God's earth rather than go back it was while he was turning it over in his mind with no clear idea of where he was going that rounding a bend in the road he saw a few miles off the monastery that is set on a hill and which forms one of the few noticeable landmarks and Flanders the monastery where the cavalry had had a skirmish in October last and the monks in their brown cowls and cassocks buried the result there were English troopers and German oolans and also there was a German prince and this monastery set on the Montecots came back to James dollish as an old friend had he not belated in the village at the foot of it with the unpronounceable name when he first came to the front no need now to ask his way he would go back to the village where there was a girl he knew of and she would help him and so with a comparatively light heart he started and in the course of a few hours he found at the farm which had been his first resting place in France now it is quite possible that we're not for the extraordinary posity of girls who one may look at without smoked glasses in this delectable country James dollish might have staved off the inevitable for quite a time when he left the ambulance he had carefully buried in a pond his rifle and equipment and anyone meeting him strolling down the road would have taken him to be merely a man from a unit resting to make things more sure he had removed his cap badge and the titles on his shoulder straps there was nothing whatever to show what he belonged to he was merely a disreputable atom of the big machine in much damaged khaki but as I have said there was a girl in the case and moreover she was a girl who had been very kind to James dollish earlier in the proceedings she really had been quite fond of him but when he went away and the place knew him no more being a girl of common sense she transferred her attention to his successor as a matter of fact there had been several successors as regiments came and went the intervals being filled with the semi-permanent sheet anchor who stood for several hours each day at the crossroads by the church in the village with the unpronounceable name and this sheet anchor who watched men come and watched men go was a corporal in the military police it was during one of his innings with the fair maiden that James dollish tactlessly arrived on the scene and when the corporal made his appearance in the evening having successfully carried out his arduous duties regulating the traffic during the afternoon he found the object of his affections planted firmly in the arms of an extremely untidy and travel-stained private it is perhaps unnecessary to state that anointed as the corporal was at this untoward intrusion on his preserves his feelings were harmonious compared to those of private dollish to run full tilt into a red cap as Tommy calls them was the last thing he had intended doing and a glance at the corporals face told him that the corporal was out for blood who the hell are you and what's your regiment he remarked tersely looking at his badge-less cap and James dollish knew the game was up he didn't even know what regiments were in the neighborhood if he had he might have lied and tried the bluff so he said who he was and named his regiment the loomshires said the corporal second battalion but they're in the trenches for my brothers in that to their battalion the military policeman looked at him mercilessly what are you doing here my lad and this time James dollish was silent there was nothing to say to an officer he'd have lied uselessly perhaps but lied on principle to a corporal he knew the futility two minutes later the door closed behind them and they passed down the street thus it came about that number one two three four private James dollish of the second battalion of the loomshires was apprehended by the military police and placed in the guardroom of the village with the unpronounceable name to await the investigation of his case by the APM or assistant provost Marshall of the district and now the inevitable end must be written there is not much to tell the whole thing was plain the APM investigated the case and it stood revealed in its hideous awareness there was not a single redeeming feature it was no case of a man's nerve temporarily breaking under some fearful strain where now in the wisdom of those in high places a man may work off his slur by returning and trying again it was just a simple case of cowardice and desertion in the presence of the enemy and for it there was no excuse that James dollish was made that way may have been his fortune but if that were taken as an excuse a good many men might find themselves sitting quietly in villages with unpronounceable names while their pals lost their lives further east so in due course James dollish stood before a court martial the evidence was heard and then the accused was marched out ignorant of his fate the court is closed to consider its finding thus spoke the president a major in the infantry and when the door had closed he turned to the junior member a subaltern of gunners and his face was grave it is the law of courts martial that the junior member gives his idea of the adequate sentence first in order that he may not be influenced by what his seniors have said what is your opinion as the major the subaltern drummed on the table with his fingers and stared in front of him death or such less penalty the word seems stamped on the wall for a space he was silent then he swallowed twice and spoke the major glanced at the captain and the captain who was gazing fixedly out the window turned slowly round and nodded I agree he remarked incisively the major looked at the papers in front of him and mechanically produced his cigarette case then he wrote and his hand shook a little and though the major and the captain and the subaltern had one and all looked on death many times unmoved yet that night they were strangely silent to those who insist on the hundred and first chapter I can but quote the following bald announcement that appeared in a document of surpassing dullness known as general routine orders it had a number which I forget and it was sandwiched between an interesting statement about it changing French money into English and a still more entrancing one on the subject of the regimental debts act moreover it was labeled courts Marshall and ran as follows number one two three four private James dollish second battalion the loam shires was tried by a field general courts Marshall on the following charge when on active service deserting his majesty's service the sentence of the court was to suffer death by being shot the sentence was duly carried out at four a.m. on August third and the only thing which gives a man to think is that about six hours after they laid that poor dishonored clay in the ground the manager of a large Emporium at home was pleased to promote one of his shop walkers from the glove department to a sphere of activity which concerned itself principally with stockings I don't know why stockings were more highly paid than gloves in that Emporium but no matter the point of the thing is the shop walker his name is dollish Augustus dollish he used to look down on his brother James soldiering is not a gentile occupation compared to selling stockings I suppose he'll do so still more if he ever learns the truth end of section 10 section 11 of the lieutenant and others this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org the lieutenant and others by sapper Ebenezer the goat no goat by any other name ere smelt as much driver Robert Brown as I have already remarked was an admirable man in many ways and I have frequently observed to other members of the mess that one of the things that most endeared him to me was his love of animals Brown was not a beauty I admit his face was of the general utility order and he had a partiality for singing a dreadful song of which he only knew one line at least that is all we ever heard thank heaven at Cockroo, neath the midday sun at Eventide did he foist upon a long suffering world with a powerful and somewhat flat voice the following despairing wile what a face what a face what an horrible face lummy what a face she had occasional streams of invector fished from neighbouring dugouts the result was immaterial he merely appraised other portions of the lady's anatomy once I remember the cook was ill Brown did his work he was a good lad he always did everyone else's work we were hungry very hungry and he, stout fellow was preparing our repost humlut sir he had murmured confidentially peas and taters and fresh meat and with his honest base shining with eagerness to prepare this Epicurean banquet he had gone about his business the shadows lengthened an appetising smell greeted our nostrils we forgave him his untoward references to his adored one's face then it happened what a night what a night what an horrible night lummy there was a fearful pause and a sizzling noise lummy the whole perishing humluts in the fire it was and in a gallant attempt at rescue he upset the meat in an adjacent stagnant pool the only thing we got were the peas and they rattled on the tin plates like shrapnel bullets however, as I've said several times he was an admirable lad and a love of animals atoned for a multitude of sins at least everyone thought so until he adopted a goat it was an animal of un-prepossessing aspect and powerful smell very powerful I speak with some authority on the subject of goats for in the course of my service I have lived for a space on an abominable island yet in a sapphire sea 90% of its population are goats the remainder, priests and without intermission in a ceaseless stream the savor of that island flows upwards and outwards I therefore claim to speak with authority and Brown's goat would have held its own with ease in any community he accommodated it in a special dugout from which it habitually escaped generally at full speed just as the major was passing when the major had been knocked down twice Brown was accorded an interview it was a breezy little affair that interview and Brown for some hours seemed a trifle dazed for some time after he was busy in the goat's dugout and when I passed on my way out to a job of work that evening I found him contemplating his handiwork with pride not content with doubling its head rope he had shackled the goat fore and aft to pegs in the ground one foreleg and one hindleg being secured by rope two pegs firmly driven into the floor of the dugout that's done you my booty I heard him murmuring and then he relapsed into his song while the goat watched him pensively out of one eye I subsequently discovered that it was about three o'clock next morning it happened the goat having slipped its collar and pulled both pegs shot from its dugout with a goat-like cry of joy then the pegs alarmed it dangling from its legs and it went mad at least that's what the major said it appeared that having conducted an exhaustive survey of a portion of the line with the general and his staff they had returned to refresh weary nature with a portion of tongue and a bottle of fine old port the old and bold full of crustiness hardly had they got down to it when, with a dreadful and ear-splitting noise the goat bounded through the door of the dugout one peg flying round caught the general on the knee the other wrapped itself around the leg of the table the old gentleman under the impression that the Germans had broken through drew his revolver and with a great cry of DIRTH RATHER THEN DISHONOR discharged his weapons six times into the blue mercifully there were no casualties as the staff, with great presence of mind had hurled themselves flat on their faces during this dangerous proceeding each shot came to rest in the crate containing the whiskey and the fumes from the liquid which flowed over the floor so excited the goat that with one awful effort it broke loose and disappeared into an adjacent cornfield I cannot vouch for all this in fact the mess as a body received the story coldly the junior subaltern even went so far as to murmur to another graceless youth that it was one way of accounting for eight bottles of whiskey and two of port and that it was very creditable to all concerned that they said it was a goat and not a spotted megathorus all I can vouch for is that when the major woke up the next day he issued an ultimatum the goat must go alive if possible dead if necessary but if he ever again saw the accursed beast he personally would destroy it with gun cotton as he really seemed in earnest about the matter I decided that something must be done I sent for Brown Brown I said when he appeared the goat must go What? Ebenezer sir? he answered in dismay I do not know its name I returned firmly and I was under the impression that it was a female but if you call it Ebenezer then Ebenezer must go he became pensive dead or alive that accursed mammal must depart never to return it has already seriously injured the major's constitution It has sir there was a world of surprise in his tone of course it don't do to go play in a belt with it or crossing it light but the goat has done the crossing twice at full speed he seems a bit quiet this morning sir of his food like and he's lost a bit of his tail Brown scratched his head meditatively the fact did not surprise me but I preserved a discreet silence get rid of it this morning and see that it never returns I ordered and the incident closed at least I thought so at the time Brown reported his departure that evening and with a sigh of relief from the major the odoriferous Ebenezer struck off the strength with effect from that day's date it is true that I notice strange and mysterious absences on the part of my servant when he left carrying something in paper and returned empty handed and that in the back of my mind I had a vague suspicion that somewhere in the neighbourhood there still remained that evil smelling animal looked after and fed by Robert Brown but as a week passed and we saw and smelt the beast no more my suspicions were lulled to rest and I dismissed the untoward incident from my mind I am always of an optimistic disposition I should say it was about ten days after Ebenezer's departure that I awoke one morning early to the sound of a violent altercation without I tell you, you can't see the major he's in his bath peering out I saw Brown and the cook warding off two extremely excited Belgians bath, bath, just to say bath the stelter Belgian gesticulated freely you are what you say douzini n'est pas it is important, very important that I see Monsieur Lecomendant look here Cully, murmured the cook removing a clay pipe from his mouth and expectorating with great accuracy Monsieur Lecomendant is in his bath see, you left a white bath, savoy ooh he pointed to a bucket of water mon Dieu shudder the Belgian Ebenezer, mon ami is there another officer it is Très important he was getting excited again Lebouche, there is a brood under the earth, compreni? say make a, ooh, ze word, ze word say make un min and then we all go poof he waved his hands to heaven min, min remarked the cook contemplatively what the douce does he mean? anyway Bob we might take him on as a sparklet machine then I thought it was about time I came to the rescue what's all the trouble, Brown? I asked, coming out of the dugout these air blokes, sir he began but as both Belgians began talking at once he got no further Monsieur, they cried I assured them I was of the engineers we are of the artillery and the Germans they make un min we go up poof our guns they go up poof or sea mining I cried the Germans mining here impossible, Monsieur why, we're a mile and a half behind the firing line I regret to say I was a little peevish nevertheless they assured me it was so not once, but many times strange noises they affirmed were heard in the bowels of the earth near their battery mysterious rumblings occurred they continually assured me they were going poof I went to the major he was not in a good temper he rarely is in the early morning and the last blade of his safety riser was blunt mining here he barked what the deuce are they talking about it's probably nesting time for woodpeckers or something oh yes go away and see in reply to my question anything to get those two embryo volcanoes off the premises and don't let them come back for heaven's sake so I went undoubtedly there were noises very strange subterranean noises in front of that battery moreover the sounds seemed to come from different places at times they were very loud at others they ceased the excitement soon became intense stout officers lay all over the ground with their ears pressed in the mud the commandant of the battery ran round in small circles poof distractedly in fact everyone said poof to everyone else it became the password of the morning then at last the crucial moment arrived the centre of the storm so to speak had been located the place where so far as we could tell the noise seemed consistently loudest at that point the Belgians started to dig and instantly a triumphant shout rent the air the place was an old disused shaft bordered over and covered with a thin layer of earth at last it was open and from it there issued loud and clear a dreadful tapping a network of galleries cried an interpreter excitedly probably old shafts reaching the German lines we are lost he and the commandant had a poofing match in their despair but now the noise became greater and we heard distinctly a human voice it was at that moment the dreads suspicion first dawned on me an army of men hung over the edge armed to the teeth with pistols and bowie knives tin cans and bits of brick tap tap louder and louder came the noise the poofers were silent everyone breathed hard then suddenly I heard it echoing along the hollow gallery what a face what a face what an horrible face heaven is a you perisher where the hell are you dummy what a face she had they watched on Zerain they sing their cursed song held the commandant Belgium forever my brave it was at that moment that a stout spectator moved to frenzy by the sapele or else owing to a rush of blood to the head hurled his tin can everyone fired a ghastly noise rent the gloom of the well there was the sound of something departing at a great rate a heavy fall and then silence I walked thoughtfully back to my dugout refusing the offer of making further explorations as I passed inside I met Brown he was limping and the skin was off his nose what have you been doing I demanded I fell down sir he answered Brown I said sternly where is the goat Ebenezer Brown rubbed his nose and looked thoughtfully at me well sir I can't say as though I rightly know he was further disclosures were nipped in the bud by the sudden appearance of the major he was inarticulate with rage get me my revolver he spluttered get me my revolver that damn goats come back and knock me down again but Brown had discreetly vanished end of section 11 section 12 of The Lieutenant and Others this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Lieutenant and Others by Sapper the Pepinatized Milk Aunt A is not her name but I can vouch for the Pepinatized Milk to say nothing of the mothballs Aunt Araminta is one of the dearest souls that ever breathed I may say at once that she is not my aunt rather does she belong to a subaltern of the unit but we all feel a sort of proprietary right to Aunt Araminta in the past she has supplied us all with many things during the winter we received frequent consignments of cholera belts and socks gloves and khaki handkerchiefs most of them had mothballs sewn in I have never seen her recitingly state that she is of the mothball type she is a martyr to them this conclusion is confirmed by her nephew a graceless youth now I regret to say that much of our affection for the elderly Araminta has gone it may return in time but she has been directly responsible for our being sent to the frontline trenches when we were enjoying a comparative rest on a somewhat safer line no doubt she was actuated by the best intentions in the world but just at present we don't mention her if the major is about it all occurred owing to a shortage of milk condensed or otherwise we were on a line which though safe or more or less so did not admit of our obtaining the genuine article with any ease I appealed to driver Robert Brown are she anchor are admirable chryton he is who buys us eggs he gets us bread and pork chops anon he obtains tinned salmon mingled with sardines once he assayed some fizzy water oh gazus is I believe the correct name something got mixed and the mess lowered a dozen apenta before retiring to bed however that is another story into the years then of this our guide and mentor our home within a home our ever ready gas cooker I whispered the word milk he said he knew of a cow and he'd see what could be done soon after he left with a tin receptacle and an air of determination an hour after he returned with neither he retired into the cook house and shortly after there came voices in wordy warfare you mean to say you ain't got no milk demanded the cook agreeedly no I ain't brown emerged and mopped his brow wearily did you find the cow I told you where it was the doctors orderly ceased placing chloride of lime on the tomb of a rat and what have you done to your face it's horrible worse than usual less about my face brown's retort was a trifle heated I tells you when I got to that place you told me of you couldn't see the perishing cow for the crowd there was a row of blokes with mess tins and one of them at a Dixie I come to my turn I sits down by the old girl and puts the tin on the floor I got one jet going for about five seconds and that missed the blooming bucket then she shut up and not another drop could I get a perisher in the gunners he says pull harder he says great strength returns the penny so I got down to it like just to wake her up when bloat if she didn't top it opt it and kick me in the face as a souvenir he felt the injured tenderly I don't know as how I notice much the matter with it the cook gazed impassively at brown's face it looks just like it always did worse luck but then it ain't the sort of face as is affected by little things like that as the medical profession observed it is a horrible thing your face ain't it bulb this appeal for confirmation to the faces owner touched me greatly however as I am quite unable to record the answer and the rest of the conversation does not call for comment I will pass on to the moment when I mention the shortage of condensed milk and the failure up to the present to supply the genuine to an indignant mess I may mention and passant that in a moment of imbecility I had permitted myself to be thrust into the position of mess caterer the doctor used to do it but he fell in love and was unable to do anything but play somewhere a voice is calling the phone as the record was cracked there was a general feeling of relief when the junior subaltern strafed a mouse with it however the doctor being beyond human help his mantle descended on me I was away when it did so but that is by the way the result would probably have been the same brown as I have said did it all but I was the figure head on me descended the wrath of outraged officers compelled to eat sardines past their first youth and the scene after the little episode of the apenta water was quite dreadful why not go yourself and milk the ballet cow if brown can't remarked one of them unfeelingly sing to it dearie one of those little love ballads of your early youth something is bound to occur and then up spake Horatius that is his name he being the one that owned Aunt Araminta the old girl has just written me asking if we want anything I'll tell her to send some condensed along of course it won't be here for some time but it's better than nothing he turned over the last sheet she is sending a hamper as a matter of fact perhaps there will be some in it two to one it's nothing but mothballs remarked the doctor irreverently heavens do you remember the time the old dear got one mixed up in her homemade potted meat and the major broke his tooth on it it was the next day that parcel arrived a shower of white balls descended to the floor two odd socks some peppermint bull's eyes a letter and the bottle great heavens muttered Horatius gingerly inspecting the collections what has the old girl sent he opened the letter read it and asked for whiskey my dear nephew he read in a hushed voice I am sending the bottle of the new milk Dr. Trapheim's peptidized milk as you will gather from perusing the label on the bottle it is a marvelous discovery at first I feared from the inventors name that he might be of Germanic extraction but subsequent inquiries enabled me to discover that he is in reality the son of a Swedish Jew who married a girl from Salt Lake City so of course he must be all right in this wonderful milk my dear nephew there are three million germs to the cubic foot or is it inch I forget which anyway a very large number of nutritious germs exist in it you remember poor Pluto the pug he explained and continued reading regularly for a week before his death he drank a saucer full each night and it eased him wonderfully you remember his dreadful asthma it quite left him and he would lie for hours without movement after drinking it I hasten to buy a bottle and send it to you all with my very best wishes your affectionate aunt Araminta PS it may have different effects on different people the cook silly girl has given notice and for a space there was silence then Horatius picked up the bottle and in a hushed voice recited the label cures consumption eradicates eczema intimidates itch and routes rabies makes Bonnie bouncing babies he choked slightly and passed it on to me there was nothing that milk wouldn't do its effect on the human system was like rare wine only permanent it caused a clarity of vision an improvement in intellect a brightening of brain that started with the first bottle drank and increased and multiplied with every succeeding bottle it enlarged the bust in one paragraph and removed double chins in another old and young alike thrived on it it was the world's masterpiece in health giving foods wherever it was impossible to tell it from ordinary milk when drinking it that was its great charm it could be used in tea or coffee or drunk neat it made no odds after one sip you bagged a winner the bedding was brought a fiver to a dried banana skin that after a bottle you became a sort of superman it was while we were sitting a little daisily with the bottle occupying a position of honor in the center of the dugout that we heard the major's voice outside also the generals to say nothing of two staff officers they had walked far and fast and I gathered from the conversation that Percy the pipsqueed gun small unvariety trust himself upon them their tempers did not seem all that one could desire the prevalent idea moreover appeared to be tea we'd better decant it in a jar said Horatius gloomily the general loathes to you without milk and it says on the bottle you can't tell the difference the doctor however was firm he refused to allow anyone to drink it without being told and as he pointed out if you tell a distinctly warm and irritable old gentleman that the apparently harmless liquid he sees in an ordinary jug on the table is in reality a pepnotized breed with three million germs to the cubic inch in it he will probably not be amused but will send you back to the trenches as a dangerous individual Horatius pointed out still more gloomily that to offer the old gentleman a bottle which expressly set out to eradicate eczema and intimidate itch the general's entrance at that moment however settled the matter and we began tea it was not a cheerful meal to start with rather the reverse in fact when I had explained and apologized for the absence of any milk and introduced the bottle to the meeting the atmosphere of the dugout resembled a lawyer's office when the relatives here their aunt's money has been left to a society for providing cannibals with unshrinkable wool underclothes who sent the damn stuff asked the major coldly Aunt Aramenta Horatius nervously removed the wire that held in the cork one of the staff officers carefully picked up the bottle and proceeded to read the label while the general's expression was that of a man who gazes at short range into the mouth of a gun it's wonderful stuff continued Horatius roll, bowl, or pitch you bag a coconut every time you drink it my answer speaks most highly of it he turned to the general who received the news without enthusiasm 3 million bugs to the cubic inch read the staff officer musingly and if there are 20 cubic inches in the bottle we get 60 million bugs allowing for casualties and in order to be on the safe side in case the makers swindled call it 50 million I think remarked the general breaking an oppressive silence I will have a whiskey and soda it was at that moment I noticed the cork my shout of warning came too late with great force and a noise like a black Maria it flew from the bottle and from point blank range embedded itself in the general's left eye the entire mess became covered with a species of white foam but the general took the brunt for a moment there was a dreadful silence and then with a wild shout we found ourselves through the doorway I have smelt many smells in many cities I have stood outside tallow works I have lived in the salient of Ypres I have but why elaborate I say it was salinity and earnestness I have never smelt anything like that milk never in my wildest moments have I imagined that such a smell could exist it was superhuman stupendous the general who had lost his eyeglass in the excitement and then trodden on it was running around in small circles holding his nose he was unable at any time to see with his right eye and a portion of cork still remained in his left without cessation he trumpeted for assistance wipe it off he howled wipe the damn stuff off you fat headed idiots he fell heavily into a Johnson hole temporarily winded from all directions men were emerging with helmets on thinking a new form of gas had been evolved by the Hun a neighbouring doctor seeing the general in a recumbent position rushed up to render assistance while two staff officers assisted by the major made gingerly dabs at the old gentleman with handkerchiefs at last it was over the cork plucked from his eye he arose and in splendid isolation he confronted us after swallowing hard once or twice he spoke I do not know if this was a jest his voice was hoarse my eyeglass is broken the sight of my other eye irreparably damaged I am now going to cork headquarters and provided the cork commander can sit in the same room with that cursed woman's 50 million stinking basil eye I propose to ask him to let you try them at once on the Germans the solemn hush he departed with two staff officers at a discreet distance I gather that the spectacle of their departure by car with the one who'd failed to get the seat next to the driver sitting on the step at the side and the general enthroned alone like a powerful smelling from goitl growth was not the least pathetic incident of the afternoon but ant A is not popular end of section 12 section 13 of the lieutenant and others this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Linda Marie Nielsen Vancouver BC lieutenant and others by sapper will you take over his horse sir November 1914 rest in peace in the sky overhead the sun struggled through the drifting clouds throwing a watery gleam on the sea of mud which called itself the picket line just for a moment it seemed as if it would triumph and as I looked up the old bay horse with the Batman standing at its head was bathed in sunshine behind him the troop horses steadily munching hay the men in little scattered groups squatting round campfires watching their dinners cook just the same as it was yesterday just the same as it was the day before but will you take over his horse sir in the distance a black speck seemed to be hanging in the air all round it little sharp flashes of fire and fleecy puffs of smoke showed that the Germans had also seen that speck and hoped it was within range there was one complete set of six smoke balls so close together that one could almost cover them with a soup plate another set had only five ah there was the six a little wide there had been three perfect groups of six when he and I had been looking at the same thing a few mornings before listlessly I watched the black speck gradually it grew larger and larger until the big biplane passed over head and underneath the union jack painted on the plane just the same thank heaven just the same the flag untouched each unit which represents that flag carrying on the inexorable work there is no cessation there are others it is war but will you take over his horse the old bay horse I wonder if you too remember that day at catersaws do you remember the hand running over your legs and stopping at the big splint on your off for can you hear again that voice you've got to know so well look at those hawks man look at that shoulder that splint may just bring him down to my price and do you remember the hunts do you remember that point to point when you both came such a crumpler at that big steak and binder perhaps you remember old horse perhaps you do for who shall say just where an animal's knowledge begins and ends there's no good you're looking round like that you haven't seen him this morning have you and you know something's wrong but you don't know what how should you you don't understand and I do heaven knows which is worse in time perhaps the sugar will taste just as good out of my hand as far as you're concerned I hope it will because well you heard the question too will you take over his horse yes I must take you over until someone else can take you from me if you come through the show alive you don't know much about that someone do you old chap do you remember that day when you made such a full of yourself because a side saddle had been put on you for the first time and your master with a sack round his waist was sitting on your back all as you thought and then about a week after when you were quite accustomed to it someone else got upon you who was so light that you scarcely felt any weight at all and when you lifted your heels a bit just for fun because you hardly knew there was anyone there at all do you remember how he rubbed your muzzle and talked to you until you became quiet but there are so many things that you can't know aren't your old horse you weren't in my room when he came round to it that night to tell me before anyone else of his wonderful luck you couldn't know that the little light load you carried so often was the most precious thing in the whole world to the man who never missed coming round to your box after dinner on a hunting day to make sure you were rugged up and bedded down for the night all right that's where I get the pull of you old man you see I was going to be his best man when he could afford to get married he insisted on that when he told me first but things have happened since that night and I'm going to take you over because I want to give you back to her I don't expect you'll carry her hunting again women aren't made that way at least not this one though he'd like it I know but then he won't be able to tell her that's the rub I know it was only yesterday afternoon you heard him say that it was a grand day for a hunt I know it was only last night that you were saddled up suddenly with all the other troop horses and trotted for two hours along muddy roads in the darkness then he dismounted didn't he and went on foot with his men while you and his other horse stopped behind and you couldn't understand why a few hours later when the other men mounted no one got on your back and you were led back here just a casual German sniper sitting in a tree taking pot shots into the darkness just a small round hole right in the center of his forehead and the back of his head but we won't think of that now what happened old man nothing very glorious nothing at all heroic it's so ordinary isn't it it has already happened hundreds of times it's going to happen hundreds more everything is going on just the same it hasn't made any difference the guns are in action just as they were yesterday and there's that Maxim going again but you've lost your master old horse and I've lost a friend and the girl not a bad bag for half an ounce of lead they've left him up there with a cross over his shadow grave and his name scrawled on it with an indelible pencil one can't get up there in the daylight it's not safe I'd like to have gone tonight to see if it was alright but that's a job of work to be done elsewhere so I'll have to lie to her I'm writing her this afternoon I can't let her open the paper one morning and suddenly see his name standing out in letters of fire from all the others just a pawn in the game another officer killed a bare hard fact brutal uncompromising no more letters to look forward to no more socks and smokes to send out true the socks never fitted but she didn't know no I can't let her find it out that way I must write though what on earth can I say to her I never could write a letter like that if you're going to have your head smashed with a sledge hammer one can't do much to dead in the blow but I'll tell her I've seen his grave and that it's alright just go on in the game only he was her king will you take over his horse sir your chestnut is very lame in front teddy old man I've hunted with you I've shot with you I've played cricket with you I've made love with you you were one of nature sportsmen one of the salt of the earth slightly on you old pal there's a motorcyclist coming with orders now the same fellow with spectacles who has been to us for the last fortnight there's a top overhead and the infantry are losing off at it it's out of range just the same as usual everything is just ready except that someone's heart has got to be broken and that I well I've taken over your horse end of section 13 recording by Linda Marie Nielsen vancouver bc