A Rifleman Went to War

outfit and each will have to make his own selection from the available men at his command. He would hate to go outside his own platoon for help as these things are matters of pride to all the members of whatever unit is engaged. If he has plenty of seasoned soldiers his task will be easy but if, as is often the case, he is overstocked with new replacements, he will have to do a lot of guessing — and trust the Lord. One false move, on the part of a single man, may ruin the whole enterprise.

Having selected his objective and organized his party, he gets them together and goes over the whole program with them, sketching the layout of the enemy line and the ground to be covered in reaching that point. For the usual, small, raid, for the purpose of bringing in a prisoner, he may have anywhere from twelve to sixteen men, or sometimes as few as eight, depending on local conditions.

Each will be assigned to certain specific duties which will be explained later. When practicable, especially if he has a number of new men, he will personally take them out in front on little scouting and patrolling expeditions for several nights so as to accustom them to the difficult task of moving about in the open without being detected. During this process, he will probably have to weed out some and replace them with others who are better fitted for this kind of work.

All that now remains is to await favorable weather. The best of all conditions is a cold, driving rain. However, he may have to make the attempt regardless of weather, especially if his tour of duty is drawing to a close and he is under instructions to do the job before leaving the lines. In any case, the date is set and he gets his gang together about dark for final instructions and inspection. He carefully goes over the uniform and equipment of each man. No bit of metal must show that would give out a flash of light under the glare of a star shell. Faces and hands are to be blackened or rubbed with mud. (At one time we were issued masks for this work). Supposing he has twelve men, two of them have been selected as wire cutters and they go out about an hour ahead of the others to cut a lane through the enemy wire at the designated spot, and to remain there throughout the whole maneuver to direct the others when they return. Sometimes they will hang a strip of white tape along the side of a lane, but this is seldom done excepting in the case of large raids.

The remaining ten men have been divided into two groups of three each and one of four. All hands are armed with hand grenades, bayonets and, when available, with pistols. Each group has a designated leader — N.C.O. or private.

Someone suddenly discovers that there are thirteen in the party, and the Lieutenant, with a sigh of resignation, turns to the nearest soldier in the trench and directs him to accompany them to the outside of our wire and to remain there until the party returns. This important matter attended to, he looks at his watch and decides that the wire cutters have had time to do their work, then leads the group over the parapet and out through the previously prepared lanes in our own wire.

The officer leading, they move slowly across the narrow bit of no-man’s-land which lies between the opposing strips of barbed-wire entanglements. Astar-shell (Very light) goes up and all hands stop and remain like statues until the light dies. A sudden sound, off to the left, and again they stop; then obeying the signal of the leader, drop quietly to the ground. The lieutenant thinks fast, “what was it?” Ah! another flare is fired, away up the line and against the lighted background he can see the figures of several men — Germans of course — a patrol. “Now the question is, which way are they going? If they come this way, they are liable to run into us. Also, they are pretty apt to see the gap in their wire. Well, all we can do is lie doggo and find out. If they want, a scrap, we can surely lick them but would probably lose a man or two and we don’t want that tonight.”

After an interval which must have seemed ages to the new men, but which was probably not more than two or three minutes, sounds were heard indicating the approach of the patrol. The officer quietly drew his pistol and all the others held grenades, ready to pull the pins and throw when ordered. Slowly and cautiously the enemy party approached, their movements only betrayed by an occasional rasping sound, as one encountered a bit of old wire or other debris, or the suck of a boot being pulled out of the mud. Lord, will they never get here? The suspense of awaiting such an encounter soon wears men’s nerves to a frazzle — even old heads at the game, too. One’s heart pounds away so loudly that it seems that they will surely hear it.

This contingency had been anticipated and every man knew just what to do. Time after time, in a secluded spot behind their own parapet, they had gone over every movement. Signals were passed by a mere touch of the hand or a wiggle of the foot and anxiously they awaited some sign from the leader.

The whispering noises came nearer and nearer. “Are they going to bump right into us, or will they pass?” The matter was soon settled (even if it did seem like hours). The sounds gradually diminished and were now coming from the right. They had passed, probably within fifteen feet and gone on their way — which, as we knew from former observation, would take them to a point a safe distance further along the line.

After a short wait, the raiding party again moved forward and soon came to the point where the wire cutters had been instructed to go through. At first the officer thought that there had been a mistake and his heart sank; but he was quickly reassured by the whispered voice of Collins, one of the wire cutters. “We heard that patrol, so we only cut the lower wires on the outside, so we could crawl under,” he said. “Everything is clear inside”. “Good head”, complimented the officer. “Now you can cut the rest so as to give us a clear getaway. You and Jackson keep your ears open. That damn patrol may come back before we are ready for it”. With which he proceeded along through the narrow lane and soon encountered Jackson, at the inside edge of the barrier and within a few feet of the foot of the parapet.

With no other greeting than a squeeze of the hand, he quietly slipped through and directed the others as they followed. The groups of three moved off, one to the right and the other to the left. They would each proceed a distance of about fifty yards, then wait a full minute, as nearly as the leaders could estimate it by counting, then each man would hurl a grenade over and during the noise and confusion of the bursts they would move in toward the center, stopping at a point about twenty yards from the actual point of attack — which was exactly opposite the gap in the wire. The group of four, accompanied by the officer, inched their way up the sloping side of the parapet, disposed as follows: the officer in the center, with an old-time sergeant on his right and another old timer on his left. The flanks were occupied by two experienced soldiers whose duty it was to each have a grenade ready, with the pin out, and at the first explosion of a bomb from either of the outside parties they would throw their grenade so as to drop into the bays next to the right and left of the one selected for the attack.

The officer and the two old soldiers with him would be the only ones to actually go over into the trench — unless they met with unexpected resistance. In that case, the other two would follow, while the flanking groups smothered the trench on both sides with bombs.

“KER-OOMP” went the first grenade and, before the flash had faded, the raiders were over. The two soldiers immediately jumped to the ends of the bay and threw their grenades around the corners of the traverses. The officer, in the center, had expected to land right on top of a German but, lo and behold, the bay was unoccupied so he ran after the sergeant, who had entered the next bay and was feeling around for what he might find. Numerous flares were now being sent up, and by their light the officer discovered the entrance to a dugout. Telling the sergeant to protect his flank, he jerked away the burlap curtain and called for whoever was inside to come out or he would blow them out. Whether or not the occupants understood the words, they certainly got the intent, for three men came scrambling up the steps in a hurry.

“I got ’em”, he shouted. “Come on boys, let’s get to hell out of here”, at the same time herding the prisoners into the next bay and driving them over the parapet where they were received by Jackson and the other two men and started, at a rapid pace, toward our lines. The sergeant and the other man were right at his heels and they amused themselves by hurling grenades to the right and left, inside the German trench, until the flanking groups arrived.

The officer checked them up, found all present and started them for home, while he brought up the rear. No attempt was made at concealment. Less than three minutes had elapsed since the explosion of the first bomb and the enemy had not had time to figure out what was going on. A few scattered grenades were coming over his parapet and a machine gun began to stutter but it was just blind firing and no one was hurt.

That was a remarkable performance — getting three unharmed prisoners with no loss beyond a few minor scratches which two of our men received from small fragments of the potato-masher grenades. It was not always that way. Usually there was more or less hand to hand scrapping before we got away with a prisoner and, all too frequently, we went home empty handed. But that was the method of procedure, as practiced by our crowd, and whenever it was carefully followed success was almost assured and casualties negligible. In fact, the possibility of casualties was about the last consideration. The men hardly gave it a thought. Their principal concern was how to