A Fag

Levin Daily Chronicle, 15 June 1918, Page 1

A Fag

CIGARETTES IN NO MAN'S LAND. (By Kifloman Patrick McGill, Author of "The Great Push," etc.) | The dilg-out was a small one, and its three occupants had barely room to lie down. Why the dug-out was there, and why it had ever boon dug was something which the. soldiers could not understand. Probably it had been a sniping position when the Gcrcans were in possession of the place, as they had been up till the previous night. Then the British attacked and the Germans gave wajr, leaving the boys in khaki in possession of a lirst-line trench and two hundred yards of field behind i. It was on this field that the dug-out was situated. A hole had been dug in the ground and roofed over, and here at one time some men of the enemy forces had apparently lodged. Now the dug-out was in possession of three British soldiers who had taken part in the little push of tho previous night. The present front line consisted of a number of shell;holes which were scattered broadcast over the field. The dug-out was about ,two hundred yards behind the original enemy line, and some two hundred yards away from tho position .which the Germans wer£ now occupying. By day it was impossible for men to move about in the open, but at present, as darkness had fallen, it was possible for the officers to see about straightening the line, connecting the shell-holes, taking the men jvlio were > too far to the roar forward, and those who were too 'far forward, back. "I suppose them that was well to the front arc back by now," said one of tho men in tho dug-out, as he drew the flap of the door aside and looked out into the darkness. "I don't 'old with those 'ere shell-'oles. They are no place for 'avin' a kip in. And it's so dawned cold, too. 'Twould freeze tho ears off an ass. "

As he spoke he turned round and danced a few steps on the earthen floor.

"I'm only just warmin' myself," he explained in an apologetic voice when he hit the elbow of one of his mates with his ammunition boots.

"Well, clear out-o' this if you want to dance, you fool," said the voice of another man. "I've got a blighty one in the elbow through your bloomin' capers."

The dancer sat down, his back N against the wall and his head resting in his hands. The three men tried to sleep, but as the night was very cold, sleep was impossible. The dug-out was as chill as the grave, and no fires might be lit in that position. Even down in this dark recess of the earth it was unwise to strike a match. Outside in No Mans Land hostile eyes were watching through the darkness, looking for any sign which might tell of the whereabouts of tho British forces. And the whole world was quiet; a silence, portentous and threatening, held the night in its cmbrace.

"S'pose we'd be attacking again in the mornin'," said one of the men in the dug-out, as he stretched his limbs, seeking a more comfortable position on the floor.

"S'pose we will," said the inan who had been dancing a moment before. '' Well, it's better than lying here, Bill. Don't you think so?'

"Well, damn this for a game!"

It was a voice outside which spoke, and a body tumbled into the hole in which the dug-out was placed. The three men got to their feet.

"Who's that?" Bill enquired, pulling tho sheet which covered the door aside and looking out into the night.

'' Only mc, matey,'' said the man who had fallen down from the earth. "I was just 'avin' a walk back from the front, and I've come a cropper 'ere."

"Hurt yourself, inatc?" enquired the dancer.

"Not so badly," said the newcomer, getting to his feet and looking at the door in front of him. "Is this a bloomin' dug-out?" he enquired.

"It's a dug-out of a kind," said Bill. "A damned small one. But if you're cold you can come in and have a lie down.''

The soldier came in, squeezing through the others.

" 'Twas cold out there," he said, inclining his head towards tho field. "Me and two of my mates were stuck in a shell-hole and we had to lie low all day, our legs cramped, and nothin' warm to fill us and not a fag to smoke. Even if we 'ad fags we couldn't light them. We were too near the Germans. If they saw a light or a whiff of smoke it was a bomb bang on the top of ns. We 'ad to lie bloomin' low and us half freczin' all the time."

""Well, it's cold enough here," said t'hc dancer. "But we've a fag or two to go on vfitb. 'Ave one."

The newcomer felt a movement in the darkness and a cigarette was thrust into his hand. At the same moment a flint was struck into sparks and a burning wick was held out towards him. He lit his cigarette and drew in the first mouthful of smoke. This he retained meditatively for a time and blew il out through his pursed lips slowly am 1 caressingly. He sighed with immeasurable content and then said suddenly: "Blimey; it doesn't taste 'alf bad! "

The three other men nodded sympathetically. "All day without a pull?" tliey said.

"All day, and it was so damned cold.'' said the newcomer. '' This place seems quite warm. But why have you no fire?"

"Nothing to make one with," said Bill.

"I'll soon make one," said the newcomcr. "A fire that will show no flame if I can get the material. Have you a candle to spare?"

" 'Ere's one," said Bill. "But candles always show a light, don't they?"

"Then, tie down the sheet over the door and don't let any light get out, even if there is a light," said the newcomer, "I want an empty jam tin and a piece of sand-bag a piece that's quite dry."

j The men hurried to obey. Tho slieotI ing over tile doorway was tightened ! down so that no ray of light could got | through. A jam titi was unearthed in

a corner, a sand-b:ig was discovered, anil n bit of it was torn apart and handed to the ncwcomcr. Tliis he placed in "the jam tin and lit the candle. Holding it over tho tin, with the wick turned down, he allowed the grease to drop on the sand-bag. When a certain amount of the tallow had fallen he lighted the

sand-bag. and the spirit stove was in full swing. Tlio flame filled- the whole interior of the tin. "Now if we 'have anything to cook we can cook it," said the newcomer. All that wo want is two empty bully beef tins placed on their side of the stove and a mess-tin on top, and wo can cook anything." Fifteen minutes later a mess-tin of hot tea was going the round of the dug-out, and the newcomer was lighting his third cigarette. It's the fag that's the thing,'' he said, in a voice of feeling. ' < Tea's all right now and again, but a fag is ..-1ways the besi consolation. I don't care 'ow long this war lasts if there's a bloomin' fag goin'." The mess-tin came his way again. He had a long pull at the hot tea. ' Then he looked reflectively at the spirit stove. "It's comfortin'," he said. "It's nicc and comfortin', the tea, but, blimey, it's nothin' compared to a fag.''