h man
would dig up the ground, starting from his part of the line backwards,
throwing forward the earth removed, until it formed a sort of
breastwork. The second half of the platoon was meanwhile resting
in the rear, rifle in hand and ready for action. After a half hour they
took the place of the first division at work, and vice versa. Within an
hour work on the trenches was so far advanced that they could be
deepened while standing in them. Such an open trench affords
sufficient shelter against rifle bullets striking from the front and can
be made in a measure shell proof by being covered with boards, if
at hand, and with sod.
In the western area of the theater of war, in France and Flanders,
where whole armies were deadlocked, facing each other for weeks
without shifting their position an inch, such trenches become an
elaborate affair, with extensive underground working and wing
connections of lines which almost constitute little fortresses and
afford a certain measure of comfort. But where we were in Galicia
at the beginning of the war, with conditions utterly unsteady and
positions shifting daily and hourly, only the most superficial trenches
were used. In fact, we thought ourselves fortunate if we could
requisition enough straw to cover the bottom. That afternoon we
had about half finished our work when our friend the aeroplane
appeared on the horizon again. This time we immediately opened
fire. It disappeared, but apparently had seen enough, for very soon
our position was shelled. By this time, however, shrapnel had
almost ceased to be a source of concern to us and we scarcely paid
any attention to it. Human nerves quickly get accustomed to the
most unusual conditions and circumstances and I noticed that quite
a number of men actually fell asleep from sheer exhaustion in the
trenches, in spite of the roaring of the cannon about us and the
whizzing of shrapnel over our heads.
I, too, soon got accustomed to the deadly missiles,--in fact, I had
already started to make observations of their peculiarities. My ear,
accustomed to differentiate sounds of all kinds, had some time ago,
while we still advanced, noted a remarkable discrepancy in the
peculiar whine produced by the different shells in their rapid flight
through the air as they passed over our heads, some sounding
shrill, with a rising tendency, and the others rather dull, with a falling
cadence. A short observation revealed the fact that the p
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