640 
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LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 
 
 020 916 174 6 
 
FIGHTING FRITZ 
 
 A true narrative of the experiences 
 gained in five months of furious 
 fighting on the Somme and at Ypres 
 
 By 
 
 Sergeant Ronald Kingsley 
 
 of the 58th Canadian Infantry 
 1st EDITION 
 
 Price Ten Cents 
 
 Devoe-Detroit Management, 933 Dime Bank Building 
 Detroit, Mich. 
 
 . 
 
(T64 
 
 Copyright 1917 
 by Sergeant Ror^ald Kingsley 
 
 M -5 1918 
 
 
Fighting Fritz 
 
 By Sergf. Koiiald Kiiigslex 
 
 (Ronald Kiiigs!cy, a Dctroiter, was one of the first to enlist in 
 the Canadian Expeditionary forces. He zvent early Hi ,1915. Kings- 
 ley joined the Seventieth Canadians, but after getting' to England 
 he was transferred to the Fifty-eighth Battalion. He was zvounded 
 near Bapaiivie and was in British and Canadian hospitals for nine 
 months. He zvas prominent in Detroit during the last Liberty Loan 
 campaign and he also assisted in the Y. M. C. A. drives in Mich- 
 igan and surrounding states.) 
 
 i^ SUPPOSE out of the millions of hghting men on the different fronts 
 '■4 there aren't more than a few odd hundreds who are not fatalists. 
 By "fighting men" I mean the ones who have been actually under 
 fire. 
 
 When a fellow gets out there in No Man's Land, or in the 
 trenches, and he sees companions dropping beside him while he carries on un- 
 scathed, he cannot help but feel that, somehow or other, the bullet on which his 
 name and number are written has not yet been fired. 
 
 It's just like the old saw — "if vou're born to be hanged you're not going to die 
 in bed." 
 
 Before I went over I believed, just as almost everyone else in this country be- 
 lieved, that life was something precious — something to be guarded. I have sort 
 of changed my mind. If you are going to get vours you'll get it, no matter where 
 you are. And unless you can make up your mind to that, it's a cinch you won't 
 be any good as a soldier. 
 
 I have been out there fighting with Inillets whining all around me, fellows I 
 had just spoken to dropping beside me, shells hurtling overhead, trench mortars 
 banging away, bombs flying this way and that and yet there were always some of 
 us who came back without a scratch. I finally got mine after five months in the 
 front line, at Ypres and on the Somme, and after I got it I was saved from death 
 because one ambulance was too crowded and I had to get into another. The 
 ambulance that went first was struck by a shell and blown up ; the one I was in 
 escaped. 
 
 I have had sniper's bullets fired at me and get the man standing beside mc 
 Canadians right next have been bayoneted and I have rammed the steel home. 
 
 If a fellow can go through five months of this without getting the same re- 
 ligious views I have Pd like to see. him. I have compared notes with hundreds 
 of soldiers and they all feel the same. 
 
 Faith in His Hunch 
 
 When L went over two years ago I thought it a lark. I knew there would be 
 desperate fighting and I knew that T would be lucky if I came out with a whole 
 skin, but somehow I couldn't stay away. I figured it the greatest thing in the 
 
FIGHTING FRITZ 
 
 history of the world and 1 wanted to do my share. But all the time I had a hunch 
 that J would get hack to America and Detroit. 1 used to tell the fellows of this 
 hunch when we came out of the trenches and into the hillets. The man who has 
 never been under fire cannot expect to know the sense of relief that pervades a 
 soldier when he comes out of the trenches after a heavy bombardment. He wants 
 everyone to know he is alive. He shakes hands with himself, with his companions, 
 with his officers. 
 
 Thev used to say to me : 
 
 "Well. Kingsley. I see your hunch still holds good." 
 
 "Yes. and I know it will." I used to answ'er. 
 
 The day I was potted I thought of that hunch, and while I kne\v I was badl\- 
 hit I could not rid myself of the thought that I w^as going to get back safe. 
 
 As I staggered across No ]\Ian's Land after being in a German trench I kept 
 muttering : 
 
 "Keep going. Kingsley, you've got to make good on that hunch you've been 
 bragging about." 
 
 That is one of the highs])ots of the whole thing. 
 
 After enlisting I w^ent through the usual training schedule that has become so 
 well known. 
 
 We were in Canada for a time, then went across to England and from there to 
 France. I saw my first trench duty on June 16, 1916, in the Ypres salient. That 
 first day cured me of war — and if Americans could see the devastation in France 
 and Belgium they would insist that this thing be carried on until the Hun is 
 crushed. I have seen little children, dozens of them, with their hands cut ofif at 
 the wrist. I have seen mothers and young girls who were defiled. I have seen 
 wrecked towais. ruined churches. I have seen Red Cross men who w^ere killed 
 while doing their duty of succoring the wounded. One Red Cross man, a chap 
 named Hargreaves, was shot through the hip by a wounded German while he 
 knelt over another dying Fritz. I have been under fire when wounded. I have 
 seen helpless men hacked down. I have seen — but I can't go further, the horror 
 of it all fills me so I cannot write. 
 
 No Mercy to Canadians 
 
 Before we went into the trenches we were told that there was a particularly 
 bitter feeling between Canadians and Germans. I remember our commanding 
 officer lining us up and telling us that we need not expect mercy if captured. 
 
 "The Canadians are more than a match for the Huns and they know it," he 
 told us. "And knowing it they do not make prisoners of us. We have beaten 
 them so manv times that death is the \varrant signed for us if taken." 
 
 I thought the officer was telling us that to make us fight harder. But later I 
 realized the truth of the statement. 
 
 It will be the same with the Americans. 
 
 Americans and Canadians are a good deal alike. I do not expect that Uncle 
 Sam's soldiers will carry on any better than the Canadians, but they should do 
 as well, for they live similar lives. They are in the open more than the British 
 or French or Italians. They are better' marksmen — that is, the general run of 
 them. 
 
BY SERGEANT RONALD KINGSLEY 
 
 The trenches we went into were in terrible sha])e. They were half tilled with 
 water. In places the parapets had been knocked oE and there were rats running 
 around. That tirst night will never be forgotten. I strained my faculties all 
 tlirough the darkened hours, never once relaxing, and when morning came I was 
 probably the happiest being on earth. We were in the supporting lines five days 
 and at no time did Fritz displav anv desire to shell us out. I was mighty thank- 
 ful for that. 
 
 I have listened to old timers telling of the wars they were in and saying thev 
 were never frightened. 
 
 I know now just how big liars they were. 
 
 There isn't anyone who goes into the trenches but who is scared to death the 
 first time he hears a big shell, or the first time someone is popped off beside him. 
 But the feeling gradually dissolves into a fatalistic spirit — the spirit I spoke of 
 in the beginning. 
 
 After being in the supporting trench for five days w^e were taken out and were 
 in the reserve trenches for four days. Then we went into the front line and were 
 there for eight days, following which came a rest of four days. It was while 
 we were resting that I got the first touch of German gas. We were back so far, 
 however, that I did not get any ill efi'ects. P)Ut we did have to don our helmets. 
 After I got out of the helmet I figured 1 would just as soon brave the gas. But 
 you get accustomed to the gas masks and welcome their protection after a time. 
 
 Blown Up by a Mine 
 
 One night the Germans blew up a mine to the left of Hill (50 and our fellows 
 immediately started a bombardment, figuring the Huns were coming over. But 
 they didn't. I guess they were nervous and figured we would be waiting for them. 
 The blowing up of that mine really gave me my soldier's clothes. I was hurled 
 from my feet and when I got up I felt myself all over to see if there were any 
 sore spots. I couldn't find any so I figured that thereafter I would take things as 
 they came and not think of possibilities. 
 
 Then, two nights afterwards, the officer called for volunteers to go out with a 
 working party in No Plan's Land. 
 
 I went. 
 
 Of course this is dangerous work, but there are always more volunteers than 
 can be used. We go out, clean up the land in case there happen to be any Ger- 
 mans creeping over to listen to the conversation of our fellows, fill our sand bags 
 and test their barbed wire defenses. Then, too, there are "jumping-off trenches" 
 to be dug. I will describe these later. This night Fritz was nervous. He evi- 
 dently was anticipating a raid, and he started throwing up a lot of rifle grenades. 
 These are shot from a rifle with a blank cartridge. One of them landed almost 
 in our midst. There were 40 of us who went out ; not so many came back. 
 
 When this grenade landed it killed one soldier, who was bent over filling up a 
 sand bag, and wounded his brother, who was holding the sack, in 14 places. 
 
 The following night there was a heavy bombardment. I was on trench patrol 
 duty and I took it upon myself to go around to the different sentries and cheer 
 them up. I knew some funny stories and I recited most of them. A lot of them 
 were old, but they went well. For that night's work I was made a lance corporal. 
 
 Night Raid 
 This is probably the most exciting of all war sports ! The smaller the raid the 
 greater the excitement, particularly for those actively concerned in it. Wet nights 
 are best because there is usually less shell fire and always the possibility that the 
 sentries are not quite so keen. 
 
FIGHTING FRITZ 
 
 Before we go we should know something of the enemy barbed wire — where the 
 channels are located, and the relative point in our trench to the channel in Fritz's 
 wire, if possible. 
 
 Sometimes, in fact most times, we take just a revolver and a couple of bombs, 
 that is, when the party is a small one, about six in number, for instance. Large 
 parties take rifle and bayonet always. 
 
 We are naturally familiar with the channels in ovu" own barbed wire, so that 
 there is no trouble in getting out to No Plan's Land. Our patrols are aware of 
 our trip and we do not expect to meet a Fritz patrol, though at times the unex- 
 pected does happen, in which case the raid would likely be called off. It would be 
 dangerous to get into a P^ritz trench and have the Fritz patrol return while we 
 were there. 
 
 Our faces are blackened when going out on these raids for two reasons. The 
 first is that star shells going up would cause a reflection of our white faces ; the 
 second, that if we saw a white face we would know it was an enemy. Under 
 normal conditions we get into No Man's Land and creep and crawl across, being 
 careful to make absolutely no show of movement when the star shells go up, 
 because a movement detected by Fritz is the signal for machine gun fire. The 
 whole party would suffer in consequence. The least sound would have the same 
 effect — to cough or to sneeze would be fatal, so that a man suffering from a cold 
 is never included in the party. 
 
 Then to find the channel in the enemy barbed wire. Not far from this channel 
 is usually a dugout, and on either side of the dugout a sentry or machine gun 
 emplacement is also usually found. If the night is wet, more than likely only 
 one man is at each post, the others taking to the dugout for comfort and safety. 
 Once inside the barbed wire — which, by the way, we are careful not to touch, 
 because it is often charged with electricity — two go to the left and two to the 
 right, the other two remaining opposite the dugout. 
 
 How It Is Done 
 
 Signals are previously arranged. One of the methods frequently used is to 
 have two long pieces of cord, one piece connecting the men on the left to the 
 center, the other piece connecting the men on the right to the center. The signal, 
 for instance, is from the men on the right or left : One pull, "Have located my 
 man." Two pulls, from the center to the men on either side: "Are you ready?" 
 A reply of three pulls from the men on either side : "Yes." Four pulls from the 
 center: "Go for your man." The center men at the same moment go to the dugout. 
 
 The sentries on either side are silenced by the quickest method possible, usually 
 by throttling them. One man on either side of the dugout remains on guard after 
 his part has been accomplished there. The spare man goes to the assistance of 
 the men going into the dugout. 
 
 The center men go down the dugout, one man leading, revolver in either hand, 
 the rest with their bombs ready. The leading man backs the Germans into the 
 corner farthest from their rifles, making sure that their hands are above their 
 heads, so as to give no opportunity for treachery. The other men then take 
 water, if they need it, and probably a few canned goods, look for maps, and 
 usually take at least one prisoner for the purpose of obtaining information. These 
 are taken back to a previously found shell hole not very far from Fritz's barbed 
 wire and marked with a piece of white tape or something white, which is con- 
 spicuous in the dark and mud. One man is left to guard these, the others going 
 back to the dugout in case assistance is necessary. 
 
BY SERGEANT RONALD KINGSLEY 7 
 
 Getting Back 
 
 Jf all is well, the party will then retreat from the trench. The men back out of 
 the dugout, going up step by step, slowly, keeping the Germans covered all of the 
 time. The man stationed on either side gets out of the trench, then the center men 
 get out and lie down flat over the dugout entrance until the other men have safely 
 reached the shell hole. Then two or three bombs are thrown into the dugout and 
 the men who have thrown these bombs then beat it for their lives to the shell hole. 
 
 The noise of the explosion arouses Fritz for quite a distance along the line. 
 Naturally he turns on his machine guns and all of his rifles across No Man's 
 Land, so it is very essential to keep low in the shell hole. The machine gun and 
 rifle fire may last a couple of hours, because Fritz is really badly scared. The 
 men that are in the shell hole are having a good time, safe from bullets, 
 quenching their thirst with the water unwillinglv donated bv the Germans, and 
 feasting on the canned goods likewise obtained. 
 
 When the machine gun and rifle fire lets up they creep and crawl back with 
 their prisoner and the remainder of their loot to their own trenches, and report 
 to the officer, who usually tells them that it has been a satisfactory night's work. 
 
 The raid itself only takes a very few minutes, but a great deal of time is con- 
 sumed in getting across and back, the total being usually from four to five hours, 
 although the strain and tension make it seem a lifetime. 
 
 Two Mines Meet 
 
 There were plenty of exciting moments in that district even though we were 
 not under heavy fire all the time. 
 
 Right along with us were several companies of engineers, and they were con- 
 tinually mining under the German positions. 
 
 One night they all got a terrible scare. 
 
 For several days they had been mining towards a German position, when, of a 
 sudden, they heard German voices and an instant later a part of the wall fell in. 
 Our fellows had been driving right along and slam-banged into some Huns coming 
 from the other side. The Huns ran back. So did the Canadians. That is, all 
 excepting three. 
 
 You know the miners haven't any weapons, excepting their digging tools, and 
 thev don't take anv chances on open clashes wnth the enemy. 
 
 Well, these three young chaps who stayed behind hid back in a narrow passage, 
 the entrance to which had been almost completely hidden by the fallen earth. 
 
 Pretty soon a German officer came along, accompanied by several soldiers with 
 their bayonets fixed. 
 
 He looked over what our engineers had done and he swore heavy Teutonic 
 oaths for several minutes. He waved his revolver and vowed what he would do 
 if he ever caught "the English ]^igs," for he didn't figure the Canadians were at 
 that point. We retired from that section of our trench for the remainder of the 
 night, as we expected something to happen from the mines. It didn't come. The 
 Germans probably retired from theirs, under a similar supposition. 
 
 For a time I was a member of a party whose duty it was to follow up the 
 mining operations of the enemv and extract the explosives about as fast as they 
 put them in place. 
 
 We had located where they were mining and worked in behind them, taking 
 out the dynamite, or nitroglycerin, or whatever explosive they happened to stick in. 
 
 T have often wondered at the thoughts of Fritz when he turned on the switch 
 and nothing happened. 
 
FIGHTING FRITZ 
 
 There were lots of times when we laughed at the joke we were playing, even 
 while we were taking out the dope. We didn't do it because we weren't nervous, 
 either. But the laugh sort of relieved the tension. 
 
 It was a good one on the Hun, too. 
 
 It was on this section of the western front that T had an experience which 
 befalls few soldiers. I captured a spy. 
 
 Bagging a Spy 
 
 We were on a working ])arty digging a trench one night, and I noticed an 
 officer sneaking through the shell holes and coming towards us. The fact that 
 he was out there all alone made me curious. 
 
 I watched him and j)retty soon he dropped over the edge of our ditch. 
 
 I challenged him. He tried to brush me aside, snapping: 
 
 "I'm an officer." 
 
 "So I see," I returned, "but what battalion do you belong to?" 
 
 "The Sixtieth," he answered promptly. 
 
 T immediately ordered him under arrest and he protested vigorously, declaring 
 he would have my corporal's stripes torn from me. 
 
 He nearly blufifed me out, but I determined to go through with it. I knew that 
 the Sixtieth battalion was back in the rest billets. It had been practically wiped 
 out several days before and had been retired for reinforcements. 
 
 We marched the officer to headquarters and there it was proved that he was a 
 spy. He was a German officer who had crept out into No ]\Ian's Land, taken 
 the uniform from a dead Sixtieth officer and then had tried to brazen his way 
 through. He would have got by me, the chances are, had he mentioned any 
 other battalion of the line, for there were a lot of new officers coming in each day 
 and I could not keep track of all of them. But when he said the Sixtieth my 
 suspicions were aroused still further and T couldn't take any chances. 
 
 Of course he was shot. 
 
 Rats Drive Out Armies 
 
 llie trench we were guarding was back of a crater near Hill (iO. 
 
 But before I go on with my story I've got to tell about this crater. It was 
 made by heavy explosives and was probably 70 yards across. The Germans held 
 to one lip and we held to another. We could not dislodge them. They could 
 not dislodge us. This crater linked up with Hill 60 and our trenches. 
 
 There were some of our men holding in a thin line at the base of Hill 60, and 
 after nightfall it fell to some of us to take them over provisions and ammunition 
 for the following day. They were in such a perilous position that they could not 
 venture out in the light of the sun and the hill was such a strategic point that 
 we could not relinquish any hold, however slight, upon it. 
 
 Down in this immense crater there w'ere hundreds of rats and they used to 
 scuttle about in the darkness. 
 
 It was a mighty uncomfortable feeling to be out in a crater hole and of a sudden 
 hear the rattle and crash of tin cans. 
 
 More than once I have lain out there, night after night, my finger on the trigger 
 and w^aiting, straining my eyes until they ached, for the sight of a Hun. It 
 finally got on the nerves of both armies. The Huns withdrew first and a few 
 days later we backed out. throwing up a trench a few yards behind the gap. They 
 put up one in front. 
 
BY SERGEANT RONALD KINGSLEY 9 
 
 This is the only case in history, 1 beUeve, where rats forced two armies to 
 leave a strategic position. 
 
 The hill was on om" right and on our left was our main trench line. Between 
 the hill and our trench was the gap but linking us up was our little trench. We 
 were so exposed and so close to the German lines that we never moved about in 
 daytime and after darkness were very careful not to strike matches, or show any 
 other lights. 
 
 One day there came the order from headquarters that we Canadians were to 
 be moved on up to the Somme and in our stead came a battalion of Tommies. 
 
 Fights With Tommy 
 
 I remember one cockv \()ung chaj) came into the trench and the first thing he 
 did was to strike a match, ])reparatory to lighting a cigarette. 
 
 1 knocked the match from his hand and snarled: 
 
 "Cut that stutif !" 
 
 "Gor blimey, wot th' bleedin' 'ell's th' matter with you Canydians ?" he shouted. 
 
 1 slapped him across the mouth. 
 
 He jumped u]) and 1 i)unched him in the jaw, knocking him down. 
 
 He got up again, but much of the tight was out of him. Still he put up his 
 fists and we were just going at it again when a sergeant came along and wanted 
 to know what was the matter. 
 
 I told him what the man had done and tinished it up by saying: 
 
 "Not that I give a damn about him, but he can't light any matches while the 
 Canadians are in this trench. If he wants to expose you fellows to the Huns 
 it's all right with me. But I'm looking out for my own skin, and the hides of 
 the fellows who are with me." 
 
 The sergeant reprimanded the Tommy. 
 
 From here to the Somme it was a 10 days' trijx On arriving at Albert about 
 the end of August we immediately went into the front line trenches. This was 
 the first time I had ever heard the sound of big guns, but I had become accustomed 
 to the pounding of the smaller batteries and it did not bother me. I had often 
 heard that you could see a big shell coming towards you, so time after time I 
 watched. But I never succeeded in getting a glimpse of the destroyer. I could 
 hear the rattle of them and the sound of the explosion, but never could see the 
 actual outline. 
 
 We used to call them "freight cars." The first day I was in the trench there 
 was nothing more than the usual firing. We went back, jmssing La Boiselle. 
 near which Harry Lauder's son is buried, and into tjie chalk pits, to be held in 
 reserve, for we were to be the second wave in the attack on Pozieres. 
 
 This was the first time I really went "over the top" and I i^resume the sensa- 
 tions I had were just like the sensations of other soldiers. 
 
 Alongside of us were the French-Canadians and I remember looking over at 
 those fellow^s and wondering if they were having similar thoughts to mine. They 
 formed a crack storming battalion and I felt deliriously happy to know that I 
 was not faltering. 1 had often wondered how I would act once I was away from 
 the protection of the sandbags, out in the open and headed straight for the enemy. 
 I had often wondered if the\- would get me before I had a chance to raise my 
 bavonet. 
 
10 FIGHT INGFRITZ 
 
 Bayonets First Hun 
 
 A soldier when he is charging across No Man's Land has as his main thought 
 the desire to get to his destination. He always wants to meet the German man 
 to man, and let the cold steel decide the argument. 
 
 Plunging a hayonet into a man is not the sensation some might imagine ; the 
 thing that "gets" every soldier is the pulling out of the weapon. 
 
 The first German I got with the steel was a hig hcarded fellow in this charge. 
 As I went over the parapet 1 saw him. He looked like a mountain and I knew 
 I was at a disadvantage, coming down on him. But I know I did not hesitate. 
 I saw his eyes stare hack into mine with just as ferocious a gaze as, I presume, 
 was in my own. I saw him raise his gun to fire as I lunged forward. 
 
 The steel struck him fair. It ripped through him and with a quick jerk I 
 yanked it out. 
 
 That sensation of a fraction of a second was a terrihle one. I cannot describe 
 it. The thought that you have killed doesn't matter. It's the idea of pulling 
 out a bayonet, the peculiar drawing sensation that accompanies it, the spurting 
 of the blood and the agonized stare of the beaten man that get you. 
 
 Were it not for the thought that one of the enemy will get vou iniless you act 
 quickly, I doubt if the steel cotdd be withdrawn. 
 
 It was a short and a furious fight when we went into that trench, and we held 
 it for several days. 
 
 As in most cases, the German trenches are in bad sha[)e when captiuxd. They 
 have been pounded by the British artillery and in spots the parapets have been 
 completely knocked off. That's the way it was with this one. We were kept 
 busy rebuilding them. It was while working here that I witnessed one of the 
 things that, for the time being, made me madder than anvthing else. 
 
 One of our lads, a big six-footer, who was alwavs happv, singing songs and 
 cracking jokes, got his one night. 
 
 He was standing up in the trench and failed to notice that one of the protecting 
 sandbags had been knocked off. Standing there, laughing and telling stories, he 
 sttddenly pitched over on his face. 
 
 A sniper, with the direct range, had got him through the throat. 
 
 I remember we were all as sore as could be. We hated to lose the big fellow. 
 And we also were mad because his loss had deprived us of our battalion comedian. 
 
 After we were taken out of this trench we went back to the chalk pits for a rest. 
 
 Blown Up By Shell 
 
 It was while going into them that I had an experience that almost ruined my 
 disposition. 
 
 Company A, to which 1 was attached, came out of the trenches first and behind 
 it, about 50 yards, was Company B. A lieutenant and I were standing watching 
 them and shaking hands with each other over the luck of getting out unscathed. 
 
 Just at the exact moment when he said : "It looks like I'm having about as much 
 luck as you, Kingsley," a shell hit behind us, exploded, and threw both of us up 
 into the air. W'hen I came down, my face made a hole in the mud, while the 
 lieutenant landed a dozen feet away. I recovered first, but was so scared that 
 my throat was all tightend up. 
 
 With an effort, I blurted out : 
 
 "How — are — you ?" 
 
 "All — right," he responded, "how — are — you?" 
 
BY SERGEANT RuNALD KINGSLEY 11 
 
 Then Ave laughted, got up, and shook hands all over again. 
 
 We got away from this point without losing any time and back in the billet 
 we were met with cheers. We were covered, from head to foot, with muck, and 
 while he went into an officers' barracks to change clothes. I stood outside and 
 scraped off the mud as best I could. 
 
 I was just finishing when an orderly came running up and told me I was 
 wanted over at headc[uarters. 
 
 I went, wondering what it was all about, and when I got in the lieutenant was 
 in the midst of a bunch of friends. 
 
 "There's Kingsley now%" he cried, as I came through the door. He recited the 
 story over again, and then asked me if he hadn't told the truth. 
 
 "Yes, sir," I answered. 
 
 Everyone laughed hilariously, although I couldn't see any joke about it, and 
 they dismissed me after saying that inasmuch as I substantiated the lieutenant's 
 statements, the story must be true. 
 
 That was one of the jokes of the battalion for several days. For the life of 
 me I have never been able to see through it. 
 
 I don't think anyone else did, but they tigured it so much out of the ordinary 
 that it had no proper classification and it was labeled a joke, and was laughed at 
 accordingly. 
 
 Y. M. C. A. (or the Soldiers' Home) 
 
 When we are going to the front line trenches to make an attack, the Y. M. C. A. 
 are also informed. They go forward as near to the point of attack as they dare. 
 Usually just about a mile from the front line trench they build a sort of store out 
 of sandbags. The walls and roof are in the neighborhood of three feet thick, 
 and the inside space is about sixteen feet square. 
 
 The attack is made at dawn. Now when the attacking party goes "up the 
 line." they take with them 48 hours' rations and three pints of water. The 
 rations are "bully beef," as the canned corn beef is called, and shrapnel biscuits, 
 as the hardtack is called. When the attack is over they consolidate the trench 
 occupied, and must remain there at least 48 hours, until they are relieved by other 
 troops. It happens sometimes that they cannot be relieved at the end of 48 hours, 
 and as all relief work takes ])lace at night, it means another 24 hours for the 
 attacking party before the next possible relief. They mav or mav not get rations 
 and water to carry on the next 24 hours. If the German artillery fire is so 
 heavy that no one could get through it alive, they would be without rations. They 
 suffer more from lack of water than anything, because the bursting shells give off 
 a -black smoke. Then there is the dust created by the shell in making the shell 
 hole. Add to this the fact that the "bully beef" is a little saltv (for it is impos- 
 sible to take fresh meat), and you will realize that the men will become terribly 
 thirsty, their tongues and throats parched. 
 
 But at last they are relieved, and march back to the rest billets. On the way 
 they pass the Y. AI. C. A. hut that I spoke of previously. Every man as he 
 passes will be given a hot drink of tea or coffee, whichever he prefers, and a 
 cigarette. 
 
 The Longing for Tobacco 
 
 You may wonder why they give him the latter. I'll tell you. In going "over 
 the top" you fall into shell holes, get soaked w'ith water and caked with mud, 
 and when you get into the trench there is water there, too. You are mud and 
 blood from head to foot ; in fact, you have everything on you that there is in 
 
13 FIGHTINGFRITZ 
 
 France to get. Now, after you have consolidated the trench the first thing von 
 want to do is to smoke : it helps relieve the tension of the shell fire and the time 
 of waiting for the German counter attack, which is sure to follow. If you are 
 wet through, your cigarettes and tobacco are wet, too, and therefore useless. 
 
 Cigarette smokers will smoke upward of forty a day when under tension. 
 Imagine being without a cigarette, just when it is most needed! I can assure 
 you the craving is terrible. I have seen men go into a dug-out (if there hap- 
 pened to be one around) and scrape up ashes, cigar and cigarette stubs and chew 
 them, to relieve the tension. So the Y. M. C. A. gives them a cigarette with their 
 coffee. Can you imagine what that means to a man over there? 
 
 Then aw'ay he goes to the "rest billets." The "billets" are usually about five 
 miles back from the front line trenches. We are given 48 hours to get there and 
 report for the roll call. During spare time we sleep and get cleaned up. 
 
 After roll call, we are given 24: hours completely to ourselves, and the first 
 thing the boys do is to beat it over to the Y. ^I. C. A. hut to write home. They 
 feel so tickled to think they have once again got back without a scratch that they 
 want to tell the whole world. They are just as anxious to write to vou as you 
 are to hear from them. .\s they cannot carry writing materials with them the 
 Y. AI. C. A. supplies them. 
 
 I can assure you that you will never receive a letter from a man at the front 
 that is not written on the yjaper with the little red triangle in the corner. There 
 are a great many other things that one could say of the splendid organization, 
 but these are the outstanding features to the man "out there." 
 
 The Red Cross 
 
 What could an army do without the Red Cross? What would happen to the 
 sick, the wounded ? That thousands would die unnecessarily goes without saying. 
 I think that probably the greatest tribute that can be paid to the Red Cross is the 
 confidence of the wounded man. He feels that no matter how badly wounded 
 he may be. if once he gets to the Red Cross man, his life is safe. 
 
 I think they are wonderful "out there." On the battlefields their w-ork goes 
 on day and night incessantly, and as methodically as the progress of the battle 
 will allow them. Invariably they and the motor ambulances are in plain sight 
 of the enemy. It is not always possible to keep out of sight, but they take the 
 chances willingly. Hundreds of them are w'ounded and manv of them have been 
 killed, too. Their devotion to duty under shell fire is one of the outstanding 
 features of the war. 
 
 I witnessed an incident during the Battle of the Somme which I shall never 
 forget. A Red Cross officer and four stretcher bearers came to the support 
 trenches in which I happened to be stationed the day after the attack had been 
 made. Some wounded men were lying between the supports and front line 
 trenches. The battalion stretcher bearers had done all that they could for them, 
 and the Red Cross men came to take them back to the field hospital. 
 
 When a man is wounded he calls for the stretcher bearer. Those of you that 
 have never heard that cry of "Stretcher bearer" cannot realize what it means. 
 We cannot help the man and we know it, but the call is so heartrending that it is 
 hard to resist going to the man's assistance, though we dare not go. 
 
 The officer in charge of the party that came up to our trench this day got out 
 on top, holding a white flag with a Red Cross on it at arm's length, so that Fritz 
 could plainly see it. They crossed over to some wounded men, dressed their 
 wounds, then began to get ready for the return trip to the Ambulance Depot. 
 One man was put on the stretcher and the party started ofif, the of^cer a little 
 to one side and slightly in the lead, with his flag still in plain sight. Suddenly 
 
BY SERGEANT RONALD KINGSLEY i:; 
 
 down he went, with two bullets through the shoulder, but he got up and led the 
 way once more. A moment later he went down again, and this time he did not get 
 up. Almost at the same moment we heard the report of the whiz-bang (the Ger- 
 man three inch shell). A salvo of these was sent over, the stretcher bear- 
 ers were all wounded, and the man on the stretcher more badly wounded. Yet, 
 in spite of this, another Red Cross party that same day went out and brought in 
 several wounded men that were Iving "out there." 
 
 Need one say anything more for them? I think not. 
 
 In "Jumping-Off" Trench 
 
 ^After a few days we were set to digging a "jumping-off trench" out in No 
 Man's Land. 
 
 Here is an occu])ation, in case you are troubled with ennui, that will cure vou. 
 
 A working party is assigned to dig a "jumping-off trench," and first you have 
 to go out in No Alan's Land and reconnoiter to see that there aren't any German 
 working parties out, too. 
 
 We always choose a dark night — the darker the better — and the trench is dug 
 about 50 yards out in front of our first line. The object of it is to get the attack- 
 ing party out beyond the German barrage. When the Huns retreat they know 
 the exact range of their own lines, just as we do, and any time an attack starts 
 they can spray us with bullets and shells. That is, they could unless these "jump- 
 ing-off" trenches" were built. 
 
 We worked furiously and were tearing along at a great speed when one of our 
 soldiers came racing down and in a hoarse whisper cried : 
 
 "The Germans are near the other end !" 
 
 We all dropped our spades and pickaxes, grabbed u]) our rities and started 
 along towards the point of danger. 
 
 After traveling a short distance we were told to halt and the officer in charge 
 asked me to go with him. 
 
 We crawled along on all fours, moving cautiously, and after a time came to 
 the point where we could hear the guttural voices of our enemies. 
 
 The lieutenant sounded a warning hiss and we dropped flat on our stomachs. 
 
 The voices were coming from a few feet away and for a minute or two we 
 thought the Germans were coming down where our men had been digging. 
 
 We held our breath and I could feel the lieutenant's heels digging into my 
 shoulder. I was afraid to move for fear of making a noise and I guess he didn't 
 realize what he was doing. 
 
 Finally we located the sounds. The Germans were in their own trench a few 
 feet away. 
 
 Our working party, instead of keeping on in a straight line, had curved until, 
 in a few more feet, it would have burst right into where the Huns were watching. 
 
 I don't know how it was that they didn't hear our men working. They must 
 have been in their dugouts or away from that portion of the line for a few minutes. 
 
 We abandoned that part of our "jumping-off" work. 
 
 For this night's work 1 was made a full corporal and my sergeantcy came soon 
 afterwards. 
 
14 FIGHTINGFRITZ 
 
 Attacking a Machine Gun 
 
 The next day we went over and took the first Hne of German trenches and a 
 portion of a communication trench. But we could go no further. Just around 
 a traverse in the supporting trench the Germans had planted a machine gun, 
 protecting it with sandbags and waiting for us to start through. We could see 
 the hole in the bags where the nose of the gun was sticking out but w^e could not 
 see the gun. 
 
 \\"e made plans for attacking the spot in the morning and there were 40 bomb- 
 ers who were to lead the way. I was in charge of the supports. It was my duty 
 to race along the trencli and hurry up the supplies. 
 
 In some way, through a spy, no doubt, the Germans learned of the exact mo- 
 ment when w^e planned the attack. They were waiting for us. 
 
 Our bombers had gathered in the communicating trench — just around the 
 corner out of sight of the Germans. At a given signal they dashed forward and 
 the minute they did so they were met with a hail of bullets. The brave fellows 
 went down, dropping like flies ; the trench was filled with dead and dying. Those 
 behind, not knowing the exact condition of things, kept pressing forward and it 
 would only have been a question of time when we would have been completely 
 wiped out, for the Germans had plenty of bullets. They were fighting us — and 
 we didn't have a chance. 
 
 That's what made us crazv in our rage. 
 
 I presume had the felloAvs figured the situation as it came there w^ould not have 
 been so many casualties, but the thought that someone had betrayed the time of 
 our attack and that we were being killed ofl^ without being given the sporting 
 chance for our lives drove everyone forward. 
 
 Back where I was rushing the bombs from the supply depots the air was filled 
 with the roar of guns. 
 
 I was hurrying along on one side of the trench and urging everyone to work 
 with all possible speed when I noticed that, for a stretch of several feet, one side 
 of our protecting parapet had been knocked down. 
 
 A soldier was carrying bombs, whistling as he came, and sensing the danger 
 point I yelled "Duck !" 
 
 But he didn't hear me or it was too late, for an instant later a bullet smashed 
 through the top of his head. 
 
 He went down in a heap. 
 
 Pulls Out Dead Soldier 
 
 Behind him were a score of others carrying bombs. They couldn't go around 
 the dead man, for the trench was too narrow, and they couldn't crouch far enough 
 to insure safety. 
 
 Our fellows u]) in front were veiling for su]:)plies and for lialf a minute T didn't 
 know what to do. 
 
 Then it came to me — like a flash. 
 
 Throwing myself on my face I ordered the soldier behind me to grab my feet 
 while I managed to get hold of the dead man's hands and aided by the others I 
 succeeded in pulling the lifeless obstacle away from the shallow place. 
 
BY SERGEANT RONALD KINGSLEY 
 
 15 
 
 While this was going on a young chap named Watkins, perceiving that the 
 bombers would never be able to get to the gun by rushing along the communica- 
 tion trench, yelled for volunteers, and jumping over the side, they made a rush 
 across No IVIan's Land and to the spot where the Germans were criss-crossing 
 us with their fire. 
 
 The Canadians were much outnumbered but tlieir l)ombs were good and they 
 silenced the enemy without the loss of a man. Swinging around they got in 
 behind the machine gun just as some others spun around from the other side. 
 
 The crew of the gun was cut to pieces. The gun was captured. The communi- 
 cation trench was ours. 
 
 Working like madmen we forced our way on up it. turned the gun around and 
 established it within a few feet of the first German line. 
 
 For that night's work I was made a sergeant. 
 
 Attack at Daybreak! 
 
 From there we went into the attack on the trenches near Bapaume. Here it 
 was that I received the injuries that resulted in mv discharge from active service. 
 
 The Britsh army always attacks at daybreak. 
 
 The reason for this is fairly obvious, but I will explain : 
 
 At daybreak everything can be arranged for exactness. The officers' watches 
 are synchronized and the exact moment of attack is given beforehand. Just a 
 moment before the coming of dawn the command is given and the men fix bay- 
 onets and get ready. 
 
 The big guns, which have been pounding at a terrific rate for seven or eight 
 minutes, dropping their shells a yard apart, and to the front of us, lift their 
 barrage; the officers, knowing its exact location, move forward with it. The 
 thing is timed nicely. It brings us up and ready to go over the enemy trenches 
 just as dawn is breaking across the eastern sky. We can distinguish forms, but 
 out in the darkness of night the defenders cannot distinguish us. 
 
 That is the advantage of the attacking party. 
 
 As our barrage lifts we follow, storming and attacking as we go. 
 
 The night before I had been out in No Man's Land on patrol and we had re- 
 ported that the enemy's barbed wire was in good shape. 
 
 To the right of us were the Thirteenth Canadians — the Kilties — and on our 
 left were the Forty-third, who were also Kilties. 
 
 Standing out there, waiting for the command of the captain, L strange as it may 
 sound, had no other thought than the one of whether my hunch would hold good. 
 I had a counter-hunch that I was going to get nicked. 
 
 That didn't bother me. It only irritated me to think that I couldn't rid my 
 mind of it. I would try to think of the task immediately in front, but would at 
 once return to the thing I was trying the most to eliminate. 
 
 It is not a pleasant thought, I can assure you, to figure that the time is not long 
 when you are going to get yours — or, in other words, be killed, you know not how. 
 
 There was no desire to run. I did not even think of that. It was just a curi- 
 ous sensation, standing with my bayonet fixed, and wondering if, after five months 
 of hard fighting, I was going the way I had seen dozens of my pals and acquaint- 
 ances ffo out. 
 
IG FIGHTINGFRITZ 
 
 Finally, as I shrugged inv shoulders, 1 said : 
 
 "Sergeant," I remember thinking of my official title, my stripes, and I want 
 you to know that there was no spirit of braggadocio — just that fatalistic ideal I 
 had become imbued with. "Sergeant," I repeated, "if you are going west, you 
 aren't going to go without making a fight of it." 
 
 Then came the captain's command. W^e moved forward. The protecting bar- 
 rage lifted. We dropped into a slow trot and it wasn't long before we reached 
 the barbed wire. 
 
 Tangled in Barbed Wire 
 
 I saw where the protecting device was torn and I plunged through the aperture. 
 But my feet became entangled. Then, in struggling, my clothes caught on. I 
 saw others caught in the wire and we fought quietly, but desperately, to get out. 
 We feared, every minute, that the Germans would see us and would open fire 
 and we knew that only one of two things could happen: 
 
 If we got out, we could carrv on; if we stayed in, we would be killed. 
 
 After much ripping of uniforms and flesh, wounds we didn't feel at the time, 
 we extricated ourselves, and I remember that 26 of us rushed for the German 
 trench. 
 
 There was a captain in charge, and two lieutenants. Then myself. 
 
 In the first attack on the trench the captain was mortally wounded and the two 
 lieutenants were knocked over. I was left in charge of the men. 
 
 We were outnumbered six to one. but we fought for everything that was in us. 
 We had a big supply of bombs and we drove the Germans out. capturing a stretch 
 of earthworks a hundred yards long. 
 
 To our left we could hear heavy fighting and running on we saw that the Ger- 
 mans were winning. There were several hundred of them all in a bunch and they 
 were killing and capturing every Canadian who came over. We started throwing 
 bombs and we soon had those Huns on the defensive. 
 
 We saw them scramble out of and behind their lines. There were probably 
 150 of them and they were getting ready to rush us. By this time there were 
 only an even dozen left of the men who had come over with me. The Germans 
 were sniping us ofif and just as I was getting ready to heave a bomb I saw a 
 helmet poking around a curve in the trench. 
 
 Shot By German 
 
 I grabbed my gun. but it was too late. 
 
 A revolver spat viciously. I felt a stinging sensation in my left leg, near the 
 hip, and I knew I had been shot. 
 
 The helmet disappeared. One of my men had got the German. 
 
 I straightened up and was bringing my gun around again when I saw a bomb 
 flying towards me. 
 
 Throwing up my left arm — I was too weak to move, for my leg was paining 
 terribly — I got the missile full on the wrist. It exploded, rendering my arm 
 useless, but it did not knock me unconscious. 
 
BY SERGEANT RONALD KINGSLEY 
 
 Just at this moment a big Kiltie came from another direction, and calHng him 
 I asked if he could throw a bomb. 
 
 "No' vera weel." he answered, with a grin. 
 
 "You can't learn any younger." I replied. 
 
 I saw the Germans were pre])aring to rush us and one of them, even at that 
 moment, was coming. 
 
 We had to stoj) them. 
 
 The Mills bomb, which is used by the Canadians, is so timed as to explode 
 four and one-half seconds after leaving the hand. 
 
 T drew the pin. first ordering the Highlander to hold until I had counted two. 
 This, I figured, would give the bomb the correct time to explode right in the midst 
 of the enemy. 
 
 The kilted soldier watched me with a curious, and, T thought at the time, an 
 exceedingly calm eye, as I extracted the pin and then counted — ONE — TWO. 
 
 He threw directly at the German, who was now rushing toward us. 
 
 The bomb struck the ground in front of the Hun and I distinctly remember 
 seeing the upjier half of his body go flying into the air. I laughed and yelled: 
 
 "Fine shot, Scottie!" 
 
 The Highlander disappeared after that. I never found out what happened to 
 him, but I suppose he was killed. 
 
 I managed to scramble around to see how things were coming and I found but 
 four men uninjured. 
 
 "You better get out of here, sergeant!" exclaimed one. 
 
 "I guess vou're right," 1 re]ilied. 
 
 I scrambled over the top, and making my way back through the barbed wire, 
 I struggled through the barrage that the Germans had put up to prevent any of 
 our men returning to their own trenches. 
 
 Hit Four Times 
 
 I was hit in the right arm and in the right leg. As I rolled over the parapets 
 to our own trenches I felt another shock in my back and I knew another bullet 
 had nicked me. 
 
 "How's everything up in front?" asked a lieutenant. 
 
 "We're giving them hell," I blurted out, not wishing to admit that the boys I 
 went with were getting licked. 
 
 "How are you feeling?" 
 
 "Pretty sick," I told him, and kept on. 
 
 I staggered out of our trench down into Death Valley. It was a relief when I 
 got this far, for I felt that I was out of the fight, temporarily, at least, and on my 
 way to the dressing station I knew was somewhere below. 
 
 Staggering and stumbling, pitching forward on my face and rolling over and 
 over I covered Death Valley. 
 
18 FIGHTINGFRITZ 
 
 I was Hearing Courcelette when I saw about -lO feet in front a Tommy who had 
 been wounded in the arm. 
 
 "Wait a minute, Sarge," he yelled back, "h'and liTll 'elp you." 
 
 He turned, but a sniper, stationed in a German trench near Le Sars, a half 
 mile away, got him. 
 
 I was pretty far gone, but I managed to roll over until I got to where the 
 Tommy was stretched. I felt for his heart. It wasn't beating. There was a 
 bloody wound in the side of his head. 
 
 T lay beside him for quite a while and I guess I lost consciousness for a few 
 minutes. When I came to I managed to scramble up on all fours and after a 
 struggle succeeded in getting over the dead man. 
 
 Past this point and for a distance of two or three hundred yards I staggered 
 on to a dressing station in a dug-out in what we knew as the Sugar Refinery 
 trench. 
 
 Here my wounds were dressed, iodine first being sopped into them, and as I 
 stumbled up the steps an old chaplain came over and helped me. 
 
 "Do you think you can go on?" he asked. 
 "I'm going to try," T told him. 
 
 "That's right, my man." he said. "You'll get better treatment at the Ambulance 
 Depot if you can make the grade.' 
 
 Then he told me how sorry he was that he could not help me along. But there 
 were so manv poor chaps who were being brought in every minute that he had to 
 stay and minister to them. 
 
 I was sorry he couldn't go along, too, for I thought I needed his help. 
 
 Chaplain Is Wounded' 
 
 But I left and he was standing on the steps watching me go. I had covered 
 a distance of nearly 200 feet when a shell hit the dug-out, wrecking it and killing 
 half the occupants. The poor old chaplain was badly cut up. 
 
 From here to the Ambulance Station it was nearly a mile. I kept plugging 
 away, a few steps at time, and wdien I came within sight of the place I collapsed 
 completely. But a Red Cross man who had been watching me saw me fall and he 
 rushed out, bringing along four stretcher bearers, who loaded me into the 
 canvas and carried me to the temporary hospital. 
 
 My wounds had been torn open and had filled with dirt, but I did not care. I 
 was among friends and I knew they would help me all they could. 
 
 Fresh bandages were wrapped about me, after the wounds had been dressed 
 and I had been inoculated so as to be free from the tetanus germ, and I was 
 laid out with a score of others to wait the ambulances. Two came and the first 
 was filled before my turn came. It wheeled around and made down the road 
 while I was hoisted into the second. 
 
BY SERGEANT RONALD KINGSLEY 
 
 19 
 
 The lirsl ambulance had not oone half a mile when a shrapnel shell hit it and 
 the driver was sorelv wovmded. The other man on the seat was banged up and 
 the injured men inside badl\- shaken up. 
 
 We hurried i)ast. Those are orders. Others hastened out to assist. 
 
 I don't remember nnieh after that. I kn(.w I came to a full realization of 
 what had happened when 1 woke u]) in a base hospital in the south of England 
 .several days afterwards. 
 
 i was in this hospital, as well as a hospital in Canada, for nine uKtnths before 
 l)eing discharged. 
 
 I will never, 1 am afraid, regain the full use of my left arm. 
 
 But I figure 1 am lucky. 1 ligure that my "hunch" was a good one. and that 
 the time 1 spent fighting for the cause was worth everything else m life. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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