On May 20 we engineered a most successful underground operation, and very materially aided our infantry in capturing another 500 yards of the famous Hindenburg line. In order to understand the situation more clearly, I will endeavor to explain briefly the construction of these Hindenburg-line trenches. They had undoubtedly been constructed during the months previous to the German retreat and were cleverly planned and executed. It was apparent that the enemy had intended to retreat to them and to hold them at any cost, and their subsequent capture by the British must have occasioned the Boche General Staff considerable surprise and pain. It was evident that the Germans last year, instead of constructing armored tanks to oppose ours, had decided to build large, deep trenches which they hoped would prove in most cases an insurmountable obstacle to the British tanks. The tanks could not normally cross a very wide trench, but the terrific artillery bombardment of the British succeeded in levelling off the trenches so that a tank commander by careful observation would be able to spot places at intervals over which he could waddle his machine. The usual three lines—reserve, support, and front—had been built, very heavy, wide, and dense barbed-wire obstacles separating them. All of these trenches were approximately twelve to fourteen feet deep and fourteen feet wide at the top. Opening from the sides at about fifty yards' intervals were dugout entrances built at an angle of forty-five degrees to the surface.

These entrances all opened out at the bottom into a uniform gallery six feet by four in size. The galleries ran underground for miles; one could go down an entrance in one village and come up again ten or more miles away in another. Everywhere there was an overhead cover of hard chalk and clay of from thirty to forty feet. As happens in nearly all of the Boche underground work, the tunnels and dugouts were all built of four-inch oak case sets, closely timbered throughout. On both sides of the tunnel at frequent intervals small chambers were cut out for the use of officers, non-coms., and cooks. In the main galleries the sides were lined with double bunks, in size six feet by two, made roughly of two-by-four lumber with chicken wire nailed across for the men to sleep on.

As these bunks took up about two feet of the four-foot width of gallery, it must have made it very difficult for the stretcher-bearers to move the wounded out. The enemy incidentally had very accurate surveys of these trenches and could always be relied on to place their shells squarely on or in these captured trenches.

Their former German garrisons had done themselves very well, and many evidences of comfort were found which are absent from our own trenches.

At intervals of approximately 100 yards the Germans had built reinforced concrete emplacements, with usually the top of the emplacement, or pill-box, from a foot to 18 inches above the surface of the surrounding ground. These well-nigh impregnable positions were all very ingeniously camouflaged, and could not be detected by the sharpest eyes from the direction of our trenches until one was almost on top of them; and even then the only thing to be seen were one or two firing loopholes. The illustration shown here was from a photograph taken in the Hindenburg line from behind the "pill-box," where, of course, no screening was necessary.

It will be readily seen that this emplacement had not been damaged much; in fact, it was practically intact, only small pieces of concrete having been chipped off by our shells. The trench itself had been almost obliterated by our artillery-fire, and the sides so destroyed that it was possible for a tank to cross. The emplacements in the Hindenburg line, as elsewhere, were variously used as machine-gun posts, observation-posts, trench-mortar positions, snipers' posts, etc. The British referred to this type of concrete pill-box as a "Mebus." It was a matter of considerable difficulty to destroy them from above by artillery-fire, and even if our gunners made a direct hit with a heavy shell it was seldom put out of business.

About a week before the time I have referred to we were informed that two infantry assaults had come "unstuck" and the parties composing them nearly all "scuppered" by reason of the heavy and accurate fire coming from a double machine-gun concrete emplacement some 200 feet in front of our most advanced barricade in the Hindenburg trench opposite the village of Fontaine-les-Croisilles. The artillery had endeavored several times to destroy this position, but were not successful. It became necessary to remove it.

The division staff then inquired of our company commander as to whether we could do anything from below. He thought we could and my section was detailed for the job. My company commander, Captain Miller, incidentally one of the finest sportsmen I ever wish to meet, was delighted with the opportunity.

The subsoil here was a hard chalk, and the top-soil a sandy clay, the latter averaging from seven to ten feet in thickness. It was essential to the success of our scheme that we confine our underground tunnel to the clay, it being possible to excavate in the clay almost without noise, while in the chalk below this could not be done.

Starting from an old dugout entrance we constructed a tunnel approximately four by two feet for some distance, and from this point to our objective continued a "rabbit-hole" three feet by two in size. As we had only an average of two feet of clay above our gallery we were considerably bothered by our own shells landing near, and on one occasion they destroyed it with an eighteen-pounder. At other times we broke through into shell-craters on our way over. One night after a heavy rain I was on duty in the tunnel when we were pretty close to the German pill-box and their crew. The earth sloughed away from the top of the gallery and exposed the timber of our gallery-sets. We blew out the candles at once and very carefully placed some muddy sand-bags over the exposed portion. Being so near the Boche sentries, we were fearful that they would have spotted our light, heard our low whispering, or even our heavy breathing.

The next night we struck the concrete of the emplacement, and very carefully excavating down to the bottom of the clay against the position, we placed a charge of some 500 pounds of high explosive, carefully inserted the usual detonators and electric leads tamped the gallery for some 30 feet back in the tunnel, and the next dawn at the "zero" hour fired the charge the instant the infantry went over the top.

The resulting explosion very satisfactorily disposed of the troublesome "Mebus" and largely enabled the 4th King's Liverpool Regiment to capture some 200 yards of the trenches. Some 12 hours later the 2d Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders continued the attack and captured an additional 300 yards, as far forward as the River SensÉe (at this time a dried-up stream). In addition to a large number of Germans killed, they captured many wounded and over 60 unwounded prisoners that day, the latter caught in the underground tunnels completely by surprise. Early the next morning the Germans attempted a counter-attack in force, but the assembly having been observed by the F.O.O.'s, the gunners promptly and efficiently broke up the party.

I noticed the next day that smoke was issuing from a number of the tunnel entrances in the area captured, and other entrances were badly burned. In conversation with one of the Scotch officers it developed that the Jocks invited the Huns to come up out of the dugouts only once with their hands up to surrender. If they failed to respond promptly, bombs would be thrown down into the tunnels to expedite matters. This officer complained that he had posted sentries to guard the prisoners at each dugout entrance, but that as soon as his back was turned some trouble would occur, which necessitated more bombing practice on the part of the Scotch sentry. This was only a small affair, a battalion stunt. Everywhere along this front each day some attacks would take place, perhaps a regimental or brigade attack, or at other times just a small company raid.

For a day or two after this attack our trenches here were filled with the bodies of Germans and British. H.E. and bombs are terrible things.

It's all too big for words! I can only describe some of the incidents I saw or was connected with. These are typical of what was constantly occurring, and this was happening everywhere in our vicinity. The bodies and even uniforms were almost torn to pieces. Below in the dugouts were the German dead and wounded, the dead in every conceivable position, lying sprawled across the steps of the dugout entrances, half hanging from the dugout bunks, or on the floors of the tunnel. The wounded had been given first-aid treatment, and our soldiers were giving them a share of their rations and cigarettes. Some of our men were searching around for German souvenirs, the invariable practice after the first excitement of an attack is over. I tried to talk to some wounded Germans, but couldn't get very far with the conversation, then left them some cigarettes and passed on. We found many things of value. The Boches had set up an electrical listening-instrument in the chalk from the tunnel below, but had apparently, unfortunately for themselves, neglected to listen to our underground work in the clay above.

Attacks were made almost daily on this front. A week or so before the attack just described, a party of the Leicester Regiment had suffered badly. A party of some 200 wounded infantry, including, I believe, some other units, had been captured by the Huns and placed for the time being in a German barbed-wire prisoners' cage in the village of Fontaine-les-Croisilles. This village was a popular target with our artillery, and soon after these British soldiers had been placed in the cage it was shelled badly by the English gunners.

The account comes from a wounded corporal whom we helped to haul in over the parapet one night. He stated that during the bombardment the Hun sentries bolted and all these prisoners who could walk or crawl escaped, a few of them, including himself, managing to reach No Man's Land and at night our own trenches. Although a prisoner for only a short time, his account of the treatment accorded them confirms all of the stories of the brutality inherent in the German race. No treatment was given to the wounded, not even first-aid. No water or food of any kind was allowed them, and whenever a German guard noticed a prisoner looking up or around, he was struck over the head.

The same night a sergeant of the same battalion crawled back over our parapet after having spent four days in No Man's Land with a broken arm. The poor chap had been bombed, and sniped at as he crawled painfully back, and machine-guns all along the line had opened fire on him. No one was to blame; all sentries have explicit instructions to fire at anything moving in No Man's Land. It was a marvel he even reached our parapet, but he told us there were other poor fellows out there still alive. Rescue-parties were instantly organized and brought in all the poor chaps they could find.

One of our own tanks had broken down in a previous attack and was now lying in a shallow sunken road about twenty yards from our most advanced position. The caterpillar tread of this machine had broken, and it was then occupied by an infantry detail, the former tank crew having gone back to man another tank. From this machine we could get good observation of the enemy trenches. To get to it in daytime we had to double across the road and get inside in a hurry.

It is an unfortunate fact that many of our men were wounded from our own shelling in these Hindenburg trenches. When a programme "strafe" by our heavy guns and howitzers was planned on the nearest enemy trenches, it was the practice to withdraw the infantry and engineer parties who were on duty or working in our most advanced trenches. With the ever-increasing destructive radius of our heavy H.E. shells it was impossible to avoid a certain percentage of casualties of this nature. Occasionally also other shells would burst short. I was standing by the side of a sentry one day when his arm was broken by a shell fragment, and every one can record instances of close shaves from them.

With the bulk of the German troops opposite us in deep dugouts most of their time, it was an increasing problem with the gunners to secure targets. I was observing one day with an F.O.O. when we spotted a couple of Boches running across from one trench to another. He promptly called to his telephonist to order three guns of Battery No. —— (three-inch) to open fire on them. At the same time he remarked: "We're doing lots of sniping with our eighteen-pounders these days."

One day about this time I was walking back to the village of HÉnin with my section commander when a staff limousine pulled up on the road and a staff captain and half a dozen correspondents stepped out. The staff captain inquired as to whether there were any of the new heavy howitzer batteries near us and, if so, could we recommend them as being reasonably safe. The correspondents wished to see some in action. As it happened, there was a 9.2-inch battery quite close and we introduced these gentlemen to the gunner major in charge of the battery. Mr. Hilaire Belloc was pointed out to me as one of the party. I understand the latter gentleman walked on to the first Hindenburg line shortly after.

Our main company camp at this time was at Boisleau-St.-Mare, some three to four miles back. We could usually figure here on being out of the war, as we expressed it. Nevertheless, one day when we were at lunch in one of the Nissen huts, of corrugated-iron construction, the Huns were shelling an observation-balloon near us. Numerous fragments struck the hut. Some of us decided to lunch in our tin hats. One of the mess-waiters was severely wounded in the head at the same time. The shelling of camps at this distance was rather exceptional, though, and only occurred at intervals.

My furlough coming due toward the end of May, I applied to the brigade commander for leave to visit Paris. The request was not granted, apparently on account of the fact that too many officers were applying. Instead of going to Paris, I crossed over to London for the ten days' "permission."

Whilst in London and some two days before I left to return to the trenches in France, General Pershing and his staff arrived in Liverpool and came on down to London. Since our declaration of war I had been trying very persistently to transfer to our own army, but had not had much success. General Pershing and his officers were stopping at the Savoy Hotel. I immediately called on some of the engineer officers, being delighted to see and talk to some real American men again after such a long time. The officers were much interested and did their best to straighten matters out so that I could be at once transferred. Unfortunately, there was some red tape to unentangle, and finally I was advised to hand in my written resignation as a British officer and ask the British authorities to accept it on the grounds that I wished to join my own army, and thought my experience would be of value in training our men. Accordingly I mailed my resignation from London to my commanding officer and returned to the trenches.

On my return to the Cambrai sector I found my section were engaged in salvaging enemy timber and other material from the old German lines near us. After a short time at this work I was ordered to take command of another of our company sections who were at that time building new dugouts near the Hindenburg trenches close to Bullecourt. There had been a recent mining alarm there, but our fellows had, as I was informed, satisfactorily disposed of it. In the course of a few days I received a "chit" (note) from the brigade major of the infantry occupying the sector, stating that "suspicious noises believed to be enemy mining" had been reported from a Lewis-gun party who were occupying a "Mebus" (old German pill-box) at the end of Lump Lane, the latter a forward trench which served as a communication between two firing-trenches. Accompanied by an experienced miner I visited the "Mebus" and we both listened for some time. We heard the enemy working, but could get nothing satisfactory from this spot. A short distance from the "Mebus" in No Man's Land we found an old dugout entrance which had been half filled in with loose earth. We carefully crawled down this and listened. Very soon we heard the Germans talking and walking past in the gallery below us, going past us and in the direction of the "Mebus." One man would go down while the other remained on top in order to cover against surprise. Every time we moved whilst listening in this entrance a shower of dirt would slip and run down the sides of the gallery, making considerable noise. This was not pleasant, as we expected the Huns to hear it. We reported the situation to the infantry and advised their withdrawing their post from the end of Lump Lane. In addition to the Lewis-gun post there was a bombers' post of four to six men within twenty yards of the former. The infantry company commander was very loath to act on our advice, particularly as the "Mebus" was an admirable observation-post.

The next day the divisional commander visited this sector of his front and, hearing of the suspected mining, ordered me to report to him. At the battalion dugout I repeated to him the advice I had given the company commander, with the result that he promptly instructed the latter officer to withdraw the posts referred to.

In order to play safe, we at once started to counter-mine from trenches a little farther back. A few days later the Huns fired a mine almost directly under the "Mebus." The infantry occupying the former post would most certainly have been all killed.

It was quite evident that, although the trenches above had been captured from the Boche, below ground the old tunnels had not been destroyed at this place. Usually, as the Huns retired in the Hindenburg line, they destroyed the galleries below as well as barricading the trenches on top.

Our work in the Hindenburg trenches was most interesting. Relics of the former inhabitants were around everywhere, buried or half buried in the trench above and lying around in the galleries below. Uniforms, equipment, bombs, ammunition, even black bread and sausage, cigars, beer, and numerous other things were found. The work of cleaning them out was a big task. All dugouts have a peculiar "fug" of their own, but these German dugouts were particularly unpleasant. The work of repairing the tunnels and rebuilding these parts which they had destroyed was given to us. Most of my company were split into small parties, and our work extended for several miles along this front. Some six or eight of our men would be detailed to dugouts or other work, and each of these parties would have usually from fifteen to twenty infantrymen to assist them.

At this time the Australians were having some very heavy fighting at Bullecourt. The enemy had made over twelve counter-attacks in attempting to recover the positions lost. The roads through Croisilles and up to the trenches were badly shelled. The alertness of the military police stationed at crossroads certainly saved many casualties. The familiar "shelling up the road, sir," often prevented our running into bad spots. We would wait for a short while and then go on.

Our men, instead of marching up the roads in artillery formation, would in the daytime hike across the fields in groups of two or three, usually trying to avoid battery positions. This undoubtedly reduced our casualties. We gave them always a contract task to do, such as placing three or four sets of timber, excavating the necessary dirt and camouflaging the latter.

After long experience we found this method the most satisfactory. When their work had been passed by the shift non-com., they could go out to their camp. These section camps were approximately from a mile to a mile and a half back of the trenches. For a time whilst in the Bullecourt trenches we occupied dugouts in a chalk quarry in the support-line. When things were fairly quiet we would ride right up to this point on our motorcycles. These chalk dugouts were also the regimental headquarters and first-aid post. In a cubbyhole opposite ours in these quarters I met one of the most genial M.O.'s (medical officers) I ever knew. His good humor was infectious and his light, cheery badinage to his patients of the utmost value. On the 18th of July, after having been up on our two days' shift, I said good-by to this officer, thinking I would be back again in another forty-eight hours. On my arrival at the section-camp I was greeted with the news that my resignation had been accepted and that my name had appeared in the official paper, the London Gazette with the following announcement: "Temp. Lieut. H. D. Trounce relinquished his commission and is granted the honorary rank of second lieut., Royal Engineers—July 15th."

I had been serving in the trenches as a civilian since the 15th of July. As a matter of fact, I left the quarry at the right time. On July 19th the Huns were shelling them with 250-mm. shells. Most of them burst on top, each making craters about 30 feet wide and about 15 feet deep, though one with a defective fuse did not burst, but penetrated through some 18 feet of hard chalk to our dugouts and buried itself 15 feet below the floor about 10 feet away from our bunk. Fortunately it did not burst there, though 4 or 5 men were killed by the timber it smashed as it came through. The total penetration was over 40 feet.

Conclusion

My experience has been in no way unique; thousands of other men have gone through and are now experiencing much greater risks and hardships than any I have so far encountered. Fortunate men like myself live to write or talk of them, but in doing so feel almost contemptible to themselves when they compare their lot with those of the men who have given their lives and their all in the great sacrifice for the cause of humanity. However, we have taken our chance and now we are only too glad of an opportunity to tell of the bravery and cheerfulness of our comrades in the trenches. In my account I have related a number of characteristic incidents which came within my own observation, or which happened on our small front. Thousands of such incidents are happening every day all along the line and are a part of the every-day life.

On my return to the United States I returned to California for a short vacation and the rest I badly needed. In October, 1917, I received a commission as a captain in the Engineer Reserve Corps, and reported again for duty, and I now am expecting that I will be shortly ordered overseas again.

When I return this time it will not be for love of adventure, curiosity, or any such reason, only the same sense of duty which impels most of us to the task. Although there is undoubtedly a certain fascination which admits of no reasonable explanation in living in and going up to the trenches, I have never yet met a man who has spent a long period there who can truthfully tell me he really likes it.

Our great army is still new to us, but, nevertheless, I believe it is the duty of every person with a fair sense of justice, to learn to distinguish between the various aims of the service. The infantryman is the man who undergoes most of the dangers and risks, the real fighting man, and the man too who experiences the greatest hardships and discomforts. Find out if you can where a man has served, whether it was in the trenches or in a more or less comfortable billet in a village far from the lines and appreciate him accordingly. When successful actions occur in which the infantry, as usual, are the main heroes, don't forget the work of the engineer which made much of the success possible. A lady said to me recently: "Why, the engineers are in no danger, they don't go into the trenches, do they?" I hope that my account of an engineer's life at the front will do something to dismiss such ideas.

Every man and woman who plays his or her full part in this great struggle is justly accorded honor, and the greater the sacrifice the greater the honor.

I would not depreciate for a minute the value to the country of those men in the rear of the lines who are a necessary and vital part of the machinery of war, but I am jealous for the men who suffer most and endure almost unbearable hardships in the real trenches.

No officer who has served in this campaign has anything but the most unstinted praise for the men in the ranks—the real workers and the real fighting men. Many of us have felt at times that we were hardly fit to even tie their shoe-laces, such examples of cheerfulness and courage did they set us, and such inspiration did they afford us with their never-tiring devotion. Thoughts of this nature occurred to me last year when we buried one of our own lads just behind the lines, and paid him the last and only salute that an enlisted man receives. But his memory will never die!