In about thirty minutes we reached the front Hue. It was dark as
pitch. Every now and then a German star shell would pierce the
blackness out in front with its silvery light. I was trembling all
over, and felt very lonely and afraid. All orders were given in
whispers. The company we relieved filed past us and disappeared into
the blackness of the communication trench leading to the rear. As they
passed us, they whispered, "The best o' luck mates."

I sat on the fire step of the trench with the rest of the men. In each
traverse two of the older men had been put on guard with their heads
sticking over the top, and with their eyes trying to pierce the
blackness in "No Man's Land." In this trench there were only two
dugouts, and these were used by Lewis and Vickers, machine gunners, so
it was the fire step for ours. Pretty soon it started to rain. We put
on our "macks," but they were not much protection. The rain trickled
down our backs, and it was not long before we were wet and cold. How I
passed that night I will never know, but without any unusual
occurrence, dawn arrived.

The word "stand down" was passed along the line, and the sentries got
down off the fire step. Pretty soon the rum issue came along, and it
was a Godsend. It warmed our chilled bodies and put new life into us.
Then from the communication trenches came dixies or iron pots, filled
with steaming tea, which had two wooden stakes through their handles,
and were carried by two men. I filled my canteen and drank the hot tea
without taking it from my lips. It was not long before I was asleep in
the mud on the fire step.

My ambition had been attained! I was in a front-line trench on the
Western Front, and oh, how I wished I were back in Jersey City.