It was exceedingly
dangerous work. They would crawl through the connecting trenches, which
were not more than three feet deep, and one must stoop to be safe, and get
to the front-line trenches with their cans of coffee. They would touch a
fellow on the shoulder, fill his mug with coffee, and slip him some
doughnuts. At such times the things were always given, not sold. They did
not dare even to whisper, for the enemy listening posts were close at hand
and the slightest breath might give away their position. The sermon would
be a pat of encouragement on a man's shoulder, then pass on to the next.
One morning at three o'clock a Salvationist carried a second supply of hot
coffee to the battery positions. One gunner with tense, strained face eyed
his full coffee mug with satisfaction and said with a sigh: "Good! That is
all I wanted. I can keep going until morning now!"
When the men were lined up for a raid there would be a prayer-meeting in
the dugout, thirty inside and as many as could crowded around the door.
Just a prayer and singing. Then the boys would go to the girls and leave
their little trinkets or letters, and say: "I'm going over the top,
Sister. If I don't come back--if I'm kicked off--you tell mother.
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