Wednesday, August 31, 2016

Over the Top -- Chapter XIX -- August 31, 2016

Arthur Guy Empey was a member of the US Cavalry who resigned to volunteer for the British Army during World War One. He was wounded during the Battle of the Somme. When the US entered the war, he tried to rejoin the US Army, but was rejected because of his wounds and possibly because of some disparaging comments about American draftees. He wrote a book, Over the Top, about his experiences during the war. With the 100th anniversary of the war, I thought it might be interesting to post his story. Empey later became a prolific pulp magazine author, a movie star and producer, and a playwright. 

Richard Albert Canfield was a famous American known as the King of the Gamblers.

I'm sorry about the anti-Semitic comment.  

CHAPTER I -- From Mufti to Khaki
CHAPTER II -- Blighty to Rest Billets
CHAPTER III -- I Go to Church
CHAPTER IV -- Into the Trench
CHAPTER V -- Mud, Rats and Shells
CHAPTER VI -- "Back of the Line"
CHAPTER VII -- Rations
CHAPTER VIII -- The Little Wooden Cross


OF course Tommy cannot always be producing plays under fire but while in rest billets he has numerous other ways of amusing himself. He is a great gambler, but never plays for large stakes. Generally, in each Company, you will find a regular Canfield. This man banks nearly all the games of chance and is an undisputed authority on the rules of gambling. Whenever there is an argument among the Tommies about some uncertain point as to whether Houghton is entitled to Watkins' sixpence, the matter is taken to the recognized authority and his decision is final.

The two most popular games are "Crown and Anchor" and "House."

The paraphernalia used in "Crown and Anchor" consists of a piece of canvas two feet by three feet. This is divided into six equal squares. In these squares are painted a club, diamond, heart, spade, crown, and an anchor, one device to a square. There are three dice used, each dice marked the same as the canvas. The banker sets up his gambling outfit in the corner of a billet and starts ballyhooing until a crowd of Tommies gather around; then the game starts.

The Tommies place bets on the squares, the crown or anchor being played the most. The banker then rolls his three dice and collects or pays out as the case may be. If you play the crown and one shows up on the dice, you get even money, if two show up, you receive two to one, and if three, three to one. If the crown does not appear and you have bet on it, you lose, and so on. The percentage for the banker is large if every square is played, but if the crowd is partial to, say two squares, he has to trust to luck. The banker generally wins.

The game of "House" is very popular also. It takes two men to run it. This game consists of numerous squares of cardboard containing three rows of numbers, five numbers to a row. The numbers run from one to ninety. Each card has a different combination.

The French estaminets in the villages are open from eleven in the morning until one in the afternoon in accordance with army orders.

After dinner the Tommies congregate at these places to drink French beer at a penny a glass and play "House."

As soon as the estaminet is sufficiently crowded the proprietors of the "House Game" get busy and as they term it "form a school." This consists of going around and selling cards at a franc each. If they have ten in the school, the backers of the game deduct two francs for their trouble and the winner gets eight francs.

Then the game starts. Each buyer places his card before him on the table, first breaking up matches into fifteen pieces.

One of the backers of the game has a small cloth bag in which are ninety cardboard squares, each with a number printed thereon, from one to ninety. He raps on the table and cries out, "Eyes down, my lucky lads."

All noise ceases and everyone is attention.

The croupier places his hand in the bag and draws forth a numbered square and immediately calls out the number. The man who owns the card with that particular number on it, covers the square with a match. The one who covers the fifteen numbers on his card first shouts "House." The other backer immediately comes over to him and verifies the card, by calling out the numbers thereon to the man with the bag. As each number is called he picks it out of the ones picked from the bag and says, "Right." If the count is right he shouts, "House correct, pay the lucky gentleman, and sell him a card for the next school." The "lucky gentleman" generally buys one unless he has a Semitic trace in his veins.

Then another collection is made, a school formed, and they carry on with the game. The caller-out has many nicknames for the numbers such as "Kelly's Eye" for one, "Leg's Eleven" for eleven, "Clickety-click" for sixty-six, or "Top of the house" meaning ninety.

The game is honest and quite enjoyable. Sometimes you have fourteen numbers on your card covered and you are waiting for the fifteenth to be called. In an imploring voice you call out, "Come on, Watkins, chum, I'm sweating on 'Kelly's Eye."'

Watkins generally replies, "Well keep out of a draught, you'll catch cold."

Another game is "Pontoon" played with cards; it is the same as our "Black Jack," or "Twenty-one."

A card game called "Brag" is also popular. Using a casino deck, the dealer deals each player three cards. It is similar to our poker, except for the fact that you only use three cards and cannot draw. The deck is never shuffled until a man shows three of a kind or a "prile" as it is called. The value of the hands are, high card, a pair, a run, a flush or three of a kind or "prile." The limit is generally a penny, so it is hard to win a fortune.

The next in popularity is a card game called "Nap." It is well named. Every time I played it I went to sleep.

Whist and Solo Whist are played by the highbrows of the Company.

When the gamblers tire of all other games they try "Banker and Broker."

I spent a week trying to teach some of the Tommies how to play poker, but because I won thirty-five francs they declared that they didn't "Fawncy" the game.

Tommy plays few card games; the general run never heard of poker, euchre, seven up, or pinochle. They have a game similar to pinochle called "Royal Bezique," but few know how to play it.

Generally there are two decks of cards in a section, and in a short time they are so dog-eared and greasy, you can hardly tell the ace of spades from the ace of hearts. The owners of these decks sometimes condescend to lend them after much coaxing.

So you see, Mr. Atkins has his fun mixed in with his hardships, and, contrary to popular belief, the rank and file of the British Army in the trenches is one big happy family. Now in Virginia, at school, I was fed on old McGuffy's primary reader, which gave me an opinion of an Englishman about equal to a '76 Minute Man's backed up by a Sinn Feiner's. But I found Tommy to be the best of mates and a gentleman through and through. He never thinks of knocking his officers. If one makes a costly mistake and Tommy pays with his blood, there is no general condemnation of the officer. He is just pitied. It is exactly the same as it was with the Light Brigade at Balaclava, to say nothing of Gallipoli, Neuve Chapelle, and Loos. Personally I remember a little incident where twenty of us were sent on a trench raid, only two of us returning, but I will tell this story later on.

I said it was a big happy family, and so it is, but as in all happy families, there are servants, so in the British Army there are also servants, officers' servants, or "O. S." as they are termed. In the American Army the common name for them is "dog robbers." From a controversy in the English papers, Winston Churchill made the statement, as far as I can remember, that the officers' servants in the British forces totaled nearly two hundred thousand. He claimed that this removed two hundred thousand exceptionally good and well-trained fighters from the actual firing line, claiming that the officers, when selecting a man for servant's duty, generally picked the man who had been out the longest and knew the ropes.

But from my observation I find that a large percentage of the servants do go over the top, but behind the lines, they very seldom engage in digging parties, fatigues, parades, or drills. This work is as necessary as actually engaging in an attack, therefore I think that it would be safe to say that the all-round work of the two hundred thousand is about equal to fifty thousand men who are on straight military duties. In numerous instances, officers' servants hold the rank of lance-corporals and they assume the same duties and authority of a butler. The one stripe giving him precedence over the other servants.

There are lots of amusing stories told of "O. S."

One day one of our majors went into the servants' billet and commenced "blinding" at them, saying that his horse had no straw, and that he personally knew that straw had been issued for this purpose. He called the lance-corporal to account. The Corporal answered, "Blime me, sir. the straw was issued, but there wasn't enough left over from the servants' beds; in fact, we had to use some of the 'ay to 'elp out, sir."

It is needless to say that the servants dispensed with their soft beds that particular night.

Nevertheless it is not the fault of the individual officer, it is just the survival of a quaint old English custom. You know an Englishman cannot be changed in a day.

But the average English officer is a good sport, he will sit on a fire step and listen respectfully to Private Jones's theory of the way the war should be conducted. This war is gradually crumbling the once unsurmountable wall of caste.

You would be convinced of this if you could see King George go among his men on an inspecting tour under fire, or pause before a little wooden cross in some shell-tossed field with tears in his eyes as he reads the inscription. And a little later perhaps bend over a wounded man on a stretcher, patting him on the head.

More than once in a hospital I have seen a titled Red Cross nurse fetching and carrying for a wounded soldier, perhaps the one who in civil life delivered the coal at her back door. To-day she does not shrink from lighting his fag or even washing his grimy body.

Tommy admires Albert of Belgium because he is not a pusher of men, he LEADS them. With him it's not a case of "take that trench," it is "come on and we will take it."

It is amusing to notice the different characteristics of the Irish, Scotch, and English soldiers. The Irish and Scotch are very impetuous, especially when it comes to bayonet fighting, while the Englishman, though a trifle slower, thoroughly does his bit; he is more methodical and has the grip of a bulldog on a captured position. He is slower to think, that is the reason why he never knows when he is licked.

Twenty minutes before going over the top the English Tommy will sit on the fire step and thoroughly examine the mechanism of his rifle to see that it is in working order and will fire properly. After this examination he is satisfied and ready to meet the Boches.

But the Irishman or Scotchman sits on the fire step, his rifle with bayonet fixed between his knees, the butt of which perhaps is sinking into the mud, — the bolt couldn't be opened with a team of horses it is so rusty, — but he spits on his sleeve and slowly polishes his bayonet; when this is done he also is ready to argue with Fritz.

It is not necessary to mention the Colonials (the Canadians, Australians, and New Zealanders), the whole world knows what they have done for England.

The Australian and New Zealander is termed the "Anzac," taking the name from the first letters of their official designation, Australian and New Zealand Army Corps.

Tommy divides the German army into three classes according to their fighting abilities. They rank as follows, Prussians, Bavarians, and Saxons.

When up against a Prussian regiment it is a case of keep your napper below the parapet and duck. A bang-bang all the time and a war is on. The Bavarians are little better, but the Saxons are fairly good sports and are willing occasionally to behave as gentlemen and take it easy, but you cannot trust any of them overlong.

At one point of the line the trenches were about thirty-two yards apart. This sounds horrible, but in fact it was easy, because neither side could shell the enemy's front-line trench for fear shells would drop into their own. This eliminated artillery fire.

In these trenches when up against the Prussians and Bavarians, Tommy had a hot time of it, but when the Saxons "took over" it was a picnic, they would yell across that they were Saxons and would not fire. Both sides would sit on the parapet and carry on a conversation. This generally consisted of Tommy telling them how much he loved the Kaiser while the Saxons informed Tommy that King George was a particular friend of theirs and hoped that he was doing nicely.

When the Saxons were to be relieved by Prussians or Bavarians, they would yell this information across No Man's Land and Tommy would immediately tumble into his trench and keep his head down.

If an English regiment was to be relieved by the wild Irish, Tommy would tell the Saxons, and immediately a volley of "Donner und Blitzen's" could be heard, and it was Fritz's turn to get a crick in his back from stooping, and the people in Berlin would close their windows.

Usually when an Irishman takes over a trench, just before "stand down" in the morning, he sticks his rifle over the top aimed in the direction of Berlin and engages in what is known as the "mad minute." This consists of firing fifteen shots in a minute. He is not aiming at anything in particular, — just sends over each shot with a prayer, hoping that one of his strays will get some poor unsuspecting Fritz in the napper hundreds of yards behind the lines. It generally does; that's the reason the Boches hate the man from Erin's Isle.

The Saxons, though better than the Prussians and Bavarians, have a nasty trait of treachery in their make-up.

At one point of the line where the trenches were very close, a stake was driven into the ground midway between the hostile lines. At night when it was his turn, Tommy would crawl to this stake and attach some London papers to it, while at the foot he would place tins of bully beef, fags, sweets, and other delicacies that he had received from Blighty in the ever looked-for parcel. Later on Fritz would come out and get these luxuries.

The next night Tommy would go out to see what Fritz had put into his stocking. The donation generally consisted of a paper from Berlin, telling who was winning the war, some tinned sausages, cigars, and occasionally a little beer, but a funny thing, Tommy never returned with the beer unless it was inside of him. His platoon got a whiff of his breath one night and the offending Tommy lost his job.

One night a young English Sergeant crawled to the stake and as he tried to detach the German paper a bomb exploded and mangled him horribly. Fritz had set his trap and gained another victim which was only one more black mark against him in the book of this war. From that time on diplomatic relations were severed.

Returning to Tommy, I think his spirit is best shown in the questions he asks. It is never "who is going to win" but always "how long will it take?"

Next: CHAPTER XX - "Chats With Fritz"

Sunday, August 28, 2016

Joe Panik Wow -- August 28, 2016

We took BART and Muni Metro to see the Giants play the Braves.  We had nice seats.  Madison Bumgarner gave up a run in the first inning, and then settled down.  The Giants tied it, then went ahead.  The Braves came back, but the Giants scored eight runs in the seventh.

Joe Panik had two home runs.  

It was Mike Krukow Day.  We received bobble heads honoring his 20-win season.  They played a video and everyone gave him an ovation after. 

After the game, we paused to look at the recently unveiled statue of Gaylord Perry.

We had dinner at the Surf Spot.  We sat out back.  A surf band was playing. 

Thursday, August 18, 2016

Bobby McFerrin -- August 18, 2016

Bobby McFerrin has passed on.  We will all miss him.  He lived in Montara. 

Monday, August 15, 2016

Corcovado -- August 15, 2016

The Olympics in Rio de Janeiro have been fun. I have especially enjoyed the music.  I found some text and images from The South American Tour by Annie Smith Peck, 1913.  Corcovado now supports the famous statue of Christ the Redeemer.  Margaret Cameron published The Involuntary Chaperon in 1909. 

Corcovado. Most delightful to many of all the days to be spent at Rio will be that which is devoted to the Ascent of Corcovado; nor should it long be postponed. The first clear day or afternoon should be improved, as at some seasons clouds are frequent. Even setting out with a cloudless sky, one may find the goal shrouded in mist, or spread out below a mantle of softest sheen concealing in part or whole the glorious prospect beneath. There is a choice of two routes to the summit: both I strongly recommend; every one should go twice; but with time so limited that a single trip may be made it is desirable to go one way and return the other. The Sylvestre route begins by electric car, starting every half hour from the Largo da Carioca back of the Avenida Hotel. The other, longer or shorter, according to the point of departure, is all by cogwheeled railway; but the base station is 35 or 40 minutes from the Avenida. One takes here or farther out a car marked Cosme Velho or Larangeiras to the pretty station among the Santa Theresa hills, passing on the way the familiar Estrangeiros and Largo Machado, there turning to the right on Larangeiras, a street as yet unfamiliar. Near the end of the line on the left is the station, return ticket 3 milreis, where one enters a car open at the sides with sufficiently comfortable seats if you face upwards. The track, one meter wide, about two miles long, crosses the valley of the Sylvestre stream on an iron viaduct of three arches, each 80 feet wide, supported on iron pillars with a masonry base, then enters a deep trench, later crossing two more bridges.

At the first station, Sylvestre, those board the train who have come by electrics to this point. The latter, after a few rods of steep grade from Carioca, wind along the side of San Antonio Hill in gradual ascent, then cross on the picturesque double arches of the old viaduct to the outlying hill of the Santa Thereza ridge. Swiftly speeds the car affording but fleeting glimpses of the busy streets and the houses below. Winding along the hillside, soon passing the International Hotel, with many level stretches and moderate inclines, the outlook above or below is enchanting. Any description must fall far short of the reality. The conjunction of a great city with picturesque scenery, pellucid bays, ragged cliffs, and tropical vegetation is unparalleled. One sits enthralled with the vision of loveliness. One's entire vocabulary of adjectives such as exquisite, entrancing, magnificent, sublime, crowd upon the mind. A short distance away towers the massive Sugar Loaf, its cliffs so steep and smooth that apparently even a fly would find no foothold, unless with a liberal supply of Spalding's glue upon his little toes. My cry was not "O for the wings of a dove!" but for the pen of my gifted friends, Aked or Gifford, to attempt the glowing description the scenes deserve. Here are trees with great bunches of yellow flowers, somewhat resembling wistaria, but with a very artificial look. Many trees bear large scarlet flowers. One below is covered with white blossoms. Pretty villas and gardens are passed, the dwellings, pink, blue, green, and terra cotta. In bright sunshine smoked glasses may seem desirable to eyes not especially strong. As we skirt the hillside in many curves, the city below is now on our right, the gleaming bay, and curving shore; the next moment the steep slopes or cliffs above; and now we move through a dense and quiet forest. A good carriage road is here by the side of the track. A happy couple is occasionally seen strolling on a sequestered path. In January it was too warm to enjoy a climb, but a leisurely descent would at any time be a pleasure. In winter, June, July, and August, the ascent would be equally agreeable, and the opportunity to pause and enjoy the charming vistas no one could fail to appreciate.

At Sylvestre, about 700 feet altitude, where the transfer is made to the cog-wheeled railway, there is a little hotel where a cup of tea may be enjoyed and a short walk taken, unless close connection is made. In this case you must run across the track to the booth where tickets are sold, buying for the round trip unless minded to walk down; an excellent idea, as the time allowed above is short. Descending on foot to Sylvestre a car may there be taken every half-hour. The hours of the train on the cog railway should be carefully investigated, as they are few, and vary with the season; on week days formerly 10 and 2, on Sundays nearly every hour but the last descending at 5. Now on the cog-wheeled road, the grade is at times so heavy that if riding backwards you must brace or hang on, lest you slip from the seat. The train is run by electricity with four cables and an engine. Six kinds of brakes may be relied upon in case of accident; they never occur on this line, but occasionally on the tramway. Thick woods and a tangle of vines now mostly shut out the distant prospect, but these are fascinating. Mosses, ferns, and lichens, forest palms, tendril-draped trees with every shade of green, orchids, begonias, and other blossoms, trickling waters, narrow forest paths, sudden glimpses of the shimmering bay, of dark tree-tops, of massive cliffs below, or of craggy peak above, make every moment a delight. At the station Paneiras, alt., 1500 feet, is the Hotel Corcovado, with restaurant service at all hours and comfortable rooms, a resort for convalescents and others. It has a temperature 15° or 18° lower than in the city and delightful shady walks. At a little distance a clearing affords a wonderful outlook. The track ends at the foot of a cliff whence a good path of rather steep grade leads to the summit 100 feet above, crowned by the usual pavilion. This stands quite 2200 feet above the surface of the bay. One hardly pauses here, but descending a few steps goes on to the very end, the brink of the perpendicular cliff on the south side, with a sheer drop of 1700 feet, well protected by a substantial wall with a seat for the feeble or the loiterer. And who would not loiter here, with this beautiful vision spread out beneath! A panorama of surpassing loveliness! Oh, read Miss Cameron's Involuntary Chaperone! and you may gain some small idea of the enchanting scenes. In afternoon light, in sunset glow, in the quiet evening with the twinkling lights below and the serene moon above, this is a paradise for lovers, a fairy land for all. The view from Tijuca more beautiful! Who at Corcovado can believe it? Not I! But so some have said. Therefore to Tijuca must one go if possible. The electric cars marked Tijuca, which run from Praca 15th of November along rua Assembles, to the suburb, may be taken for the excursion. The ride is through a very different section, by the Canal do Mangue, then through clean streets, lined by comfortable dwellings of the middle class, some more pretentious with pretty gardens, nearly all painted in delicate shades of gay colors. In the really suburban section are many fine villas, and after a gradual ascent among the hills one descends 6 miles from the Avenida, at a park, alt. 1000 ft., called Boa Vista, on one side of which is a hotel; also an establishment where saddle horses may be procured, perchance an automobile, for the continuance of the journey. These are rather expensive; a carriage for an hour costs 20 milreis, nearly $7.00, an auto of course more. Walks, however, may be taken to many pretty spots. A few steps from the Square is a charming outlook over city and bay. At the farther side of the Square begins the Tijuca forest, and following the road one soon reaches (perhaps ten minutes) a picturesque little cascade. This road may be pursued on foot or horseback in 3 or 4 hours to the top of the mountain; alt. 3300 feet, from which is the superior view above mentioned. Other pretty spots to be visited in a drive of two or three hours are the Orotto of Paul and Virginia, the Grand Cascade, the Chinese View, the Emperor's Table, the Excelsior, the Solidao, etc. The Furnas at a distance of two miles is a fantastic arrangement of rocks and boulders, where an interesting garden has been established. The road which passes the Vista Chineza and the Emperor's Table leads down to the Botanical Garden through the rua Dona Castorina. Best of all is to make a day of it by automobile from the city, ascending the peak on foot or horseback, visiting all the points of interest, and taking the glorious ride around by Gavea and the Botanical Gardens on the return.

Wednesday, August 10, 2016

Trump -- August 10, 2016

New York Daily News, 10-August-2016

I haven't posted anything about Donald Trump's trail of slime through this election campaign.  I have not posted about the racism, the xenophobia, the treason, or the general idiocy.  But now he has called for someone to assassinate his opponent, Hillary Clinton.  If the Republican Party had any sense of shame, they would disavow him.  Instead they say he was joking. 

Friday, August 5, 2016

Classic Movie History Project Blogathon III -- August 5, 2016

Moving Picture World, 21-December-1918
Fritzi at Movies Silently, Ruth at Silver Screenings and Aurora at Once Upon a Screen are hosting the Classic Movie History Project Blogathon III.  From Fritzi: "While the last two events have been about chronology, this year we are focusing on specific aspects of classic film that are particularly juicy: The System, The People and The Films."

I decided to write about part of the System, Movie Theaters in the Teens (The 1910s, not the 2010s):

Day One (The System) recap:

Day Two (The Films) recap:

Day Three (The People) recap:
Day Four (The System) recap:
Day Five (The Films) recap:
Day Six (The People) recap:

Tuesday, August 2, 2016

Fisherman's Wharf -- August 2, 2016

Today we played tourist.  We drove to Fifth and Mission and rode the F line to Pier 39.  We walked around there and did some shopping.  We had lunch at I Hop and then went to the Musee Mechanique.  I was happy to see that The French Execution was there and working.  We walked around Fish Alley and over to the F line terminal.  We were sad to wind up on an F line bus.  We went to the Ghiradelli Store in the Palace Hotel and had milk shakes.  We walked back to Fifth and Mission and drove home.

I took the photo of PCC 1079, which is painted in Detroit Department of Street Railways livery.