WAR AS IT IS.

Auckland Star, Volume XLVII, Issue 20, 24 January 1916, Page 8

WAR AS IT IS.

' "BOMBS." (By '-RANKER.' - ). A sergeant puts his head in at the door of the hut. "Pack up at once and stand ready to march at half an hour's notice." A babel of talk arises as the sleepers awake. We only came from the trenches two days ago, and the general opinion is that this "stand to" is a "try on" on the part of the authorities. However, we pack up. Parcels have only just arrived from home, and although a good deal has been spoilt by the rain, which comes in a continuous drip between the uncovered boards of the roof, a lot of things have to be left behind. One does not load oneself too heavily for a ten-mile march. ■Packing done and water bottles filled we all lie down again to get what sleep we.can. Almost at once it seems there ie a banging at the door. "Are you the L. C.O.s? Turn out and fall in at once." Hastily we pull on our equipment, seize our rifles, and fall in on the road outside. It is just dawn, and although the rain, has ceased, the air is damp and raw. "Fall in there!" says a voice. "Left turn! Quick march!" We are off again along the road we know too well which leads to the trenches. This time, however, there is a change. The first few miles is along the cobbles. Again and again we have toiled along it in the daylight. One or two of us at a time, we have straggled in at 5 in the morning dead to the world with fatigue. Farther along we have never before seen it in the light of day, and now for the first time we see the artillery dug-outs on the left, and on the right the old chateau seeming scarcely to have been touched by the shells.

We enter a communication trench, and now the walking is easy, for we tread on duckwalks. which form a wooden footpath along the bottom of the trench. We reach a deserted village, and just beyond a halt is called, and we sit down at the side of the trench. It is 10 o'clock and we have had no breakfast, but no cue seems inclined to eat more than a slice of bread and the eternal jam. For three hours we try to sleep, but at last the order to move arrives. "Leave your packs by the side of the trench with one mail' for company on guard." The words are ominous. Packs are always discarded before an attack. But so far we know nothing of our object.

Near the end of the communication trench we pass a company of "kilties"— a new draft apparently, for they are rather spick and span. And now another word Is passed down the line: •The Scots will fight without hats today." It is the old story apparently. The -Huns are fighting in stolen clothes. To-day kilt and bonnet together will be the mark of the beast.

At length we are out of the communication trench, and plunge into a wood. We have seen it a score of times before, but to-day it is so changed as hardly to'be recognisable. Old lines of trene*hes have disappeared. Old dugoutP"have been swept away,' and new ones have taken their places. A storm of shells has broken down the trees and obliterated almost all signs of the old occupation. The only" landmark that remains is the little cemetery with its white wooden crosses gleaming in the sunshine.

Now we begin to hear things. The South Midshires have lost a trench, and we are reinforcements. The Angles are to-attack on the left and the kilties on the right. There is to be "some" bombing. They march us up another trenSh into the firing line. It is right inside the wood, and the men of the South Midshires who hold it tell us that the Huns are in possession of about fifty yards of the trench just beyond. Our company .turns off into a maze of little trenches just behind the firing line. We halt ten or twelve yards behind the line. The trenches are only about three or four feet deep; there are no parapets and the bottom is a foot deep in thick, drying mud. All around is dense undergrowth. One can see only a few yards in any direction.

At three o'clock our guns open fire. The Hun guns join us, and between the two fires we are smothered by a rain of mud. stones, and leaves, broken branches and fragments of shell. One or two men are badly wounded.

The word comes down: "Pass down that our shells are falling short," and again, "Our shells very short"; but back comes the reply passed from man to man: "All wires broken; have sent messenger to headquarters." At last after half an hour or more tlie fire slackens, and at the same moment bombs begin to explode a few yards away. The attack has commenced. Some of the bombs fall near us, but none quite reaches us, although one can see branches flying into the air close by. Another message comes down: "LOC bombers wanted. More bombs wanted" and from-one trench and another the bombers crush by us and pass on towards the spot where the bombs are bursting. Then comes a stream of messages: "More bombs wanted." "Send more bombs at once." "Send bombs" bend down for more bombs." "Have sent to H.Q. for more bombs. No more here." "Must have more bombs." "LOC stretcher bearers wanted. Two bad eases." "Are there any kilties in the firing line?" "Two platoons of kilties are to reinforce on the left." "More L.O.C. bombers wanted."

The replies begin to arrive. Ba<*- after : bag of bombs, box after box. is passed up from hand to hand. No one knows whether they are the right sort, but all sorts are passed along. "Stretcher bearers cannot come up now." "x 0 more bombers to be found." The bombs appear to have been falling nearer than before, but now they have receded' ><rain and word comes down that the trench' has been retaken. We hear that a number of our men have been killed, but no names are. given.

The Huns are now using their heaver artillery. One gun in particular throws its shells in circles round and round the wood. They burst with a crash not unlike our own lyddite. One shell drops in the angle between two trenches not five yards away. We are covered with mud and half stunned by the shock "Are you all right?" calls the platoon sergeant. "All right." comes the answer, but the sides of our trench have caved in and one or two men are dragoinc themselves out of the fallen earth.°\ The day begins to draw in and in the dusk the bombing starts afresh. The Huns are making a counter-attack. The flashes of the exploding bombs follow each other in quick succession, and our men in the tire-trench open a heavy rifle fire. The messages start again: "Ammunition wanted at once in the firm" line." "More bombers and bayonet men wanted." "Send up more bombs at once"—this from two directions. "Reserve small-arm ammunition almost used lip; send up more slings." After some delay a box of loose-cartridges is passed j along, and later on lhe'*lings appear »ni.-_rs passed, .on-ten a.t a time.

"Thirty men wanted to reinforce «. left." "LO.C. keep a sharp lootonj' ' I "Pass down to O.C. of the L.O.d to sent ; 30 men to reinforce the left" "r, - I ■'■ O.C. of L.0.C.: Who does the ___S":. 1 come from?'' "Message" comes from 00 South Midshires: Send up 30 men of the 1 Midshdres." "Are those bombs eom*n»l I up?" The rifle fire increases in violence* the explosions of the bombs are almost' continuous; the wood is lighted up with the flashes. Every moment the crash of ' i a bursting shell drowns all other sounds. 1By degrees the uproar dies down and"' 1 only the shells continue to burst around I 3 us. The Huns have retired— such of ■«« them as are left, and we have time to 11 count our losses. " '.•' g For us there is no sleep, no rest even."- m We eat standing. There is a trench. to r be dug. sandbags to be filled, parapets to ' X be built and repaired. Everything „■_<;'' R be made ready for another attack at | dawn. {