WITH THE ANZACS.

Press, Volume LII, Issue 15657, 1 August 1916, Page 9

WITH THE ANZ ACS.

HIGH EXPLOSIVES

(From Captain Malcolm Ross, Official • War Correspondent with the Now Zealand Forces.) NORTHERN FRANCE. Juno 18. It takes some time to get ueed to new noises in war. At Anzac wo knew almost every gun by name, and could sleep through a dnet by "Beachy Bill" and "Startling Annie," to say nothing of the melody of our own howitzers and fiold guns. At times, when we wero very tired, oven the resounding bong from the destroyer o.i our flank failed to wako us. "Did you hear old Beachy popping off this morning?" was a frequent query. And as often as not the answer was in. the negative. We used rather to -admire "Beachy," and many friendly messages were left behind for him. "I have often wondered where he has pitcued his now emplacement. We had also a great affection for the destroyer. There were two of them—ouo on each flank —and their memory wiil live. Our particular destroyer was on the left, and the Lord, and perhaps the Turk, knows how much wo havo xo thank her for. Hero in France it is all different, and just as the eye iias to get used to new sights, so the ear has got used to new sounds. There xuo guns or so t many types and calibres, and a charming variety in bombs; from the docile '"juills," which, you can handlo affectionately before presentation to the enemy, to tho big, "fat trench-mortar fellows, describing a graceful arc from trcnch to trench; from the rifle gienade that goes away like a rocketting pnea:ant, to the raoro decorous flight of the ball thrown from tho big catapult, that reminds you of the times and expedients of 3 ulius C'sesar. And there are all the other sounds of war Even the first night in a towii near the iiring line is a novel experience. After a tiring day in the trenches and a lato dinner you go to bed ac peace with everyone—including the enemy. But that frame of rnincl does no"' last. In the so-called silence of tho night, a continuous rumble strikes in upon tho ear. It is the noiso that comes from many wheels of motor-lorries and carts, and it sefems to continue unceasingly. Night after night it will go «n until tho war ends. It comes from the transport, taking food, and ammunition, and timber, and wire, and goodness only knows what else besides. Before the war we thaught that rather a safe job. Yet there is not a night along our extensive fro it. that men are not killed and wounded at that work. About a week ago it wa« a stirring sight to see tho Australians galloping their teams along a shrnpnelled road at night in answer to a message for more ammunition for their guns. Tho men on the limbers sat with folded arms, as if on parado. The rumble of tho wheels goes on till far into the night. At intervals you recognise the old familiar tat-tat-tat-ting of machine guns. These are sweeping thej parapets or spraying tho roads and saps 'along which food for man and guns is being carried. Tho wonder is that so few are hit. At times you hear tho measured tramp of a platoon or company—a working party or a relief bound for tho trenches.

THE GUNS AT NIGHT. Probably towards midnight you are startled with a loud and continuous cannonade. It begins with an appalling suddenness, and increases in intensity. It may last for ten minutes , or for an hour, or for several hours. If for tho shorter period you know it is a raid ; if-for the longer you surmise a more general attack. You count, the discharges not by so many a minute, but by so many a second. The bigger shells go tearinjr through the \ air with a noise of rending cloth of huge dimension and great strength. The > smaller ones come with au insidious ' whistle and the crunch of high explosive almost before the whistle has ■ ended. These are "whiz-bangs." There , are others that como_ even a "bit quicker. Thev might be called the , "bang-whizzes/' And so the night goes on. What -we have been listening to is a mere madrigal of. war compared with the Wagnerian noises that rend i the air at Ypres and Verdun. RAIDING A TRENCH. | A few years ago such a cannonade as we have frequently had on our front — shells coining threo and four a Becond, and tho whole sky illuminated with their flashings—would presage a big battle. But when, after ten or. twenty minutes or an hour, the fire dies down, we know that it is only a small foray—what call a cuttragout expedition. For a few hundred yardft the enemy's trenches or our own, as tho case may be, are blown to bits, and most of the men in them killed or wounded or Btupefied. The men who ai'o to do the raiding then climb over their parapet, go with a rush Across the hundred yards or so of No Man's Land, jnmp into the trenches of the enemy, which are broached and battred beyond recognition, kill a few men. secure some prisoners and ma-terial-papers, bombs, fla' es, trench mortars, or even maohine-guns—and then get back as best they can to their own trenches through a hail of the enemy's shrapnel.' They are protected from serious attack by their own guns, which, as they start out, suddenly switch off right and left to prevent reserves coming alone the enemy trench and in the Wiiitro lift to form a barrage behind xnat will prevent help arriving fromthat direction. " On tho way back they may leave a few of their own men \dead or wounded in No-Man's land, but generally the honours are with the raiding party. As a rule, moro are killed and wounded by tho shelling. The matter is all thought out beforehand to the minutest detail—the calm and deliberate diabolicalness of it is simplv amazing. But remember it has all been made possible by the gentle apostles of culture —the peace-loving nation that, to save its own soul and body, had to wage a terrible cajnpaicn acainst warlike Belgium and militant England! VALOROUS WORK. Our patrols go out over our parapet at night, right up to the German wire. They listen to tno Germans talking; and recently they had heard amongst them some "rather juvenile voices. Occasionally they meet an opposing patrol, and then there is trouble. It is valorous .work this crawling through NoMan's land like a Red Indian through the prairie grass, especially yben flares are sent up and illumine the immediate surroundings, but there are lots of men who delight in it. Indeed, even for a non-combatant the temptation to make one of a patrol is hard to resist. A few nights ago a young Wellington officer out in charge of a patrol caine suddenly upon a German working party out to mend their wire. As tho New Zealanders were largely outnumbered they scuttled back to tho safety of their own trenches. As they gave the password and hurriedly over their own parapet, ono man making a great noise as he landed on a tin periscope, they seemed to be intensely amused. At all events, tho young officer greatly enjoyed the experience, and his acconnt of it, instead of being intensely dramatic, was concerned onlv with the humour of the situation. Be regarded it as a great bit of luck that he had been able to get oat on two night patrols within a week. An Otago member of Parliament who enlisted as a private, and is now a junior officer, had also the good luck to lead a night patrol into "NoMan's land. For such work there is no lack of volunteers*