CHRISTMAS-TIDE AT THE FRONT

Dominion, Volume 10, Issue 3006, 17 February 1917, Page 7

CHRISTMAS-TIDE AT THE FRONT

HOW THE. ZEALANDERS SPENT IT

SANTA CLAUS IN THE FIRING V line

(From Captain Malcolm lloss, ivitli the New Zealand Forces in tho Field.)

Christmas Day broko with a boisterous ivind after rain. At intervals throughout tho night our guns had bc-en busy. There was 110 cessation of hostilities on our part. Wo woke before dawn, had an . early, breakfast, and made for the firing-line. Tho General said it reminded/him of an August day in New Zealand when he was loath to get on his horso to make an early visit round the lambing paddocks. Ho would not bo loath to do it next August. But meantime his ,ono idea is to get on with tho war. As we walked along the communication trench listening to th'e squish! squish! of the duck-boards under out feet, memories of our last Christmas came to mind. Wehad left tho Peninsula of Gallipoli behind, and many of tho heroes of that campaign, which none amongst us regrets, .were either on Lemnos or nn tho sea, The General's A.D.C. became reminiscent. He was on board tho Simla. Tho Simla is now, I beleive, at the bottom'of tho sea. "You remember that feed wo had," lie said. "My word! I- do," replied the General. "It was just a day like this, cold, with a blustering wind, and we were all as miserable as a tin 0' crows,' added the A.D.C. "But that was a, meal —wo had everything we could wish for!" Apparently the A.P.0., like many another man, will remember that dinner to tho end of liis days. It ■ was not strange, perhaps, that'in those days we let our minds run a good deal on The Peninsula was not exactly Voisin's nor a Hotel de I{i£z. In the'field kitchen we found the cooks busy, and rows of great, pots bubbling on the wood fires of the sand-bagged cook-houses. There were plum biddings and_ other pood things in thoso pots. We met few men in the com-munication-trench. On to :the firingline. we went. It was a scene of dreary desolation. Everywhere mud' and water, and billows of bulging sandbags. They are called sand-bags by courtesy, for ■ they are filled with the' soft clav of French 1 Flanders, and such of them as ! nave been there a long time are so rotten that you can tear tho sacking with a sliglrfc pressure from your walk--mg stick. Tho dug-outs in which the men live aro dry but damp. Some have to be pumped out at intervals. "Wo bale her cut. every inornijig," said one hardy troglodyte. A battalion officer who was going the rounds with us slipped and fell headlong into the yellow mud andwater behind tho parapet. His name happened to be Treadwell. "I didn't tread well that time, sir," he said, smiling up at tho General, as he raised his face from the puddle, and' we all. laughed. For is it rttit, Cliristthe war we can still laugh. Wo looked into another dug-out. There wero some roundish parcels. They wore labolled "Parchment coated pudding," and the men were getting them ready. "Tiio drains ran full from thoso trenches, for there had been rain. Two men at a hand pump, keeping the water down. Thoy were ."earning their puddings. J We wished them a Merry Christmas. "It's a bit of a farce," said one of the pumpers. But we told him to be as cheerful as he could, and passed on.

_ Craves in the Firing-Line.., At intervals we came npon graves. They were tho graves of men killed in aotion many months ago. The mounds wero neat and trim, and on tho clay were crosses neatly made with cartridge cases. Crosses of various designs gave us the scant information that tho battlefield vouchsafes to fallen men. "To the memory of Private Joyce, 2nd ~ Sootti ," wo read. The rest had been torn away with a shell. Near by was a grave of a private of the Royal Irish Rifles. 'Scots and Irishmen had died here in the samo trench fighting l'or the same Kings. And thero were also tho graves of Sherwood Foresters and mon of the Devons and Middlesex, and othors. Each had its little wooden cross, about three feet high. And each had its inscription: "In loving memory," etc., and at the end the inevitable "lU.P." But the saddest of them all was tho simple sentence: "An unknown British hero lies here." It was amidst sufch scenes and surroundings that mon wore spending their Christmas at tlio instance of the Supermen of Germany. Behind' the lines were many pools—the shell, crabygone bombardments —and limbless, forlorn trees that once made these lands fair to look npon in springtime and in summer. But if our lines were desolate and dreary, what of the German lines? They were absolutely battered to bits. And the wire iu : front of them was torn and twisted by our artillery and trench mortar fire. Only last night our patrols had been out—right into the enemy trenches, and had found them uninhabited and uninhabitable. There were three well-mado concrete dug-outs thero that might be still useful with a little pumping. Even as wo walked the lines our shells were screaming against the wind overhead' to land behind tljo mesm front and spoil the Christmas of the Bocho. Wo were sending him oyer i iew sanples of our "plum puddings." The Bocho himself was strangely silent —perhaps brooding on his peace proposals, nerchanco thinking of retaliation. Tilers wero indications that his Christmas was not a very merry one The screoch of the shell's was varied witli the occasional crackle of a machinegun; at times with the crack of a sniper's rifle.

, Behind the Lines. We walked back down another communication trench, and so on to the level road, alonjj; which wo found our cai waiting beside a broken house. Later, we_ met the Corps Commander, and with him went the rounds behind the lines where the men who had the good luck to be out of the trenches were m comfortable billets, and tucking m at good Christmas fare to the music of their own bands. At the Divisional Kest Station, which, by the way, i s a credit to the Division, wo found a menu that tempted lis to stay— Mutton Broth. Braized Steak and Potatoes. Roast Lamb and Green "Peas Cold Ham. Plum Pudding and Brandy Sauce. Jelly and Custard.' ' Christmas Pies. Coffee. In a. biggish hall, formerly a school, now somewhat shell-torn, we enmo upon '"•Hie Dinkums" enjoying their Christmas. Hero there was no shadow of pessimism. Little wonder! Look at this operation order— Grand Dinner. "Stand to" : 12 noon. Barrage Lifts: 12.10 p.m. First Phase: Duck Walk Sou]). Sub-Objective: Stow (we don't think). Barrage: "Flying Pigs" (cold ham), Mashed Dug-outs, Onion Jack Pickles. Second Phase: Beef a la John Bull, Cabbage, "Baby Elephants," Potatoes (not Blighty). Barrage: "Plum Puddings"—lookout for tlio handle. "Rum Jar" sauce. Third Pliaso: Advanco through Pine Apples, Shells (nut), oranges, and other missiles, Minnio Wafer and Slirapnel

Biscuits, Mill's Bonbons and Other Stuff. FinaJ Objective: Beer (Bass Best XXXX Mas.). N.B. "tumblers" sent ! over by Fritz. Cigarettes—Packets (tens) Castles Three, medium, New Zealanders for tho use of. Stand down (if possible) 1.30 p.nu Ambulances if necessary. Sick parade 2 a.m. What's the use of worrying! As a matter of fact none worried, there was no sick parade, and the ambulances were not necessary. From ono unit to another the Corps Commander and tho Divisional General went. Early in tho afternoon wo camc upon a, glorious roast of nork, and tho Corps Commander's A.D.C., who is of county family and a fine type of Englishman, could not resist tho crackling, which ho conveyed to his mouth with Jjio Ringers, greatly to the delight of *}/a men, and very much as tho discoverers of roast sucking pig did in Charles Lamb's immortal essay! And —tell jt not at G.11.Q. nor the Armv Council—the Corps Commander, and the Divisional General, and the rest of ns did the same. And we found it good. To cach gathering the Corps Commander said a fow cheerful words, telling tho men that if next spring thev fought as well as they did on Gallipoli and on tho Somme they would help in no small measure in the winning of tho war, and that by next Christinas thoy would be in New Zealand or on thoy _way there. At this there was cheering. ''

Santa Claus Arrives. It was a very kindly thought on tho part of tlio New Zealand Division to brighten the Christmas of the chHuren in tho villages whore wo are billeted. An officer was sent post liasto to Paris and came back with a vanload of toys and presents such as young children love to get, especially at Christmas. I have just eotno in from one of tlio entertainments provided by the division, and before have i seen such an enthusiastic and excited throng of happy children. Many of them, poor things, have lost lathers and brothers. Some of them even have, had sisters and mothers killed in the war, for the shelling.of some of tho villages along this part of tho front has been very fierce. Hut to-day all these little ones were happy, for was there not a great Christmas tree reaching nearly to the roof of tho "JCapai" Theatre (Imilt for us by the Maoris), and was there not also a real Father Christmas (a young Frenchman of the Corps of Interpreters) bent down with', the weight of years and tlio groat sack of toys that he carried on his back? And there was the orchestra of-tho Field Ambulance, and a speech by the Sub-Prefect- (who looked handhis gay uniform with the medal of the Legion of Honour on it), and conjuring triclcs' by Bishop Cleary, of Auckland, and choruses by '/The Kiwis" (who aro our own particular theatrical party), and inimitable laughter-raising songs by an officer who is tho head alternately of a trench mortar battery and our theatrical department. We sang tho "Marseillaise" whole-hearted-ly, and a band of young schoolgirls sang a patriotic chorus, and finally thero was Father Christmas and his toys. The hall was packed with some four hundred, children, and as many of their mothers and sisters as could get away, and every child wont home happy with some little gift from the men who have come further than any other soldiers to fight in this cruel war.' In a village nearer the guns, on the eve of Christmas, I witnessed a similar sccne. Hero the children not only received presents, but something to eat and drink as well. The Brigadier-Gen-eral and the A.A. and Q.M.G! graced .the., entertainment, with their presence • —as the Divisional General did -.the 'bigger entertainment—and tho. cure in his black Tobes mado a charming speech of thanks. But thero was a difference. There was a great rent in. the ceiling of the building in which the children were gathered together. It had been made by a German sholl. Yet, braving tho guns, Santa Claus had come to the front in French Flanders. And. there was this further difference. Each tie cliild carried handy a gas helmet, neatly folded in its little khaki hag, for was thero not all this morning prominent in tho village street the big board witli tho painted sign—

DANGER! DE GAZ ASPHYXIANTS —just because the wind was from the direction o-f tho German trenches. Every week these little children are taught their gas drill, just as they are taught their spelling and their arithmetic, so that the tiniest tot knows just what to do if tlio alarum sounds and the poison cloud comcs along. Santa Claus and poison gas! And a little girl of four with her gas mask handy 1 What a reflection lipon tile methods introduced' by our peace-lov-ing friends tho Super Moil! Could President Wilson have glimpsed the scene he might liavo written a different-kind of Note. ' He might have realised that, thero is some differences in tho ideals for which we and the Germans aro fighting. Not three thousand yards away the Super Man and his. pois# gas! And here "Good King Weiiceslas" and a little girl of four with her eras mask handy.