MAJOR "O.O."

Dominion, Volume 10, Issue 3144, 24 July 1917, Page 6

MAJOR "O.O."

THE EYES OF THE GUNS (By Vernon Cnrtlett in the "Daily Mail.") There is no doubt that the infantryman lias the most unpleasant time in this, war, and there is no doubt that ho likes other people to-know it. But there is one job that is not always "cushy," and is apt to become- so exciting that tho "foot-slogger," safo in his trench, will mutter a little speech of appreciation of the fact that he is in the infantry. For the inaji 'who sometimes has "real hell" is tho Observation Officer, the eyes of the guns. Once, long ago, I made the discovery that the Hermans were digging hard lu their trench 35 yards away from us; 1 could occasionally see spades tossing up the earth, and "the earth always camo from the same place, which obviously meant that the Hermans* had some evil Intent—were mining or sapping; K-o we rang up the gunners, and twenty minutes later a major appeared in our trench, followed by a telephone operator who was carrying an immenso roll of wire and paying it out as he came along.

"Where's the young officer who's spotted tho Huns ut work?" asked the n:ajor. And very proudly—for I had only recently come out to the front—l stopped forward and showed him through a periscope where the digging was in progress.

"H'm! There's no doubt they're up to mischief," said the major, "but it's unpleasantly close to shell. You had better observe with me," and he handed me a periscope, and issued a host of instructions to the telephone operator. "They've fired, sir," said the operator, and a second later there was a most fearful rushing above my head, and 1 ducked as two shells passed over me and buret a little way beyond. "Bit too far," said the major; "what do you think?

I explained that I-had not seen very well—how could I see from the bottom of the trench?

So tho major issued a lot of instructions about degrees, and said, "Come down 25 yards/' Upon which I found urgent business-at the other end of the trench. But he had me back, and I crouenod there, my eye glued to a periscope, until tho German trench was battered almost beyond recognition. , And that appalling feeling that a jhell is just going to whisk off the top of your head as it passes has given me a wholesome respect for the Observation Officer. The Tree Target. And he is very well worth a respectful interest, for 1 know of no man who is apt to find himself in more dramatic situations. There was the case of an officer wbo once climbed a troo just behind the trenches before dawn and had tho misfortune to be spotted by the Germans. Their snipers sent one or two bullets whistling horribly close through the foliage in a manner which must have made the Observation Officer consider seriously what would happen when he emerged from between the branches to climb down the tree. And there he had to stay for fully five minutes, until we had stretched- out a blanket under the tree and had telephoned to his battery to shell for all they were worth to persuade the Hun snipers to 'keep their heads down. Then he jumped for safety, and escaped with nothing worse than a flesh wound in the arm. But still more unpleasant was the situation of a subaltern who used to observe from the cellar of a ruined house. He was thare one day with a telephone operator when tho Germans enddenly began to "crninp" the village, and the very first shell landed near the exit and completely entombed them. ,'" For over an hour the two men worked to make a hole out of their prison while the Germans dropped "heavies" all round tho house. And for tools they had nothing but a bayonet and a clasp-knife. When at last they had made an aperture wide enough to nllow them to escape, a shell hit the cellar as they were crawling out to safety. The telephone operator was killed outright, and the Observation Officer, pinned down l>y a block of masonry, had to wait for 14; hours until a passer-by found him. And nearly all the time the village was being shelled. As the Observation Officer stopped me on a shell-pocked road to tell me of his adventure, a machine-gun opened firo and the bullets swish-swished above our heads. "It's an exciting life at times," he said ns we ducked. "It is," I agreed fervently, and T hurried oft' to the blessed safety of.the firing-' line.