A BRITISH HERO.

Greymouth Evening Star, 24 July 1918, Page 8

A BRITISH HERO.

CHARACTER SKETCH BY AN OEEICER. HEROISM AND CHEERFUL FORTITUDE. Tlie following* well-written story of Jiow a Cockney soldier fought and died for liis country is told by Lieutenant Morell Macalister, formerly of the firm of Macalister . Bros., Invercargill, who went Home early in tlie war and received a commission in a British heavy battery. Lieut. Macalister is an old boy of the Southland High School, and the story, which .reads as follows, appeared in the Southlaudian, the school magazine : We were in a new battery—one of the large number of new “heavies” then coming into being,—and were putting* on the final touches before “going* over.” T just saw him one Monday evening late in autumn among a number of .gunners, our prospective layers (No 4's), and their understudies, drawn up in a circle about one of our new ‘guns, the dial sight of which was being explained by our senior sergeant. It was evident that some of the men were keen, while others were under spell of their week-ends — well spent or otherwise. “When laying back, right is left and left is right,” the sergeant was saying, when he was ■visibly staggered by a piping Cockney voice asking: “Why is that, sergeant?” hhe lecturer, unable to meet the question, and moreover being* young and forgetful of the golden rule of gunnery, “Never attempt to explain,” launched out, got beyond his depth, hopelessly floundered, and in true military style bluffed on to another topic. But my eye caught the interrogator. 1 saw a small, thin man, with a humped back, a face lean to attenuation, and features irregular almost to grotesqueness. I mentally put him down as a reject from the field artillery, handed over to the garrison on the “mis”-understanding that in the “heavies” the work is lighter and the life less strenuous. Unfortunately, we have many such “rejects.” He had evidently a long way to go before he became a proficient No. 4 —capable of manipulating that wonderful instrument, the correct use and care of which were to form his constant employment. But I saw that he was keen. His meagre face was never turned from his instructor, and his dark, quizzical eyes glowed with interest. lor two months I have no recollection of him. . . . It was a wet and bitterly cold night in midwinter. The battery had dug in in the filthy mud of that huge graveyard—the Somme battlefield. A column of ammunition lorries had arrived about midnight, and the detachment on duty was unloading shell. Each shell weighed nearly a hundredweight, and formed a heavy load in the sticky mud as each man slung one on his back from the rear of the lorry. 1 was supervising when the N.C.U. in charge asked me to “Speak to (limner can’t get him to stop carrying.” I recognised him. Against all rules of discipline he expostulated at being sent off. “I want to do my bit, sir; I’m orlright,” and as he left I noticed he was weeping. During the winter months in our rat-infested splinter proofs in that position we had a gruelling time. By day and night continuous programmmes of firing* had to be carried out- No 3 gun was always first in action on any call at any time and the first man out in snow, frost, or rain on No. 3 was the Cockney layer. Never once did an order have to be repeated to him, and not content with his own work he insisted on helping the other men in their duties. I well remember the cheeriness of his “checking* back.” “Two-o-more right, Sir.” “One-o-more left, Sir,” came chirping* back on the blackest night to gladden my heart. He was never sleepily ill-tempered. It was often my duty to censor his letters. Well do 1 remember their wonderful spirit. “Dear wife, I am in the pink,” he would write, “and hope this finds you in the same. We are having a great

time sending- our pills over to Mr Fritz, and I guess ho don't like 219 Mattery, 11.F.A. We have bin especially recommended by the General lor our shooting, and I am awful proud* Mon know it's me that Jays the guns, dear, and all depends on me. Wat good would the work of all the others he unless I laid well. We have been guru him Hell the last day or two, and I wouldn’t he out of it—not for a million pounds. When 1 see he ’as dropping bombs on London. I thought you and the kids and I gues there wasn't many shells wo fired didn't go strait at the dirty dogs." The little fellow felt ho was playing a man’s part and rejoiced. He had mastered his job by now and was overjoyed at finding rematsßsemußm mrpmmmsKsgmaxamamaamtmmmmaaaanmmmm 1 m m i iiq

cognition in the form of a stripe. He was now an actiug-bombar-

dim-. . It was our destiny in tlie activities that came with the spring* to ho a “circus-battery”—always on the move. On our long* treks ho enlivened tiie journeys his bubbling* wit, and when at night lie halted, was ever in demand as chairman for the impromptu concerts in the moonlight. Should there be signs of the fun flagging, he> would mount the bully-beef box himself and set things going with quaint yarns and comic songs. Subsequently I learned that during these journeys he used to bet with his fellow-gunners continuously, and without reserve, always on one point and one way —that the war would be over and that at ridiculously early dates. Of course he lost invariably, and his losses swallowed up all his hard-earned and meagre pay. He insisted on paying each time, but his mates found divers ways of returning his money to him. Now we were entering upon the grim phases of the summer struggle. Barely _ did we take up a position which we could retain more than three weeks, and the casualties were heavy. Part of the battery was in rest some distance behind a fresh position. Alongside the rest cam.]) — shortly afterwards uninhabitable owing to hostile shelling—ran a main road—the famous or infamous main road into a bottle neck, through which all the ammunition and ration traffic had to pass. It Avas, needless to say, kept under almost constant shellfire by the Hun. At 10 o’clock one night the countryside was lit up by a red glare followed by deafening and continuous explosions from the road. An ammunition column of-3-ton lorries, carrying* heavy shell with cartridges, had been caught and Avas ablaze from front to rear. Without a word to the others, a party of five brave follows crept out from their dug-outs, and amid the deafening din crept from shell-hole fo shellhole right up to the road on which the burning lorries, or Avhat av*»s left of them, was standing. By one of those miracles eA ? ery soldier knows, they escaped injury both from the explosions of our own large shells, with Avhieh the lorries were loaded, and from those of the enemy, for the Hun was shelling the burning mass with rapid gunfire. By the light of the conflagration they could see fiA’e still forms lying on the road, and the miracle continued. Moav Avithout injury they got those poor wounded felloAvs out of that inferno and across to their dugouts, God alone knows I but they did, and shortly afterwards the ribbons of fiA’e Military Medals anpeared on two manly breasts! He Avas one of the fiA’e. Again A\ - e moA r od, and again into a “hot, corner.” Our ‘heavy’ artillew moving up was far from being in position: the Hun unexpectedly attacked, and avo, the heavy artillery in position, aaotc outnumbered by at least fiA’e to one, but the S.O.S- signals had been seen, the infantry Avere in trouble, and avp manned the guns under a bullish five, the linn was making the most of his opportunity, and was evidently making* unite sure that those “heavies” that Avere in position should not trouble him. Shells of several sizes Avere falling—there Avere gas, shrapnel, and high explosive. Evidently the devils were concentrating upon us. Manfully and cheerfully Avere the guns served until one only remained in action and site barked only spasmodically and more and more slowly. Volunteers Avere called to bring in the Avounded, and the men off duty responded as one. He Avas in the lead of the rescuers and had carried one man to safety and Avas stooping to lift another Avhen a splinter pierced his helmet and smashed his forehead. Tenderly they carried the little man in. He regained consciousness, only to protest, at being attended to while there Avere others Avaiting and to ask for a “fag.” When I suav him last he Avas in In’s dreams, hack again nt his post. Cheerily he saluted me Avith, “Two-o-more right Sir.” “One-o-more left Sir.” “Very good Sir.” and the joy of battle Avas in liis eve. Shortly afterwards he died, leaving* a living memory cherished by officer and man alike. I am nrond to have been Bis officer and friend.