Real Life Story

Hawke's Bay Tribune, Volume XIII, Issue 285, 17 November 1923, Page 11

Real Life Story

A ROUGH PASSAGE. d (By Major Lionel Gaitside. D. 5.0.) A PLATOON of British soldiers was 7 along the coast of tho White tt Sea in two four-oared fishing boats. >r Jar behind other boats were following n —some for the prisoners’ wo should - take. f night. On the shoreward side the fringe of the mighty forest, reach- ; mg almost to the water’s edge, showed t dark and inscrutable. Twelve miles e ahead of us lay an isolated village built 3 on a promontory, and approachable h ° nl y W sea. There the Red peril, ._ stretching out a hand from th e south, ■_ had taken hold A few wild men, we o were informed were collecting arms and coercing the peasantry. , A petty affair, no doubt, but tho Red canker spreads quickly. ’ It must be cut out while it is still localised. And so it was we found ourselves toiling through the night with a little r adventure awaiting us befo»> the dawn, i Now a British soldier in a rowing boat i may b o compared to a fish out of water He makes prodigious efforts, but e achieves little. Wq moved slowly in 5 those cumbrous boats. For six hours J we rowed with blistering hand 8 and spirits subdued until we came tn a > creek hedged in by an island, which ’ the map showed us to be four miles i from the village. ' Four miles to go and dawn in two hours’ time. Would it rob us of surprise, that factor so essential to sur--1 cess? Too Latei ■' We were resolving this pro- ' blem the boats grounded on the shore. ; lh o o d Russian guide beache.d them securely But as I stood up there came from the edge of th e forest, fifty vards away, an unmistakable sound familiar to every soldier’s ear—the working of i a rifle bolt. y° u ’” I shouted. ' Get right out of th© creek, quick?” I It was too late. Half a hundred rifles spat out at us. The pointed flashes illuminated the darkeness. I could hear confusing shouting. A bullet nearly knocked the steel helmet out of mv hand. I tripped and fell among my mates, and there I lav unable to think, niechanicnllv groping for a weapon, while many a bullet ploughed through the boat, taking a life on its way. ' < There could bo no escape. Why : should T wait? Assuredly one bullet would find me. Whv not go to meet < it and end the suspense? And so I jumped from the hows Fnr ’ a moment I stood waiting: then sud- , donlv. terrified. T turned and pushed. « Ye gods how T pushed at that boat. ' until, reluctantly it slid out into the 1 deep water. Missed. j With onn leg over tho gunwhale I s clung weaklv. Would some fricndlv I 1 current catch the boat and take it! r out? Oh. hope! Hope of very life. | ( and with it a terror -more intense. Al- ; 8 ready thev were upon mo. the nearest ' man within ten vards. Now he was '

waist-deep and within five yards. Oh, lucky chance be with me, strengthen the arm which madly flays the water with a steel helmet! Dear God—the man stumbles. Balked h© raises hi 8 rifle and fires into my face—yet misses And the boat is mov. ing out. Yes, 1 must have clambered into it somehow, but 1 cannot remember. It was picked up in the open sea by the others when they came up later, but only two of the fourteen in it would ever care. The second boat was never found. Treachery? I think so. For. when that Russian guide had beached the boats securely he disappeared towards th© trees before the first shot wao fireu.