TANKODROME LIFE.

Hawera & Normanby Star, Volume LXXIV, Issue LXXIV, 27 September 1918, Page 3

TANKODROME LIFE.

THE MEN AND THEIR MACHINES

A sharp turn up a leafy lane suddenly brings to view a few acres of yellow, grassless earth, cunningly bidden between _ pasture and cornfield, flattened as if by countless steamrollers, ■''and criss-crossed by myriad ladder-like tracks, the "spoor" of the tanks (writes a correspondent in the Daily Mail). . . .Save for a hut or two, a sentry and two silent '".buses" undergoing some operations at the hands of the Tank engineer, the M.O. and bloodless surgeon of all sick tanks, the place is deserted.

The rest, due back/have been driving, testing, or firing at some improvised range to keep gunner and driver up to concert pitch. Presently a low droning sound like a swarm of super-bumble bees is heard, growing louder and louder, till at length the foremost ' 'bus appears over it neighboring crest, plunging down a narrow clover-flanked track, followed by the rest in Indian file, a line of crawling forts raising clouds of y«ilow dust, for all the world like come great prehistoric herd. The leading "bus" 6wings through a gap in a hedge, nose round, and shuffles over to its own lines; after a little, manoeuvring, when settled in its own stand, the roar of the "revving" engine becomes a gentle purr as it throttles down to tick over. Doors open and the crew emerges, a little band in greasy overalls (the officer epotted by hie stars), their faces black with dust and grime, but eerenely content.

Tools, oansv etc.. are got out, and the job of filling tip commences. Thii must be done before anything else, even if teas are getting cold, in order to be always ready for & move. In a corner of the Tankodrome, under some trees, a sentry, with revolver in holster in place of 'the familiar rifle, mounts guard over a couple of Niaeen huts whence stores are drawn.

Thither some of the crew are marched to obtain petrol, oil, grease 3 water, ammunition—enough to fill their pete capacious maw. The remainder of the crew are busy greasing a legion of bearings and grease cups, filling oilers, -cleaning up inside, clearing ammunition rackg of "empties," and making minor adjustments.

Meanwhile the remaining tanks have pulled iin and been dressed in their respective lines, and little groups of men working round their particular machines show that iihe same process is being undergone. Engines switched off, after a few bangs and coughs, are silent; voices can be heard more plainly, and adjectives familiar dn all cornersi of the British Isles float through the evening air.

Tank crews are extremely cosmopolitan., representing- all trades and regiments. They work long hours under trying conditions, but are always cheerful and ready for a jest. Each section commander inspects his own "buses"; they are then camouflaged to deceive any inquisitive Hun airman. The crew fall in and are marched off to grub and well-earned rest.

With darkness comes quiet, broken only by the tread of the sentry, while through the _gloom under a silhouetted line of inevitable poplar may be discerned a line of dark-sheeted shapes, motionless and ghostlike, but capable of being transformed in a few minutes into plunging death-dealing mojn&ters.