The Soldiers' Mail-Bag.

Free Lance, Volume XV, Issue 792, 3 September 1915, Page 11

The Soldiers' Mail-Bag.

Excerpts from Letters from the Front.

THE following; most graphic account of an attack and the capture of a Turkish trench by a New Zealand force is l penned hy Sergeant Fred Hall-Jones, formerly a student at Victoria! University, and son of Sir William -Hall-Jones, of Wellington. He writes: "On April 25 we fought a great defensive battle for 24 hours; on May 8 ■we made a historic charge further down the coast, but it was not until June 4 that I had anv experience of hand-to-hand fighting and the thrill and excitement of battle. Let me describe it to you. Before sunset we surveyed the positions periscopically. - Fifteen yards ahead was the Turkish .trench, fronted with an 18in parapet of sand-bags, with iron loopholes at 6ft intervals —grim -and forbidding. My party, a full section, constituted the left flank of the -attack, and we were to capture that ■part of the trench immediately in front. Excitement of the Charge. "At the appointed time, when the nio-ht had settled thicklv. we crawled silently into the trench. Firing started -away, on the right, and bullets began to -crack on our heads. 'Get ready to charge!' The whisper was flung along the line, and each man had a full realisation that in. a few seconds he would •be xip among the bullets. With that thought one becomes all) steel and whipcord, nerve and sinew; one's blood warms and quickens, and the. brain works at the rate of a clock with the weight off the pendulum. "Then 'Charge!'—and we're into it. It took an age to struggle out of the trench, but I have no recollection of ■crossing the intervening space. I dropped down, in front of the Turkish parapet, which had miraculously appeared -at my feet, and, with a shattering medley of light and sound, a Turk_ fired through a loophole 6in to one side of me. The blaze from the rifle filled my -circle of vision much, as Halley's comet filled the heavens. But one's mind works quickly on these occasions, and, -firing down over the parapet into the blackness of the trench, I heard the Turk's rifle clatter to the -ground. With the exultation of getting my first man -came . . the ecstasy of battle . and, although generally a peaceful, lawabiding citizen, I became a primitive fighting savage. Moment of Exultation. "The flanks, meanwhile, are pouring a glorious symphony of lead and sound from the crackling trenches; grenades are flaming and •booming all around; shells from the big guns complete the discord! further beyond, and the night is rent into streaks and sheets of flame. '800-urn' go the bombs, vomiting flame and death at the Turks, and destroying the last vestige of their self-control. They are beaten! Their trench is a death-trap, a ratpit from which there Is no escape. Their rifles flash foolishly, like brief comets, through the loopholes, missing us as we fire down into the trenches. It is unsurpassable, magnificent ! Into the Trench. "I heard a voice cheering;, an insignificant molecule in the chaos of light

and sound. Surprised, I listened intently ; the voice was my own! The shock of the discovery brought my attention to the fact that I was not the only one fighting, and that the boys with me, only seven now, were also blazing away with that dash, recklessness, and contempt of danger for Avhich the New Zealand boys have made themselves famous. But, despite our fire, the rifles still flashed through the loopholes. Then we got the bombs working, and! the miniature volcanoes that spurted from the Turkish trench gladdened our hearts mightily. Then, and only then, was our little handful able to take the trench. 'Into it, into it!' and we plunged into the dark depths, yelling like madmen, bayoneted three Turks who remained, and the trench, carpeted with Turkish dead, was ours! A Good " Bag." "Then I had a chance to consider my wounds. One bit of lead had billeted itself in my shoulder, and another had opened a small artery in the back of my head. 1 plugged it for half-an-hour with my thumb, but it kept on bleeding, so I decided to crawl back, send up reinforcements,- and get the bleeding stopped. Frank: Mackenzie, who has since been promoted sergeant, took change when I left. A bullet had gone thi'ough his leg;, but he was as cool and calm as if on a fatigue party. He came back a couple of hours later, after calculating our bag at three of four Turks apiece. A few weeks in hospital, and we are both back at the front once more." * * * # "You just wait, we shall wipe them out in a few months' or a year. I haye not a mate left. If I get killed out here you will' know that I died happy because I know that I am doing nay duty. . . I will bring you a bit of turkey for Christmas dinner." —Bumard Osborne, of Foxton, with the Australian forces at Gallipol'i. * * * # The following is taken from a bright and interesting letter . from Private italph B. Anpleton (brother of Mr. Will Appleton, of Wellington') written from a field hospital at Gallipoli,. where he has been lying wounded : —

"The chaps I am with are a happy-go-lucky crowd, and the time passes nicely. They are all from Home but me in this marquee, and, of course, I get a good deal of questioning about New Zealand. They are a mixed lot— some Scotch', some Lancashire —and it as amusing to listen to them arguing £he point sometimes. I am a neutral party then, as I cannot understand them at times. One chap always chimes in after -this stvle : 'Thou knows nought abaht it, so pull aht.' When they ask me anything, it is always 'I say, New lZealand!' They are all shoi't chaps, and I am fully two inches taller than most of them. They reckon the Australians and New Zealanders are a wild lot of beggars, but they have a good word for them when it comes to fighting. One thing I noticed was that they have very little cash, and are surprised to see our boys spending. They are heroes to ocme away on so little. I reckon.

"I expect to be discharged at any time, and will get back again to our Otago Battalion. The Red Cross nurses on the hospital ships are very kind to u e woun - c l e< l> an( i there is no mistaking the good they do and how necessary they are in a business like this."

Trooper George Miller, the ex-secre-tary of the Petone Football Club, writes interestingly from near the firing line : "Although you may not know where I am," he writes, "it will ease you somewhat to know that I am in the world somewhere still. . . One or two of or chaps have been Avounded. George Mabev got caught by shrapnel in the leg and arm, and Bill has damaged his eye. Young Parrant has been transferred to the ammunition column of tie artillery. . . Do not expect many letters, as paper, etc. is very scarce. I only managed to cadge this after a big hunt round. I had to delay posting this letter owing to envelopes being scarce.

"Billy Hardham and Aaron Clarke were wounded in action. I was with' both of them when they were carried in on the stretcher." "Be cheerful, and hope always for the best," is the way "Nip" winds up his communication.

A Dunedin trooper (formerly a miner), now in the Dardanelles trenches, writing to his friends in the Scotch city, mentions that he and his mates, when, "diggin" themselves in," struck what they regarded as favourable p;old prospects.

' 'The road is strewn with corpses in wonderfully dramatic attitudes—great, big Turks, with picks, shovels, and rifles scattered around them. One of our officers shot 11 Turks with his Maxim. Thev came up to the wire by night, 20 yards away; the corpses were counted in tiie .morning. Another officer comes alone the road later, sees a Turk in front of him, thinks he's a sniper, leaps on him with a revolver, and finds to his

disgust that the Turk is a corps©, and some days old at that.—Lieutenant Frands McLaren, M.P. for Spalding, with an English regiment at Gallipoli. * * * * "Mick, you know I am always on the men s side, but the way some of the workmen have been forgetting their country by threats of strikes—wel, being out here in the thick of it, it makes one sick to think that there are sudh men in existence. ""-.Rev. J. M. Kelly of the 6th Field Ambulance in France- ' * *. # * "The Australians did excellent work the other day. A German general /brought 25,000 new and fresh Turkish troops from Constantinople to push about 5000 Australian troops into the sea The battlefield covered a very confined area, and the conflict lasted about six hours. The result was that the Turks lost 2000 killed and 5000 wounded, while our- losses were very iNx W~ A naval officer with the -fci.JN.A.S. armoured car squadron at the Dardanelles. * * * ■» The special correspondent of the Melbourne "Argus" writes interestingly of his impressions at Gallipoli. The following is an excerpt from his last letter, dated July 18:--"On approaching Gallipolii the first feature to merge from the distant parorama is a peak that immediately suggests the camel's hump at Macedon. It rises, in the same abrupt way, from a chain of lesser hills, and) stands out almost like an inverted cup on a saucer. The. men who were at Cape Helles recognise the height aa Achi Baba, which the Turks have called the 'Gibraltar of the Land.' It is known to be furrowed with trenches to the top, and every crevice carries a machine-gun commanding some position across which, advancing troops would be likely to come. A soldier who was wounded in the main attack tlhere makes the pleasant announcement that the barbed-wire entanglements are garnished with fishhooks and razor-blades, while the ground below is strewn with spikes, thorns, and broken glass. 'You may take Constantinople, but Achi Baba— never,' a German officer is- understood to have said during an armistice. "Farther up the Peninsula, and beyond the Australian post, towers 'Hill 971.' This is the key to Gallipoli. At present it is occupied by an enemy gun running on rails into a tunnel." When the Commonwealth troops are ready to move forward, this height will be their first objective." * * * * A private .in the Scots Fusiliers relates' how he fought a duel—first with the bayonet and then with fists —-with, "a big fat German" : "We sprang upon the Germans like a pack of- wild beasts, but, instead of being astonished, the beggar shouted,' Come you on, Macduff!' and 'Now then, saucy Scottie!' in jolly good English. We gave t'hem Macduff, plenty of it, and) they won't call us funny names any more. I got my eye on a big, fat German, and we had a real duel. Somehow I could not get my bayonet through, and the morel touched him the more he grinned at me. We sparred with the steel for half an hour, arid neither would give an. 'It's no good, Scottie,' said he; 'why don't you chuck it?' 'I'm damned if I will,' said I, and we kept on clashing until 1 the bayonets dropped from our hands. Then we had ago with the fists, and we fairly walloped each other among the corpses on every side. He got me down but at the finish I got the better of him. I grabbed my bayonet again, but I could not kill him, for he wasi a bit of a sport. 'Make me your prisoner, Scottie,' said he —and I did."