CONFESSIONS OF A COWARD.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LII, Issue 15948, 19 June 1915, Page 2 (Supplement)

CONFESSIONS OF A COWARD.

CANDID GERMAN DESERT]

SENSATIONS UNDER FIRE. j % \ DID NOT EXPECT TO FIGHT. Some days ago there arrived in Amsterdam a young man of 22, who confessed that he was a deserter from the German amy. In the following article, which he contributed to the Handelsblad, and which his been specially translated for an English .paper, he gives vivid glimpses of the sensations of a man under fire. There is nothing heroic about the articli., He confesses himself a coward, and describes the- horror of the men of his regiment when they found that, instead of doing garrison duty, they were sent to th» firing line. He writes: — Our regiment, the Reserve Infantry Regiment 208, from Brunswick, consisted mainly of volunteers from 17 years upward, and of a few older men. It was commanded by Captain Zeidler, a good- | hearted mail 54 years old, who- had volunteered when war broke ou. We were told that our service would consist merely in guarding Ostend, Ghent. Bruges, and other cities, so we were in high spirits when, at the end of September, we left by train for the west. We did not feel any hatred, nor did we v. irh to fight; these feelings came later on, during the light, when our feelings can best be described as a sort of blind rage. We arrived at Melle, near Ghent,' still fully convinced that we were to be placed somewhere along the lines of communication. To each of us was given two belts tilled with cartridges, and then came a military doctor, who showed us how to use our bandaging-outfit. which we carried in our coats, ready for first aid. Shot at Own Aviator. This caused a terrible commotion amongst us. Young and old locked at one another, and tears filled their eyes. "You won't see anything of the war - that will be long'past," my father had Mid to me, and everybody else had assured ui that this was so. And now we were to be sent into action! In one village where we halted we fired our first hostile shots. An aviator passed over our heads, and soon there came the reports of rifles all along the street. We all fired, as delighted as schoolbpys. It seemed glorious to aim with real cartridges at a living target. Then there came a lieutenant running up to us: "Don't shoot, don't shoot; it is one of our own men 1" The First Shell. We v were to pass the night in a wood; but just as we were halting we all jumped up, trembling with fright, for only 300 metres away a shell exploded in the air, 1 its flash showing clearly in the twilight "• the explosion We looked at one another in alarm. Where were we? <• And then we understood the terrible truth that they had been hiding from us— we were being led to the tiring-line. At the first signs of daybreak we moved on through a little hamlet, at the end of '*?. which we halted. There we. were told to' dig a trench. Near this trench I saw the fi first dead. He was a comrade of the 205 th YRegiment, and was found behind a bush. . "Look, look!" they cried, with shakyvoices* and we all drew near, attracted by 1? a sickly feeling of curiosity. -V Pear of the Unknown. t Behind the village of Beers, where we j were now, is an auxiliary canal of the Yser, behind which' were the French and Belgians. We did not see them, but their;fl| artillery threw shell after shell in arid over • ■,% the village. f ' -jXg| Then came the command. We were to'/jM storm the position beside the canal. We knew nothing else—only that wo had'tqifg advance to where the rifles were chatter-wA; ing, Our officer gave the order, but he knew no more than we did what we should meet with when we moved forward. ' I ', can still see him- as he stood there. The Oil old man stood with his legs apart in the middle of the village street, and peered through his field-glasses. In the other' ;? hand he held a yose, which he smelled ■ .when he took the glasses from his eyes. ' •: That rose must. surely, have been given®® to him by his wife— chap, and it was j'V ; S evident that he also felt fear-fear of the'•'s unknown. ' 5 "Look at the Cowards." • The meadow, which was swept by the fire of the enemy, was cut up by ditches, ?' and behind a dyke at .the other side of the canal was % enemy. Together with some , : , - comrades I,got a ditch, and up to th© waist. in the water, our heads hidden behind the rushes/ we plodded on. ~The\% others, crouching along' *in the . field, ; ' !sneered, at us. " Look at the cowards,"' they said at first, but that soon changed. We had advanced too far. The bridge over the canal had been blown up and.fe? the Engineers were far behind us. But • still our lieutenant, an'excited young man, waved his sword and cried out: " Ahead, towards the bridge Ten at a /• time they, fell into the canal, this lieutenant being one of them; and whilst their. -J; bodies plunged into the water we hurried on to get out of reach of the fire from V the machine guns. ••' Driven '. to the Attack. '.: $(4

"Engineers to the. front!" came the order then. A bridge must be built. . Three regiments had to pass over it. That took a long while. In bunches thev fell into the water, and every time a shell came whistling towards lis the bridge was deserted, and each man lay down. Even when at last we had the order to storm Pervyse, we had not seen a single ono of the enemy. That attack was the most horrible of all.

Near Pervyse is a castle, from which Vj-gt the Brfgians were keeping us under fire.''oijf We stormed that castle. I got in front j-ja of the entrance gate and intended to push it open, when, with a crashing sound, a shell exploded, and the whole gate, stone pillars and all, crumbled together. That was our own artillery, bombarding rervyse. We were too early! I didn't know what to do, and mechanically ran away, together with a couple of comrades, and ;S|§ lay down in a ditch oehind the castle. A young • lieutenant came hurrying up. " Charge he shouted, angrily, showing ' ii 3 his revolver in a. threatening manner. /jjjg " Out of that!" lie cried, his bloodshotSpf eyes gleaming at us:. "Whoever doesn't-.'M come out I'll shoot down with my revol- fi||| ver !" So we went to the attack. The boys of 17 tried to cheer themselves up by shouting, "Hurrah!" But it sounded more like sobs and howls than like \t;M a war-cry. I don't feel ashamed to admit that I also was afraid. When we came into the streets of Pervyse it was as if hell had broken loose. The village was under fire both of the French and thatifig German heavy artillery. And we ourselves in the middle of that infernal turmoil! ■ '■mh Huddled in a Ditch. I can still remember, as in a nightmare, how we huddled together in a ditch. Suddenly there was a deafening report. For a moment I saw and heard nothing, and when I rubbed the dirt out of my eyes I (led. Blood, blood, and tnni-off limbs— ;j|j| that was all I could see. I mustn't think

of it. ... I only remember how I I raa away, to a deserted Belgian trench, where I found some comrades, fugitives &|§ like myself. < |||| Was this war—this hiding and shoot-* iMfl ing ? « •; .\s|p§ Even then I could not remain where *|||| I was, for a Belgian machine-gun, placed somewhere , high up in a house, sent a vspfS hail of bullets into our trench. We pressed a! ourselves against the side, and many of us died in that position. Next to me Bal,p§§§| a man. 38 years old, of my own company. He yelled and lamented like a child because lie had lost a finger. With hirrf|f||| and two others I tried to find the way to'jsfij a hospital. We hurriedly crossed "tho ifflm bridge over the canal, which was stiU|pp being kept under fire. Then I went to'iillg the ammunition train, only to get a scolding because I could not produce a permit fMf in writing. But I had food to eat for eightdlftp days, and when I found my company ageinffll they all looked famished—at least, those who were left. The greater part of thwSSll had fallen. - . >v'- \i. 111