IN THE FIRING-LINE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LII, Issue 16026, 18 September 1915, Page 8

IN THE FIRING-LINE.

CONTINUOUSLY ALERT.

TURKS' MARKSMANSHIP.

" I like this life very much. The element of excitement and uncertainty has a distinct charm," Lieutenant James Oliphant, King's Own Scottish Borderers, writes to his mother, Mrs. P. Oliphant, Symonda Street, from the Achi Baba zone. " When one sees the sea one has just left suddenly torn into foam by a shrapnel shell, followed in a second by a 'Jack Johnson,' which sends the water yards in the air, one realises that a tame Milford Beach dip is not in it.

" I have had no mail for weeks, but 1 expect a lot will find me out shortly. It is five weeks or more since I had letters, but I don't worry because I realise you must all be safe and well living in such happy conditions as prevail in New Zealand. There is no doubt a war training is fine. I can deep anywhere, rise at any time, and stand twica the amount of hardship that I could before. \\e rise at 4 a.m. and stand to arms, and it is a fine sight conducted in absolute silence. My command has been reinforced, and I have now 80 men under me, which is something respectable. "I am once more in the support trenches after certainly a very exciting night in the actual firing-line," Lieutenant Oliphant wrote on July 30. "We filed into position lightly-clad but fully armed —periscopes, gas helmets, etc.—ready for any contingency. Atmosphere of Excitement. "I had about 90yds of trench, for the defence of which I was responsible, and 1 thoroughly enjoyed the close scrutiny of the enemy's entanglements through a periscopeThe nearest part of their trench to ours waa 55yds away, and her© at night was the most fun. Bombs were thrown and flares burnt, and generally there was an atmosphere of excitement. Not a minute went by without the rapid exchange of shots. Periscopes were broken by their snipers and one man had two fingers taken off while pushing a sandbag into position. They are marvellous shots, and it is not safe to expose one's self for an instant. A tall man like myself is greatly handicapped, and I have to stoop _ in places, or a few shots will "plunk" into the sandbags like lightning. I have had shots within 6in of my head already.

Enemy's Songs in ths Trenches. " It is great fun to see the Turks pouring in volleys at the aeroplanes every evening. They* waste thousands of rounds and never do any good. Last night was the night of the full moon, and it is the Turkish feast month of Ramagan. The Turks were singing in their trenches, and it was certainly the weirdest sound I have ever heard. One had a fine tenor voice, and he sang away in an 'eerie sort of chant, which was echoed by others in deeper tones. All the time, their deadly snipers shot hard and fast with their Mausers, and the mixture of sound was one never to be forgotten. Safety in " Keeping Down." " It is fine to hear our guns commence when it is light, and to see the sandbags from the Turkish sapheads fly to pieces, delaying the enemy and putting them to no end of trouble. Their evening ' hate ' is rather discomforting. Salvoes of four or five shrapnel shells fill the air with the swish of flying bullets, the peculiar ricochetting of the empty case and the sing of the time-fuse, both deadly things to encounter. My trench is being thudded and skimmed by flying bullets as I write, but one thinks only of the waste of rounds, and the chance of personal injury is remote so long as one keeps down. I have not lost a man in my platoon so far, and I try to inculcate the simple precaution of taking absolutely no risk until the time comes and then, of course, it is all out to win. We are very keen to come to grips with Brer Turk, and I feel very confident of the result."