LIFE IN THE TRENCHES.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LII, Issue 16026, 18 September 1915, Page 9

LIFE IN THE TRENCHES.

NEW ZEALANDERS AT WAR.

VISIT TO QUINN'S POST.

SIDELIGHTS OF FIGHTING.

The doings of the New Zealand and Australian forces at the end of July are described by Mr. Malcolm Ross, official New Zealand war correspondent, in a letter written from Anzac Cove on July 24.

" The operations at Quinn's and Courtney s," states Mr. Ross, " continue to be the most interesting. Indeed, they are fascinating, for, as has already been stated, they are really unique in warfare. As you walk through trench after trench and sap after sap at Quinn's or creep doubled up along the dark mining 1 galleries, your interest is quickened, and I though you never quite know when a bomb "will come hurtling over the parapet j or when a mine may be exploded above* or below or at the side, you become so interested that fear vanishes. The genial colonel who is in charge and who shows you round was a well- j known Taranaki barrister, and his motto j is that the art of war lies in the cultivation of the domestic virtues. Therefore, he is transforming Quinn's into a model workshop and dwelling-place wherein you can even drink a cup of tea in peace 1 Seriously speaking, he has worked won- i ders at Quinn's, and the Quinn's of today is safer and more habitable than was the post of earlier days. It is only when the gallant colonel gets one of his men j to throw a bomb across the very few yards of intervening space between you and the Turkish firing-line, and there is a loud explosion, the while you wait expectantly for a like favour from the Turks, that you realise you are 'up against it.'

Mining and Counter - mining. "It is a still stranger sensation at the «nd of a narrow, dark tunnel to listen to some solitary Turk working industriously with his pick only a few feet away from where you are crouching. As you hear him tap-tapping like a woodpecker in a hollow tree you begin to wonder what he is thinking about and what will he the end of all his hard, uncomfortable labour. Generally speaking, it is the miner and not the counter-miner who wins out in the end in the attacking operations. This particular fellow has had his tunnel blown in upon him three times, yet here he is again picking away jn the hope of undermining our position. Shelters in the Trenches. " Another important post that is interesting is held by the New Zealanders and a section of the Australian Light Horse. Here you find yourself in a perfect labyrinth of deep trenches, with, at intervals, sand-bagged parapets. 'l'he position is in charge of a BrigadierGeneral, well-known in the Hawlce's Bay district. Deeply-carved shelters are cut into the earth from the trenches, and in these the men can rest and sleep in safety, if not in comfort. "The ' shelters' are all numbered. Along the trenches also are little niches, such as you might see in a church wall for sacred images. These, with their blackened clay, are the little recesses where, under tiny fires, the men do their cooking m their "dixies." You come upon " Main Street" and Broadway, ' and " White Lane," and one sign points to "Happy Valley," which is, no doubt, a haven of rest for weary troops. All this is on Russell's J. op —a prolongation of Walker's Twinge. Telephone wires and barbed wire and ■wirenetting enter into the scheme oi defence. The trenches are clean, but the smell of the dead Turks killed in the last ~ui-K.ish attack still hangs about them. We have come to a place where we are within a few yards of the enemy's rifles, and you dare not show an inch or two of your head above the parapet for fear of being sniped. Our friend the enemy has to be equally careful. Rescue of a Wounded Turk. " It was at this spot, some few days ago, that one of our staff —a member of the House of Commonsdid rather a daring thing. A wounded Turk had lain for some time in front of our trench, and our men dared not go out to make him prisoner nor his friends to rescue him. The M.P., who speaks Turkish, essayed the task, and ( brought the man into our lines. ; " The o*.htr day some of our men came ] upon a small skeleton beyond one of our trenches. The identification disc showed that the khaki uniform contained the mor- j tal remains of a bugler of the Canterbury I Regiment. He had been posted as missing. j The remains were gathered together, and i New Zealand soldiers gave him decent burial on the hills in Gallipoli, far away , from his home and his native land. It I was strange that this boy had not been j discovered before, especially during the ; armistice. Poor lad, he must have fallen I nobly in the front line during those criti- j cal days when our men gained a footing, ; and held their ground." I