AT PASSCHENDAELE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LV, Issue 16761, 30 January 1918, Page 5

AT PASSCHENDAELE.

BATTLEFIELD OF MUD! TRIALS OF THE WOUNDED. THE SPIRIT OF THE ARMY. Describing the fighting at Passchendaele on October 12, a New Zealand soldier writes When one roaches Sling, the reproof is " You're not in New Zealand now." At Etaples, our base, the warning goes, "Heigh, chuck that-, this isn't Sling. Etapies is a place of t.-:its, sand dunes, and bitter winds. The parade smartness of Sling is carefully wiped out. One is given time to breathe and feel one's self, and the lighting spirit is cultivated in an uncanny, unconscious, sort of way. Then the word comes, " We're wanted. Wounded men, fresh front the line, talk of the latest "smack-up," and then Hey, presto! we're off. Our ways become many and devious and difficult. In our case we went by train about 40 miles, journeying in luggage vans. Then we marched three miles to a camp that was full up. Eventually wo were shovelled into tents, 16 in each. Next day wt marched 10 miles, packs up; and then it was that numbers fell out. At night it rained in torrents, and we were hurriedly sorted into batches ' and sent to different companies'billets, guided by special guides. Lost by a Guide. Our party was unfortunate. The guide did not know his ,vay. For nearly two huurs be led us in pitch blackness through old shell-holes, across ploughed fields, over narrow planks, along cattle tracks, and goodness knows where. Odd members of the party fell out here and there, and still the packless guide hurried on., I think the loudness and the vmdictiveness .of our real,v bad language led him to fear for "is safety. Finally we landed at an estaminet weary and worn and mad. The guide was lost, and hurried away to try once more to find the missing billets. That settled it. A few of us determined to seek the first farmhouse. Wo found one, knocked up the farmer, and found comfortable lodging in the barn. I found myself, under necessity able to speak most, useful trench, and I blessed the hours I had studied on board the boat, undeterred by jeers and doubts expressed by my com* rades. We were entertained to most excellent " biere," and next morning a splendid breakfast. After a clean up we sallied forth to find the mysterious billets, at I which we arrived in 15 minutes. We had been " guided" six miles the night before in an endeavour to find billets which were 20 minutes' march from our starting-point! ■ Two days later we moved in reserve to Passchendaele lines, The first night we slept in water. Heavy rains came on, andcontinued with but short intervals nio-hfc and day for about a week. ' The British . were fighting to secure- the Passchendaele Ridge under conditions which, thanks to rain, rain, rain, and consequently mud, rand, and more mud, Were impossible. And here for the first time in its history, the New Zealand Division in France failed to reach its objectives. The English failed, the Australians failed, the . Canadians failed. Giants, supermen, gods, I believe, would have failed. Yet every'failure was a success, because every essay made against the enemy resulted in ground ' gained. What it had been hoped to gain yard by yard had to be won inch by inch, and, as the world knows, inch by inch Passchendaele passed into British possession. Veterans tell us that the Somme was nothing compared with Passchendaele. On the Battle Field. The Ypres salient is a gigantic bulge into the enemy line, probably four miles or more in depth. - It consists of slightly undulating land, rising steadily upwards from about two miles beyond Ypres to the. Passchendaele ridge, on the skyline. The trees' round ' the Passchendaele village can be made out from this point two miles beyond . lpres. Practically the whole of the salient consists of old and new No Man's Land. Shellholes are pitted everywhere, in places cutting into each other, but divided generally by so narrow a ridge that to pass between them requires the agility of a goat. Most of the holes con-, tain water deep enough to drown a, man. , Duckboard tracks lead over "the majorportion, and the Ypres-Menin road stretches from front to rear of the salient. The whole is under.shell-fire, or was before Passchendaele was won. How 'it is now, Ido not know. Here and there are ruined farms, and pillboxes, 20ft high, invulnerable to shell-fire on', cur ' side, vulnerable on Fritz's, side, for becunningly made them thin -at the bac'r, so that they should be of little use to us. There was no line of trenches, nothing but shallow holes, disconnected and kneedeep in water. Rations, wounded' reliefs, munitions, everything, were brought up or down in the open, reliefs aftd rations arriving in the dark. „ I was a stretcher-bearer on thg second ■ - stage, so that I was not with the fighting line itself. Yv'e struggled knee-deep • arid thigh-deep in dinging mud. Everv now and again one or other would fall full length, and the relief would have to make a sudden grab to save the poor sufferer from being thrown from the stretcher. , Then another man would plunge waistdeep almost and stick in thick mud that pulled and sucked. His relief would take the stretcher handle, which had gone from shoulder level to within a hand's breadth of the mud. The first man would i struggle free to find his relief stuck, and step by step they would help each other till firmer ground was reached. Such work is dreadfully exhausting, and rests are' necessarily frequent. All this is. done amid the splashing of stumbling pack, animals, and the crash of falling shells. In the wetter sections of the road, rolling logs have to be negotiated, overturned guns, waggons, and tractors passed; and lining the route the distorted bodies of mules and horses, which tell of the winged death that seeks its victims, by night as well as by day, along the lines of communication. War and Human Flesh. But what of the walking wounded who have to traverse this impossible road? I have seen men with shell-torn legs, but still able to stand, go staggering, plunging, falling, struggling amidst the dreadful quagmires. The sight of them makes the heart glow with rage, and ths eyes burn with tears that threaten to break the restraint which is put upon them. Oh, war is wicked, criminal beyond all doubt. The mind revolts against the use of such giant engines as are employed in modern war to crush frail flesh and blood. And how pitiably frail the human body is! To bring steel and fire, explosion and gas against it 's worse than crushing gnats with Nasmyth steam-hammers. Yet humanity is strong after all, dreadfully, fearfully strong. Nothing daunts the human spirit as it is displayed by our armies on the western front. The mcst striking feature is 4he steady remorseless persistence tlu.t marks their effort*. Every man strains his physical, mental, and spiritual powers to the utmost. Achinj- limbs and bruised bodies. are bent to their work, pitilessly driven by indomitable will to the point of exhaustion whenever need be. Let shell fire destroy the continuous work of days, blasting men and material oat of its annihilating path, and fresh men and new materia! are at once forthcoming, and repairs are-effected. Let this happen not once, not .vice, hut thirtv or forty time:, no matter, repairs are effected again and again. Nothing must stop the wcrk of the armies. The steam roller is not on the eastern, bat the western front, nud it. is a steam roller that, though it move slowly, is built- to move one wqy only, and that forward. • There are many other things of which I could write helpless wounded who .-ink beneath the engulfing mud before they can be rescued, of others who drown in shell*.-.., holes, and there are, those ' with' broken limbs who wait fcr stretcher-bearers who cannot render help until as many as four - . and five days and nights are passed. •' Meanwhile, these victims rest, their •arms outspread across wooden frames, which.are . placed around them so that they shall no - sink and die of suffocation. Jb_.it not all truly marvellous this spirit, of the ami* of the western front! ; .