INTENSE TRAINING

New Zealand Times, Volume XLIII, Issue 9869, 15 January 1918, Page 6

INTENSE TRAINING

LAST STEP TO TRENCHES

“THERE’S NO MONOPOLY OF FRIGHTF ULN ESS. ’ ’

A vivid idea of the intensive training .which British and colonial troops nro put through behind the linos before they take their places in the front line trenches is given in a recent article by Jcilery Fame] in “Everybody’s Magazine.’’ Ho visited one of those huge training camps and was .shown the '.sights of the place by the major in charge. Asked whether ho would like to go through the gas chambers, Mr I'iiraoi and his companion agreed. “W herd ore,” lie says, “the major led us over sandy hills and along sandy valleys and so to a dingy, and weatherworn hut, in whoso dingy interior he found a bright-faced sunaltoru in dingy uniform, suirouuucd by many dungy boxes and a heterogeneous collection of things. Tile subaltern was busy with a pen-unite, while at ids elbow. stood a sergeant grasping a screw-driver. Perceiving the major, the sergeant came to attention, while tho cheery sub. rose, beaming. “(Jan you give us some gas?’’ inquired the major, after we had been introduced and shaken hands: “Certainly, sir I” added, the cheerful one. “Delighted.” “You might explain something about it if you will,” suggested tho major. “Bombs and gas is your lino, you know.’" The sub. beamed again and giving directions to iiis sergeant, spake, something in this wise: “Well, * Frightful Fritz’-—X mean . tho Bodies, y’know — started bein’ frightful quite some time ago, y’know, playing their little tricks with gas ami tear shells an’ liquid.. fixo an’ that, and wo left ’em to it. Y’seo it wasn't cricket—wasn’t playin’ tho game—what? But Fritz , kept at it and was happy ns. a bird till one day ivc woke up and started bein’ frightful too, only when vve did begin, we wore frightfullcr than ever Fritz thought °f bein'. —yes, ratherl Our gas is more deadly, our lachrymatory . shells are more lachrymose an’ our liquid fire is quite tojrt-hole—won’t go cut till A burns out —rather no! So frightful Fritz is .licked at his own. dirty game. I’ve tried- his and I’vo tried ours, an i know.” , ’ , Hero the sergeant murmured deferentially into the sub.’s ear, whereupon lie beamed yot again and nodded. “Everything’s quite ready 1 no announced. “So if you’re on. •Viter a momentary hesitation 1 signified I was, whereupon our sub. grew immensely busy testing sundry uglygrey flannel gas helmets • fitted with staring eyo-pieces _of tale and(uith hideous snout in front. ~ Having duly fitted on these things, our sub 7 donned ' his own headpiece, through which his cheery me in muffled tones. Aon of ticklin’ feelin’ m the throat at niM but that’s all O.K-only the chemtcal the flannel’s saturated with. Now tol low me. please, an’ would you mind riinnin’ ? —the rain’s apt to weaken th| solution. This way I*’- , ■ Dutifully wo hastened after him. un til we came-to a hcayily-t-ivnperqd .torway that seemingly opened into the hillside and beyond this yawning dooiway I saw a thick greenish-yellow mrst a fog exactly the colour of stron, Frturtls* faded in such foim. _ I will confess ! was not kappy; my tJiroat-’-vvns '"tickling■ provoking y, mm to cough, and my windpipe felt too small. I groped blindly, began to run, stumbled, and in that moment mv hand came in contact, with an nnscin rope. On I went into gloom, tote blackness, until I was presently tuva.rc of my companions in fronts and glad o£ it. In a while the log grow less opaque, thinned away to a green mist, and we were out in tho daylight again, and thankful was I to whip off my stifling helmet and feel tho clean wind in my hair and tho beat of tho ram on my tho ticklin’ foolin’ ?” inquired our sub. “Bit tryin at .first, hut you soon get used to it—.yes, rather. Some of the men funk tryin at first, and some hold their breath until they fairly well burst; an’ some won’t go in'at all, so wo carry ’em in. Tdiat gas you’vo tried is about twenty tames stronger than wo got uin tho open, hut those helmets are a rip pin’ dodge—tin the chemical .evaporates; then, of course, they’ro no earthly.” , . Ho reached up to a certain dingy boxi “Like to try. a lachrymatory? he inquired. “Yes,” said I. “Oh, yes,'if— - “Only smart for the time hem , our sub. assured me. “Make you weep a hit.” Ho fished out a particularly vicious-looking bomb, and foil to pokiii.r it with the .screwdriver. I immediately stopped back. The major pulled his moustache and flicked a chunk of mud from his boot with his, whip. “Er—l suppose that thing’s all right?” ho inquired. '“Oh, yes; quite all right, sir; quite all right,” nodded the sub., using tho screwdriver as a hammer. “Only wants a little iixin'.” As 1 watched that deadly thing—for I felt distinctly unhappy—however, tho refractory pin, or whatever it was, being fixed to his satisfaction, our sub. !led the way out of the hut, and, going some few xmc-cs ahead, paused. ’“Fm goin’ to give you a liquid fire bomb, first,” said he. “Watch!” He drew back his hand and hurled the bomb. There was a shattering report, and the air was full of thick grey smoko and yellow .flame —smoko that rolled heavily along the. ground towards us,, flamo that burned ever, fiery yellow Tongues that leaped from the sand here, and (here, that writhed in tho wind-gusts, hub never diminished. “Stoop down!” cried tho sub., suiting the action to tho word. “Stoop down and get a mouthful of that smoke —makes you jolly sick and unconscious in no time, if you got enough of it. Top-hole bomb that—what?” Then ho brought us where thoso yellow flames leaped and hissed; some of these he covered .with wot sand, and, lo 1 they ceased to be; but tho moment the sand was kicked away they leaped fiercer than ever.

“AVo use ’em for bombing llocho dug-outs now 1” said he. And remembering tbe dugouts I had seen, I could picture the awful fate of those within, the choking fumes, tho firescorched bodies! Truly, the exponents of frightfulncss hare felt tho recoil of their own vile methods. ■‘This is a lachrymatory,” said tho sub- whisking another bomb from

his pocket. “When it pops, run forward and got in tho smoko. .It’ll sting a hit, but don’t rub the tears away—let ’em flow. Don’t touch your eyes, it’U only inflame ’em—just weep. Ready—one, two, throe 1” A second explosion louder than tho first, a puff of blue smoko, into which X presently ran, and then uttered a cry. So sharp, so excruciating was tho pain that instinctively I raised hand to eyes, but checked myself, and with tears gushing over my oheeks, blind and agonised, I stumbled away from that hellish vapour. Very soon, tho pain diminished, was gone, and, looking up through streaming eyes, I beheld the sub. nodding and beaming approval. . “Useful things, eh?” ho remarked. “A man can’t shed tears and shoot straight,'‘an’ he can’t weep and fight well both at the same time—what? Fritz can he. very frightful, hut we can be more when wo want—yes, rather. The Bodies have learned that there’s no monopoly in frightfulness.” In duo season wo shook hands with our cheory sub., and left him beaming after u« from the threshold of his dingy hut.