TOWARDS THE BATTLE.

Ohinemuri Gazette, Issue 3941, 8 July 1918, Page 1

TOWARDS THE BATTLE.

EVER UP AND MOVING ON.

(By "J.H.," in the Daily Mail.)

The man stood still, flashing his light on the faces of blanketed forms, uncertainly, questioningly, now allowing it to hover on the table where pens, ink, blue and black pencils, a typewriter, and files of documents neatly arranged, now flashing it back on the faces. In the air an irregular sigh and sob of breaths. A form stirred, placed its hands behind its head, propped its head up two inches, and stared at the man. Then it grunted and spoke. "You from Brigade?"

The dispatch rider—the man with the light—started. "Ye& you or-derly-room sergeant?" The blanketed one grunted ondte more. "Chuck it over," he said in a tone of deep resignation. The dispatch rider stepped gingerly over and flashed Kis light while the sergeant read. Another grunt. '"Operation, orders. As

I thought. Shift again in the morning. Umph! 7.30. Always do move us in the middle of the night. Light that candle, son. Good-night."

He threw off the blankets, pulled on his boots, and slipped on his tunic and greatcoat. He took his flashlamp and the operation orders and went out into the slippery, muddy streets to seek the adjutant's billet. Adjutants are light sleepers and have the faculty of being wide awake in an instant. The adjutant sighed. "Another move ?". "Yes, sor." "What, time?" "Seven-thirty head of battalion leaves cross-roads." A few calculations in his head, and then, sitting up in bed, the adjutant wrote the battalion operation orders, giving time of breakfast, order of. march, and so

"Better send them out now, sir." "Yes, they'll have to be disturbed in any case."

The sergeant went back to his billit, lit his candle, filled his pipe (being a philosopher), and settled down at the table to make coppies of the order for the company commanders, medical officer, signal officer, transport officer, quartermaster, and- regimental sergeant-major.

Then he woke an orderly,

The orderly sighed, pulled on his boots, and went off into the night to rouse the officers concerned. The officers sighed and sent their orderlies to their respective sergeants-major or ncn-commissioned officers concerned. By half-past three everybody again sler>t.

They had moved up every day for four days, every night a somewhat similar procedure. Sometimes fairly early in the evening, sometimes halfway through the night, the operation orders came. But always regularly as clockwork the head of the battalion passed the appointed spot a few minutes before the appointed time. Folk who need a day or two to prepare to go away for the week-end may well wonder how it is done, for a thousand men are not easily housed and fed in a fresh place each day.

An officer and non-commissioned officers go ahead of the battalion, usually on bicycles, as a billeting party. Their task is to discover, and allot the billets. It is not always easy, for few French folk have learned to speak much English, and the British soldier is, as a rule, no linguist. The combination, though, of intense effort and vivacity with great good humour ■on bath sides contrives to loosen understanding. So that by the time the battalion marches in, each company's billets and these of headquarters, quartermaster's stores, transport, medical inspection room are all allocated. •

Immediately begins in the orderly room the task of unpacking part of the office supplies. The typewriter, having been rescued from the transport, is unearthed from the box where it is securely nailed up, together with current files of papers and letters For the machinery of the battalion never stopps. "Orderly room" is-heid,' returns_^<vHjjrigade_-s««-- immediately to be made, and there begins the stream of cyclist orderlies and dispatch riders between the various headquarters. "Are we moving to-morrow again? is on everybody's lips, and folk answer it in the affirmative or negative as their wishes —dependent on whether their billet is good or bad—may be. A different home, a different village, a different bed, are interesting to most, but the adjutant and his sergeant are wont to sigh about it.

For to march ten miles, open up "office" in anything fro a chateau to a barn, go to bed, get up in the middle of the night to issue orders, be up early, pack up the "office" and "move up" again is. not exactly a gay life.