Christmas Among the Guns.

Otago Witness, Issue 3327, 19 December 1917, Page 61

Christmas Among the Guns.

[All Bigiits Reserved.]

By Heubebt Russell, Accredited War Correspondent on the Western Front.

Christmas is the great season of retrospect. More at this than at any other period in the cycle of the months do men talk about "this time last year." The Yuletide of 1915 I spent in Flanders. That of 1916 I spent in Artois. Looking " into the future, far as human eye can see," I cannot divine at this time of writing where the fortune of wa-T may determine that next Christmas will find the little band of men whose Business it is to tell the world of the progress of the mighty struggle. But one thing is certain, whatever may happen—a very large proportion of our army is booked to spend not only this festive season, but several others, on the French side of the Silver Streak. I am told it is estimated that some of the administrative branch of our vast military organisation cannot hope to finish " clearing up" under at least ten years after peace is declared. I trust that they will at least find consolation in the late Lord Kitchener's forecast that the first three years of the war Avere likely to prove the -worst.

The Christmas of 1914 was a dark one in the trenches. The first battle of Ypres had been fought to a standstill, and the Germans everywhere dominated our little bit of front, which curved and twisted between the patches held by the French along the deary flats betwixt Boesinghe and La Bassee". Yet the spirit of the troops was wonderful:"" Refit drafts were beginning to flow out freely, and there was a general feeling that the Huns were now definitely held; that they had done all they were capable of in their effort to break through to Calais, and failed, although why they failed with such overwhelming odds in favour of their succeeding remains one of the mysteries of the war.

But our losses had been terrible; our resources were very meagre, and we had to take all the Bodies chose to give us without the means to repay. Yet there was more tendehcv to make truce between the of the opposing trenches on this first war Christmas than there has ever been since, so much so that in December, 1915, strict 'orders were issued against fraternising with the enemy. The Huns were ready enough tc seek re-, spite again on this occasion, but much had happened during the preceding twelve months to harden the sentiment of our men towards them, such as the use of poison gas, the Lusitania outrage, and other manifestations of frightfulness. So when the enemy began to set up Christmas trees on "the parapet, and to exhibit boards promising not to shoot if we didn't, he was treated to a drench of shrapfiel and rifle fire which made a very bad beginning: to his day's entertainment. The military situation on the western front at Christinas, 1915, has vastly improved since the preceding Christmas. We were no longer " hanging on by our eyelids." Our army had swelled to colossal proportions, and the chief command of it had just been taken over by Sir Douglas Haig. True, we had not yet reached a satisfactory stage of rnunition-production, but our heavy artillery was growing apace, and in most parts of the line we could give the Bodies shell for shell, and usually rather more. The battles of Neuve Chapella and Loos had proved the magnificent fighting qualities of our new army. It is a fact that there was less disposition to ti'ench jollitv than during the S receding Christmas, and a more marked emeanour of stern resolve. But the high spirit of all ranks was unmistakable. Not only did the future look well; already our men had become imbued with the top-dog feeling. They knew that, given anything like equalitv of conditions, they we're more than a-match for the Huns, and they also knew- that equality of conditions and better still was only a matter of time. The great offensive of the year that was about to dawn was talked of more freely during the Christmas of 1915 than it was in later months, when, owing to the wonderful manner in which the secret was kept, it did not really look until right uo to midsummer as though Sir Douglas Haig intended to attack after all. So that, although there was relatively less " Christmasing" in the trenches in 1915 than there had been the year before, the atmosphere, as the dramatists call it, was very different. The weather was mild and dismally wet, and I went on Christmas Day from St. Omer, where the war correspondents then lived, to the front near Laventie, just to see how the men were faring. But beyond the fact that they had got more than the usual plenty to eat, and that the- Germans, in spite of the fact that we had been " stirring them up." wei'o clearly anxious to be left, and to leave, alone, there was little enough in the wav of visible tokens to distinguish the day from any other. At this time our line was extending from where we rested on the Belgian right flank just north of the Ypres salient down to a Vaux on the bank of the River B.nnme, with a big break in the Arras sector, which we took over from the French a little later, to set free troops for the defence of Verdun. We had three Armies in the field, and' knew that a

fourth was to be formed very shortly in rear of the southern part o". our line —a stretch of the front which interested us very little in those days, since there had been no fighting to speak of during our occupation of it, and the ground between the l'pres and Loos salients continued to be the main terrain of activity. I particularly recall my Christmas dinner in 1915, because the air just then was charged with may exciting rumours, and the natural query, "Where shall we be this time next year?" led to discussion of a most interesting train of possibilities. The withdrawal from Anzac and Suvla had just taken place, and we were still wondering whether it was Intended to cling to Helles or not. (The evacuation of the Peninsula was not completed until January 9, 1916.) Anyhow, we were sura that the Australian troops would be coming to France, and probably several of our own divisions, and, of course, we talked the Huns to utter defeat before the coming year was out. We contrasted our own Christmas fare with their presumptive privation, and decided that, even although the military situation might not develop to the point of decisive victory, starvation would result in this end.

Wo (I mean the war correspondents) talked in much the same vein last Christmas Day, but perhaps in not quite such a tone of definite finality. The Rumanian reverse was a bit of a wet blanket just at that time, although there was consolation in the knowledge that the oil wells had been properly bottled up and the grain stores destroyed without eompunc-: tion.

I am getting a little desultory in my reminiscences of the Christmas Days I have spent on the' Western front; but, after all, there is no necessity for ordered* continuity. Last Yuletide, as I have said,. I spent in the fair province of Artbls, we having just come north from the Somme, where the splendid victory at Beaumont-Hamel had so* fittingly closed the series of battles for the campaigning season a few weeks before. Whilst the general mood of the army was one of quiet confidence in the future, there was even less display of any festive spirit than during the before, which is saying a good deal.

Not that this is very greatly to- be wondered at, for the exceptionally severe weather, and the dreariness of dugout and billet existence under these conditions, put a heavy tax upon the most Mark Tapleylike temperament. In truth, the "fed-up" feeling, which found much to dispel it during the busy days of the was beginning to tell. As one of my colleagues remarked : "The last thing people ever thought of in connection with Armageddon was that wnen it came it would prove so very boring." I went to see the South African troops, many of whom were spending their first Christmas in the Northern Hemisphere; they were then holding a quiet bit of the line" near Arras, not far from where they so distinguish themselves in the great battle around that city on April 9 last. I found them pretty comfortable and cheery, but not at all in love with the climate of la belle France. They' thought roast ration beef pretty good, but not a patch on buffalo hump—a view in' which I certainly concur. Most of the troops in rest either had sports, kinema shows, concert parties, or other similar forms of entertainment during the afternoon or on. Boxing Day. I am afraid we cannot regard Christmas time as a particularly jovial time, either at the front or at home, during war. Being, as I have said, the inevitable occasion of retrospect, one finds oneself recalling the memory of those one will never see again. I hope I shall not be misunder-stood'when-1 say that this is a vein of reflection to be discouraged as much as possible amongst the troops themselves whilst the struggle is still going on. Your true soldier is bound to be a bit of a fatalist, otherwise he could never go through with his job. We want to look cheerfully ahead", not sadly backwards, until the great fighC has been fought and won. Heaven know* I am not suggesting that we ignore the bitter reproach, "lest we forget"—there ia no fear of that—but rather that we try and avoid remembering too acutely until all that the brave hearts have died foi has been achieved. When men are crouching for cover from enemy shells, or going oyer the top, they are riot very likely to be troublel with melancholy introspection. Their passion is up, and' they want to sow sorrows across the foe's frontier. I recall asking a Gordon Highlander whether ho had had a good Christmas. "Ay! Tidy enough!" he replied. "But I'd rather have been killing Boches so as to get on with the war and go home!" And this, I believe, just about expressed the general sentime"ht of the Tommies, and the Jocks, the Wallabies, the Springboks, and the Can-doos.