NEW ZEALAND ARMY SERVICE

Otago Witness, Issue 3400, 14 May 1919, Page 63

NEW ZEALAND ARMY SERVICE

CORPS.

IN FRANCE, (By Elbon.)

Nowadays the war occupies the chief place in our minds, but it is our own particular force that we are mainly concerned about. ' Men from aJI the British Empire are fighting under the same flag for ideals that appeal equally to us all; still we are distinctive as New Zealanders. Who dreamt that when the Main Body left New Zealand that our army shoukHghave grown to the large organisation that it i 3 to-day. Hardly a family but has its dear ones at the front. Recruits arriving with the later drafts get incorporated in the various battalions, have as comrades, men who can relate experiences of the Peninsula and the various battles fields of Prance and Flanders. The new man. soon indeed knows that there is a war on. They become genuinely built into the war machine, —little cogs, each one _of whom has to do his bit to make the division effective." It would, have been a eight for the folk at home to have seen the New Zealand! Army, on the roads in France last September (1917). Horse, foot, and motor infantry, artillery, engineers, A.S.C, and the medical corps all bound for the North-Messines was a thing of the past, and the. New Zealanders were now to take part in the even sterner battles around Ypres. Each branch of the service was there to dovetail into the complete organisation. All have to co-operate to make the division efficient. The good soldier believes that hfs particular branch is the most important part of the whole. Naturally t<ney are all essential, but the spirit he displays is "The way to play the game." The men with the horse waggons and motor lorries weai'ing the white and khaki puggeries with the letters N.Z.A,S.C. on their shoulder straps- are the Army Service Corps. They are responsible for the rationing of the men and horses of the division. Possibly they may be called on to fight any time, but they are essentially a non-combatant branch of the service. They do not loom in the public eye or gain the same applause perhaps as their fighting comrades, still it is the effectiveness of their work that makes the whole human machine effective. Others may bring up the fodder for the guns, but the A.S.C. bring up the fodder for those who control the guns and everything else. Never was it truer than to-day" the trite saying of Napoleon ''That an army moves on it's stomach.'.' Of all the marvels of the war, one of the greatest is the regular way the army has been fed. In the early mornings, near the front, one will see the long lines of waggons' on the roads making for the rail head to get the day's supply of fodder for men and horses. Once there, the -waggons will pack Tip in line to wait. Officers and N.C.O's. flit busily about the goods train, seeing to the various consignments. The different brigade waggons will bo called up in turn. Oate, hay, and straw for the horses will be loaded. Then comes the more various food for the soldiers. Br. con, frozen meat, tinned meat, and vegetables, bully beef, pork, and beans, bread in large sacks, army biscuits, crates of cheese, rice, oatmeal, tea, sugar, onions, potatoes, jam, oandles, margarine, condensed or dried milks, pickle 3, tobacco, matches, and dried fruits. Army rations may be monotonous at times, but the qualities are good;. Rum, too, is a ration dealt out to the boys in winter time. We always like to see the earthen jar with S.R.D. on them on the dump .containing the "dope" as it is called. In the bitter winter weather, a moderate allowance of rum may be looked upon as a "tonic" to prevent colds and chills. It warms the cockles of one's heart amid the mud and tension of life at the front. The rations come mainly in boxes well constructed and bound with iron or wire. Forests must be eaten up to supply this timber alone.

At the Christmas season, the A.S.C. handled and distributed the boxes of gifts sent by the good folk in New Zealand. The good things are immensely appreciated by our soldiers. No soldiers at the front «»ro more generously treated by their kith and kin than the boys that represent New Zealand. It is not only at Christmas time either that they are remembered. The loaded waggons lose no time in making for their respective dumps. There the foodstuffs will be checked and classified and put in separate lots on the timbered platforms. Another branch of the A.S.C. is taking delivery. "When you see the iuvrv-ense supplies you realise what it takes to feed even a bvigado for a day. Then to think of the immensity of the task in feeding all the British armies on tho fronts for one year. It staggers the imagination. Once unloaded, the empty waggons pack up again, being joined by limber carts from the various battalions. Quartermasters arrive on the scene, important and consequential, with papers detailing the number of men they require rations for. The hofty chaps on the dumps get busy. Fi-.«t Otogo will be the cry. This battalion's waggons will draw up to the dump followed by xho limber cart to get their loads. The supply men armed with slips of papers detailing the supplies required in lb or in cwt, in gallons and dozens. The fellows must have quick and clear brains, for the rations must bo dealt out with speed and accuracy. Physica-i strength and activity are necessary, for handling the various bales, boxes, bags, and quarters of beef is strenuous work. Soon the waggons and limber of Ist Otago are oomplote. The waggon drivers will mount their waggons, and are told to-get a.way, in the lurid language that is peculiar to tho army. "But it is all meant good-naturedly." Second Otacfo and Canterbury's waggons will Arive up in turn and be despatched. Then practically ail the South Island Infantry are

accounted for. Once oil the Toads, the waggons will be making steadily for tho Battalion stores. Sheik- may fly around at times, and dangerous spots must bo passed with speed, for the radons must be delivered. Tho A.S.C. drivers will bo all well-known characters at the various stores: even the horses are known and one admires, their eleck coats as they munch away at the hey net attached to tho waggon pole while the waggon is waiting. fire driver will take plenty of hard language about himself, but never disparage his horses. Then it is that ho will go "crook." By instinct, the waggoner will find his way to the store's cook-house. With a mug of te«, in one hand and a hunk of bread in another ho is ready to exchange chaff with the cooks. Toll them of the latest news from the horse lines. They, on their part, will tell him of the boys in the trenches and what iff doing up there. Then, too, the rumour current about when the brigade- is going to shift, aaid where. Army rumours are fabulous things, too. Often has the division been movedl by them to Mesopotamia, to Palestine, Salonika, and more lately to Italy. In reality, we always stay on the Western Front. Tho conversation between the driver and tho cooks will he carried on in the e.rmy language which is real hard: a few French and Gyppo terms will assist to add force and fluency. You will be impressed with the keen wit and sense of humour possessed by the • New Zealander. It is this eame wit and humour that removes much of the chate and boredom of the disciplined army life. With a, final "hurray boys" (good-bye), the driver returns to his horse lines, generally near an old French farmhouse, where the saddlers, farriers, and* wheelwrights are located;

At times, too, in the darkness of the night, the A.S.C. waggons will be engaged bringing up supplies of trench material and war gear to the roads' ends. Dead horses and smashed waggons often tell their own tale, for there is a "war on." As you see the mass of traffic on the roads in the war zone, one is able to form comparisons. Note tho waggons with the white fern leaf encircled in a white border on the waggonside—they are New Zealand waggons, which are second to none. The fine, well oared-for horses are a credit to the A.S.C., and none got better work out of their horses than do our own New Zealanders.

What a host of memories and reminiscences will be awakened at the mention of "dump" to the men of the A.S.C. There were the beaches on G-allipoli where the supplies were brought ashore in lighters, being taken to the dumps in the little mule carte along the sands. Then the packing of rations up the hillside by the sure footed donkeys. The Indian drivers so kind and gentle with their animals. The great grief displayed when a chance shell would come along and kill their donks. The shell fire area embraced all we held on the Peninsula, and the dumps were a favourite target for the Turkish gunners. How' we had to dive for our dugouts when the shells flew axound, to emerge when the strafe was over to see how the dump and rations had fared. As a- compensation for this we had the splendid sea bathing the long hot days we were there. Now the dumps are in France and Flanders. On all the sectors where the boys have fought, and often died, we have been. It is the nature of the ■ array to move on. Each sector, whero the dumps have been established, has its new impressions and memories. Armentieres was the first "Somewhere in France" for the boys from Gallipoli. "Alas, how few of them are left these days.' There we lea.rnt that this was indeed a bigger war than wo had experienced on the Peninsula. The increased shall fire, the fiendish gas made it more cruel, too. Ship lighters and r>aok mules went out of our vision to be replaced by the large railway trains, motor lorries, and horse waggons, to bring up the rations. Then there was the network of train lines to bring the foodstuffs up to the trenches. *» Infantrymen would shove the loaded trucks up in the darkness trying to dodge the dangerous spots between the burst of the Hun machine gunfire. Then there was the Somme, 'with all the adjacent roads, —a stream of neverceasing traffic. Men, vehicles, and guns all bound for the front. Returning were the wounded Hun prisoners and the muddy •infantry just out for a spell. The rain was incessant. The guns thunder always and the countryside was a welter of mud. But the rations were always got up. Then the dumps at Sailly and Fleurbaix, where we all experienced the fierce cold of a sever© winter. It was an easy war then, for these sectors were fairly quiet. Back of th© lines, the little villages and towns would be thronged with New Zealanders. At every cafe and estaminet, eggs and chip shops would be doing a roaring business. There, too. it was that Mr Massey and Sir Joseph Ward visited the boys. What an uproarious welcome they received. What fine fellows they declared everyone to be too. Next, the division ticked to the famous Plugge street sector in front of Messines. The Huns on the ridge had a complete view of the roads and the trenches below held by the New Zealanders. Much of the transport work had to be done in the darkness. The mas© of traffic bringing up supplies to Hill 63, where infantry battalions dwelt in the bowels of the. earth, was done at night. Other battalions lived in the camps further back. All New Zealand worked at night till June the 7th arrived, when the Huns were pushed off Messines in a terrible fashion and as a result of the work done. Who will ever forget the days there, with the everlasting shell fire as the Huns searched the roads and countryside for the khnki humans. High up in the heavens along the horizon were the observation balloons. There were to be seen thrilling fights between rival aeroplanes. How they circled round each other like hawks, while their machine guns rattled incessantly. The defeated plane descending like a huge silver fish diving or may bo in flames. * Then there was the famous Pluggo Street Wood behind Hill 63 where the Hun so systematically searched with shell firo and drenched with poisonoTis gassea in their efforts to get at our artillery. On tho on*skirts of the Woods, were the iittlo cenieterifia with inscriptions on the wooden crosses which told that men from all over the -Empire were buried thero and of our own boys, "not a few." These days, it i 6 the filthy lands of Flanders where not only Ypres, but the whole countryside is a mass of ruins and uttor desolation, whero the armie3 of men come and go, and tho thunder of big guns never cease. The land is a rabbit warren of soldiers in shacks, in tents, and underground. Th© roads a never-ending stream of traffic. Hun raiders fly overhead, and in the darknese it is thrilling to see the searchlights switching their shafts of light heavenwards, trying to locate tho whirling machines in tho darkness. If located, all the anti-aircraft guns will begin firing frantically. The shells bursting 1 in tho air. make a golden ball of fire. Tho Huns, under such circumstances, will drop their bombs hurriedly, soaring higher ;ml higher to get out of reach of the guns. Meanwhile, for miles around, soldiers will orjoy the spectacle. If a raider plane gets hit and comes tumbling to tho earth,

how wo rejoice, especially those who liv© on the dumps, for the bombs arc dropped for their benefit principally. Often havo w© lo create our own dumps and living quarters. "This is the spot, boys,'-' the officer on horseback will ©ay, ami then he would leave lis to our own devices. V. 7 © would behold bare, muddy paddocks beside the roadside. It would be the proverbial making of bricks without straw. Language would be used, but it is historic how the troops swear % in Flauders. For the first few days rations would be dumped cm the ground and covered with tarpaulins. We made our sleeping quarters out of piled! up bales of hay covered with another tarpaulin. The sergeant in charge would have as his office piled up boxes of rations on which to do his clerical work. The dixie would bo boiled and we mealed anyhow. It is rather a good job that military discipline has not altogether killed common sense and initiative jn the New Zealanci&rs, otherwise wo would be in a bad) way when thrown on pur own resources, o& is often the cose. It fa the intelligence of the N.C.O. and men*that save the situation. Soon little shocks and a- cookhouse will appear. The dump is constructed and the little settlement is complete. The shacks will all be -well earthed up as a protection against raiders bombs. The work done is a testimony of the industry of the A.S.C.—the materials used!, however, did not testify to their honesty, "but it is a hard war,"

All the time, though, whatever the circumstances were, the brigade rations had to be received and delivered again. "You have to carry on." So the war goes on and wo all have to do our bit. The best way io to do it cheerily. Someday, indeed, when the blessings of peace come round, army rations will no more worry us. »If all is well, the members of the A.S.C. will become civilians again in fair New Zealand, where dumps don't exist, and the "Great War" will be only a memory.