SAUSAGE GULLY.

Poverty Bay Herald, Volume XLIV, Issue 14284, 28 April 1917, Page 8

SAUSAGE GULLY.

VALLEY OF THM DEAD. \ (Commonwealth Official Correspondent.) \ 1 BRITISH HEADQUARTERS', \\ ' FRANCE, February 15. \ ... I was- late. It was a long way to { tlie rendezvous, where the ca** must have : b;een already waiting to bring 'me back. | ' Tlie mooii was already shining from the , j sjiowfield* with the dim lustre of a'lumin- ji oris matchbox. I decided that 7 ! would \ .+/tirn down Sausage Gully for a short cut. I ' C|ne knew evei*y inch of that old road \ by heart— the winding, v traffic-worn ; tracks between the bee -hives of bivouacs ; m! the old German trerichs*— '•trampled to '; powder by the feet of thousand* of men j and animals always passing up- and down, ; I had not* been there since .September, but having been up and down the* place Sp times, at every hour of night and day, could have threaded it blindfold down .to our old! camp with the, padres near the Australian coffee-stall iuider'-ih'e great shadowy trees of Beoourt Wood. | ) I tiwnedi down Sausage Gully — ( stumbled a hundred and fifty yards over strange snovv hummocks, and! then grad- ' daily came to a stop bewildered; "'Could One by any chance have mistaken the iMace and strayed voffv m to some ot&tervalley instead '""I Climbed 'up on td'-the I*jeaped-up edge of a shell crater and gazed around. It seemed -the shape iof fihe old Sausage Gully 'right enough. !. There was the hollow, spoon-like depression gradually, deepening, ag it |heered to ,fche leftY m the distance be- - fHween its two' gently rising .h"Ul'-~ides. ' (> I A COTERLEiT OF'SNOIW. ';■!■ But not a movement, not the smallest . sign of life, m the whole place. It "lay Sleeping under- its dSad-white ooverlet J o;f snow like some* undiscovered waste m tjhe steppeg of ' Siberia. But fo*r a certain! pimpled roughness m the snow outlines caused by the craters underneath, you tjould not have told it fi*pm ah* ' Arctic landscape wheii- six months' night arid spllness had come down upon the eai'th" "What was strangest was that of all -tlie i|oads I knew* ' I ' could ; hot' discover; a* v single recognisable track." There :*were scattered footprints „ leading across'thevalley occasionally Converging into whatriiight or might' -not be a path -to some : small encampment that may have been*, hidden over the hilltop. Fui'ther , down tjhe valley -.there were -the tracks clearly " 6f .visitors to one of "ihe huge mine' caaters <>f La Boiselle, which lies' on' brie Height of the valley. But of -the busy roads up and down the valley'g" ;ilerigthrwhich only a few months' before- were so tlwonged with & constant proceasitiii Of men, water-carts, mules, guns, ambulances, that- even- the name of it has 7 never before' been mentioned m these letters-, of air that .thoroughfare, busier at times thaii the LondontStraitd-j I could"' alot trace a vestige— save of one. Half-: way down Aha valley, after ploughing m ' and out of shell-holes 1 , along scraps of forgotten parapet, over* tumbled, trenches, tripping every now and then iri shreds bf old German • or British barbed wire, 6ne came/ upon a levelled line curving away out of sight, broken m places, covered like all the rest with a' thick qfuilt of snow. I stumbled ■ over a.'por-: tion of bent- up sleepei*;. y PROBLEM OF TH{J PUSH. 7 It was our. "new" railway 'line — the v,ery latest work which .our Australian Pioneers^nd'ertobk-vduriHg their tour in* the . Sohiine.''"* ' 'The narrow gauge ' line . We looked on as the very last improvement towarids -sol.viiigr thej -• prob,- , lem of the great push. Here it was — a deserted, almost forgotten, history. " I ; fcneVr' where "we womd'^oome across the road ; fora certainty-r-ttp 7'by . the corii<r of Recount* Wood, where the one ih'airt ' ti*ack bent round the 'corner,' and the other joined 'in* -from the ' direction of La Boiselle. I would strike foi" tliat corner along the path wo had so of lien -followed: atv.night,y ; and m the ; small hours whan. the skyline -behind; us i.n.the : direction of the lines", tvas lurid with Ted and orange flashes of the waning bai**rage.\ On, '-these -roads past the •old- 1 Camp and the 'chateau in\ the^.-wood the walking 1 l would •" "be**" easierV thari JSttumMifl &' amOngst "itne *n6w-heapied ca-atei-iaV ' I- Wandered dOwni the oldVvailey like a man'^h'adream: -The "'silent, deseifted pnowfield was. peopled, ;in; one's thoughts by • memories of the*-' did brigade 'h•eadotuart'er_,' , by the ghost Of the ol.d cookers, with- (Hie 'ration : " parties J gMSherips 'm the first light of 'morning- to carty/'djiiies oT'ho't tea lip to the dishevelled .'.village' a "mile further into. 'I ,cu,t obliquely up the hillside past the i*ini- ' of : 'sr'(i&Lj craters* 'tow'ehng •' white Triooh, until T found myself 'ohi a stretch .of frozen; puddlfea7*eart'h,''l ! ik(Ei thY "earth ■ which the cattle liaVe /'trampled 'infe" a hone^pomb' ajjouhd *$ie e_ge'"''o'f .■ 'a. w-atfcr-hole." , /The Spuddles 7. were " ha,rcl.6r "than /jpyered. .-.^Key .led'towards V couplje "<*»f lonely, trees standing but "in thq modi"-! land with the faint shade of oiher trees! sornie way behind them. ' Tho_e distant? 'trees' *W«^t be" '.the "Wood ihV-which Be-! court' Oha't'eau '■'li'eyUe'd'. J "'with';^'' i '''*bj_3y/ 'dr'essi^g-st^iori, Svoi'king at full tbrcMttgh mahy nights' and day_ ' as the' dusty^ 'meri' -ano* ylwching ambulances.* .i'pMd! , byf ' By the two trees t<he. ,i^n "into what was"'6leai*ly'the"remiirisi of" ah old track. It be^t". abound "ih;eni? oiit there o^n the . moor^arib^ ran " ba'cirf 'itoi-oss -ihb tnooi* •HdwaHß; 1 "ccrttld 1 not I'em'einbW*. any irOail lit© -this,> '^andi'ye't 'I 'thc*uifrht we l^rie*^v , tfife-plafeipi •Hlind/blded. * I pushed' on do#r*j r ifclie' deserted^ 'ruts arid Hbllows'' Out, ,b'f "the .dusk 'ahead-there" ldomied "■-,^^up air ugly stone bam of, a house. 'V .'.'. v • 7- Hkß7#A^H3^ '7i v I looked back , and. .the 'triith^came* home with a i*ush. ' iTlie twoitreea ing outr there on ,'the moor were the' reniains of «our wck>(£7 It fwas out there oh .that bleak waste that wo. had s*at uride^ the ■"H'e'es'o'f a ;i ni^ht v: ''aji'd watched tlie'fii^' li*hfiii_" the big' trtiriks"' imd'ai*ch- ; in^* m'anclies ;-' arii±' l whei*§ ; this' .come cra^hiri^ thi*ba%H'"the i; ljranbhes l "ay we slept m l our Vostf 1 trench j" 'sca'tiering some fai*-tHroAv'ii' twig with' a. clatter' oii to' the t 'tiri"fo^f oVefhead'7 ' ; ThoSA' 'lavo trees- -tvere the' *wodd by the" coffee'stall ; and'*thi& bai'e'gi'^tibu,^ wa's" Bebourt 'pji^eauj dodriied 'to 16oik' oiit' over 'the modr where tlie' , gre!a.titi-e^s' hiid sheltered in* /X "' v':"u ' : " "■'■-'■'• ■'■*' '"■■'■ ■•"■i::"---'Orie -felt db that mOirient like an old maii 5 to -whom only th'e "past is* real — Idije"* who ' "go6s on living amongst 'his foolish phantasies arid ' nieniories while the present hustles paat on its day's ,;wfe*rk 'uaii6tice^; :: • Here we have been thinkings arid- talking* ' and ' dreaniirig oi Sausage': V-dllev 'aridl Pozieres 'and • MoGmiet ; ;*-as though they were alive arid all the* while , the "J**oung Av'orld is'briistlirig ;abo*ut y its;owri busings quite ds pressing arid'absorbrhg',, bu«t ; miles -'away ' f rbrii 1 this lprtg. f brgbtteti ooi'rier-.' ' It Va« like wak-irig7-fi*om'' a 7 di'e'aftf— shakii% ". oiie'g self : free yesterday arid gettiri^lip tO'face to;day.'':: '.' '"■'-■'- .* '.' ■ ' ■ ■■■ ■ -. ; y And yetit is not quite , the For if thete iii any gratitude' in our Australian, people, any^inspiration 'm gr^at deeds, and' -any . appreciation, of : the great heart's tha,t' carried theni through, then until our people cease to exist, until the eai-th fails ' into the suri, Poziers will be one of the most living fatts iii Ausitralian histoi'y.' - .