MESSINES BATTLE

Southland Times, Issue 17733, 10 August 1917, Page 2

MESSINES BATTLE

NEW ZEALANDERS’ GLORY. A GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION. A graphic account of the Battle of Messines is given by L.-Co'rpl. W. M. Murray, New Zealand Machine Gun Corps, who was himself wounded in the engagement, in a letter to a friend in Wellington. L.-Corpl. Murray was editor of the North Auckland Times when he enlisted two years ago. He writes: ‘TROUD I AM A NEW ZEALAND SOLDIER.” ‘‘Here I am, lying wounded in Brockenhurst Military Hospital, but I have been through the Battle of Messines. It was hell, but it was glorious, and when I think of the terror, the horror, but withal the glories of a great battle, I feel proud that I am a New Zealand soldier. In the same ward with me are Frenchmen, Belgians, Irishmen, Scotchmen, Australians, and even Germans that cannot speak a word of English. All received the best attention from the British doctors and nurses, for, when a man is ‘knocked out,’ whether he be friend or foe, he is a human, and every kindness is shown to him.

“But it wos a grand drama this taking of Messines; or what had been Messines after hell had been let loose from underground. The whole attack was marvellous, weird, and awe-inspiring. For weeks -in advance our miners had been at work tunnelling and undermining the approaches to the village. We lay in our trenches and dug-outs biding our time. Then suddenly in the twilight of a perfect dawn of a summer day came the attack. Just as the sun was rising over the east our airmen in thousands were sent aloft. The buzz of the ’planes as they came from the rear and passed over our heads was awful, and then we saw them dropping fireballs and signals over the German strongholds at Messines. The ’planes soared upwards out of reach of the anti-aircraft guns, but the fire signals fell from them while all were busy in the British ranks. Further skywards soared the countless ’planes, until, by silent signal, out burst the roar' of a thousand cannon. The artillery was bombarding.

“EARTH SHOOK AND RATTLED.” “With the commencement of the artillery work the mines were exploded. The earth shook and rattled as if an earthquake or volcanic upheaval had taken place. Our piled arms rattled with the tremendous vibration. We laid flat in the trenches, with no more hope of balancing ourselves than cork on a tight rope. To adequately describe the tremendous impetus of the explosives is beyond words. Oilr ’planes, meanwhile, were watching, from the clouds, the movements of Fritz. At a given signal our tanks moved forward, and we motor machine gunners were ordered to our posts. Over trenches and through barricades went the tanks. Their deadly streams of lead laid the Germans low in heaps. But still forward came the bluish-grey uniforms. The artillery ceased bombarding for a few minutes. Horses were hitched up and the guns moved forward. Their first play had been merely the overture to the greatest spectacle ever enacted. Nothing daunted the advance of Fritz, and we could see him moving in masses on the plain below the ridge, where we were quartered. Fritz has a holy contempt for artillery. TANKS MEET GERMAN VANGUARD. The tanks were now meeting thetGerman vanguard, and we could hear the rattle of the smaller guns doing them deadly work. It was grand, sublime, horrible, and awful. It was noble; but it was also murder. Then we got the silent signal, and forward dashed the motor machine guns to stay the advance of Fritz and Hans. The orchestra of hell began to play in earnest. Here and there a company of the enemy would halt, drop to the ground, take a moment’s respite, and advance again. Into them poured lead from tanks and machine guns. Countless tanks, myriads of machine guns. My fingers were pressing the controls as fast as the ammunition belts could be fed to me.

“The German artillery had not been idle through all this debacle, and many of our brave boys were down and out, while the tear shells rendered others useless. No word of command; no drums; no bugle, as in days gone past, but by silent signal the infantry, with bayonets fixed, were given the order ‘Up and over!’

NEW ZEALAND INFANTRY CHARGE. “Onward rushed the officers. Onward came masses of men with black bayonets. Through the cloud of smoke it was hard to tell who was Fritz and who was Tommy. We were ordered to cease fire while our infantry went forward. The first in the rush were the New Zealanders and the Australians—the bravest fighters in the world. We could hear the clash of steel, the yells, the groans, the curses, the hurrahs, and the British cheers. Fritz was on the run. Shells he will advance against, but not cold steel. The bayonet is too much for ihm. Fritz never looked back; be was on his way to his fortified defences, and we were after him.

“We motor gunners were ordered to the pursuit, and what a ghastly pursuit it was. The artillery fire had ceased, our ’planes had returned, and as the smoke lifted we could see the outlines of what was once the village of Messines. Dead, British and German, lay in heaps in countless shell holes, while thousands of dead and dying lay scattered over the ground. How many lay beneath the churned-up fields it was impossible to calculate. It was a ghastly spectacle, but we were fighting, and to pursut Fritz we had to drive our motor guns over dead and dying, pouring hails of lead into the fast running grey uniforms. We had gained the upper hand, the Hun was routed, but we must consolidate our victory and occupy Messines. We passed among corpses as if they were but sleeping comrades, and it was wonderful how many dead lay as if they had just sprawled out for a spell. “As for the enemy's defences before Messines, they were gone; obliterated; wiped out. They no longer existed. Concrete strongholds and dug-outs had been completely shattered by our cannon, and the debris reminded one of the refuse of a quarry. Messines, poor Messines; how it suffered. GERMAN PRISONERS COWED. “German prisoners, unescorted, many frightfully injured, all terror-stricken, famished, and cowed, poured down the slope of Messines ridge to our lines. Many ran, and no wonder, for the battle must have been just hell to them. Our little machine-gun section got safely over the ridge, and advanced from shell-hole to shell-hole, continuously pouring lead whenever we saw a grey uniform. “Then, again, our 'planes went aloft to discover where Fritz kept his retreating burrows, and we were ordered to dig ourselves in. This was a tiresome job, for the German artillery was busy trying to stop our advance. We had a grand view of the panorama of battle, with the tanks routing out the trenches; the 'planes overhead, and Fritz dodging from shelter to shelter on Ins way home. “Our 'planes signalled that the Germans were massing reinforcements and bringing up their heavy artillery. Our cavalry came forward, the horses more eager for battle than the men. Suddenly one of our planes crashed to earth, evidently hit by a shell. German flyers also ventured over our linr.s. THE ARTILLERY AGAIN. “Then began the second artillery duel. Our big guns had advanced and were raining thousands of shells into the German's second fine of defence. Fritz also was busy, and a shell burst on our little dug-out. Its blinding force blew our machine-gun to pieces, and when we could find our feet vve looked at one another. I stopped it in the inner right thigh. Crash ! Crash ! came the sheik, but no more hit us. One of my mates stood on his feet unhurt, while the other dragged himself up. I was covered in blood, while the other chap was bleeding badly. We crept to a shell hole, where we made a tourniquet and tied up our wounds and half-carried, half-dragged the badlywounded chap to the rear. He was nearly done when we met the Red Cross, but now