REMINISCENCES

Southland Times, Issue 20939, 23 November 1929, Page 13

REMINISCENCES

INTO THE MUD

(By 65144.) Given fine weather and a not too aggressive enemy a .summer campaign in northern France was comfortable enough and contained a fair amount of interest, but there never was and never will be a war of pleasure. It is not correct to think that war typifies all that is base in man, for that is not so. On the contrary war brings a great deal of good to the surface and no matter what a man may be, if he has

any good in him his mates will become aware of it and will credit it to him. I met many hundreds of men in the army, but I never met one who did not have some good quality. I will admit that some went clown and never rose again but others were broadened and improved in their outlook on life and it is not fair to think that all men who served in the army were debased by that service. Those who did fall are deserving of sympathy for they fell while serving their country and they realise all too well just what their position is and they have lost more than the men did who died, for after all it is easy to die, but very, very hard to go under before the buffetings of fate or chance, and being under have to carry the burden of lost hopes and ambitions through life to the grave.

After the taking of Rosignal Wood we entered into an inferno of slaughter and misery, that even Dante could scarcely have imagined, and it was there that I learned something of the horrible side of war and, at the same time, something of the sterling qualities of my fellow men. We received orders to prepare to go into the front line shortly after I had delivered my Americans to headquarters, but before we moved up, rations had to be brought up from the dump at Gommecourt. Volunteers were calleci for to bring the rations up and the Americans stepped out in a body. .The New Zealanders did not object to the visitors volunteering, for soldiers who had been in the line for a few months never volunteered for anything. However, someone had to go with the Americans to show them the way and I was told off for that duty. I decided to take a short cut over the top and told the Americans that it was comparatively safe and much shorter, so they did not object. We had not gone far when a German gunner saw us and sent a 'shell over to hasten us on our way'. The Americans were inclined to bolt for cover but I assured, them that the shell would land well to our left and kept them with me. The shell landed as I had prophesied (such a prophecy was a simple matter after a few months in the line) and when I said that the second shell would go to the right my companions were not at all surprised when it proved me to be right. A third shell came over and I knew that it was coming straight for us and said so. The Americans had accepted me for a true prophet by that time and as soon as I had announced the destination of the shell they left me in a body in the general direction of the nearest trench. I followed them at my best pace but could not catch them in spite of the fact that I was something of a sprinter. The shell landed a few seconds after I reached the trench so I collected my men and tried to persuade them out into the open again, but just as they stepped out a fourth shell came over and they did not wait to hear where it was going to land, but returned to the trench with a rush.

We continued on our way through the trench and finally reached Gommecourt and the dump. We had scarecely arrived at the dump when an American soldier hurried up and ordered my men to carry some bread down to headquarters. They were moving off to obey him but I called them back and told them to wait until I told them to do something before they became anxious to work. 1 impolitely told the soldier who had given the order to go somewhere apart from headquarters and he saluted, apologised and made off. The Americans thenassured me that he was their major, but how was I to know that when he was dressed in a private’s uniform. I later discovered that all American officers went into the line in privates’ uniforms to avoid being picked off by snipers. Some of our officers avoided the same thing in a much better way: they did not go into the line at all.

We carried the bread and tins of beef to our trench without any further incident and then moved straight up to the front line. We had not gone very far -when we came to a sap where the mud was over our knees and we could not get out on top for the country was very open. The mud had dried up to a sticky state and it was -a truly frightful condition- of affairs. I have never experienced anything quite so weakening as that trip into the line. I could literally feel my strength being drained away from me every time I pulled a foot from that sticky mixture and the sandbags I was wearing in place of puttees made matters worse, for the mud .made them roll down until they rested like cannon balls on the tops of my boots and acted like an anchor in that sea of mud. I gave in at last and stopped to cut them off and while I was removing them a minnie landed within a few yards of me. I felt inclined to cheer, for minnies never went many yards behind the front line and I knew that we were very near our destination. I removed the sandbags and pushed on and found my section in a bay a few yards from where I had halted. I call it a bay but it was only an apology for one, in fact it formed the worst shelter one could imagine and there was not a single place in it where a man could lie down in comfort. There was one spot in a corner where a man could curl up, but apart from that there was nothing but mud. We could not even lie down on the firestep for there was no proper firestep there but only single steps cut in the parapet. The parapet was unusually high and the ground behind the trench fell away and consequently we were perched up on a bank at the mercy of every shell that fell behind us. We had taken the trench from the Germans who knew all about it and made a point of dropping their shells 50 or 100 yards behind us. I always had an uneasy feeling in the small of my back when I stood up beside the gun, on which I was number two as Stump had promised. Stump was away on leave at the time and Jim Goodwin, who w-as number one on the gun, was in charge of the section. We had our magazines loaded with tracer bullets for shooting at aeroplanes behind the line and we had to unload and reload them in the dark. I wandered down to the other Lewis gun section in the small hours of the morning and- asked them if they had changed their ammunition-, but their corporal said that it wasn’t worth the bother, but they had good reason to wish that they had bothered before they had been there very long. We sent a patrol out from our section and two members of it came back in a hurry and reported that the third member, who was in charge of the patrol, had been shot by a sniper. They were both new to the line, one of them being an American, so they should not have been sent -out on such a job and could not be blamed for deserting their leader. They claimed that he was shot in the head, but we were never able to verify that for we never recovered his body, but I will write of that - later, - ,