ODD PAPERS

Southland Times, Issue 21217, 18 October 1930, Page 13

ODD PAPERS

SOUVENIRS

(By

65144).

The war had been over for about eight months and was almost a thing of the past when I had occasion to visit Base Records in Wellington. I had completed my business and was about to walk out when I noticed a Digger in full uniform looking me up and down and on returning the look I recognized him as an old friend. He was wearing five ribbons on his tunic, two more than I had any idea he was entitled to, and I invited him to come and have a drink while we swapped experiences. “I’ll have a cup of tea,” he said, “I’ve cut out the booze.”

“Suits me,” I replied “because I’ve never started it.” >

We had our cup of tea and I asked him where he won the M.M. and D.C.M.

“Oh they gave them to me for something or other,” he replied, and then added hastily, “What do you think of this?”

He produced a pair of field glasses from the pocket of his great-coat and explained that he had souvenired them from a German. He added that he had brought a fine German pistol home with him but had given it to a friend, and then asked me what I had collected in the way of souvenirs. He appeared to be surprised when I said that I had returned without a single souvenir of France, Germany, or any other country overseas. I entered the line when souvenirs were plentiful. The Germans had just made their smashing attack upon the Fifth Army and we had met them at Mailly-Maiilot. German casualities were plentiful and any soldier who wanted souvenirs could collect them from the dead in the field. We had not been long in the line when I was sent out with a fatigue party to collect firewood for the cook-house. I discovered a peculiar looking article like a tin with a piece of cloth attached to it and asked a companion what it was. He said that it was a German gas mask and I said that I thought it would make a good souvenir. His reply cured me of any desire to collect souvenirs. He pointed to a shell-hole nearby and said: “There’s the Jerry that wore it.” The unfortunate Jerry was very much the worse for wear. The Germans had been driven out of Rossignal Wood and the plans of the Supreme Command were maturing for the last great drive towards Germany. A good military road let! from Grommecourt towards the German line and it was selected as one of the routes for advancing artillery. The army In the field had very little regard for roads and trenches had been cut across the road in question, and had to be bridged before the advance could commence. We spent two days bridging one of the trenches near Gommecourt, not a long time in the army, where time did not count for much. Incidentally the German artillery blew the bridge to pieces before we had completed the job. While we were working on the bridge a party of American soldiers came up- the road and passed across the newly erected bridge, and _ one of those soldiers was obviously an inveterate souvenir hunter. He was laden like a camel with every conceivable German weapon, from a rifle and bayonet down to two or three bombs, bayonets with serrated edges and a supply of iron crosses. Shortly after the Americans had passed by one of the men who was shovelling soil in against the ends of the bridge unqarthed a Mills bomb. It was very rusty and looked as if it had been in the ground for some years. We examined it curiously and someone said that.it was a pity we had not found it earlier in the day because we could have given it to the American souvenir hunter. “I wonder if it will go off t” said someone else and another suggested that the pm should be pulled to find out. The man who had found it pulled the pin out and threw the bomb on the ground. The release handle flew off in good style and everyone watched for the result. I was standing in the background and it occured to me that the bomb would do considerable damage to the observers if it exploded. I expressed my opinion and retired hastily and fortunately the other members of the party followed me. We had scarcely, disappeared into the trench when the bomb exploded. The only way in which the members of tfiat party could explain their thoughtlessness in having stood looking at the bomb was that they had been thinking about the American and his back-load of souvenirs. Souvenir hunting caused no end of trouble and led m more than one soldiers death. Everyone has heard of the soldier who went out after a pair of boots and had to kill a dozen Germans before he could get a pair to fit him, but things almost as impossible as that actually happened when soldiers went souvenir mad. I met a sergeant who. had been in charge of a troop on Gallopoli who told me that one of his men used to go out between the lines every night looking for souvenirs, and as often as not he returned with a dripping bayonet; he had been collecting from unwilling owners. Strangely enough that souvenir hunter was the man I met in Wellington. Then there was the case of the man who took a fancy to the pistol a companion had souvenired from a German and went out to get one for himself. He never returned. There was also the case of the man who went out at night collecting wild cabbage in no-man’s-land for the daily stew, but that was another matter. One man in our platoon would insist on going around the trench after every bombardment gathering shrapnel pellets from the duck-boards. He stopped a direct hit from a burst of shrapnel one day and the doctors took thirteen pellets out of him, but thirteen proved his unlucky number and we had to bury him. Officers who collected souvenirs were the worst offenders because they did not carry them around but expected some unfortunate private to do that part of the work - for them. The unfortunate man who had to do the carrying usually had an accident. He was struck on the helmet with a piece of shell and someone “pinched” the souvenirs before he recovered, or he was blown up with a shell and the souvenirs were buried beyond recall. The inventive mind of the average overworked soldier was one of the saving graces of the war. The man who returned .with the most souvenirs was usually the man -who secured a soft job behind the lines. Someone souvenired my gas mask, helmet and boots in. an American hospital at Rouen.