THE NEW HOWITZER.

Sun (Christchurch), Volume III, Issue 858, 9 November 1916, Page 8

THE NEW HOWITZER.

TRYING TO SEE THE SHELLS. AT FEATHERSTON ARTILLERY SHOOT. [For THE SUN.] The battery of four 18-pounders bad finished their sharp-tongued, vehement scolding of the enemy in the hills across the Ruamahanga River, and the pretty puffs of white smoke which told of shrapnel bursting along the peaceful looking ridges, had ceased. "Good shooting"' was the verdict of the experts. Had the scene been laid in a theatre, the crowd gathered on the three knolls behind the guns would have stamped and applauded. As it was, they discussed the matter quietly among themselves, for they fell rather like boys who had been permitted, as a favour, to stand by and watch men who were doing interesting work. The weather was ideal for an outing, and since there had been no "big shoot" for two months, residents of the Wairarapa, and, even from Wellington, had arrived at the gun position by motor cars in numbers. The green slope was brightly dotted with the colour of ladies' summer gowns and parasols. • "Like the crowd at a race-meet-ing," an artilleryman remarked. And it was, especially the race meetings of recent months where the khaki has been so much in evidence. Above the hills where the targets were, the skies were blue, and cloudless, and in the paddocks between the hills and the guns, the sheep that the 18-pounders had disturbed were settling down again. The New Gun. "What next *?" a girl asked a bombardier. "The howitzer. That's her they're unlimbering now." A gun on mountings somewhat similar to those of the 18-pounder was being placed in position. Its barrel was thicker and looked shorter, while there was a difference in the gear for elevating or depressing the gun. "She's a 4.5, fires a 351b shell,'" was the information offered by one who knew.

"And can you see the shells in the air ?" a girl asked. "If you're right behind the gun, and keep your eye along the barrel, you might." The muzzle of the new gun rose slowly, in response to the gunlayer's hand, till it pointed at the blue skies above the line of the distant hill-tops. Never before had the howitzer, which everyone was watching, raised its voice among the fraternity of guns at Featherston camp. And if the 18-pounders had been animate things it might have been said that they looked slyly along their noses, as though they said to themselves, "What sort of shooting will this high-falutin' fellow bring off?" The chief artillery instructor was to fire the howitzer himself and the target was a line of trenches behind a spur which the more direct shooting 18-pounders could hardly get a line on to with any chance of success. But the howitzer hurls its projectile high into the blue so that it falls at a steep angle upon the enemy's position and drives him to cover elsewhere. Waiting the Explosion. There were signallers posted in the hills who had a good view of the target. In fact, the countryside from Featherston Camp to Papawai and Morison's Bush and the targets was alive with the activities of the engineers and artillery signallers. The whole of the results of the shooti ing of the 18-pounders were already I on record at camp headquarters, and ' every important move on the green slope where the guns were was Hashed into camp. So that it was known there, and at every station and drop station over a radius of several miles that the howitzer was ready and that the crowd was breathless with suspense as the artillery officer in charge glanced towards the gunners and spoke. "Fire!" "Bang!!" Everyone was ready for the big noise, yet nearly everyone flinched a little. It was a new note to most ears. Like the 18-pounders' scolding din, it was sharp. But it lacked the whip-like conciseness of that sound. It was deeper and there was a hoarse roar as an aftermath of sound. Now was the chance for the keeneyed ones who wished to see the shell that was mounting swiftly, and invisibly to the average eye, into the heavens. "I see it, Dad." a youngster said. "What is it like?" the parent asked indulgently. "Like a bird's egg—now it's burst," was the surprising reply. Some of the spectators had binoculars, one girl was trying to steady an oflicer's 'scope sufficiently to watch for smoke above the target, but the majority were straining their eyes in the intensity of watching. Bluish-white, like the smoke from shrapnel bursting in the air, the smoke rose behind the spur, and the flags of the signallers on the hillside began to flutter. These were the artillery signallers. The engineers* signallers were sending the news through by telegraph to a central station on a wagon along the Papawai Road and that station was repeating it to the station beside the guns. With the information concerning the result of his first shot as a guide, the artilleryist at the howitzer set to work again and soon the howitzer was punching shells at the high heavens with regular precision, j while the smoke of the explosions : rose from behind the hill-spur; and j the silent 18-pounders looked along their shining barrels and sized the stranger up. WILL LAWSON.