TO FRANCE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 11732, 23 June 1916, Page 4

TO FRANCE.

WITH THE NEW ZEALAND FORCES. STIRRING SCENES AT SEA. (From MALCOLM ROSS, Official Correspondent with tho N.Z. Forces.)

AT SEA, April 2. Our camp was in the desert, " somewhere in .Egypt." It was at a most interesting spot—troops moving ahout, aeroplanes Hying at high speed overhead, the great sausage-shaped balloon swinging leisurely in the blue; and ships, large and,small, passing to and fro. Occasionally the distant cough of an howitzer, registering, awoke memories of Gallipoli. But there was no sound of any answering gun. All that was by day. At night it was still interesting, but much quieter.. Tiie chuff 1 chuff 1 chuff 1 of a pumping engine sending water into the tanks for out in the desert lulled us to sleep. Save for this chuffing monotone, the occasional "Haiti Who goes there?' of a sentry, the answering call ot " Friend 1" and the fiual response ot -Pass, frieud; all's well," suenco reigned iii our camp. _ 'ihe northern constellation shone "•loriously in a blackness that was intense, and Venus, with attendant ..Jupiter, dipping toward the dim Mokattam Hills, blazed brilliantly. On other nights the great bright moon ot the dry Egyptian skies challenged the radiance of the ovening star and flooded tho scene with golden tight. brom far up the Canal camo the steely glare of the searchlights, throwing - the sandy undulations into high relief and turning some solitary soldier on tho bank into silhouette. Those were days and nights to bo remembered. At times, from the bigger camp across the Canal, came the sound of music and the roll of the drum, indicating that some regiment was moving off. Following tho music of tho baud, faint cheering could be heard . and the stirring strains of the National Anthem These were the distant sounds of farewell ceremonies, for the Forces now knew that it had done with the desert and was to leave for fresh fields and now adventures, mayhap to strike a blow for Mother England and for Franco. As one regiment moved out another moved in. It was .a kind of general post. Sometimes just as; dawn was toming up, rosy-fingered, over the hm of the desert, we could hear the .band playing, and presently a recent would come swinging down the dusty road. They Ti."d started out on tho new trek, to France 1 N EXPECTANT EAGERNESS. From now en thero was*.continual Tfnl sS under the tramp * marchincr men and camels and l.or&es, On the ferrv. with its hand v-mtues ™« Xe'to camels and horses passed .liora sh iew shore Dav after day rno u.av nm o went on tho first of the Australians coming-out, the New Zejlanders R o.ng into the desert trenches n j£ New Zealauders-splemMly -fit with their hard training—marched out. Later still came the Maoris, with.their free swinging stride-born ">' d £rs. Across the Canal it was a case of * elcome the coming, speed tho parting where our fallen lay thickly huddled in the little and alone 1 the lines of trench and charge, and where the still-clothed skeletons of our unburied dotted the slopes* find hollows of what was No-Man's-Laud, was behind us for over, and, plough there were many sad memories, there were no vain regrets. The Turk, in war, had proved himself a gentleman, and as he was not the real enemy we vere quite content to leave him to others. In fresh' fields we might prove our prowess anew. There was an rfXpec-Jint eagerness among the troops _ as they set out at last to grapple with the real enemy—on tho fields of France and Flanders I SHORT NOTICE. A long-distance .telephone § message in the night-time was our/warning st short notice to report for e.ubark ition at Alexandria. Arrived there wo found at ono of the. many quays a big backpainted' Atlantic liner already haltfilled with troops. A thousand others were waiting with their packs and rifles ready to embark. A crowd of avaricious Arabs fought for the privilege of carrying our baggage. On board the tired men were Wing about the decks or searching for their billets. _ Every second man seemed to be sucking an orange. The decks were strewn with discarded peelings. The ship's'cranes were busy with the heavier cases o* Army Corps stationery and many other things that an Army Corps Headquarters need's. Quietly and methodically the embarkation proceeded—the embarkation of some three thousand men —and towards evening a tug came alongside and pulled the nose of our ship round as she headed for an anchorage. White latten-sailed boats were gracefully skimming about the harbour, and hero and there a motor-launch threaded her way through the dance. All that night we lay at anchor, waiting, with the steady slow pulse of the pumps beating. Tho pause gave the three thousand men time to shake down. Perhaps it also enabled us to get through a danger zone under covor of the next nicht.

In the smoking room old Anzacs met and talked of othor days. There were many Anzacs here who had been in the" thick of it. Tho men chatted in groups and whistled and sang, "Australia Will be There." In the evening the general camo on board. After dinner the officers settled down to hooks and magazines, and a quartet, forgetting war for a moment, sat down to a quiet rubbor of bridge. NEXT MORNING. Nest morning there was more stir on board —the sound of bugles blown and commands from non-coms, and orders from ship's officers breaKmg in upon the hum of conversation that arose from thousands of talkative soldiers. The harbour was crowded with shipping. From time immemorial Alexanuria had never been so busy. Someone had said that there was moro shipping in the harbour during the past week or two than in any other harbour in the world. While doubting this, one could not but stand amazed at the amount of tonnage. Amongst the stately steamers that crowded the port one recognised old friends. "That's the old thing wo went down to Gallipoli in," said a war correspondent, gazing seaward over the rail. She was swinging at her anchor awaiting her turn to take another load to the new sphere of action. In the smoking room srimo officers were writing letters to wives or relatives or friends—letters that, perhaps, might never bo delivered. Already the deadly submarine had accounted for one of our big ships, but luckily she had discharged her load, and so there was little loss of. life. Nearly all the crew had come safely to Malta. She was simply one more vessel at the bottom of tho Mediterranean, and some other ship would take her place to carry the overseas armada 0 n—to France! On our port bow, near at hand, another trooper lifted her anchor and swung round, like a graceful lady in a ; ballroom , to make her exit through the gateway of the inner hiivhnur. Shft.- ton- w.ic crowded with

troops for France. Many others followed. From the feet of the great mountains of Maonland and the sun-baked plains of Australia to our new zone was a far cry, and already we had made history on the way. The stirring scenes—a wondrous succession of pictures—passed now with cinematographic rapidity before the mind's eye —the first capture of German territory by ever-ready New Zealand; the taking of German Now Guinea by Australia; the assembling of the great armada at Albany; the long trok aoross the seas; the destruction of the E-mden; the hard training on the heavy, scorching sands of Egypt; the fight on tho Canal: the assembling 1 of tho still greater armada at historic Lemnos; the landing at Anzac; the slaughter of the oncoming Turkish horde m May; the taking of Lone Im <7 the charge of the Light Horse at the Nek; the storming of Clmnuk Bair by the New Zealanders in August • the winter blizzards of the ; the marvellous exacuation; Egypt and the Canal and the desert again.- That was the end of the first film. And now this new embarkation! "The Soul of Ansae." „-i, o m we were wont to meet m roJled-up shirt sleeves and without any sign or badge of his generalship rubbing shoulders 'with "his m the firms line on Gnlfinr°ir nOW '? » cat - fi tting tunic with three rows of ribbons on it, is here with us, cheerful.and alert as ever. Ho lias threaded a new film on to the machine, and a great Imperial assembly is patiently and exnectantlv await ; n<* the new theme. Will it be as startTinglv dramatic as the old? The verdict lies still m the womb of. the future. But we who have seen something ,'H 5 the stress and strain of Anzac will listen for it with a oplm confidence amid th» clash and rattle of" the roarme boom of war m our new snhere of action. LOOKING BACK. By the grace of God. the might of the British and the Allied fleets, and the splendid energy and courage of our mercantile marine, our Antipodean Army once again has been transported across the seas. This is the third great move by water. It has come from" the land of perpetual sunshine to a country of grey, httmid skies—from the arid sands of Egypt to the canals, the budding forests, and tihe well-tilled fields of Northern France. The gloom of a late season is illumined by occasional days of sunshine, and the promise of a gloripus spring is in the

LIN, CAPTURED BY GENERAL SMUTS,

clear, crisp air. New scenes and new interests await us at every turn. In these days of diabolic warfare it is a tremendous undertaking to transport an army across a few thousand miles of sea, infested by the submarines of the inhuman Hun. Yet hero we are, safe and sound, within seventyfive yards of the German first line, and the German enemy does not know.it English, Scottish, Irish, Welsh, Canadians, South Africans, Australians, New Zealanders, Indians, Maoris, Niue Islanders, Ceylon planters, men from the Straits Settlements—all these, and others, are in France, fighting, or ready to fight, in our just cause. The mere thought of it stirs the imagination, the actual achievement makes the pulses thrill. As I write, thousands of Russians, amidst scenes of almost unparalleled enthusiasm, are landing at Marseilles. Looking back on it now it all seems very wonderful that we should have thus been safely transported from the ends of our far-flung Empire. With all his vaunted system of spying, and his; menace of undor-water warfare, the German has been again outwitted, just as he was at the landing on Gallipoli, the second landing there in August, and at the evacuation. How all this has been accomplished must not be told in detail until the war is over. ON BOARD A TROOPER.

It was my good fortune on March 30 to sail from Egypt in a big Atlantic liner, that carried the Anzac general and his staff and 3000 troops. During tho voyage the submarine peril wasever in our minds. Wo lived with our lifebelts. We took them with us even to our meals. At night we laid them by our beds. When alarums were sounded, the whole three thousand men went orderly and quietly to their allotted stations. I was in charge of a collapsible boat, inboard of one that was already swung out on tho davits. Our duty, if our boat was ever launched—of which possibility some legitimate doubt occasionally crossed our minds—was to stand clear of the ship until she sank and then pull in and pick as many as we could out of the water. When the Southland was torpedoed, with Australian and New Zealand troops on board, off Mudros, one such boat to carry thirty, actually saved fifty-seven, though it was floating bottom upward. But tho chances were that if a torpedo hit the ship fair and square our boat would never bo launched and that we should aIL, soon be floundering in the water. In that case we should have to trust to Providence and tho other boats. But three thousand men from a torpedoed ship in mid-ocean would take a lot of saving. Tho one soldier tdiat everyono was fully determined should bo saved was the little man with the three rows of ribbons on his breast, pacing the deck with a cheery word for everyone—whom Hamilton in a historic despatch had referred to as " the Soul of Anzac." On board that ship there was scarcely a man that would not willingly have given his own life to save his.

AN INCIDENT IN MID-OCEAN. We had pleasant days and calm seas throughout our voyage. Submarine guards were posted. Tho gun astern was ready loaded. Meu with loaded rifles were detailed at the word of command to firo upon any hostile periscope emerging from the" depths. On the bridge and on the upper decks a sharp look-out was kept. One fine day, after we had finished boat stations and were just Bitting down to

toa, tho alarum went again—fivo short blasts on tho ship's siren. "It may be the reul thing this time," said a general, as wo rose from the table, fastening our life-belts as wo went. There was no fuss, no undue hurrj\ Each ono went quietly to his station, as is the way with the British iu timo of peril. Arrived on deck we found the ship, with way suddenly checked, swinging round in a great circle. It really seemed as it wo had been sighted and were trying to dodge a submarine. But soon the word went round that a man had jumped overboard. He had been in prison for some offence. In a moment of mental derangement he thought to suddenly end it all. Still wearing his mebelt, he could be seen floating alive in tho sea. In a few moments he was a mere speck iu the ocean, then quickly lost to sight. A tast, grey minesweeper, with long, thin wireless masts, that had been convoying us, dashed up-, the foam rising from her bow, but looked in vain. The big Juicr was. still swinging round in a great sweep. About half an hour had elapsed. Suddenly the red-painted lifebuoys thrown overboard when the man jumped were seen floating in. the sea. And, presently, the man, also floating, with head thrown back, and an arm tosseti by the waves, as if ho were still alive. There was a disposition to cheer, but it was quickly checked, for many recognised that by his rash act this one man had endangered the lives of 3000. Perhaps in war time the ship should have gone straight on, leaving him to his > fate, but British seamen are not built that way. / As the man passed astern those with keen sight noted his wan face. Hp made no attempt to turn toward the passing ship. Ho was already dead. There was left only the chance of n»suscitation. So, when her backing screws churning the sea to foam, the ship came almost to a dea'd stop, and a boat was lowered. By this time the man was again far astern' 'and lost to sight. The boat's crew rowed—a long pull—into the eye of the setting sun Directed from the ship they reached the floating body and hauled it into the boat. In suspense we watched the boat rowed slowly back with two oars. As it neared the ship we noted a naked form across, a thwart, and two men endeavouring to restore a'life already gone beyond recall. Tn silencK'. the thousands of soldiers watching curiously, tho boat with its crew and tne inert naked form was hoisted on board, and the ship proceeded on its way, zigzagging acioss a leaden sea. That night there was a splash in the dark .water —there was one out of 3000 that would never see the battlefields of Northern Franco. SERVICE AT SEA.

Divine .service at sea is at any time an impressive ceremonial. In tirnr of war it is ddubly so, and the hymn "For Those m Peri] on the Sea" has a special significance, while <l Onward, Christian Soldier", Marching as to War," sung by two or three thousand soldiers, thrills the nerves and f.ets the pulses beating a little faster. There is not a woman's voice in all that great chorus. Leaning on the railing above the welJ-deek where the men, all wearing their lifebelts, are closely packed, are five Generals, various members of the staff, and some

soldiers. The young parson stands beside the commander of the corps. He is a Cambridge man, a native of Tasmania, who has taken holy orders. Enlisting in the ranks as a common soldier, he has risen to the grade of lieutenant. He is a thin-faced man of rather poor physique, but with the heart of a lion. Whatever may be said as to the policy of a soldier of the- church becoming a soldier in the Army, there is no doubt whatever that the men respect and look up to the fighting parson. The stirring sermon that this young lieutenant preached to them that Sunday, as our vessel churned her way towards the Western battlefields, with the white houses of Fantalaria looming i-hrough" the grey mists, made a deep impression upon all who heard it. The fighting parson was en rappiort with the fighting Anzacs THE GENERAL SPEAKS. Next day the troops assembled once more, crowding ths after-deck, and even climbing the rigging to hear an address from their beloved general. Speaking extempore, in his quick, clear way, he recapitulated" briefly the deeds of the past on Gall'poli, and told the new'troops that he knew they would play the game just the same as the old hands. He told stories, with humour, that made them laugh heartily, and spoke of the splendid spirit of the men in the attacks on Lone Pine, the Nek and Chunuk Bair. Ho spoke also of the entreaties of men to' be allowed to serve in the rearguard during the evaluation. In writing to the Private Secretary of the King he had mentioned this fact, and' the Private Secretary, in reply, had said, " the part of vou'r letter that gave the Kins by far the greatest pi ensure was that in which you describe the men as fighting to get into the positions of the greatest danger " ; and he had added, "with a spirit like that running through your force you may well be proud of your army corps." Finally, the general arged the men to keep three things ever oefore their minds— training, fighting and discipline. And, he added, the greatest of these is discipline. In this connection ho said he felt sure that in the new land to which they weve going there would not be n single soldier from Australia or New Zealand % who would not rather cut off his rght'liand than see the women a.id children of the soldiers of Franco who were at the front not as safe in their keeping ns would be their own wives and daughters and sisters at homo "Thfie cheers for the General!" cried someone at the conclusion of the address. There was a ringing response, followed by a buzz of conversation. "Thank you. boys," said the General siniplv; and then the bugle sounded the "Dismiss." THE ARRIVAL. With such stirring incidents, along our devious route, we steamed acioss* these seas, and one grey morning awoke to find the rocky hills of southern France and the tower of Notre Dame de la Garde looming through the mists behind Marseilles. And in that city, with centuries of stirring history behind it. and with a glorious promise of spring in the avenues cf budding piano trees, our eood ship poured out her 3000 troops. Other ships had come in before us. Still others were following iu our wake. The long-expected had come at last—we had reached tho >irv»:nioed land.