ANZACS AT TEE FRONT.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 11757, 22 July 1916, Page 1

ANZACS AT TEE FRONT.

, P OFF TO THE FIRING LIE. NEW ZEALANDERS MARCH OUT i . (First Article.) NORTHERN FRANCE, May 28. Months of training and action in varied lands and climes have familiarised us with the details bf activo service—with tlio tragedy and the comedy of war, for, insofar its the Anzacs are concerned, we have our moments of gaiety as well as of sadness. Tragedy has come hot-foot over +he ilex-coverod ridges and marched stealthily across the hot desert sands to meet us face to face in trench and dug-out. And in interludes in the fighting and in tho fighting itself comedy has walked with us liand-m-hand. And so it is here, and will be to the end. In these days of stress and strain it is difficult for the war correspondent to descend from the- general to tlio particular, but 'n these and t-ha following articles I shall endeavour to give some description of the sights and sounds met with in and about cur sector. . THE DISTANT GUNS. On "the evening of our arrival the air was palpitating ritli the throbbing sound of a distant cannonade. Tho I loud booming of the bigger guns and the more staccato hanging of the smaller ones came in incessant chorus across the fields and the forests, rising and falling in a cadence that seemed as if it would be never-ending. For miles at night-time the sky was lit with the flashes of artillery. Flares sent from the distant trendies illumined the clouds, and at intervals the long bright fingers of the searchlights waved across the firmament. Away in the south a flashing light rose intermittently above tho tree tops. This was tho glare of furnaces, from the throats of which poured the molten steel that means so much to <a modern army. What all this was about we did not know. It was not in our sector. It did not concern us intimately,. It was simply an indication of- the vast enterprise in which we had become involved. Af GIGANTIC STRUGGLE. ; The 'enterprises in which we had engaged inthe paSt were vast enough in all conscience, yet the mind reels b<> fore the new and more gigantic manifestations with which we are confronted. i-'rom day to day one looks at the brief communique posted at Headquarters, and notes that, some aircraft has been brought down or that some bit of trench has been lost or taken. It is a bald announcement. Imagination must fill in the dei* ils. It is a bald announcement in a period of comparative inactivity. It •seems all so dreadfully bald and prosaic, and there is an irritating sameness about- it all. Yet we who are on the spot know that day and nidit all along the line men are being killed and wounded, and that the best brains of the opposing nations are working and scheming and plotting to end it all as -quickly as may be. The war seems to have settled down along a narrow strip of territory stretching for hundreds, nay,

for thousands of miles acres? th;> land. Behind that lino the world goes on with its work—feverishly in the centre--, where gun:; and ammunition are mad'.', hut witli the sam• old quiet-i rural simplicity where the growing, nnd the corn is dr.ily coining nearer to the ear under the alternating influence of rain and summer -i ;<sl« i;ic;. In the narrow bnttic zo.ie men njt; at "rips with ail th* diabolical .ippiia'neos of modern warfare, and nmvblnes that v>-e mush not descvi'v. are being pressed into -the service <;!' t'n our .email wrror eemnarativo calm reigns, fhourh 'Death t.?k?s *ii.-> daily toll. On the Tf:d\*in T wnte there is a vr> R .?. md de?.d;v ?i: niggle j-'oin l; on. At Verdun the enemy. '.villi whnt almost se?<ms the madman of despair. is hurling battalions and brigade,<; and divisions in a vain attempt at victory. Tho clash of amm ther- - - ii on a truly gigantic scale, and tho carnage too dreadful to contemplate. TSnt Verdun is a-jong way off, ami the sounds of its most intense cannonade do not even faintly roach our oars.

THE BRIGADES MARCH" OUT. For a time the Auzacs wore scattered over a Lor go area. The Australians woro the first to go into the trenches, and it was not long before they had their new baptism of fire w:th German high explosive. Then r.nr brigades began to march out. Even o:io brigade., with all. its impediments. makes :i great showing 011 trio road. On a beautiful summer day two of the brigades came tramping alone: the hard paved roads, through country lands and towns and villages. For hours I watched them passing—sturdy sons from the Southern land—and for a time marched with them, chatting to old friends' and acquaintances. They wore in high i.spirits, eager to got into the trenches and pit their vajour ngainat tlui.t of 'the Boaehe. With waggons and motor lorrios, .and machine gun sections nnd ambulances, with travelling kitchens — chimneys smoking and pots steaming —with their hlands playing, with snatches of song, and, .at intervals, a tune whistled, they came alom; n road lined with apple trees in gay blossom. The blare of the trumpets and the roll of the drum gave an air of the oldtime wars to the scene. It w,as all so very different from what we were used to on Gallipoli. They swung over a bridge, and men and. horses and waggons were duplicated in the placid waters of the straight canal. From the beautiful grounds of an ancient chateau that existed when we fought other wars here—and centuries before. —the Baronne, shrewd, capable, and witty, watched them pass. The vil- ! lagers at-the doors of their stoop-tiled' red and brown cottages gazed at the now soldiers with interest and curiosity. Tlioy -were something different from what they had seen. Yet many British feet had tramped along heresince the war began. The peasants— French and Flemishs—mostly, old men and women and children, leaned, on their hoes • in the fields and watched them pass with swinging stride. At the bridge a military policeman, with nodding grey emu plumes in his pictnre&q«tf sloircfn"; lnVt-7' sitting .'"'his horSo with tlio airy 'grace of the stockman, smiled down at them. To him the men in passing made cheery, chaffing ,rem£rks. "Hallo, 'Australia, how goes it?" one man called. " replied the horseman. " What ho, "Emu! How's the kangaroo?" queried a.nother. "Still jurging," . replied tho laconic horseman. But of all the inquiries the most pertinent was from the tired, dry pilgrim, who wanted to know how far it was to tlu; next estaminet? For it was a. hot day, and that particular soldier was thinking more of beer than battle. For five hours rumble of wheels and tho tramp of marching men sounded In the village. Tho men carried their rifles and packs, and the dull green of their now steel helmets strapped at their backs made a note of colour in tho drab khaki of the column. Wo watched the long columns bend round through tho village, and a mile away across the green fields, where the road wound through tall elms and beeches, we saw the dull klialri ribbon streaming along the forest road. Near by

Linwood, Christchureh, wounded

xhe axes of the pioneer Maoris were ringing on ihe hard wood of that beautiful forest. !3ut it was a hot day, and the marching over the hard "pave" of tho roads of Northern. Franee told on the feet of the men. A v few days later one of the brigades marched back to billeis, and another brigade came on to take their place. On the whole march only one man fell out from this brigade. (i There's nothing like tho old lot," said one of them proudly to me tho next day. Theirs certainly was a fine performance. They had a. good sprinkling of old Anzacs amongst them. Oil another day we watched the artillery go past. *They are a fine lot. the artillery, and with their added batteries, their howitzer and fiold guns, ammunition waggons and general transport, and their fine looking horses in tip-top condition, they made .an excellent showing. Like tho men, they will have to bear the brunt of much heavier shelling than .they got on Gallipoli, but they w-ill be able to dig well in, and will be spread, over a much greater area of country. They will at least be away from the bullets in this new battlefield.