WIRE-TROUBLE AT THE FRONT.

Waikato Times, Volume 87, Issue 13275, 2 September 1916, Page 3 (Supplement)

WIRE-TROUBLE AT THE FRONT.

It you have criticised the teleplion

service in your town, spend a day at the front in Europe, and see what lea] trouble is. We are assured by lan Hay, the novelist-soldier, that hardly any greater test of a man's control over himself and his temper exists than that same field-telephone. On it the whole campaign depends, but after reading his plaintive story of its vagaries we can only wonder how any fighting gets done at all. Here at home conversing over the telephone is a fairly simple matter. You give your number to Central, wait five or ten minutes, are told that "Wires' busy,' 'or "They don't answer," or "The line is out of order," and then you hang up your receiver and walk over to the place with which you wished to communicate, and that's the end of the matter. But at the front, as he explains feelingly, "if you put your .var to the receiver of a field-tele-phone,; you find yourself, as it were, suddenly thrust into a vast subterranean cavern filled with the wailings of the lost, the 'babblings of the feebleminded, and the profanity of the exasperated." The noises are of two kinds: one is the human voice, many times repeated, in varying tones and modulations, and the other is a mechanical sound due to "buzzing"— telegraphing over the telephone-wire when it is impossible otherwise to make yourself understood—a sound that reminds the writer- of "a giant mosquito singing to its young." Here is a list of the various tilings that one may hear over the wire, as he presents 'them in Blackwood's Magazine:— (1) A Regimental Headquarters endeavorinjr to ring up its brigade. (2) A glee-partv of Harmonious Blacksmiths indulging in the "Anvil Chorus." ! (3) A choleric adjutant on the track of a peccant company commander. [ (4) Two company signallers engaged in a friendly chat from different ends of the trench-line. ■ (5) An artilery F. 0.0. (Forward Ob;serving Officer) endeavoring to convey pressing and momentous information to his battery, two miles in rear. (6) The Giant Mosquito aforesaid. The consolidated result, he assures us, is usually something like the following It may be explained that "Beeig is telephonese for "B," that "Don™ means "D," and so on. As we read: Regimental Headquarters (affably): Hallo, Brigade! Hallo, Brigade! Hallo, Brigade! The Mosquito: Ping! The Adjutant (from somewhere in the Support Line, fiercely): Give me B Company! The Forward Observing Officer (front jis eyrie): It that C Battery There's in enemy working-party— First Chatty Signaller (from B Company's Station): Is that yoursel', Jock? How's a' wi' you? Second Chatty Signaller (from D Company's station): I'm daen fine! Tow'.s your Regimental Headquarters: Hallo, Brigade! The Adjutant: Is that B Company? A Mysterious and Distan - Voice politely): Xo, sir; this is Akk and Aitcli. .-'-ue Adjutant (furiously): Then for Lord's sake get off the line! The Mosquito: Ping! Ping! rThe Adju.hnt: And stop that nizzing! The Mosquito: Ping! Ping! Ping! 'here s First Chatty Signaller (peevishly): Yhat's that you're savin' The F.O.F. (perseveringly): Is that J- Battery? There's an enemy workrg party in a coppice at First Chatty Signaller: This is Beer .onipany, sir. Weel, Jock, did ye get . quiet nicht ? .Second ChaVty Signaller: Oh, ay. here was a wee The F. 0.0.: Is that C Battery? 'hero's Second Chatty Signaller: Xo, sir. "his is Don Company. Weel, Jimmy, here -was a couple whish-bangs came ntil

I Regimental Headquarters: Hallo, brigade! | A Cheerful Cockney Voice: Well, my ad. what abaht it? Regimental Headquarters (getving to vork at once): Hold the lino. Brigade, to Staff Captain. "Ref. your t>.C. fourr stroke seeven eight six, the vorrking-parrty in question " The F.O.F. (seeing a gleam of hope): forking-party ? Is that C Bat.-ery? I rant to speak to The Adjutant, Brigade Headquarters, nd Regimen' Sal Headquarters (together): Get off the line! FirsJ- Chatty Signaller: Haw, Jock, hearin' a boot Andra? 1 Second Chatty Signaller: No. Whit va,s that ? First Chatty Signaller: Weel The F. 0.0. (doggedly): Is "uhat C flattery ? , Regimental Headqarters (resolutely): 'The worrking-pnrrty in question was fiuly detailed for tae proceed to the Lendivowse at I The Adjutant: Is that B Campany? purse your [ Regimental Headquarters (quite impervious to this sort of thing): the rendiss vowse. at seeven thirrty akk emma. at point' H two B eight nine, near the cross-roads by the Estamint Repose dee Bicyelistees, for tae" — honk! horkle! honk! Brigade Headquarters (compassionitelv): You're ma-kin' a 'orrible mess if this message, ain't you. Shake your transmitter, do! Regimental Headquarters (after dutifully performing this operation: Honkle, iionkle, honk. }ang! Brigade Headquarters: Buzz it, my [lad, buzz it! Regimental Headquarters (dutifully): Ping, ping! Ping, ping, ping! PingGeneral Chorus: Stop that . . , , buzzing! Jrrst Chatty Signaller: Weel. Andra gays tae the Sergeant-Major of Beer Companv, says he — The Adjutant: Is that B Company? First Chatty Signaller: No. sir; this is Beer Company. The Adjutant (fortissimo): I said Beer ConiDany! First Chatty Signaller: Oh, I thocnt ye meant Don Company, sir. * The Adjutant: Why the blazehaven' t ycii answered me sooner? - First Chatty Signaller (tactfully) There was other messages connn through, sir. The Adjutant: Well, get me the Com Commander. ■First G&tty Signaller: Vena good

you were all dead. Is that you Chumps r The Jovial ,\ oice: ou can boil you sigiiaUeutry's head! Jhe Jovial "Voice : What I'orr I lie .1'.0.0.: for keeping nie waiting Tilt? .lovial \ oice: Righto! And th next article:-' Jho 1.0.0.: There s a Boche work nig-pai ty in a copoice two hundroi yards west of a point— Hio .Mosquito (.with renewed vigor Pmg, ping! Ilie J' .0.0. (savagely): Shut up! "Tlio Jovial \ oice: Working party.111 settle them. What's the iuap-re-lerence J lie 1.0.0.: Tliev are in Square hum nor —. The Harmonius Blacksmiths (suddenly and stunningly): Whang! The 1'.0.0.: Shut, up! Tliev are i" Square— First Chatty Signaller: Hallo, Headquart; rs! Is the Adjutant there 0 Here s the Captain tae speak with him. An Eager \ oice: | s that the Adjutant r Regimental Headquarters: No, sirr He's away tae his office. Hold' the iiiie while 1 II Ihe Eager \oiee: Xo, you don't! I lit me htraight through to (' Batterv <|uick. Then get off the line an I stay there! (Much buzzing.) Is that C Battery P The Jovial Voice : Yes. sir. The Eager Voice: I am 0.C., Berr Company. They are shelling my front parapet, at L 8. with prettv ' heavv stufl. 1 want retaliation, please. The Jovial Voice; Very good, sir. (The voice dies awav.)

A Sound over our Heads (thin seconds later): Wli.ish' Wliish! WliiOi .Second Chatty Signaller: Did v, hear that. Jimmy? 11 1, . ir5 5 Signaller (with relish) -Mphni. jliat-'ll son*t them! The E. 0.0 .: r s that C Batten-" he Jovial Voice': Yes. What' luck old son r Hie I.O.O.: \on have obtained tw< direct hits on the Boclie parapet. Wil you Lave a cocoa nut or a ci— The Jovial Voice: A little less lip. nn lad! Now tell me all about youi industrious friends in the coppice and We will see what we can do for them! _ All news to the irout goes over the field-telephone, and frequently it is only of the slightest importance. But as the Signallers, or "Buzzers," are an impassive lot, you get the trivial and the mo mcntous delivered tj you with charming linpai tialitv. \ou may be awaiting news of reinforcements, with beating heart and nerves stretched to the break" ing point and pick your instrument only to learn that "Your monthly return of men wishing to change their religion is twenty-lour hours overdue. Please expedite. Occasionally the Buzzer possesses a sardonic vein of humor, as in the following instance:

One black night, Bobby Little, making his second round of the trenches about an hour before "stand-to" felt constrained to send a telephone message to Battahon Headquarters. Taking ~a gnd breath, you always do this before entering a trench dugout—he plunged into the. noisome cavern where his Company Signallers kept everlasting vigil. The place was in total darkness, except for the illuminition supplied by a strip of rifle-rag burning in a tin of rifle oil. The air—what there was of it—was

thick with large, fat, floating particles of free carbon. The telephone was buzzing plaintively to itself, in unsuccessful competition with a well-modulated quartet of four nasal-organs, contributed by Bobby's entire signalling staff, who. locked in the inextricable embrace neculiar to Thomas Atkins in search of warmth, were snoring harmoniously upon the earthern floor. The signaller "on dutv"—one M'Gurk —was extracted from the heap and put under arrest for sleeping at his post. The enormity of his c%ime was heightened by the fact that two undelivered messages were found on his person. Divers pains and penalties followed. Bobby supplemented the sentence with a homily upon the importance of vigilance and despatch. M'Gurk, deeply aggrieved at forfeiting seven days' pay, said nothing, but bided his time. Two nights later the battalion came out of the trenches for a week's rest, and Bobby retired to bed in his hut at 9 p.m., in comfortable anticipation of a full night's repose.

His anticipations were doomed to disappointment. He was roused from slumber —not without difficulty—bv Signaller M'Gurk who appeared standing by his bedside with a sputtering candle-end in one hand and a pink despatch-form in the other. The message read:

"Prevailing wind for next twenty-four hours probably S.W., with some nun. Mindful of his own recent admonitions. Bobby thanked M'Gurk politely,

and went to sleep again. M'Gurk called again at half-past two in the morning, with another message, which announced: "Baths will be available for your company from 2 to 3 p.m. to-morrow." Bobby stuffed the missive under his air-pillow, and rolled over without a word. M'Gurk withdrew, leaving the door of the hut open. His next visit was about four o'clock. This time the message said: "A Zeppelin is reported to have passed over Dunkirk at 5 a.m. yesterday afternoon, proceeding in a northerly direction." Bobby informed M'Gurk that lie was a fool and a dotard and cast him forth. M'Gurk returned at five-thirty, bearing written evidence that the Zeppelin had been traced as far as Ostend.

TliLs time his company commander promised him that if he appeared again that night he would bo awarded fourteen days' Field Punishment Number One.

The result was that upon sitting down to breakfast at nine next morning, Bobby found upon his plate yet another message—from his Commanding Officer —summoning him to the orderly-room 011 urgent matters at eight-thirty. But Bobby scored the final and winning trick. Sending for M'Gurk and Sergeant M'Micking, he said: "This man. Sergeant, appears to be unable to decide when a message is urgent, and when it is not. In future, whenever M'Gurk is on night duty and is in doubt whether a message should be delivered at once or put aside till the morning, he will come to vou and ask for your guidance in the matter. Do you understand ?" ''Perfectly, sirr!"' replied the Sergeant, outwardly calm. "M'Gurk. do you understand ?" M'Gurk looked at Bobby, and then round at Sergeant M'Micking. He received a glance which shrivelled his marrow. The game was up. He grinned sheepishly, and answered:

"Yis. sirr!" But for all this, the field-telephone is of greatest importance to ail branches of the Army. Most of the Buzzers are civilians, yet more often than not they face all the dangers that the most experienced soldiers face and frequently more. They are the ones who most repair a field-wire broken by a hail of shrapnel, and very probably have to crawl out beneath that same hail to do it. There is a story in point: "At the battle of Loos, half battalion of K (1 "i pushed forward into a very advanced hostile position. Their achievement was great; but unless Headquarters could be informed of their exactposition and needs, they were all dead men. So Corporal Greig set out to find them, unreeling wire as he went. He was blown to pieces by an eight-inch shell, but another signaller was never lacking to take his place. _ They pressed forward —these lackadaisical non-com-batants —until the position was_ established. Again and again the wire was cut by shrapnel, and again and again a Buzzer crawled out to find the broken ends and piece them together. And ultimately, the tiny, exposed limb in front

having been enabled to explain its exact requirements to the brain behind, the necessary help was forthcoming and the fort was held. Next time you pass a signaller s dugout. peep inside. on will find it occupied by a coke-brazier, emitting large quantities of carbon monoxid, and an untidy gentleman in khaki, with a blue-and-white device upon his shoulderstraps, who is humped over a small black instrument, luxuriating in a '•frowst" most indescribable. He is