Sh.e.l.lS: A FEW SMILES AND A CONTRAST

When the guns begin to speak, and sh.e.l.ls are hurtling through the air, places of shelter are resorted to. These places are not always sh.e.l.l-proof, but they serve as a protection against splinters. There are few places that would withstand the effects of a direct hit by a heavy sh.e.l.l, but one feels perfectly safe with even a sheet of iron overhead. The effects of an explosion are very local, and the chances of a direct hit are very remote. The first law of nature takes precedence during a bombardment. Precaution is esteemed to be much better than a blanket and burial.

In and about the towns at the back of the lines where the troops are billeted there are a sprinkling of civilians. When these places are being sh.e.l.led they display no fear. Occasionally elderly people will cover their heads with their hands and seek shelter in the cellars, while the soldier, ostrich-like, is quite contented provided he has some protection for his head, but the majority continue with their work as in normal times. When the civilians were questioned as to whether they were afraid of the enemy breaking through and carrying them off or killing them, they would confidently reply, 'Oh, no!

British between.' They feel perfectly safe, knowing that the British are between them and the Hun.

Many of them have good reason to remember the time when the enemy were in occupation of the town. In some instances the Germans have been highly spoken of. I give credence to every good report. Personally, we bear them no ill-will. We detest the system which has made them what they are, and we are here to crush it, and sincerely hope that the men of the German race who, however, mistaken, are ready to lay down their lives for their country, may emerge from this war and be re-made on the anvil of defeat, and in the days to be redeem to honour the name which to-day is the synonym for all that is brutal and abhorrent.

That all of them are not filled with implacable hatred towards the British is evidenced in the following incident. We attempted to raid the enemy trenches. The weather was bitterly cold and the night was dark. Our artillery put over a heavy barrage, after which the raiding party went forth; they crept forward over the muddy ground, and entered the German lines. Several casualties were sustained during the operations. When our men returned to their trenches, it was discovered that one of the raiding party was missing. When the noise of the counter-barrage had died down, a cry for help was distinctly heard by our front line troops. It came from 'no man's land.' A couple of stretcher-bearers and two men went out in search of the one in distress. While groping about amongst the wire in the darkness, they heard the Germans a.s.suring the man for whom they were searching that he would be all right. Suddenly the enemy turned a trench searchlight on to 'no man's land,' and by this light the search party were guided to their wounded comrade. The light was kept on him until he was rescued, and was then used to guide the party back to their own lines.

During this time no shot was fired. This was a humane action indeed.

All the Huns, however, are not so humanely disposed. In connexion with another raid on the enemy trenches, our men met with violent opposition, but succeeded in obtaining their objective. When returning, a few of the party were wounded--one very seriously. He was unable to make his way back. The Germans got him, stripped him of his uniform, and left him against the wire. The weather being intensely cold, the man soon died from exposure. These two incidents ill.u.s.trate the two extremes in the att.i.tude of the Huns towards the British. One was a brutal act of hatred, the other a humane act, which commends itself to both friend and foe.

[Ill.u.s.tration: To see ourselves as others see us.]

The Germans have been credited with almost every conceivable atrocity that man is capable of perpetrating. Whether these brutalities are perpetrated with the sanction of the German authorities, or are merely the expression of individual hatred, one is not prepared to state. We have ceased to be angry with or alarmed at their tactics of intimidation. We interpret every act of frightfulness as evidence of desperate conditions. The only effect that such devilish methods have upon the men in the lines is to make them more determined to crush the mad and murderous spirit of militarism which holds the Hun in its merciless grip.

During ordinary trench warfare the enemy appears to concentrate his artillery fire on to the towns and villages at the back of our lines.

Villages have been practically eliminated and large towns reduced to a heap of ruins. The destruction of these places is of no military consequence. It is pure vandalism.

Bairnsfather's sketches portraying the humour and coolness that such critical conditions create are in no particular exaggerated. A certain building, prominently situated in a fairly large town, within easy range of the enemy guns, was being used as B.H.Qs. It afforded accommodation for about twelve officers and as many other ranks. The outskirts of the town had been subjected to severe sh.e.l.ling during the day. Towards evening the sh.e.l.ling ceased, but commenced again about midnight; on this occasion the sh.e.l.ls were directed more to the centre of the town. Pieces of iron and a hail of shrapnel descended upon the roof of our billet. All were awakened by the noise. From different parts of the building the same query was advanced: 'Are you all right?' Then a hurried conference was held, and the C.O. decided that discretion was the better part of valour. With the aid of electric torches we collected our blankets, etc., and descended to the cellar.

Everybody was cheerful. The report of the guns somewhere along the enemy's lines was heard distinctly, and we would wait for the swish of the sh.e.l.ls as they hurtled through the air. Almost simultaneously with the swish would come the crash followed by the sound of breaking gla.s.s and falling bricks, and involuntarily we exclaimed in chorus, 'Another one in.' We thought of the poor devils who may have been in the vicinity where the sh.e.l.l exploded, and various expressions of sympathy escaped from our lips. Almost immediately on reaching the cellar, there was a terrific explosion, and one of the chimneys of the building crashed into the cellar. Gradually we lost interest and became almost indifferent to what was going on. One by one we repaired to our improvised beds on the floor. Sometimes one would have difficulty in wooing the G.o.ddess of sleep, and his persistency in asking questions was exceeded only by the annoyance experienced by those to whom the questions were addressed. The usual question of the sleepless individual is 'Where did that one land?' and the answer with some accompanying adjectives is invariably, 'I am more concerned about where the next one will land.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: With the aid of electric torches ... we descended to the cellar.]

The enemy generally commences sh.e.l.ling these places at the close of day, and the men have described these operations as 'The Hun's evening hate.' On one occasion a certain village was being strafed. Several men of a certain battalion were on the road at the time. They quickly availed themselves of the shelter of a cellar. The building was. .h.i.t several times. Shortly after the bombardment commenced a man leading a mule was observed, coming along the road. He was invited to take shelter in the cellar. The invitation was accepted with alacrity. The mule was tethered to the window-sill, and the man was soon in their midst. Sh.e.l.ls continued to burst overhead and round about. The newcomer proved to be a blessing. He soon had the men laughing despite the noise and danger. When a sh.e.l.l burst in close proximity to the building, he evinced great concern for the safety of his mule. 'My poor old "donk,"' he would exclaim; 'there goes his tail.' Another burst: 'There goes his hind-quarters.' It seemed impossible for the mule to escape injury or death. Turning to his companions he declared that he would carry part of that mule back. If his head were left intact he would gather the harness and wrap it round the head and carry it back to the lines, and if the O.C. transport asked where the 'donk' was, he would say, 'Shot from under me, sir.' Suddenly the sh.e.l.ling ceased, and they emerged from their shelter. The mule's master was the first outside. He fully expected to see but a blood-stain on the spot where he had left the beast, but to his great surprise and satisfaction he saw the mule serenely nibbling at the gra.s.s growing alongside the building. The old 'donk' had not sustained an injury. To say that he was proud to lead a whole mule back to his quarters instead of having to carry only its head, is an altogether inadequate way of describing his actual feelings.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 'Did you hear that one, Bill?']

'Did you hear that one, Bill?' asked one man of another who had come along the sh.e.l.l-swept road rather hurriedly.

'Yes,' replied the nearly exhausted man, 'I heard it twice; once when it pa.s.sed me, and again when I pa.s.sed it.'

MESSINES

JUNE 7, 1917

A sh.e.l.l-struck souvenir of h.e.l.lish war, A monument of man's stupendous hate!

Can this have been a Paradise before, Now up-blown, blasted, drear and desolate?

Aye, once with smiling and contented face She reigned a queen above a charming place.

But soon the sport of leaders and of kings Transformed her to a resting-place for guns, Rude scars across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s the worker flings, To shelter countless hordes of h.e.l.l-born Huns, The while, upon the next opposing crest, Our men died gamely as they did their best.

And thus for years, with cold, relentless zeal, With fiendish science both sides fought and watched, From loop-holes or from clouds which half conceal, Or in deep tunnels all their skill was matched.

On sentry in the firebay, or the hov'ring 'plane, Mining and countermining yet again.

And far behind such scenes, great engineers Pondered o'er problems without parallel.

And planned with wisdom of a thousand years, To blow the other to eternal h.e.l.l.

Their calculations left no callous scheme untried, To slaughter hundreds of the other side.

But hush! the whole machinery's complete, All plans are folded and the great work's done, The work of building up to cause defeat-- The lever's pulled, and, lo! a new work has begun.

The task of falling on a shattered foe, And doing things undreamed-of years ago.

Hush! hark! A mighty rumbling roar breaks thro', And see! Her crest-line leaps into a flame, The foul disease within her bowels she blew High into the air to rid her of her shame; In one huge vomit she now flings her filth, Far o'er the country in a powdered 'tilth.'

And so the va.s.sals of a fiendish foe Are scattered far and wide into a dust.

Those who have revelled as they wreaked red woe, A shattered sample of their own blood-l.u.s.t.

Whilst from our hill-crest and its catacomb, A new life comes a-pouring from the tomb.

Eager, and burning with the zeal of youth, Our Second Anzacs sprang from out the ground, Bound by their mateships and their love of truth, The Third Division its new soul has found; Straight o'er the top amidst a hail of sh.e.l.l To their objective which they knew so well.

On, on, thro' poison gas and rattling roar, Past ulc'rous craters, blackened foul and deep, These comrades 'stuck' as ne'er they had before.

And kept together in their rushing sweep; Deafened and rattled, hung up in the wire, Helping each other thro' such fearful fire.

On still until they reached the furthest goal, There to dig in and hold the new-won line.

By linking up each torn and shattered hole-- By no means easy, but their grit was fine-- They fought and worked like demons till the dawn, Harried and pestered by the 'Kaiser's sp.a.w.n.'

And, baffled from his gun-pits far away, Low-down, well south, an angry foe doth roar, He opens out again upon another day And rakes the slope with shrapnel as before.

But only working parties on the top are found, The rest, save A.M.C., are underground.

Strange sights are seen upon that battle-ground, But stranger still are unearthed from below; Here many supermen may now be found, Just watch those stretcher-bearers where _they_ go, And see those parties bearing food and drink, Past all those blizzard sh.e.l.ls--then stand and think!

But one poor sh.e.l.l-crazed loon roamed far and wide; Sweat-grimed, wild-eyed, and now bereft of all.

'Me mates? W'ere is my mates?' he plaintive cried, 'They's in that 'ole with ME when IT did fall.'

We took him to three huddled heaps near by, But he roamed on as tho' he wished to die.

And as the sun's great light bursts o'er the scene, _La Pet.i.t Douve_, one-time a sparkling stream, Now sluggish slides, red-tinted, she has been Past horrors thro' the night and _did not dream_.

For many days she'll, silent, strive to bear Such human wreckage down a path once fair.

G.P. CUTTRISS and J.W. HOOD.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The ill.u.s.trator feeling happy, yet looking 'board.']

[Ill.u.s.tration]

BILL THE BUGLER

I well remember when the subject of this sketch 'joined up.' He was small of stature, and his general appearance was by no means prepossessing. That he had seen a good deal of the world was very evident, even to the most superficial observer. His language was picturesque, though not profane. A few weeks sufficed to 'lick him into shape,' and he presented a fairly tolerable figure in uniform. At spinning yarns he was an adept, and at camp concerts could invariably be depended upon for an item or two, always of a humorous nature.