"OVER THE TOP"

Dominion, Volume 10, Issue 3022, 8 March 1917, Page 6

"OVER THE TOP"

(By "An Officer," in the "Daily Mail.") "Tho Infantry will advance to the attack- of tho First Objective at 1.30 p.m.—Operation Orders." ' 8 a.m. —Sinco dawn two lion-hearted servants, who came up five miles under shell lire during the night, have been busy with mysterious' iites in the bottom of the trench. It is quite a, good tronch, as trenches on the isomme goj about. shoulder-deep, with long holes scooped at intervals in the sandy parapet (rather like the tombs of Christian martyrs in tho catacombs), may'sleep, if one can. The trench is just tho breadth of a man. To pas's along it v ,crowded as it now is. with men, requires the agility of, the jungle ape., blended with the patience of Job. Tho previous occupants of the officers' corner of the trench] who displayed such indecent joy on being rqlioved last night, have scooped ont a nicho urthe parapet to serve as a table. On this one of tho servants deposits a teapot, a loaf, a plate of cold boiled "Bacon, a saucer of butter, and two tin cups, ■and announces breakfast. We stop studying-the view. The trench is not deep enough to prevent one's enjoying ■the landscape, a stretch of undulating pasture in front, then a reddish, greyish tanglo of wire running in front of a yellow scar gashed in the grass. Beybnd it is a yillago wreathed in dense clouds of smoke. Tho noieo—not to forget a detail—is ear-splitting. That is why we all .eat breakfast standing up. If you sit down tho thud of the 6holls bursting in the German lines rattles your e&r-drums till yo,\ir head aches. Wβ .are only four officers, with' the h\o companies that are going to lead the attack, for we are going in "under strength." While we breakfast, my company conimander and I pore over our maps spread out on the parapet of tho trench. For. the • hundredth time we discuss the plans wo have made for keeping our direction as we advance to each successive objective. We disagree violently as to whether we turn half left, on leaving the trench, as ho maintains, or a quarter left, which is my opinion.

8.30 a.m.—Wβ still breakfast. The subaltern of the other company, pointing at the landscape with a piece of bread and jam, says: "Doesn't their wire'look'beastly?" 8.45 ft.m. —The sun conies out and floods the scene with light, even tingeing the shell-bursts with" gold. You catch yourself looking--at your watch. "Only a quarter to nine!" is what vou say. What you are thinking is that in five hours, anyhow, this rotten waiting about will be over, one way or another.

9.30 a.m.—The other company commander retires to his Christian martyr's toinb_and reads the "Field." His.subaltern is .still eating bread and jam. My company commander writes a note to the company sergeant-major. I watch two grey-coated Huns plodding stolidly along among the shell-bursts, carrying a plank. They disappear. . 10 a.m.—Three, aeroplanes' come out from over our lines. Bather more noise in consequence "Archies," ma-chine-gun fire.

10.30 a.m.—German "H.E." shrapnel, very black, very .smelly, very noisy, very erratic. The other "company commander leaves his hole and demands to know why the blazes we are kept loafing about like this all the morning; people always attack •at dawn; why make a blessed matinee of

i 11 a.m.—Frantic demands down the trench for Sergeant Bradawl: "Pass the word down for Sergeant Bradawl." One of the servants .vouchsafes tho information that the sergeant was killed last night. "Gn the water fatigue, sir," he says. "I saw him dead myself.", More aeroplanes, more noise, more German shrapnel, most,objectionable, but wide; 11.30 a.m.—Two hours more! My company commander and I agree we will stay where we are till one o'clock, then go along the trench to the right where the company is, see that the men can all get out of the trench easily, and pick a good , jumping off place for ourselves. ■

Noon.—The servants produce a bottle of port. It betrays considerable signs of the agitation of the night. Wo partake of "port wine and a biscuit" in approved style. Wine does not taste well out of a chipped enamel mugi especially port after it has been under shell fire.

12.15 p.m.—Wβ lunch off tongue, bread, aud sand. The port is by this time so thick that it fortunately .veils the interesting mineral deposits in the bottom "of the-mug. I retire to the Christian martyr's tomb and read sey-e'ral-pages of the "Field" without understanding them, i , :

12.30 p.m.— : One hour more! Great map and compass work by everybody. Much discussion about the finalobjective, somewhere beyond the smoke wreaths round tho village. -My company commander produces a two-franc yiece. "We'j}l toss who goes over with the leading platoon," he says. "Winner goes second." I win. x

12.45 p.m.—'My servant, wearing tho chastened yet hopefnl air of a second in the prize-ring, divests nie of my raincoat and cap and hands me my helmet, then* girds about my waist my helt with all the complicated paraphernalia of. modern war—revolver, ■ compass, field glasses, gas helmet. The other officers are similarly ..occupied. •Conversation, languishes.

12.55 p.nC—Our orderlies appear, mysteriously, unbidden,. at our sides, as is the way of orderlies. We four officers compare watches. My company commander and I set,off along the tronch.

1 p.m. —The British soldier is as full of angles as he is in a Nevijson wat picture. He and his equipment stick out all over the trench. We are sque'ezed, battered, and hruised as we force our way "along the trench foot by foot. The men are singularly quiet— the old ones phlegmatic, the young ones thoughtful..

1.10 p.m.—The din is awe-inspiring; the very air seems to tremble with noise. This must he the' intensive bombardment. It makes the nerves tingle with excitement. The men are waking up. You look at your watch and wonder how much 'longer you can bear the strain of waiting not for what may happen but to fight—to get at them. " -

1.20 p.m. —We find a good spot to get out from, right in the centre-'of the company." The men of the platoon that is to lead are standing iii the niches they have cut. ready to leave the trench at the sound of the whistli:.

1.25 p.m.—Five minutes to go! We got our , whistles out. -My company commander gets up in our nirhe. . The noise is deafening. You have to shout to make yourself heard.

1.27 u.m. —"Three minutes more 1 m?.l;i> it!" bawls! my comnany nompumdor #n my oar. I nod, without lifting niy e y PS f rnm mv wrist. ■

1.28 p.m.—A mnn beside me polnfs excitedly to.the left. "They're off!" he yells. I see a stream of .figure's moving forward, over, so slowly, on the extreme loft. It is a false start, but thev koop on.

1.23 p.m.—We »re -till waitinc. Mv poinpsmv co'Timnrrior hns one font o» the paranet. He turns round and grins at me.

1.30 p.m.—A whistle just nbove me. whistle"; nil ;il"n" the line, m»x\ swnmhlins, 'tumblinct on every side. Tl'o first-'pin toons are off. Lord! AV'mt a row!

1.31. n.m.—TTow verv leisurely evervIndv sepm? to be moving forward! Jfv Dlatoon is tumbling our of the trench; T nresumo I blew my whistle. . Smoke and noise and figures swarming

through the haze. My company com> mander waits for me as I come up and roars in my ear: "Half left; you Bee I was right!" A man beside you exclaims, "Oh!" in pained astenishment, as it seems, and you see him at your feet.

Then you realise you aye "ever the top"—and you never knew it.