BIG GUN “SNIPING.”

Hokitika Guardian, 10 November 1917, Page 4

BIG GUN “SNIPING.”

The Western Front

“ This is the life. This is the l-i-f-e,” sang the grey-haired adjutant, rendering, more or less correct! y, the opening of a cheerfully stupid rag-time ditty that used to be popular in the dear, gone days of four years ago. Elbows and breast of his jacket were brown with the must}' earth of the trench parapet he leaned against; his field-glasses remained trained on a spot thirteen hundred yards away in the Hun lines ; his ruddy cheeks shone with the flush of an unusual excitement.

And, mv dear reader, were you a gunrier who for months and months had watched the German front from cramped observation posts and passed the orders for loosingoff hundreds and hundreds of rounds without ever seeing an enemy head you would have felt the same hot satisfaction. For, rejoice with us, the recent advances on tlie western front have given artillery observers a new interest in life. From certain well-teed points on the new-won ground it is possible to pick up Bodies comingover the open in twos and threes, sometimes in dozens, and to “snipe” them with iS-pounders. “ They’re getting out of the shellhole and coming on to the Sunken Road, now,” exclaimed the adjutant, kicking the trench wall m his eagerness. “ For the Ford's sake, give ’em a salvo—give 'em a salvo !”

The artillen' subaltern had already spoken a calm order to his telephonist, who crouched at the bottom of the trench, receiver to ear. “ Yes, sir ” —from the telephonist —“ they’re on C target.”

Through his binoculars the subaltern marked three brown figures that had left the shelter of a hole in the ground. They walked quickly, steadily, across the 200 yards of bare flat land that led to dug-outs and some sort of security. He watched while a second-hand would have ticked off eight. The three brown figures continued to move forward.

The order: “Two rounds gun fire !” ; a screaming, whip-cord rush overhead ; others in quick, jumbled succession; then two,, three, four, and five puffs of smoke that blotted out the brown figures. “ ‘ One O ’ minutes more right! Two rounds gun fire!” called the subaltern again, his binoculars still raised.

Eight more rounds swished over our heads. This time eight wall and true bursts could be counted. When the smoke cleared two brown figures could be seen running. Another ten yards and they had tumbled out of sight. Through a long- range telescope a huddled form could be picked out, lying still and alone, fifty yards from where the two brown figures had passed from view.

To-day bringing forth perfect visibility, four battery observation posts were being manned from 5 a.m. till dusk; each battery commander had come up by noon with flask and sandwiches to last the day; and by the afternoon the colonel was taking critical.stock of the shooting. “ Would you like to see a P.oche train ? asked one ol the subalterns, handing me a powerful telescope.

In front of 11s the shell-churned ground dipped down gradually tc five hundred yards away, where our trout line lay. A hundred yards beyond that the slope became steep and the tips of a straggly row of leafless trees tailed off into the red, dusty ruins of a shattered village—the enemy’s first entrenchment. From the village the brown, blasted laud rose smoothly to a huge wood, fifteen hundred yards back, and to the remnants of what had been a stone chateau ; while on a line with the chateau and to the right stood a big brick building, called for the I sake of reference “ The Works.” During the' previous three days the zone between these two points had proved one of our most remunerative “ sniping ” spots. Farther still to the right were bare rolling country and the clayey wanderings of the opposing front lines. When you turned to the left of the chateau wood you saw a wide expanse of green, and in the far distance a long line of noble trees well out of field artillery range. “You see that square black patch 011 the ground behind the trees, about the middle.” went on the subaltern. “Well, that’s a train. We saw an engine bring it up and move off again. Looks like a supply train. We asked the ‘ heavies ’ to get on it, but it’ll require a very long range gun.” A sharp exclamation from the commanding officer of Battery. “ Battery action ! Target D—the range we registered yesterday,” he ordered. “ One, two, and six ready, sir,” reported the telephonist a minute later.

“ Heavens, they’re earning ‘ dixies,’ ” growled the adjutant. “You can see the poles on their shoulders.” “ Well, some Huns are going without their dinner,” smiled the officer, gazing again through his glasses. “What are you registered on?” asked the colonel. “ The lone tree, sir, iS deg. leit oi the last house in replied the officer. “ Two rounds gun fire,” he called, and we all watched' and waited. It seemed an age—it always does when you are at the observation post —before the guns spoke. The bursts were well over the six Huns who, in pairs, were carrying the familiar camp kettles known as “ dixies.” “Drop one hundred,” said the officer. All our senses were strained. Would the villainous Boche get to cover before we could hit him. Some of us had been reading that morning accounts of the little ones done to death in the London air raid and had forgotten the word mercy. This time the shells were nearer ■ m&. the Huns hesitated, Thtyt

ended by dropping the dixies and racing back to a communication trench. -X ; :)\i The major cl the 4.5 howitzer battery came back from a visit to the infantry outposts and reported that it was certain Bodies were in a concrete macliiue-gun emplace-' ment, whose position eight pairs of glasses made out after concentrated search. Ten minutes later someone called out, “You’re right. I can see two of ’em coming down the trench to the emplacement.” And then one of the neatest bits of the day’s shooting was put in.

The Howitzer “O.C. ” turned on all his six guns. One shot hit the emplacement plumb. The rest were all within thirty yards short of it or over it.

“ They’re clearing out,” shouted another observer, and indeed eight or nine men could be seen scurrying away like rats. • Thirty rounds were fired. That spot rioted with smoke and flying stones and earth. The concrete emplacement still stood but was not nearly so shapely. Five, six, seven minutes passed. Then we picked out figures creeping back again. Another dozen shells were loosed off.

An angry ejaculation from the adjutant. “ Why, there’s a man walking in front of the emplacement,” he complained. “ Look, he’s got into that shell-hole to the left.” The colonel was looking through the telescope. “ That fellow’s wounded. You’ve shot his breeches off. No. leave lum ; lie won’t do any more harm.” Orders are orders, and our colonel is a great little man. . There was one more incident. About 7.30 p.m. the biggest party yet seen crossed the open in full view. We counted twenty-two of them. They marched two by two, and bore a big Red Cross flag in front. Not a single gun was fired, though the adjutant did not take his glasses off them, and he sweated profusely under his tin helmet. “You can never tell what tricks they’re up to," he grunted disappointedly.

“ Best day’s sport we’ve had fora couple of years,” he said contentedly as we walked home along the communication trenches. “ Almost as good as those early days in Flanders when we chased Uhlans in armoured cars.”