"Top-Hole Bomb, That— What?"

Levin Daily Chronicle, 17 January 1918, Page 1

"Top-Hole Bomb, That— What?"

LAST STEP TO TRENCHES. " THERE'S NO MONOPOLY OP RIGHTFULNESS.'' A vivid idea of the intensive training which British and Colonial troops are put through behind the lines before they take their places in the front line trenchos is given in a recent article by Jeffrey Farnol in "Everybody's Magazine.' ' He visited one of these huge training camps and was shown the sights of the place by the Major in charge. Asked whether he would -like to go through the gas chambers, Mr Farnol and his companion agreed. "Wherefore, " he says, the major led us over sandy hills and along sandy valleys and so to a dingy and weatherworn hut, in whose dingy interior he found a bright-faced subaltern in dingy uniform, surrounded by many dingy boxes and a heterogeneous collection of things. The subaltern was busy with a pen-knife, while at his elbow stood a sergeant grasping a screw-driver. Perceiving the major, the sergeant came to attention, while the cheery sub. rose beaming.

"Can you give us some gas?" inquired the major, after we had been introduced and had shaken hands.

"Certainly, sir!" nodded the cheer ful one. "Delighted."

"You might explain something about it if you will," suggested the major. "Bombs and gas is your line, yon know.''

The sub. beamed again and giving directions to his sergeant, spake something in this wise: "Well, 'Frightful Fritz' —I mean the Boches, y'know — started bein' frightful quite some time ago, y'know, playing their little tricks with gas, and tear shells an' liquid fire an' that, and we left 'em to it. Y 'see it wasn't cricket —wasn't playin' the game—what! But Fritz kept at it and was happy as k bird till one day we woke up and started bein' frightful too, only when we did begin, we wore frightfuller than ever Fritz thought of bein—yes, rather! Our gas is more deadly, our lachrymatory shells are more lachrymose an' our liquid fire is quite top-hole—won't go out till it burps out —rather nol So frightful Fritz is licked at his own diTtv game. I've tried his and I've tried ours, an' I know.''

Here the sergeant murmured deferentially into the sub's, ear whereupon he beamed yet again and nodded. "Everything's quite ready!" he announced. "So if you're on?"

After a momentary hesitation. I signified I was, whereupon our sub. ■grew immensely busy testing sundry ugly gray flannel gas helmets fitted with staring eye-pieces of tale and with a hideous snout in front.

Having duly fitted on these things, our sub. donned his own headpiece, through which his cheery voice reached me in muffled tones. "You'll feel a kind of ticldin' feelin' in the throat at first, but that's all O.K.—only the chemical the flannel's saturated with. Now follow me, please, an' would you mind runnin'T —the rain's apt to weaken the solution. This way.

Dutifully we hastened after him until we came to a heavily-timbered doorway that seemingly opened into the hillside, and beyond this yawn'ng doorway I saw a thick grseiish-ycHow mist, fi fcg exactly the of strong absinthe; and then we were in it. Figures grew blurred, indiatiaf.t, fadt'd utt.jily s-.way. and I was alonj umid that awful cw.rling vapour that held doath in such ag onising form.

I will confess I was net happy; my throat was tickling provoking!}'; I began to cough, and my windpipe felt too small. I groped blindly, began to run, stumbled and in that moment my hand came in contact with an unseen rope. On I went into gloom, into blackness, until I was presently aware of my companions in front, and mightily glad of it.

In a while the fog grew less opaque, thinned away to a green mist, and we were out in the daylight again, and thankful was I to whip off my stifling helmet and feel the clean wind in my hair and the beat of the rain on my face.

"Notice the ticklin' feelin'?" inquired our sub. "Bit tryin' at first, but you soon get used to it—yes, rather. Some of the men funk tryin' at first, and some hold their breath until they fairly well burst; an' some won't go in at all, so wc carry 'em in. That gas you've tried is about twenty times stronger than wc get it in the open, but these helmets are a rippin' dodge—till the chemical evaporates; then, of course, they're no earthly."

He reachod up to a certain dingy box. '' Like to try a lachrymatory t" he inquired.

"Yes," said I. "Oh, yes, if " "Only smart for the time bcin our sub. assured me. "Make you weep a bit." He fished out a particularly vicious looking bomb and fell to poking it with the screwdirevr. I immediately stepped back. The major pulled his moustache and- flicked a chunk of mud from his boot with his whip.

"Er—l suppose that thing's all right?" he inquired.

"Oh, yes; quite ill right, sir; quite all right," nodded the sub. using the screwdriver as a ham.ner. "Only wants a little fixin'."

As I watched that deadly thing—for I felt distinctly unhappy—however, the refractory pin, or whatever it was, being fixed to his satisfaction, our sub. led the way out of the hut and, going some few paces ahead, paused. "I'm goin' to give you a liquid fire bomb, first," said he. "Watch!" He drew back his hand and hurled the bomb. There was a shattering report, and the air was full of thick grey smoke and yellow flame —sm. 'ke that rolled heavily along the ground towards us, flame that burned ever, fiery yellow tongues that leaped from the sand here and there, that writhed in the .windgusts, but never diminished.

"Stoop down!" cried the sub. suiting the action to the word. "Stoop down and get a mouthful of that smoke —makes you jolly sick and unconscious in no time, if you get enough of it. Tophole bomb that —what!''

Then he brought us where those yellow flames leaped and hissed; some of these he covered with wet sand, and, lo! they ceased to be; but the moment the sand was kicked away they leaped fierccr than ever.

"Wo use 'cm for bombing Boche dug-outs now!" said he. And remembering the dug-outs I had seen, I could

picture the awful fate of those within, the choking fumes, the fire-scorched bodies I Truly the ei T 'uuente of frightfulness have felt the recoil of their own vile methods.

"This is lachrymatory," said the sub. whisking another bomb from his pocket. "When it pops, run forward

A second explosion louder than the iirst, a puff of blue smoke into which I presently ran and then uttered a cry. So sharp, so excruciating was the pain that instinctively I raised hand to eyes, but checked myself, and with tears gushing over my cheeks, blind and agonised, I stumbled ,away from that hellish vapour. Very soon the pain diminished, was gone, and looking up through streaming eyes, I beheld the sub. nodand get in the smoke. It '11 sting a bit, but don't- rub the tears away—let 'cm flow. Don't touch your eyes, it '11 only inflame 'em—just weep. Ready—one, two, three I" "Useful things, eh?" he remarked. A man can't shed tears and shoot straight, an' he can't weep and light well both at the same time —whatl Fritz can be very frightful, but we can be more when we want—yet rather. The Boches have learned that there's no monopoly in frightfulness." In due season we shook hands with our cheery sub. and loft him beaming after us fronr the threshold of his dingy hut.