FROLICSOME TANKS.

Manawatu Herald, Volume XXXIX, Issue 1676, 17 February 1917, Page 4

FROLICSOME TANKS.

LUDICROUS NIGHTMARES. WELCOMING THE NEW YEAR IN FRANCE. Last New Year’s Eve —menace for our fighting men, because at the beginning our lines had no great power of guns behind them, and full of hopes that had been unfilled, in spite of all their courage and all their sacrifice —an artillery officer up in the Ypres salient waited for the tick of midnight by his wrist watch (it gave a glow-wormlight in the darkness), and then shouted the word “Fire!” One gun spoke, and then for a few T seconds there was silence. Over in the German line the flares went up and down, and it was very quiet in the enemy trenches, where, perhaps, the sentries wondered at that solitary gun. Then the artillery officer gave the word of command again. This time the battery fired nine rounds. A little while there was silence again, followed by another solitary shot, and then by six rounds. To-night it is another New Year’s Eve (writes Mr Philip Gibbs), and the year is coming to us with the same demands and the same promises, and the only difference between our hopes upon this night and that of a year ago is that by the struggle and endeavour of those past twelve months the ending is nearer in sight and the promise very near —very near, as wo hope and'believe —its fulfilment. No man can yet say with what face this New Year of war will come. Our soldiers are not afraid to look it in the face. I can say this with truth, that they are glad to get rid of the old year, and greet the new one with an enormous uplifting of hearts and tremendous hope. There will be no tears tonight because 191(1 is dead and done with. This afternoon it was laughter I heard, and I spent some part of my New Year's Eve with those remarkable fighting machines of the British Army which caused men to laugh, and put them in high spirits on a great day. of battle, so that they went over the top with less apprehension of the great ordeal, and followed the friendly lead with strange gaiety into Flers, into Gueudecourt, into Martinpuich, where death was busy. I renewed my acquaintance with the tanks. They were in a frolicsome mood this afternoon, doing their, amusing tricks as though in sheer lightheartedness of spirit, like elderly elephants who have heard the call of spring. These great monsters were sporting in fields pitted with shell-craters and criss-crossed by trenches. THROUGH THE HEDGES. 1 went into it ankle deep, and hardly believed that Brother Tank could move in it because of his enormous weight. But he did more than move in it. He came in his curious, stealthy way nosing forward as on his first appearance that 15th of September, hesitated a moment in front of a deep crater, then went down into it, sweeping the moist earth from its Hanks, and crawled up on the other side, and made off very steadily to some trenches, smashing through their parapets and straddling across in splendid style. Other tanks came out from their lairs, bore down through quick-set hedges, and (limbed up steep banks and manoeuvred for position like land dreadnoughts. But the greatest achievement —at least the most spectacular thing 1 — done by one of these things was when it climbed over a high breastwork of sandbags. It was a most fearsome and fantastic sight, and made me grow cold with a sudden sense of terror as though I were a German suddenly confronted by this monstrous apparition. It approached the breastwork slowly, halted a moment, and then began to climb up. Its huge form lifted itself higher and higher, bearing forward and over the obstacle as though the body of the beast were craning forward like a seaelephant challenging a rival. Then suddenly it plunged down on the other side, with a sudden swing and clang of its gun-turrets. These tanks taking exercise were a comic sight, as a ludicrous nightmare from which one wakes laughing. But behind them is a sense of the horrible, because of their power as machines of death. It is only by deliberate intention that one can and visualise those crews inside whose skill and courage and great endurance give them their life and purpose, as powerful aids to an infantry attack. They belong to the great company of that youth which I met every day upon the roads of war, the youth of all our race, in steel hats, in woolly coats, bearing their heavy packs lightly ,and all the burden of this war, and looking forward to the future with the spirit of youth, hopeful, confident, ardent, undismayed by remembrance of past perils. The New Year is to be a year of war. But they believe that it is the last year of war, and it is that which makes it welcome.