NEW ZEALAND FRONT.

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 5, Issue 217, 13 October 1916, Page 3 (Supplement)

NEW ZEALAND FRONT.

SOME VIVID IMPRESSIONS. THE TRENCHES EROM WITHIN. (By the iate Major (Dr.) Martin.) Somewhere in France. As you know, the New Zealanders aro in France, and are to-day, and have been for some time, in the trench es. I have, but an hour since, returned from a tour of our front lino trenches, the support line, and tho subsidiary line. 1 have rubbed against raen from Canterbury, Otago, Wellington, and Auckland districts. I have had friendly grins from men whose people I know in New Zealand, and from men whom I have known well in civilian days, and 'midst civilian scenes. "La vie militaire" is a wonderful "vie," It brands us all khaki, and registers us as so many khaki units, feeds us, clothes us, arms us, and buries us —by numbers, and at the word of command. We wear discs like prize cattle, at a Manawatu show. The discs bear our names, our numliers, our unit, and our rel'gion. The religion, C.E., or 8.C., or any other, is a guide to the padre, and determinetho ritual at that short and last ceremony which is inevitable sometime to us ail, for is it not written that all men are mortal and the Earth is the common mother of us all?

"BLOODED." Our men have already suffered some casualties some are dead, some severely wounded, some slightly wounded. We have been "blooded." How I hate that phrase. It is as bad a: "baptism of lire." Journalists at fchfl front write glibly that this or that battalion has been " blooded" —hns had iU first fight. What does it mean? It means wounded men, dead men, tears. heartaches. What is baptism of fire but a burial service for many or for few, certarnly always for some? Not two miles from where 1 write is a grassy field near a canal. The field has been fenced with barbed wire and marked off into plots. There are already 15 grave mounds in that field, and "at the head of each grave is a small wooden cross bearing a metal disc with the name, number, and regiment or the man who lies l>elow. It nisi bears the inscription "Killed in action" ;md the date. Here He the first met) of the New Zealand Division who hav» been killed in the trenches in France. "NOTHING TO REPORT."

We liava been here about 16 days, siid this part of the front is said to be, quiet and "cushy"—that is, like a cushion, or soft and velvety. In tha Army a "cushy" ?lace 's a quiet, soft place, but I ha\e my doubts about ' cushy" places. The official communiques have not mentioned this pla:e for some time. We corno undei tlio heading "On the rest of. the front there is nothing to report." They never even say of us "There has been some slight activity." Comparatively, we are quieter than many other parts of the line, but if you think that w« have "nothing to report" and show ii.-> signs of "activity," then, my friend, you are wrong. In these so-callod quiet l'ues and on quiet days men gc dow> t the big ditches and arc brought back on stretchers. A quiet part of the line is not necessarily a part where one can stroll about at ease and swin>» « cane. No risks dare be taken even en the quietest day at the quiete.it part of the long line from Flanders to the Somme.

IHE PERIL OE THE TRENCHES. The old soldier familiar with the ways of the Hun takes no chances. It lis has to get out into the open and make a rush he will do it cheerfully enough, but at other times he will keep 111.- head down, make a dodgy run past a sniping post, and lie down when whizz-bangs and other nasty things are flying through the air. The enthusiastic junior will take an intelligent and appreciative interest in his surroundings, admire the foliage of the trees, and listen to the birds carolling. One day this joyful soul will peep over the, trench to look at Fritz's across tho way. That ends tho joy—ho is brought back on a stretcher. If he is lucky and gets back again he doesn't bubble with enthusiasm, but he lies dog<;o an J keeps his head down. In spite of al Ithe lessons and all the warnings, old soldiers sometimes forget themselves and do the mad thing. The first morning we were up here a stretcher-bearer belonging to the British division we were relieving was brought in badly wounded. This man had done good work for ten months at Ypres and Hooge and at the Bluff. and oh this particular morning was showing some of our New Zealand stretcher-bearers round tho trenches, and pointing out their future duties. The morning was quiet and peaceful, the dawn had just broken. So our friend put his head above the parapet and had a look across at the Huns. "Zip!" and like a flash of lightning :i bullet ripped through his upper jaw and brain. When I saw him he was unconscious. Our stretcher-bearers got their lesson, and I bet you none of them will look over a parapet on ,i fine qirot morning. Nevertheless, the temptation to look over is very great.

THROUGH A PERISCOPE. On looking into the mirror of a periscope one can sc« the Gorman line r>f trendies, the barbed wire, tin 1 trees and hous.-s in tlie distance, but not a living soul can be soen. Fritz is )y:ng doggo, but many eyes nro watching our lines through peepholes, and if you wish to got upon the parapet and make sore, then you'll know. If Fritz shows himself on his part, then he also gets it "in the neck" quick and lively, lor v.e've got some crack Now Zealand shots on constant watch from wellhidden peep-holes on our side of the barbed wire. xo r.icHT-iioru day. Our men are very busy when in the trenches. There is an amazing lot of work to do. and the work' of picking, tunnelling, and shovelling and sandbagging goes on night and day. There's no eight-hour day at the front, and the soldl"r decs not go from labour t.i refreshment by union time-tables. 11, is not, however, overworked, and seme part n[ the work is mure risky than arduous, as, for example, fixin<: up barbed wire at night in front ot \]\r> trenches. We have had no Imrd fighting up here yet, but all the same we are continually fighting. Maxims and lows <;uns. heavy field guns., trench mortars,

grenades, and rifles are constantly at work, and none of them aro noiseless. I' the Hun gets vicious, and plumps shells into us, we retaliate, and plump big shells into him. Our gunners are conscient'ous, pious men, who carry out the Mosaic laws, and smite their enemies and all who oppose us.

A DWELLER IN A BRICK RILN. I am at present living in a brick kiln. Up to now I have never taken any interest in brick kilns except to thin!; that they were probably necessary butvery ugly structures. But a bin? Kiln i • a very interesting place, especially u you have to live in one. Try it. Get three blankets and a waterproof sheet and sleep in a kiln by night. Have your meals in it and walk round it all day. No telephone bells, no evening papers, no worries of any sort. There are many worse places than brick kilns —and there are many better places than the county gaol. This particular br'ck kiln "somewhere in France" is at present ocuepied by myself and a servant, a soldier cook, four ambulance stretcher-bearers, and a .sergeant and two other soldiers, one of whom is the guard. This latter walks about with a fixed bayonet, and h : s duty is to ring a bell and let off a foghorn when the Germans turn on asphyxiating gas. I have a stove with a cheery fire in my briCK kiln, and have sandbags on the roof and at odd places round the outside walls.

UP NEAR THE TRENCHES. This brick kiln and the personnel constitute what is known in the army as an "advanced dressing station." "Advanced" refers to the situation only, and not to the ideas or state of mind of the personnel. Our ideas or mental states are not at all advanced, but our situation decidedly is. That eplains the sandbags, and also why we occupy the kiln. We are pretty "wellup" (I was going to say "fed up," but thought better of it)." Our trenches are not far away —neither are Fritz's — and if Fritz took it into his head to blow us to h , as far as I can see ther is no particular reason to stop him. AVc are all right from shrapnel and whizz-bangi;, but not from tno heavy metal Fritz has in his blacksmith's shop. Shrapnel is constantly dropping on our roof, and daily, hourly, heavy explosives burst around us in the fields—for our brick kiln is in tho vcuntry, near a ruined village. We are surrounded by British batteries and Fritz is constantly trying to get at them. So far he hasn't got any, for they are snugly concealed and tucked away in the most ingenious fashion. Fritz sends his aeroplanes out to look for them; then our batteries don't speak—mum's the word. When the aeroplanes go away our guns wake up and send their whirling messages into the hostile line. Fritz's shots at them and their shots at Fritz pass over our brick kiln.

THE ROAD WOUNDED MEN UO. 1 said before that our brick kiiln 's interesting and that we wore fed up—I mean well up/ One end of our building is under observation from a German sniper. One man was nearly scuppered there last week. I avoid that corner as the devil avoids holy water. Throe stops from this corner there is a communication trench runnmg across a held in a zig-zag fashion io the regimental aid post, where tlio regimental officer lives in a dugout. The wounded from the battalion in ae. tion aro carried down this trench on stretchers by our ambulance bearers. and the reinforcements and relieving troops going to the front trench also use this as the footpath. This trench has sandbag parapets and a ''dur;liwalk-' or wooden floor made up of small transver.se pieces of wood lying (n beams. All the trendies have thoie wooden tracks or "duck-walks." When a wounded man is brought into our dressing station wc examine bin and do any emergency first aid, and send him off by motor ambulance to the held ambulanca headquarters somo short distance back. From there tha man ts sent to a casualty clearing station, and then on to the general and a base- hospital. So this dressing station is only ono of the "stations" —the first station- —on the via dolorosa of the wounded man. The road up to us from the Field Ambulance Headquarters is not a safe road by day, and most cf our transport is done at night. In urgent cases the ambulance travels along tiiis road at any time and takes the THE BRICK KILN'S RESOURCES. In a big emergency or bombardment wo could accommodate a considerable number of wounded in our kiln. The accommodation would not be very very good, but we could attend to their wounds, for we have the necessary dressings and appliances with us; and we eoudl give the men hot soups and hot drinks until we got an opportunity to remove them to a place of safety—for the kiln is anything but a safe place.