GERMANS BOMBED THROUGH THE ROOF.

Taihape Daily Times, Issue 220, 7 February 1917, Page 3

GERMANS BOMBED THROUGH THE ROOF.

DARING FEAT BY BRITISH GRENADE THROWER.

Your true bomber is born rather than made is the opinion of Reuter’s special correspondent at British Headquarters. He must have the patience and carefulness of a deerstalker, the subtlety of a diplomat, the impudence of a gamin, the speculativeness of a poker player. From these and such ingredients, nicely mixed, with a big lump of iron courage thrown in, you may get your successful bomber. One moment he will bo burrowing towards his quarry like a mole. He will work out his sap in cunning secretiveness towards his prey. Havingmade his lair thus, he will wait and observe the domestic habits of his victim.

He can tell you just where the Boche is, and what he is doing in his trench at a given moment. He knows the moment at which most Boches are together in the trench and within range of his bombs. And, judging his moment with the finest skill, he will lob over his bombs to hit the greatest possible number of victims. Or he may be despatched on a bombing mission in a town or village only half held by us, such as Grandcourt, where we are bombing to-day. He may be roving even among the enemy in their own domain, hiding and ducking and running and waiting in the most exciting game of “hide and seek’’ ever invented; for in this game of “hide and seek” the penalty of failure or discovery is not merely to take your turn to be “It,” the penalty is death

or capture. There are bombers who do not hesitate to creep into the heart of enemy territory at night. It was a bomber who played chief part in a little ruse deguerre by which many Boches were discomfited. The Boches were esconced in a house ruin. They had a machine-gun, and were not easy to get at close quarters. But after nightfall a British machine-gun was trained with delicate care upon the door of that house. A bomber crept in, and, working his way forward by devious routes, came actually to the back of the house. He climbed up on to its battered roof, and from this vantage point he began a steady cascade of bombs through roof holes and chimney-stack upon the startled Germans beneath. When they rushed out of the front door the mach-ine-gun was ready for them. That house held no Germans in the morning.

And the only request that bomber had made when he started on his hairraising adventure was to ask The ma-chine-gunner to “Keeep it pretty low, old boy, and well towards the front side of the house, or you’ll ‘get me,’ my buck, not Fritz.”