BATTLE NEAR LA BASSEE.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LVII, Issue 287, 13 May 1915, Page 6

BATTLE NEAR LA BASSEE.

WAR-FAMED VILLAGES VISITED. WHERE THE TWO ALLIED ARMIES TOUCH. The. Daily Chronicle's special co'rrespovdent has been priviU'jfetl to visit and jias-i along thi! British and French lines from the canal at La liassee to Albert. His tour extended along ISO miles or so of the actual righting line. In this article lie described the villages near La Bassee that have figured so often in buttles of historic importance. North of France, March 2. W'k had just finished supper in the hospital house when mine host, who had gone out for a breath of fresh air '■-"- marked casually on coming in : 'The. rifles are at it again to-night." And so they were; it started as a matter of fact with the deep boom of a gun at 10.5.) p.m., and soon developed into a furious fusilade. The night was clear, with not ft waft of wind, and the sound of battle came to us with startling distinctness from the Givem-hy direction. It lasted several hours was still lasting, in fact,, when 1 fell asleep ; so 1 determined in the morning, instead of going straight to Vermelles to make the detour to Cuinchy and see what had really happened, for it was e'ear an engagement of considerable importance was in progress. Early though my start was, wild rumors were already being circulated among the inhabitants, and a worthy gendarme by the bridge assured a group of willing listeners that the Pout Fi\e, halfway between Cuinchy and La liassee, had been 'taken by the British. 1 daresay by noon all Bethune was firmly persuaded we had taken La Bassee itself ; Bethune loves to indulge in these harmless little thrills every now and then. THE CANAL TO LA BASSE]-:. There was a frosty mist that the sun vainly tried to pierce as I reached Cuinchy Bridge by the now very-fami-liar towpath. The village was shrouded in a white pall of mystery and silence. Ghost-like the figures of the sentries on the we!l-forti(ied bridge flitted by. Thickly a voice sounded through the mist. it was as luck would have it the voice of a friend. He told me what had happened. The Pout Fixe had not fallen at all, wor-e luck, but we had taken a trench on tinLa Bassee road, a "little beyond Cuinchy. to the right. The (.'ermans rea'ly started the show, it seemed, thinking probably they had tired troops to contend .with ; . but the men I had seen going out the afternoon before were as fresh and eager as could be. No tiredness there: so, after the usual blazing away, it had been, "Fi:< bayonets and at them." They new"waited for the shock, but retired. Our men were rather suspicious at first. It was a very usual trick of the enemy to evacuate a ruined trench. But (vi-, dently on this occasion there had been no time to mine it, so it is lined with khaki now instead of with grey, and the communiques will tell the wo/Id (his evening that "we have won 1 >!! yard? along the La Bassee road." A sjnall affair, one thinks, but this is a war of small affairs, just like this! one, and eaeli forms a link in the chain i I hat Jolfrc is slowly but impi-rturhably fr.iging. The Font Fixe ej not ours yet, but it will be some time. We are creeping towards it, trench by trench, yard by yard, inch by inch. For, let the public at home make no mistake, this is a stubborn foe. He may not like the onward sweep of a bayoneted line, but he takes care by vigorous fire, cconstant sapping, and skilful defence that our opportunities for bayonet work shall be few and restricted.

A FAMOUS VILLAGE. Guiuchy has not changed much since 1 saw it taken and retaken in furious charges in December. It is battered and shattered a little more, that is all, and its gaunt, pock-marked ruins rise in strange confusion in the morning mist. But what was then our tiring trench has become o;ie of our reserve lilies. We have progressed. We line nibbled. As I was sharing with my informant some chocolate and some bread, a man came up and saluted. He was disheveled and muddy and torn; he was leading a horse by the rein, and the horse looked as shaken and untidv as the man. "Well," said my friend, "what is it '/" "I've come to report, sir. 1 was coniin' along that there road from Bouvry with my cart and two horses, and a shell ceamc along and took away tlie cart and one of the horses. So IvV come to report with what's left." Simple heroes, these. As the mist persisted, I resolved to wait no longer, but struck right across; to Vermelles, skirting the village cf Annequin. It was a vitiations road—' no road at in fact in fact, but a track of mud through a grassy swamp, whence I snipe and crows and gulls lied on mv approach with a loud whirr into tlie stunted, straggly undergrowth. Fortunately the mud was frozen hard, which made tlie going possible. Vermelles, it will be recollected, was stormed by the French earlv in December. From further up the' line 1 had heard the joyful music of its capture. When the full history of the war comes to be written, the' storming of the Chateau of Vermelles will take its place beside that of Hougomont a3 one of the greatest feats in military annais. Every effort of German ingenuity had been skilfully used in preparing the defences. Ring upon ring of trenches, barbed wire entanglements and mined areas fenced it on everv side. Intricate lines were construccted through orchards, ahmg hedges and loopholi d wall-. Every house had been turned into a fort, and above all towered the Chateau, of recent years turned iirto a brewery, with its enorinouslv thick j walls, pierced with Norman windows.

It was pouring, drizzling when the French .started their attack. A very inferno of batteries was .suddenly m'lmasked, blowing with hurricane ' force gust upon gust of devastating steel on tin- place. Then tile music of all, most gloriously welcome to the Krcus'h soldier—the quick swelling roll of the Chun.,. ! colours flying.' bii-los callinv,. death swooping in niarf rushes, i|, o f s crashing am \ ln j m , s bursting—all tlic sublime riot of war. They did imi count the cost of that d.iy.' The rapid vision of it (i]| passed before mv eves as I listened to a little soldier of Fran.•■■ telling the story lie had lived. l|e wis sitting on a tumble-down wall sucki.m away at an mjtidy cigarette. In front of ns lay (]„■ remains of the two sides of it still standing, the others klown right in in a heap-the trenches liiilf filled with thick mud-the yawning abyss of the exploded mines-hero and there a part, uf a house still standing—mounds of hastily piled up earth beneath which Vermelles keeps its harU'st of the dead. The French line has moved forward now, like ours at Cniucliy. Hut all is quiet along that part of the front. Here at Vermelles. within this small space, of ground, )ic< the crux of tin> whole thing, the ruined but triumphant hamlet and Chateau of Vermelles,.