KRUPP'S IN WAR-TIME.

Taranaki Daily News, 18 September 1915, Page 11

KRUPP'S IN WAR-TIME.

AN INFERNO ON EARTH. r (Correspondent New York Herald). It would be difficult to imagine a more vivid and throbbing picture than that presented to the mind of a stranger at Krupp's, the greatest arms and ammunition factory in the world. A traveller portrays to a correspondent at the headquarters of the French army the feverish scenes at Essen, and conveys the impression that he has met one of the German military technicians who are—some of them—consulting chemical advisers to the Kaiser as well. x Ever since last August, he says, it has been an intense, fantastic life of unceasing toil day and night. A molten mass of carbide flows in. an endless stream from the puddling furnace to the crucible, and thence to the stamp hammers which are mounted on three platforms, one of bronze, one of armored beton and one of massive oak—the heart of oak still used by the Hohenzollerns for their coffins. In the midst of these streams of lava the workmen testing the texture of the alloy which is to yield steel, faultless, close grained and clean as the flesh of a child. Naked Cyclops they are, ill-protected by their leathern bucklers, their baked SKIN AS BRITTLE AS GLASS THREAD. See them at the coffee hour. They fling themselves upon the men who bring the huge jars of hot liquid and dispose of their portion at one draught. This coffee, which would scald the throat of any ordinary human being, cools the fever of these men. Reinforced by the regulation allowance of sugar, It readjusts and restores the nerves. To construct the sixteen inch gun a special plant is, necessary. The formidable equipment of the works is but a thin shell for the hatching of such monsters. Fifty ton masses of steel are surrounded by a brazier which keeps them simmering. Then elephantine cranes catch up the blocks and roll along with them on rails through the city of fire to the hammers. One can imagine these'instruments in operation. The reverberations are such that it seems aB if all Essen is being bombarded by howitzers. INFERNO ON EARTH. Essen long has been accustomed to the noise of munitions in the making. It well remembers the manufacture of the famous 14.5 guns for Wilhelmshaven and the effect of the periods of trial. But the cannon of this war have been more colossal still, and the wonder is that human nerves, even of the giants who are building them, can endure the thunder. At the rolling shops of Solingen the masses of steel are retailed by the pound. There sabres and bayonets are tempered. But it is not the men employed in casting operations \that are the most to be pitied. It is the pyrotechny factory which is the real inferno on earth. The army of chemistß, artisans, makers of shells and of incendiary powder are devoured almost by the atmosphere of the workshops, in which the acids vaporise a more subtle fire, the artificial fire of men. The air of the munition factories is, as it were, a cancer that fastens on to each individual, eating him minute by minute, organ by organ, and only relaxing its grip when he is dead. Truly a place where all hope must be abandoned! There the men no longer seem made of flesh and blood and muscle. They remain nerves and intelligence—the deadly reactions fight for their possession, and their spirit alone carries them through to the end of their task. Some of the men no longer are able to retain any food. They are shadows. They work on all the same, not realising their condition. "After the war we will take a rest," they say, allured by the system of bonuses. To these no coffee is served hot, but milk several times a day, as an antidote to the poison they have absorbed. Medical specialists patch up the most exhausted by means of special hypodermic injections. Chemistry kills them and chemistry keeps them alive. The machinery of the organism of these men is nothing but threads, The tissues, according to medical testimony, are being EATEN SLOWLY BY POISON. But philosophical speculation is no part of Krupp's business. It is a splendid year —the record year of the national industry of war. Each will liave his share, from the humblest stokers, puddlers and hammerers to the office-en-gineers and staff generals, up to the Kaiser himself, who will receive his dividends on the 200 odd millions (of marks) entrusted by him to the Krupps. At Essen the question of victory is of minor moment. Munitions are being expended and the hill is growing. Even in defeat the Empire will pay. And to-mor-row it will rc-iill the arsenals, which were crammed by forty-four years of frantic labour and emptied in seven months. The guns are tested on the ground for target practice. There is a perpetual tumult of artillery rolling along the sooty, fir-clad slopes of the Fichtengebirge, where on holidays tho Cyclops rest their scorched, listless eyes on the Dantesque panorama of the town. In the midst of this inferno tlie Grand Palace, the Essener-llo.f, where the Austrian, Bulgarian and Turkish officers are entertained as the guests of the firm, is a blaze of light. These representatives of their respective governments, have the right to watch over the execution of their orders. All the luxuries of modern life are theirs. A pleasant existence, plaintive Tzigane music, champagne, choice flowers and fruits, costing Bertha Krupp's consort and the firm £20,000 a year on merry-making. What a percentage on all this suffering and crime! This year the firm can afford more, for the downpour of steel U nraducinif millions daily,