FIGHTING IN FRANCE.

Taranaki Daily News, 20 November 1915, Page 11 (Supplement)

FIGHTING IN FRANCE.

WHERE THE BRITISH PROGRESSED. THE STORMING OP LOOS. London, Oct. 5. A connected story of the fight which began last Saturday along practically the whole of the Franco-British front — a matter of 500 miles—and is still continuing, remains to be written, but here is an account of the storming of Loos and the advance on Hill 70 (incidents in the British offensive south of La Bassee) which will give some idea of the grand work done by "Kitchener's Orphans." The writer is one of the very limited number of Press correspondents permitted to keep in close touch with the actual operations at the front. He writes:— ''Undoubtedly the most significant feature of this initial success was the complete demoralisation of the enemy wherever their trenches were captured and passed. The assault launched from the vicinity of Vermelleß at half-past six was a -hock from which the entrenched regiments around Loos could not recover. An hour and a-half after the British attack began there was witnessed in some eases the entraordinary spectacle of German infantry. In batches of twenty and thirty, surrendering to one or two men amid the ruins of Loos, which had been one of their strongholds north of Lens. "A book of golden deeds could be written about the first three hours of Saturday morning's battle amid the slag heaps. The 'New Army' proved itself a worthy successor to the army of tradition. As fine exploits will bo recorded of the wresting of this strip of mining country from the invaders as those performed at Ypres and Festubert, and other historic spots within the unbroken British line. "Battalions of the New Army gained their first experience of heavy fighting while capturing a position as strong as many stormed by the veterans of a year ago. The price was heavy, but they paid it without faltering." THE PRICE OF SUCCESS. The task confronting the battalions attacking Loos and Hill 70 waa not as easy as it may look on tho map. It meant a charge across level fields, through three lines of barbed wire, past slag heaps; a hand-to-hand struggle for mastery of the German first-line trench; then for the second-line 'trench; and the trenches of communication, and intervening dug-outs filled with the enemy. These cleared and the trenches won, there remained another dasli across fields and a high road studded with unknown obstacles and visible entaglementa until the western edge of Loos was reached; then the silencing of machine gun batter house fighting (with plenty of cellar-to-cellar searches for hidden enemies), and constant pressure through narrow streets eastward to the open fields, beyond where a final rush would carry them to Hill 70, for fresh fighting at close quarters, and the endurance of a galling fire from a kind of "machinegun fort" until its guns could be silenced. Altogether a journey of perhaps three miles. Loos is the usual mining village of two-storeyed workmen's cottages built in rows around the core of an older village, with an ancient parish churcli in the centre. One principal street cuts it in half from west to east between rows of poor hops and cafes. On the west lies the local cemetery, then newly studded with machine-guns hiddc-n among the lowly tortus. THE TOWER BRIDGE. The dominating feature of Loos is the curious structure which the British Army has christened the "Tower Bridge." It is no more than the twin shafts of a colliery—two square towers of steel girders, perhaps three hundred feet high, joined by a broad network of steel beams two-thirds of the distance from the ground, but from a distance looks much like its namesake on the Thames. It is a landmark for forty miles around, and enemy artillery observers sat there day after day "spotting" the shells that fell within the British lines. Our guns have shelled it, but, although damaged in places, it still stands virtually as strong as ever Before the first British troops entered Loos, many batches of German prisoners from the trenches west of the village were already on their way to the rear. There was very little resistance in the first-line trenches, which were thinly held, a fact which some prisoners referred to with bitterness. It have heard many accounts of incidents of the conquering of Loos—of the piles of German corpses at the street corners; of bombing parties that fell down steep cellar steps on the bodies of dead men, and heard living men calling feebly underneath; of the slow digging ill piles of debris to rescue buried enemies who showed signs of life. But the strangest, most uncanny story that has been told me is of the experience of a "New" battalion while making its way through a captured position. As the men tramped down the deep firing trench they saw a German standing in their path ahead. The first soldier raised his bayonet, then stepped quickly on one side. The man behind him gave one look, and stepped as quickly on the other side. As each succeeding man came down the trench lie saw this solitary German, standing stiffly upright, facing him with a dreadful smile on his face. Not until he was within arm's length did he see a bullet hole in the head. The German had died erect, and as the advancing men swerved lightly around him, leaving him standing where he died, he smiled a thought the sight of which was the best joke in the world. IN THE CEMETERY. Serious resistance was eneountereu when the attackers came up to tho cemetery. It was alive with machinegun parties, sheltering behind low earth on parapets raised among the graves. Even the tombstones were used as cover in addition to a trench dug at the upper end of the cemetery. The men who | flung themselves on this burial ground rapidly added to the number of corpses contained therein. They leaped from one parapet to another bayoneting as they wer.t. They lost many men, but the Germans lost more. *lt was threequarters of an hour before the cemetery was cleared of Germans, The number of corpses piled among the fallen crosses and trampled wreath's far exceeded the community of the (lead who lay below. 'I hus they beat their way into Loos a step at a time, bearing gifts in the torm of bombs, which they hurled at each likely refuge. The cemetery being swept of its concentrated machine-gun support, the men who depended on this protection to keep the British out had little stomach for further resistance, and the desire to surrender alive—if possible —spread throughout the militant population of Look.

The cellars wore packed with greycoated. refugees. Some belligerents sniped from the broken windows of cafea and cottages until their last cartridge was gone, or until their enemies eonfronted them in cold rage, and then they would tlirow up their hands despairingly and cry "Kamerad." Some of the Germans tried the old trick of pretending to surrender and then shooting point-blank at the British soldier in fronfc'of them. One man was deliberately sniping l'rom a window when one of our men passed The German held up his hands iu token of surrender, then, as the soldier was covering him, he raised his rifle and pulled the trigger. The cartridge did not explode. Instantly the man threw down his rifle. Up went his hands again, "lvaemrad," he whined. It was too late. Bombing parties went down the side streets, searching cellars and marking their progress by explo"Slons. There were trenches in the streets, where a few Germans sought cover, showing that the intention had been to defend the village house by house. But for the fact that they were rushed on three sides, cut off, and left heirless without supplies of ammunition, this would undoubtedly have been done. There was one brave German in Loos, and he must have his due. When the street fighting and bombing were in full swing, a battalion officer who had made his way along the captured ground came into the seething village. He found a house that was fairly intact near the centre of the village, and decided to make it his headquarters. Up came the signallers with their blue and white flags, and presently the usual unflurried, methodical laying of wires and unpacking of field telephones began. Suddenly—and for no apparent reason—the house became a target for enemy howitzer shells. The first burst in the street a few yards away; the second exploded in the back garden. Battalion commander, signallers and others ran to cover. Some of them rushed into the cellar. There they found a German artillery officer in the act of telephoning to his battery! He had ordered the bombardment, and was "registering" the hits. THE GERMAN PANIC. The panic in which the German Staff fled from Loos shows that the entry of the British was wholly unforeseen. Field guns, mounted on concrete platforms, were found as the German gunners left therti. One gun was still hot, with a shell in position. This battery had harassed the British position for days, guided by the observer on the "Tower Bridge." Three men were found on the "Tower Bridge" when the British troops got to it. The twin shafts had been scarred by shells, but were unweakened, and the mine buildings round about had not suffered heavily. The parish church —which was another artillery observation post for the enemy—lay in ruins. Many buildings in the vicinity were unroofed or had great gaps in the walls. Loos was not wholly destroyed, however. Our troops were not materially impeded by debris as they pressed through the streets to Hill 70. Onee clear of the houses it was a journey of perhaps half a mile to the crest of the slopo beyond. It would hardly be called a hill in England, being little more than a gentle rise from Loos. The Hulluch-Lens road runs across it. There was comparatively little difficulty in gaining the hill. Some of the attacking party actually penetrated a strong ly-entrcnched position further in advance. The handful of men who took the hill stuck there from ten o'clock Saturday morning until eleven at night, when they were relieved. They persistently shelled by German guns, but having dug themselves in were able to hold on without heavy loss. The nearest village in German hands, called Cite St. August, was another stronghold of ma-chine-guns and of snipers, who sought to clear the hill and prevent a British advance beyond the crest. THE BANTAM'S THIRTY One eye-witness told me how he saw German iield guns galloping frenziedly away from the eastern outskirts of Loos, and infantry running in the hope of reaching the first fortified position beyond. In some cases prisoners were bagged with considerable ease. A little signaller—a youth who is it mere bantam in height—killed three Germans and took thirty prisoners single-handed. He marched his men out of a cellar as proudly as though he had captured a city. A captain and a corporal rounded up another batch of twenty-four and forced them to surrender at the point of the revolver. They dropped their rifles meekly and asked that their lives might be spared. The whole story uf the collapse 01 German resistance when they were brought face to face with British troops and shorn of their machine-guns proves the ascendancy which our Army has over its opponents man for man. Once they are deprived of the machinery which is their mainstay in battle the Germans cannot hope to hold a position, much less attack one. The British offensive north of Loos, which took place simultaneously with the enveloping of the latter village, brought the troops engaged to the western outskirts of Huliuch—another "fort" held solely by "machinery." The cottage walls, reinforced by piles of black and white sandbags, give protection to many machine-guns. Snipers have loopholed some of the buildings and the roofs. THE FIELD- MARSHAL'S THANKS. The heroes of Saturday are modesi | men, but they arc proud men to-day aa well. They have come back from Loos and Hill 70 because others carry on the work they began with a victory, and I saw some of them enjoying a wellearned rest, quietly smoking or chatting in groups as they wrote letters home. Their pride is not because of their own greatness—l do not think any man ot them considers himself a hero. It is because another soldier came among them this morning riding a horse. When ever he found a group at the roadside lie reined up and said a few words. No other than the Field-Marshal himself, telling them that he was proud o: his now troops.