Chapter 10 WITH THE R.H.A. BATTERIES

(CONTRIBUTED BY A LORRY DRIVER IN THE COLUMN)

In the capacity of motor-lorry driver on a converted London General Omnibus attached to the -- Indian Cavalry Supply Column, and carrying rations to the Royal Horse Artillery Batteries of the Division, I have been fortunate in having had the opportunity of driving my lorry as near the line as lorries go, and have witnessed many exciting incidents. The author of this book has asked me to record some of the more interesting of them.

My first occasion to leave the Column was in the early part of 1915, when, amongst others, my lorry was for a time "on detachment" and we left Aire for --, from which latter railhead we rationed the batteries whilst in action. Leaving --, we early sighted hostile aircraft, flying fairly low, passing over the lorries. We quite expected some bombs to be dropped, but as nothing of the kind occurred, the machines may only have been out on a reconnaissance flight. On this particular day, having returned to our own lines, our load being dumped, we had not been there many minutes when I observed an aeroplane bearing the British mark, a red bull's-eye on a target of blue and white circles, which distinguishes our aeroplanes from those of the enemy, the latter being marked with the familiar "Iron Cross." The signs are, of course, readily distinguishable from the ground, being painted on the underside of the planes. Much to my surprise, on the aeroplane coming over us, there was a loud report in the field alongside where I was standing, followed by four others in rapid succession. After the disguised hostile machine, as it proved to be, had disappeared into the blue, we made for the field and found deep holes, measuring some five or six feet in diameter, in the soft ground. One bomb exploded close beside a cottage, but fortunately no one was near at the time, so no casualties occurred. At the Gendarmerie, where I was billeted, a note, dropped from one of the aeroplanes evidently, was picked up, bearing the message, "A present from Uncle: many happy returns." This was on April 1st, but as the only victim of the "raid" was an old hen, the "fool" can scarcely be described as having been a success. One bomb certainly succeeded in claiming the back premises of an estaminet, but this was the full extent of its day's work. We dug up a "dud" bomb in a newly ploughed field, which was at once taken apart and "flogged," as we term it, for a few francs by the finder. Its propeller now forms part of a lady's hat-pin.

Our journeys were now to --, by no means a healthy spot, but there was too much interest attached to the job for time to think of the dangers lurking around.

We watched the church being shelled-twenty-seven shells in all were sent over by the Huns; but they did not get the tower, which, was, no doubt, their objective. The deserted village afforded considerable interest-the village pump standing over at an angle of 45 degrees, the unroofed houses and roads ploughed up with shell holes. The various notices on the doors, to be seen in every shell-shattered village, such as "Men must not linger here," "Out of bounds," etc., were hardly needed, for no one desired to linger any longer than curiosity prompted him. As I returned to my lorry, one of the R.H.A. batteries was just starting to make itself heard. Although at this time the guns were only 13-pounders, they spoke volumes, and to be a short distance away in line with the firing gun was as much as one wanted. On one occasion, when we went in advance of the gun-pits to dump the rations, a salvo was fired just as we approached the battery; a terrific flash came through the hedge, a matter of thirty yards away. We scarcely needed the order given by the battery sergeant to "halt."

Constantly we met parties of weary, wounded Tommies, walking cases, making their way to the -- Field Dressing Station, smoking and always cheery-no doubt thankful to get off so lightly: one had an arm in a sling, while he wielded a mouth-organ with the other. Those passing in the opposite direction on their way up to the trenches were a contrast. The only semblance of cheerfulness was a slight wink given from a very sober countenance. Their jaws set, there was no "Tipperary" here. The contemplation of what is to come precedes the indifference in the heat of battle, when the time arrives to go over the parapet and excitement is at its highest pitch.

I had many talks with fellows just out of the trenches, mud-clobbered and wet. One I recollect who had lost his mate beside him, taken by a stray bullet penetrating his forehead, his brains falling in his lap; the mud-plastered and blood-stained tunic, turned back for my inspection, showing the truth of the boy's statement. Such incidents, alas! are an everyday occurrence. Neuve Chapelle claimed an army almost in itself. One had only to see at railhead lorry loads of rifles twisted beyond recognition almost, with bullet holes through the stocks, in some cases stockless; blood-smeared and broken bayonets, which had done their work and whose period of usefulness had for the time being passed-all on their way to the Base, there to be sorted out, and, where possible, overhauled for further service; kits, which were hardly to be recognized as such, German knapsacks and accoutrements all mixed up in utter confusion with those of our men.

German prisoners we saw daily brought in. Yellow-faced as Chinese, due to lyddite or high explosive shells and gas fumes, which had changed the colour of everything. Big men, many of them, of fine physique; others spectacled, or puny little baby-faced boys, all bearing the same dazed expression of men who have been through "Hell's gates." This phrase I borrow from one who was in the first gas attack at Ypres. He was resting on account of broken nerve when I met him, having carried out no less than eighteen of his comrades, some never to recover, who had lain down oblivious of the gas being heavier than air, the communication trenches being choked with men who had dropped from the suffocating fumes. How many cases of "unconspicuous" and unnoticed gallantry occur almost hourly!

On April 24, 1915, we left this part of the line with many regrets. The forest of Nieppe is one of the most beautiful that I have ever seen; thickly timbered and with innumerable ponds and lakes in its interior was an easy matter to lose one's way, unless one kept to the paths. The length and breadth of the forest are twenty-six and five kilometres respectively. My temporary home was built by bending and crossing branches of nut-trees, the young foliage forming a roof or covering. Some fellows erected most elaborate bivouacs, approached by a pergola of nut-trees. Beside a railway level crossing near by was the grave of a Private, who was shot dead by a French sentry, through failing to reply to his challenge. This was in the days when parties of Uhlans were still in the locality. Nightingales sang at night overhead and frogs croaked on the ground as an accompaniment, the concert being at times interrupted by the bombardment of the guns, which resounded through the forest. The earth shook and the din reminded one of a number of traction engines travelling over sets, only louder; the sky was lit up by the gun flashes, intermingled with star shells. The batteries around were all in action from Fleurbaix to south of Béthune. This necessitated our moving about a great deal. On one occasion we left -- at 2.45 a.m. Taking the road to Béthune, which town was then under shell fire-several French soldiers and civilians were killed there during this particular night-from there we went on through Hinges, passing across former German trenches and over the La Bassée Canal. There were many graves of soldiers dotted about in the fields; one we passed by the roadside had received special attention, having been planted with rose-trees and evergreens.

After receiving directions from the battery quartermaster-sergeant, we made our way up the road to a moat farm, the road being screened by a wood, the interior of which was a mass of earthworks and fortifications. Desperate hand-to-hand fighting had taken place here; now, all was peaceful and quiet. Hundreds of crosses were dotted about the fringe of the wood, and the bodies of some of those who had fallen during the night before were being placed in their last resting-places. The road was lined on either side with tall trees, now clothed in young foliage, silhouetted against rugged timber which would never see the green on it again. A nightingale, oblivious of what was going on underneath, was singing as I walked down the road, in close proximity to the line. Having a few minutes to spare, I took a turning to my left, when a voice from behind a hedge demanded, "Where are you going?" "Just having a look round," I answered. "Well, I should come down if I was you." The voice came from the communication trench, and I about-turned, following the further advice of the man who had just come out.

The battery wagon lines were shelled that night and the camp had to be shifted, which was scarcely to be wondered at, for the field in which it was pitched, whilst we were dumping the rations in it earlier in the day, was under shell fire; several, screaming over us, had burst within a matter of a few yards from our dumping-ground. The battery being on the move, we took up a fresh position, this time at a little place near Béthune. I had a bed for the first time for many months, but was unable to sleep, owing, I suppose, to the sudden change from the hard floor-boards of the lorry to the softness of a box-spring mattress. Early the following morning shells were bursting in the town, and the strafe continued for about half an hour. Once again it was the unhappy inhabitants who suffered. Two women and a child were killed.

Our next delivery of rations was well within range of the German gunners, who had pretty well knocked the place to pieces; there were shell craters all around. We halted at a farmhouse for the night, and the following morning a shell carried away the roof of our improvised cook-house. Nobody, however, was injured. It is really amazing what good luck follows some of our men; they seem to have charmed lives. Three of the gunners while at -- were sitting in a garden, where the guns had been placed; a few yards divided them. They were chatting, seated on ration boxes, and a little peasant girl was amusing herself standing behind them, tickling the ear of one of the gunners with a straw. A shell burst directly in front of one of the guns. Two of the gunners were killed outright, the little girl was very severely injured, and the third gunner was simply knocked over by the force of the explosion, but absolutely untouched. The same man, on another occasion, was with the Commanding Officer of the battery, looking for suitable positions for guns, when a shell burst quite near them. Seeing an old French dug-out, the Major dived in and the gunner did so simultaneously. The result was a jamb, neither being able to get right in. The Major asked him where the devil he was going to. "Same place as you, sir," was his quiet retort. On another occasion an R.H.A. gun was knocked out by a direct hit. Parts of one of its wheels were found almost a hundred yards away from the gun, and pieces of it were scattered everywhere, yet an officer who was sleeping on the ground only ten yards from the gun was untouched. Towards the end of August 1915 the rumour "Batteries on the move again" came through, generally from the battery cook-house, where all matters, military and otherwise, are discussed. The 1st of September found us on the road again, this time to Corbie, near to which town the batteries had taken up their position on the Somme. To reach the wagon lines, where rations were dumped, it was necessary to travel along a road under enemy observation, along the Somme Valley, a beautiful part of the country. At that time we saw the French troops leaving this part of the line to make room for our men. The Saxon regiments were in the trenches just across the valley, their line being visible on the side of a hill. A distance of three hundred yards has to be maintained between each lorry on such roads, it being possible to only use this road after dark; no lamps were allowed on the lorries. This, of course, made driving exceedingly difficult, especially on one occasion when it happened to be a particularly dark night and a lot of horse transport was on the road. One could only judge the centre of it by the camber and listen for the jangle of chains, the only means of knowing when we near the horse wagons. That night a thunderstorm raged nearly the whole of the way to the batteries, the flashes lighting up the road at intervals and making matters even worse. One might as well have driven blindfolded as be dazzled by the lightning and star-shells. The risk of delivering rations at night being so great, the order was given to deliver in the early morning, trusting that the mist would hide the lorries as they travelled over the roads under observation. Very often such roads run between high banks on either side, and if one clambers up to the top (which, of course, must be done very stealthily, otherwise there is always liability to draw fire), a perfect view of the trenches may be obtained.

I took a walk with my glasses one day and found a more or less concealed position from which I could see both lines clearly, and traces of the German attempts to shell the road below, which were evident everywhere. Here it seemed was a veritable dumping-ground for their shells, which had been, however, used to no account. Many had fallen in the marshes-no less than thirty fell in an hour, prior to our arrival, nearly all in marshland within a small radius.

Our journeys were not without excitement; one, particularly, I shall not easily forget. We were first forced to make a halt outside Bray, on account of the very heavy shelling which was in progress at the time. During the halt we filled in the time by going round a very fine garden. The inhabitants having left, we regaled ourselves with some luscious pears which lay ripe on the ground, when suddenly a shell burst within forty yards of the roadside. We picked up a large piece, weighing seven or eight pounds at least. A few minutes later the order was given to continue our journey. This we did, although the shelling was still going on. It is an uncanny feeling, driving a motor-lorry along roads under observation or under shell fire.

Whilst at Corbie I paid a visit to a large woollen thread manufactory, which was still being worked, almost entirely by women-a staff of forty against four hundred men prior to the war. I don't think I ever saw such beautiful gardens as those which lay at the back of the chateau belonging to the factory proprietor. Carpet-bedding and elaborate borders, most beautifully kept, led down to a natural and intensely cultivated garden-lakes fed by the Somme, connected up by rustic bridges; weeping willows fringing the banks, and waterlilies floating on the water by hundreds. Such a contrast to the country only a few miles beyond, made ugly and desolate by war.

The lakes were full of fish, and many a good dinner I made off a pike boiled in white wine. The French bourgeois of the Somme district knows how to cook fish as I have never before tasted it.

Where I was billeted the worthy grand'-mère cooked my rations for me and supplemented them with delicacies which I had not tasted since I left England. Omelettes au rhum, confiture of any variety I cared for, was always made ready. Poulet en casserole frequently awaited me on my return at midday. So I lived royally, and it was a sad day when I had to leave such very charming friends.