MEMORIES

Manawatu Standard, Volume LIII, Issue 14, 14 December 1932, Page 12

MEMORIES

CHRISTMAS TIME IN FLANDERS. Of five Christmas Days which fate compelled me to spend on active service in Flanders, tlie first was unique for many reasons. As tho war dragged on year after year, it is undoubtedly true that tho average man showed tho effects of mental and physical fatigue. I can think of only two comrades who honestly and frankly rcvellod in fighting ; some—surprisingly few in tho circumstances —broke down completely; most of us, as time went on, seemed to be granted a feeling of numbness as if nature . had given us a kind of anesthetic which enabled us to endure the daily strain of horror land beastliness (says a writer in the I Sydney Morning Herald). I But, at tho end of 1914, it was difI ferent. In those far-off days we were | still sufficiently resilient to appreciate jthe incongruity of celebrating Cliristjinas with rifles in our hands. “Peace ion earth: goodwill towards men.” Wo felt there was something wrong somewhere. In that first winter of the war, our front lino up “Plugstreet” way, was little moro than a breastwork. Deep dugouts could not have been made even if they had lx-cn thought of, for one had only to scratch the surface of the ground to strike water in that rich Flanders loam. So we contented ourselves with crazy little shelters banked up with sandbags. Shellfire, as wo came to know it in later years, was unknown, or we could not have held out for 24 hours. Duckboards, which afterwards were made by the mile in R.E. workshops) had not yet come into existence. To keep ourselves out of the bottomless mud we stood on lumber “scrounged” from ruined farms in our vicinity, or even on paths bricked with surplus tins of bully beef! In December, 1914, the home fires were still burning fairly brightly, and our postbag was heavily laden, not only with personal Christmas presents, but with communal tributes, sometimes of an embarrassing nature. For instance, the Falkirk miners sent us a huge roll of black twist tobacco, only usable by tho most seasoned claypipe smokers, of which there were not half a dozen in tho battalion; from another source came a portable bathheater, which belied its name, and had to he dumped at our first, move. Every soldier in France received from Princess Mary a metal box containing chocolate and cigarettes. To-day this box, even If now used to hold buttons, lias some historic interest, for surrounding the medallion of Princess Mary on the lid are shields bearing the names of our Allies. NO COMMUNICATION TRENCHES. At this period there were almost no. communication trenches, and we reached the front line by walking across the open after dark ; at times, with rationcarriers, R.E. working parties, and incoming or outgoing reliefs, the recognised routes seemed to become as congested as Piccadilly Circus, and it was incredible that the noise did not draw fire from the enemy. No doubt we escaped because the Germans were occupied in exactly the same manner, and in those good okl days there was a spirit of live and let live in the front line. Bursts of rifle-fire broke out at intervals every night, begun, one

suspects, by some sentry letting off his rifle to clean it, or simply because lie was bored with idleness. The firing was taken up for hundreds of yards on each side, no one knowing what ho was firing at, or why. Vercy lights went up, and tho noise became deafening. Then, after a quarter of an hour, or so, tho excitement died down, and nobody (except, perhaps, tho British taxpayer) was a penny tho worse. it was this give and take atmosphere, and absence of bitterness that made possible the “fraternising” scenes on Christmas Day, 1914, which so scandalised the higher authorities. Dawn, on tho sector opposite Messines, was notable chiefly for a total absence of those spasmodic bursts of musketry already described. “Stand-to,” when every man in the lino took his place on "the firestop, was, as one unconscious humorist put it, “just like a Sunday.” Then came tho rum issue, for which In our battalion tho platoon commanders were personally responsible. (In passing, it may be remarked that rum was rum in tlioso days; legend said that some of it had been in store since tho Crimean war; later on, the contents of S.R.D. jars was more like some fiery paint-remover). After “stand-down” tho ritual of “drummingup” began, and all along tho lino smoko from a hundred little fires rose into ,1110 air, as a hundred amateur cooks got to work preparing breakfast. LACK OF SHELLS. We lived to seo a day when any column of smoko immediately drew a burst of shell-lire, but in 1914 there was more toleration on both sides—and a lack of shells. From the German trenches 300 yard# away, similar trails of smoke mounted to heaven. There was complete silence, and for a while no sign of life, except at ono point where the German line dipped into a hollow. There, at regular intervals, two arms and a bucket shot up, to empty water over the sandbagged parapet. Someone was hard at work trying to bail his trench dry. In ordinary circumstances, pot-shots would certainly liavo been taken at tho bucket, but on this morning, in some unaccountable way, there was mutual agreement to suspend hostilities, and no ono fired. Gradually, at intervals, along the line, a few heads appeared furtively. Then one bold fellow got right' out of his trench and sat on the parapet. His example was soon copied by a dozen or moro on both side, and, though there was a certain amount of friendly arm-waving, most of the gestures were derisive. A few reckless individuals advanced into No Man’s Land, and bartered buttons or similar souvenirs. Soldiers are horn romancers, and tho tales of fraternising that reached the base require more than a grain of salt. Oil our sector there was certainly no football match. Without warning from somewhere on our left, a .shot was fired. Immediately, there was a scurry for shelter by British and Germans alike, and in a few seconds “the situation was normal,” to use a classic phrase. In tho Gorman trenches, as tokens of this strange Christmas celebration, were a number of tins of good bully-beef; in exchange wo possessed some boxes of extremely bad German cigars. What the Kaiser thought of the fraternising we never heard; the people at G.H.Q. were very displeased, perhaps with good reason. Truly might it have been sad, “C’est mngnifique, mais ce n’est pas la guerre.”