World War, 1914-1918 -- Campaigns -- Western Front; World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives
Our gunners got to work again, in spite of a night-and-day strain for
more than a week, and for several hours there was another tremendous
bombardment from all our heavies and field-guns, watched for miles
around by Flemish peasants sitting outside their windmills and outside
cottage doors, looking at this lightning in the sky, which is a
revelation to them of the mighty growth of that British Army since those
early days when a few divisions and a few guns came to these fields of
Flanders and fought to a thin, ragged line round Ypres. In many cases
the rockets which rose from our lines last night calling for the help of
the gunners were hardly needed, for though the enemy was seen to be
assembling, he did not try to break through our barrage. In many places
massed bodies of his men were caught round Warneton by this new storm of
fire which burst upon them, and the night scenes behind the German lines
must have been full of terror and tragedy for those poor wretches urged
forward along the roads ploughed up by our shells. Only at Klein
Zillebeke, on the northern flank of our battle-line, did they gain a
temporary footing, and many of them lie dead there after the fierce
fighting which is still in progress.
It is no wonder that, after such experiences of our gun-fire, the German
prisoners show no regret at being in British hands. I saw new batches of
them to-day, mopped up last night as an aftermath of the battle, young
boys and middle-aged men, all very sturdy and strong, and astonishingly
clean after their escape from the tumult of that frightful ground by
Wytschaete and Messines. They stretched themselves in the sunshine, and
took their ease in green fields, drinking quarts of water provided by
their guards. It is not with resignation but with joy that they find
themselves on our side of the lines, away from all that horror of the
fire zone.
"Now we shall go on leave," they said to one of our officers; "we are
sick of this war." He spoke to two German boys who have been fighting
for a year, and are now only seventeen and look much younger. "You ought
to be spanked and sent home to your mothers," he said. They laughed, and
said: "That is what we should like, sir, if you please."
All the prisoners are extraordinarily ignorant of the feeling of hatred
they have aroused against them in the world, and expect that they should
be admired for the way they have fought. But they want the war to end
quickly, and the rank and file do not seem to mind very much whether it
ends by a German victory or German defeat, so that it ends somehow. One
human being, shattered in nerves, half senseless, was dragged back after
Hill 60 was mined, and he said that he had seen only two men of his
company after the great explosion. All the others had been hurled
sky-high by the flames and gases, or buried in the fall of earth.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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