Three years in France with the Guns: Being Episodes in the life of a Field Battery — John Shaqi
Three years in France with the Guns: Being Episodes in the life of a Field BatteryRose, C. A.
History
Three years in France with the Guns: Being Episodes in the life of a Field Battery
Rose, C. A.
World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, English
In our new position we speedily learnt what we could do and what we
could not do. For instance, the signallers were able to introduce
electric light into our abode by tapping a live wire which ran outside,
from one fosse to the next, for we were now in the Lens coal district
with mines dotted about here and there. On the other hand, we soon
learnt to refrain from sleeping or showing lights in the second storey
of our billet which was evidently under direct observation by the
enemy, who did not take long to acquaint us with the fact.
There was always a good deal of firing to be done each day, for,
although the battle may be said to have finished after four or five
days, there were several side-shows before the line was adjusted to our
liking, and the enemy’s fire was almost continuous. This bothered the
F.O.O. parties considerably, and communication was difficult to
maintain for more than a short time between the front line and Battery.
The wire was frequently broken in numerous places, and this kept
signallers and linesmen working at high pressure to repair the damage.
The O.P.’s were moderately good, with the exception of one in “Gun
Trench,” where our men held a portion, then came a sand bagged wall
occupied on the other side by our opponents which they were able to
enter by a T-shaped communication trench, then another sand-bagged wall
with our infantry beyond. Neither side could shell this trench for fear
of injury to their own party, but this did not prevent a lively
exchange of bombs, intermingled with various forms and sizes of
“Minnies,” which were hurled at frequent intervals. Sniping was also
rampant, and periscopes, no matter how small, survived not longer than
a few minutes. It was from this delightful spot that one of the
subalterns arrived at the Battery one evening with his head swathed in
bandages like a Sultan’s turban. He had been trying conclusions with a
“Minnie,” and, as this was in the days before the introduction of the
steel helmet, the latter had easily come out on top. When the wound was
ascertained to be nothing like as serious as the size of the bandage
seemed to indicate, he was removed to the wagon line amid jeers from
his brother officers, and a few days’ rest sufficed to bring him back
to duty again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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