A BATH UNDER DIFFICULTIES
Over near Hooge was a large naval gun of high velocity and long range,
mounted on an armored train. The particular purpose of this nautical
monster was to shoot up objects at short notice, such as a body of
moving troops, a battery on the road, a train of ammunition wagons. It
was concealed in a tunnel made for its specific use, and when it would
discharge its missives of destruction it would first project itself from
the tunnel, send the message, and then shoot back inside.
It was at this time paying particular attention to the Square in
Poperinghe,--the little station and the hospital there,--and it had
become such a diabolical nuisance that it was determined to resort to
heroic measures to "get it." A monster balloon was enlisted in the work
and the mission of the floating bag was to direct the correspondence of
one of our 9.2 naval guns, which was operating on a short railroad built
by the Canadian Pacific Railway. This railroad, I may add, has been
doing mostly all the track laying and railroad operating for the
Canadian forces in Flanders. It was a matter of amazement for the
natives to see how quickly a railroad could be placed and operated, and
even the soldiers who were all more or less familiar with the workings
of this magnificent system in Canada, were astonished at the speed with
which the new machine, especially built by the Company for army
purposes, would throw down the rails, fasten them--presto! a railroad to
order.
[Illustration: Victorious, But Dead Tired]
It was resolved that the first work of the balloon should be devoted to
putting this German naval gun out of action. In this section at this
time the German balloons were thick in the air, and this gave them good
control of the Ypres salient. We dared not attempt the experiment there
for a long time, but it was finally determined to launch this one, and
it was brought up one evening, with its volunteers, inflated during the
night, and launched in the morning. Promptly at 10:00 o'clock, when it
was ready for raising, the German planes hummed busily overhead. Despite
their activities, the balloon got well up and was doing good observation
work on its way over to the naval nuisance; there it reached its
objective, making the necessary notations and records. Then--Kr-kr-kr-p!
Kr-kr-kr-p! And the shells commenced to scatter around it. Then it was a
case of getting the bag down, which was not so easy. These observation
balloons are operated from a large armored truck, to which they are
fastened, and the truck runs along carrying the air-bag with it,
attached with a long cable; it is handled just as a toy balloon would be
carried by a boy,--when the boy runs along, the balloon runs with him.
Attached to the bottom of the gas bag is a basket, usually holding four
observers, with a parachute for each man, and while in the air they have
to work as fast as possible, because their stay in the azure is as short
as the energies of Fritz can make it. If the wind is up and the sky
cloudy, it is one chance in a dozen that they will escape before the
planes get them, as the swing of the basket makes it difficult in the
extreme for them to notice the danger until it is upon them.
On this morning the first indication that they had that their time was
up was the swooping down of a cluster of birds of death on all sides.
The weather was foggy, a stiff wind blowing and the basket swinging
from side to side. This was the first time an attempt had been made to
float a balloon in the Ypres salient, as the danger was too obvious to
take the risk. However, as I say, the chance was taken. It so happened
that our guns were taking a breathing spell, and we stood on the top of
our gun pit eagerly watching the fall of the balloon and its escape. The
road along which the armored truck had run ran at one point quite close
to the German lines, and the airplanes were now coming thicker every
moment and bombing it from every quarter. Telephone and telegraph wires
running from trenches to headquarters and all parts of the lines
intervened between the balloon and safety, and there was nothing for
them but to cut the wires to let the bag get through. Each minute the
danger increased, but the men in the truck scrambled up the poles,
nipped the wire with their nippers, and the balloon passed through. This
was done repeatedly before it reached its haven. Bets were freely made
by every man in my gun crew, with the odds of 5 to 1, that the Huns
would get it. Somehow I had an inspiration that she would navigate the
storm, and I took up all the offers in my battery against the bag--and
lost. Her mission of observation had been accomplished, but when she
got through the wires she floated to the wagon line, and the result of
her arrival here was disastrous in the extreme, as the German shells
followed the bag as assiduously as any bunch of schoolboys snowballing a
foe, and hundreds of splendid horses were mangled to a jelly by the
explosion amongst them.
When it got to the wagon line the crew on the truck commenced to pull it
down as rapidly as they could, but when half-way to the ground a flying
shell split the cable in twain as neatly as it could have been done with
a razor blade, and the bag floated away with the remaining two men out
over the German lines. When the descent had commenced two of the crew
had taken to their parachutes and got away safely.
Anti-aircraft guns now opened up on it from our lines in an endeavor to
destroy it and prevent it getting into the hands of the enemy, and
German airplanes and anti-aircraft guns were also firing at it, so that
it was a target for all concerned. This, perhaps, is about the only
incident in the entire war to date where both the British and the
Germans were equally bent upon the destruction of a common object.
The wind suddenly changed and a steady current of air in the other
direction brought it back over our own lines; then the two remaining men
seized the opportunity to leave the floater in their parachutes,
dropping to safety. A bevy of our planes then went after it, riddled it
with rifle bullets, causing the gas to escape, and it finally sank
majestically to the ground.
After the battle, I resumed my place at the gun and the usual day's
work. Two days later I was detailed to watch for airplanes and was
sitting crouched under a culvert, when the familiar humming struck my
ear. I could not at first locate it, and crawled out to have a better
look skyward, but still failed to place it. Presently the humming
stopped, and I thought it had departed, and seized the chance to go to
the cookhouse for a cup of tea. When almost there--Kr-kr-kr-p!
Kr-kr-kr-p! a slather of German guns had opened upon ours and the
fellows fled pell-mell from the gun pit and made for the culvert, taking
shelter underneath. They were there about a minute when a shell landed
straight on the culvert, going through eight feet of cement and brick,
blowing everything in all directions and killing 15 out of the 16 men
who had taken refuge there. Less than sixty seconds had elapsed since I
left the spot.
When the battle was at its greatest height a wonderful discovery was
made. Complaint had been made about the horses dropping on the road on
the way up. Some thought it was cramps, others, colic; the veterinary
officers were quite puzzled. One night 18 loads of ammunition, three
horses to a load, were on their way to the guns and ten of the horses
dropped. The vets then took it for granted there must have been poison
in the feed, and an examination disclosed that little steel oats were in
the grain. The oats had come from the United States and they had been
deposited in the grain there.
The discovery was so important that the O.C. offered a prize of five
francs to every man discovering these death-dealing pellets in a bag of
oats. The bellies of the horses were secure forevermore, as far as these
pills of Kaiser Bill were concerned; those five francs did the trick;
every grain of the feed that went down the animals' throats first passed
an individual examination through the hands of every money-hungry Tommy
in the bunch.
After the third battle of Ypres had cooled down, we were permitted to go
to the rear as far as Poperinghe, for the purpose of giving ourselves a
scouring, as we were filthy with dirt and lousy with lice. My particular
chum on this journey was the little telephonist, Fox, who had been
through every big battle up to that time, including the Sanctuary Woods
carnage. We got to the wagon lines, eight miles off, by stealing rides
on any passing vehicle upon which we could fasten a tooth or a finger
nail,--ammunition wagon lorries, ambulances, supply wagons,--as we were
thoroughly tired out.
At the wagon lines we persuaded the Q-M to loan us horses for the
balance of the journey, which he cheerfully consented to do. But the
horses, unfortunately, were mules, practically ready for the bone-yard;
the Quartermaster had put them to one side, as they were useless for any
further work, and they were awaiting the arrival of the veterinary
officer to receive capital punishment. Every time I dug my spurs in my
mount, in a mad endeavor to make it go, the only result was a kick in
the air with its hind feet.
There was another transportation service in vogue there,--a large
number of donkeys, and each time a donkey passed my charger, it would
stop dead and wag its ears much after the fashion of a Hebrew
gesticulating with his hands in selling a suit of clothes. This was
repeated every time we met one of the little donkeys, and each time I
had to get off and back the brute for some distance, until it again took
the notion to go forward; it was a case of one step forward and two back
before I reached my destination.
The most ridiculously funny instance connected with the meeting of the
mule and the donkey was the manner in which each indulged in its muleism
and donkeyism; the little donkey would shoot its head straight forward,
stick its ears out sidewise, at right angles, and commence its song of
greeting, which sounded exactly like a man sawing wood, and the mule
would warble its well-known lyric of sweetness,--"Hee-Haw! Hee-Haw!
Hee-Haw!" keeping time with the flapping of its long lugs.
When I got to Poperinghe Square the mule and myself were all in; save
for the ride on the Parson's charger to the wagon lines, I had not been
riding for the space of a month, and my legs were so chafed I was
compelled to walk like an aged rheumatic for three or four days; but I
had company,--the other fellows were similarly affected.
We made our way to the bath in a rush, as every man wanted to be in
first. The bath contained 200 men at a time, and 200 tubs; there was no
pool in which to bathe; every man had to do his swimming and slopping
and washing in a tub; and the sight of the women and girl attendants was
a welcome one, as it had been a couple of months before anything
feminine had come within the range of our vision. We had to take our
turn in going through the routine of the bath.
When I was next, the woman attendant handed me a shirt; a little further
along I got a pair of socks, then drawers. Thus equipped, I entered the
bathroom; there were about 100 men in there, splashing each other like
mad in their wild joy. In stepping along the water-soaked boards, I
happened to slip and fall in the wet, and my dry garments were soaked
with the water slopped on the boards, assisted by the splashing showers
the men were throwing around.
It so happened that one of the fellows had been particularly well
splashed by a chum and he was watching for a chance to get even; he
determined to wait until his chum had put on his clothes, so that he
could execute his vengeance with all the more fullness of perfection.
The avenger stood just inside an alley leading to the dressing room,
with a pail of water in hand for his intended victim; the water had been
scooped out of a tub that had just been used, and it was as dirty as
water could be.
As I came even with the alley opening, thinking I was the victim, he let
me have it full in the face. I was blinded for a moment with the greasy,
soapy, dirty water, and, when my eyes were sufficiently open, it was
impossible for me to learn who it was. However, like all things of that
kind, I took it in good part and hastened to undress. I filled my tub
with pails of water from the tap and started my bath. Oh, how refreshing
it was! I don't think I ever appreciated the luxury of a bath until that
moment. When through with my ablution it was necessary, before I could
dress, to grease my body with a vermin-killer that is supplied the men.
This done, I commenced dressing, and had donned my underwear and pants
when,--Kr-kr-kr-p! Kr-kr-kr-p!--and a shell landed right in the middle
of the bathroom, and the bunch of merry-hearted fellows was transformed
into a panic-stricken crowd, leaping and jumping out of the tubs in
every direction in a pell-mell rush, helter-skelter, of men, some half
dressed, others absolutely naked, intermingled with the women
attendants, in the scramble for safety. Civilians, coming from their
houses in a mad rush, added to the confusion.
When the smoke of the explosion cleared, thirty of the bathers lay dead
in, on and around the tubs, and forty were wounded, all more or less
badly. Inside of three minutes, more shells were planted, some of them
landing plumb in the square, and, to my intense sorrow, I learned later
that Fox, my little chum, there had paid the supreme price. These shells
were totally unexpected, coming from the Hooge district, 11 miles
distant.
Everybody sought shelter in the cellars, or any other hole they could
crawl into, until night. I searched out my mule, and was thankful to
find it where I had left it, tied to a tree, gave it a feed of oats,
waited until it munched, unperturbed by the crashing explosions breaking
in the immediate neighborhood, and utterly oblivious of the fact that I
was counting the seconds until it had finished.
Under cover of the night, I returned to the wagon lines, and in much
better time than coming down, for which I had to thank the feed of oats.
The bath gave me a new hold on life; I felt ten years younger and
several pounds lighter.
I learned next day that the station master at Poperinghe had been
arrested, tried as a spy and shot. It transpired that he had a wire
running from the station depot straight to the German lines, together
with some other signaling apparatus, and there was no doubt in the minds
of the trial board that it was due to this man's espionage that the
bathers lost their lives while in the tubs.
The spy system had so thoroughly impregnated every hole and corner of
the district around Ypres that it became the sorest thorn in the sides
of the Command, but we finally managed to root it out hip and thigh, and
that sector is now as immune from their activities as any other sector
in the front lines.
Going up to take my position with the gun next day I met a bomber of the
21st Canadian Infantry, carrying a bag of his wares--hand grenades. We
walked together for some distance, and just as I was on the point of
leaving him to turn off over to my battery I was appalled by one of the
most horrifying sights I have seen at the front. One of the pins of a
grenade worked loose in the bag and exploded, blowing his right hand and
leg completely off. I have seen scores of happenings, each of which in
its entirety was a thousand times more terrible, but there was something
about the suddenness, the total unexpectedness, and the fearful spurting
of his life's blood, that filled me more full of horror than anything
before or since.
In this conflagration that is shaking the world, death stalks on every
hand in a hundred different forms, entirely apart from the destruction
that the enemy can bestow. I was standing but three feet behind him. As
quick as I could I gave him first aid and yelled for a stretcher, but
there was nothing that could be done; he lived until sundown.