BOMBING
The boys in the section welcomed me back, but there were many strange
faces. Several of our men had gone West in that charge, and were lying
"somewhere in France" with a little wooden cross at their heads. We
were in rest billets. The next day, our Captain asked for volunteers
for Bombers' School. I gave my name and was accepted. I had joined the
Suicide Club, and my troubles commenced. Thirty-two men of the
battalion, including myself, were sent to L--, where we went through a
course in bombing. Here we were instructed in the uses, methods of
throwing, and manufacture of various kinds of hand grenades, from the
old "jam tin," now obsolete, to the present Mills bomb, the standard
of the British Army.
It all depends where you are as to what you are called. In France they
call you a "bomber" and give you medals, while in neutral countries
they call you an anarchist and give you "life."
From the very start the Germans were well equipped with effective
bombs and trained bomb-throwers, but the English Army was as little
prepared in this important department of fighting as in many others.
At bombing school an old Sergeant of the Grenadier Guards, whom I had
the good fortune to meet, told me of the discouragements this branch
of the service suffered before they could meet the Germans on an equal
footing. (Pacifists and small army people in the U. S. please read
with care.) The first English Expeditionary Force had no bombs at all
but had clicked a lot of casualties from those thrown by the Boches.
One bright morning someone higher up had an idea and issued an order
detailing two men from each platoon to go to bombing school to learn
the duties of a bomber and how to manufacture bombs. Non-commissioned
officers were generally selected for this course. After about two
weeks at school they returned to their units in rest billets or in the
fire trench as the case might be and got busy teaching their platoons
how to make "jam tins."
Previously an order had been issued for all ranks to save empty jam
tins for the manufacture of bombs. A Professor of Bombing would sit on
the fire step in the front trench with the remainder of his section
crowding around to see him work.
On his left would be a pile of empty and rusty jam tins, while beside
him on the fire step would be a miscellaneous assortment of material
used in the manufacture of the "jam tins."
Tommy would stoop down, get an empty "jam tin," take a handful of
clayey mud from the parapet, and line the inside of the tin with this
substance. Then he would reach over, pick up his detonator and
explosive, and insert them in the tin, the fuse protruding. On the
fire step would be a pile of fragments of shell, shrapnel balls, bits
of iron, nails, etc.-anything that was hard enough to send over to
Fritz; he would scoop up a handful of this junk and put it in the
bomb. Perhaps one of the platoon would ask him what he did this for,
and he would explain that when the bomb exploded these bits would fly
about and kill or wound any German hit by same; the questioner would
immediately pull a button off his tunic and hand it to the bomb-maker
with, "Well, blime me, send this over as a souvenir," or another Tommy
would volunteer an old rusty and broken jackknife; both would be
accepted and inserted.
Then the Professor would take another handful of mud and fin the tin,
after which he would punch a hole in the lid of the tin and put it
over the top of the bomb, the fuse sticking out. Then perhaps he would
tightly wrap wire around the outside of the tin and the bomb was ready
to send over to Fritz with Tommy's compliments.
A piece of wood about four inches long and two inches wide had been
issued. This was to be strapped on the left forearm by means of two
leather straps and was like the side of a match box; it was called a
"striker." There was a tip like the head of a match on the fuse of the
bomb. To ignite the fuse, you had to rub it on the "striker," just the
same as striking a match. The fuse was timed to five seconds or
longer. Some of the fuses issued in those days would burn down in a
second or two, while others would "sizz" for a week before exploding.
Back in Blighty the munition workers weren't quite up to snuff, the
way they are now. If the fuse took a notion to burn too quickly, they
generally buried the bombmaker next day. So making bombs could not be
called a "cushy" or safe job.
After making several bombs, the Professor instructs the platoon in
throwing them. He takes a "jam tin" from the fire step, trembling a
little, because it is nervous work, especially when new at it, lights
the fuse on his striker. The fuse begins to "sizz" and sputter and a
spiral of smoke, like that from a smouldering fag, rises from it. The
platoon splits in two and ducks around the traverse nearest to them.
They don't like the looks and sound of the burning fuse. When that
fuse begins to smoke and "sizz" you want to say good-bye to it as soon
as possible, so Tommy with all his might chucks it over the top and
crouches against the parapet, waiting for the explosion.
Lots of times in bombing, the "Jam tin" would be picked up by the
Germans, before it exploded and thrown back at Tommy with dire
results.
After a lot of men went West in this manner, an order was issued,
reading something like this:
"To all ranks in the British Army--after igniting the fuse and
before throwing the jam tin bomb, count slowly one! two! three!"
This in order to give the fuse time enough to burn down, so that the
bomb would explode before the Germans could throw it back.
Tommy read the order--he reads them all, but after he ignited the
fuse and it began to smoke, orders were forgotten, and away she went
in record time and back she came to the further discomfort of the
thrower.
Then another order was issued to count, "one hundred! two hundred!
three hundred!" but Tommy didn't care if the order read to count up to
a thousand by quarters he was going to get rid of that "jam tin,"
because from experience he had learned not to trust it.
When the powers that be realized that they could not change Tommy,
they decided to change the type of bomb and did so--substituting the
"hair brush," the "cricket-ball," and later the Mills bomb.
The standard bomb used in the British Army is the "Mills." It is about
the shape and size of a large lemon. Although not actually a lemon,
Fritz insists that it is; perhaps he judges it by the havoc caused by
its explosion. The Mills bomb is made of steel, the outside of which
is corrugated into forty-eight small squares which, upon the explosion
of the bomb, scatter in a wide area, wounding or killing any Fritz who
is unfortunate enough to be hit by one of the flying fragments.
Although a very destructive and efficient bomb, the "Mills" has the
confidence of the thrower, in that he knows it will not explode until
released from his grip.
It is a mechanical device, with a lever, fitted into a slot at the
top, which extends half way around the circumference and is held in
place at the bottom by a fixing pin. In this pin there is a small
metal ring, for the purpose of extracting the pin when ready to throw.
You do not throw a bomb the way a baseball is thrown, because, when in
a narrow trench, your hand is liable to strike against the parados,
traverse, or parapet, and then down goes the bomb, and, in a couple of
seconds or so, up goes Tommy.
In throwing, the bomb and lever are grasped in the right hand, the
left foot is advanced, knee stiff, about once and a half its length to
the front, while the right leg, knee bent, is carried slightly to the
right. The left arm is extended at an angle of 45 degrees, pointing in
the direction the bomb is to be thrown. This position is similar to
that of shot-putting, only that the right arm is extended downward.
Then you hurl the bomb from you with an overhead bowling motion, the
same as in cricket, throwing it fairly high in the air, this in order
to give the fuse a chance to burn down so that when the bomb lands, it
immediately explodes and gives the Germans no time to scamper out of
its range or to return it.
As the bomb leaves your hand, the lever, by means of a spring, is
projected into the air and falls harmlessly to the ground a few feet
in front of the bomber.
When the lever flies off, it releases a strong spring, which forces
the firing pin into a percussion cap. This ignites the fuse, which
burns down and sets off the detonator, charged with fulminate of
mercury, which explodes the main charge of ammonia.
The average British soldier is not an expert at throwing; it is a new
game to him, therefore the Canadians and Americans, who have played
baseball from the kindergarten up, take naturally to bomb throwing and
excel in this act. A six-foot English bomber will stand in awed
silence when he sees a little five-foot-nothing Canadian out-distance
his throw by several yards. I have read a few war stories of bombing,
where baseball pitchers curved their bombs when throwing them, but a
pitcher who can do this would make "Christy" Mathewson look like a
piker, and is losing valuable time playing in the European War Bush
League, when he would be able to set the "Big League" on fire.
We had had a cushy time while at this school. In fact, to us it was a
regular vacation, and we were very sorry when one morning the Adjutant
ordered us to report at headquarters for transportation and rations to
return to our units up the line.
Arriving at our section, the boys once again tendered us the glad
mitt, but looked askance at us out of the corners of their eyes. They
could not conceive, as they expressed it, how a man could be such a
blinking idiot to join the Suicide Club. I was beginning to feel sorry
that I had become a member of said club, and my life to me appeared
doubly precious.
Now that I was a sure enough bomber, I was praying for peace and
hoping that my services as such would not be required.