THE OFFICERS MARGATE, 1915.
Being now Battalion in Brigade Reserve, we were initiated at once into one of the special functions of that privileged position, the reconnoitring of emergency routes. This necessary but tedious performance is complicated by the very hazy details usually supplied, and the tendency of the local inhabitants to remove guide posts and to put wire fences across the tracks.
Although the battalion remained in Fleurbaix till March 6th as Brigade and Divisional Reserve, it must not be imagined that the time was an idle one. Even in so-called "rest periods" the infantry are never allowed much peace, while in reserve in the vicinity of the front line there is more than enough for all to do. To begin with, the troops found, to their disgust, that general training was not confined to England, and for those not otherwise employed the usual physical training and bayonet fighting, rapid loading, wiring, and all the other inventions of the training enthusiast, appeared once more on the scene. All the same, the proximity of the enemy added interest to the bayonet fighting and other exercises, for no one knew but that skill in those arts, and of the very highest order, might be demanded of every man at the shortest notice. The natural tendency to dirtiness and slovenly appearance produced by a time in muddy trenches had also to be checked, and the battalion soon realized that the best soldiers in action are generally the best turned-out behind the line.
Apart from training in arms and discipline, the majority of the battalion were heavily engaged, under R.E. supervision, in digging or cleaning out drains and channels in rear of the line. This most necessary but unpleasant and tedious work fills the soul of the fighting man with burning indignation; and though warnings to that effect had often been uttered, it took practical experience to prove that more than half an infantryman's work consists of digging. It is curious to note that, essential as is proficiency in the use of the spade, no real instruction in the subject is ever given at Officers' or N.C.Os'. Schools, though to watch an untrained digger and a trained one working side by side is a revelation. In Major Bishop, R.E., we found a man full of knowledge and withal of consideration and tact. Everyone liked him, and while he commanded the Field Company with which we worked, though misunderstandings sometimes arose and mistakes occurred, as was inevitable, our relations with him were always most cordial, and it was with deep regret that we heard of his death at Passchendaele later in the year. His place was, luckily, filled by another good man.
There is nothing particularly amusing, still less heroic, about a night working party. As soon as the light begins to fail the parties fall in, wearing gum-boots and skeleton equipment, with the rifle slung across the back. Each man carries a pick or shovel, or, if it is a wiring party, rolls of wire slung on a stick between two men. Off they go, their footsteps, owing to the rubber soles, sounding rather ghostly as they tramp along the pavé. Rapidly darkness falls, and, except for the subdued sound of their feet, the gentle "swish" of water in the water-bottles, and the occasional "clang" as someone stumbles and hits his spade against his rifle, there is little in their progress to attract attention. Presently the party halts, and a voice from the darkness inquires: "Is that 'A' working party, 2/6th K.L.R.?" The answer is in the affirmative, and the party is allotted its task.
An occasional Véry light shows up the men in silhouette, their rifles and equipment lying in a row out of the way of the earth they are throwing up, but ready to hand in case of emergency. Presently a machine gun begins to speak and slowly traverses in their direction. The work continues, but attention is centred on the stream of bullets which may suddenly spray right across the party. Here it comes, and down they all go on their stomachs as the bullets hiss and crack above them. It ceases as suddenly as it began, and work proceeds again. Another moment and there is a swift, rushing sound, followed at once by a loud report, then by another and yet another in quick succession. Those nearest hastily take cover, for a "whizz-bang" at close quarters can be very destructive. The stretcher-bearers accompanying the party listen for the call, "Stretcher-bearers forward," but no one calls, and work begins again. About midnight it is finished. Plastered with mud—thick, stinking mud—the men collect their equipment, spades and picks are checked (it is so easy to leave some behind, just put down for a moment and forgotten) and off they go, listening eagerly for the order, "Smoke if you like," back to Fleurbaix, where hot tea awaits them; "and so to bed," as Mr. Pepys says.
Another interesting experience was our first visit to the Divisional Baths. This entailed a pleasant march in light order to Sailly, where bathing apparatus had been erected in a disused factory. The apparatus consisted of showers and tubs. As each man passed in he handed over all his personal effects and received a numbered disc in exchange. He then proceeded to undress, and while he was bathing his uniform was "stoved." As soon as the bather had dried himself he was presented with a clean set of underclothing, and his soiled linen was removed. This was really an excellent system, but it suffered from one serious drawback. A man gave up a good shirt and perhaps his own home-knitted socks. The quality, not to mention the size, of the articles issued in return did not always correspond to those handed in. This was apt to be a frequent source of complaint, but, taking all things into consideration, it did not appear that any other system was feasible. For the officers there were half a dozen hip-baths, surrounded by duck-boards, with which, in fact, the whole floor of the baths was covered; and though the Commanding Officer possessed a rubber saucer-bath, which he lent freely to the other officers, a complete immersion in hot water was a pleasure too keen to be resisted, and the comfort of it almost indescribable.
One rather interesting little ceremony was performed at Fleurbaix. This was the presentation by our billet lady at Headquarters to each of the battalion runners of a rosary specially blessed by the priest. She assured them that so long as they wore these rosaries no harm could befall them, and it is interesting to note that only two out of the ten died: one of them, Manick, was killed in 1918 while serving with another battalion; the other, Turnock, died as a prisoner-of-war, having been captured while serving with another unit. Manick, it is said, had sent his rosary home a few days before he was killed.