Hunting the Hun

by James Belton; E. G. Odell

Very soon we cleared the entrance and a German officer appeared. He spoke in German. As I did not understand German, I tried him in French. This language he spoke fluently. He held his hands up and I asked him to come out, which he did. He was an officer of the 263rd Bavarians, a tall, handsome man with blue eyes, fair hair, and a small fair moustache. He asked me if he could speak to an officer. I at that time was wearing a private's tunic with the insignia of my rank on my shoulders. I told him I was an officer.

Then he informed me that he wished to surrender himself and twenty-two men who were still in the dugout. He knew that resistance was useless. He told me that our barrage had been terrible, that their own salvation was to get into their dugout, but that he thought the Germans would get Vimy Ridge back again by June. He omitted to say in what year. He then handed me over his pistol, and also asked me if I would accept his binoculars as a souvenir, which I did. I then told him to tell his men to drop their firearms and to come out in single file with their hands up. As soon as we had them all searched, I turned them over to the officer in charge of prisoners who gave me a receipt for one officer and twenty-two men.

I heard later that they safely reached the prisoners' cage at La Targette, from where they would be sent to the usual detention camps. The moppers up had by this time reached a trench near by and I noticed that if the Huns did not surrender promptly, no chances were taken to allow them to act treacherously. A few Mills' bombs thrown down the German dugouts would soon do the work with the aid of the Lewis machine gun fire.

About 4 P.M. I commenced to dig a small narrow trench in front of the Zwischen Stellung. While the boys were digging, my corporal, now acting platoon sergeant, asked me if I would like a drink of hot coffee. I replied, "Yes," and at the same time said, "What is the use of asking me, when you know we could not get it on account of the attack." However, I was agreeably surprised to hear him say, "There is plenty of coffee, sir, enough to do the whole platoon if you are not afraid of being poisoned as it has been left by the Germans in one of their dugouts." I therefore asked an officer from a nearby platoon to keep in touch with my men and informed him I would be back in a few minutes, as everything was quiet at that time. Taking my batman and three men, I was led by my acting platoon sergeant around shell craters and shell holes to the Zwischen Stellung trench until we came to the mud-blocked entrance of a German dugout. We cleared away a little more of the mud. I noticed to the right of the entrance a large bell and a horn very much like a Claxton horn. These, no doubt, were sounded by the Huns when we made our gas wave attacks upon them.

Going His Last Round at Night. All Is Well in the Support Line

We descended the staircase, which was at an angle of about 55 degrees, until we reached the bottom. There we came to a door with a sliding window. As we turned a brass door knob and pushed open the door, candles were burning on a desk and I saw a room about 12 feet square, which had a wooden floor, a neat little rug under the desk, a few chairs, a comfortable looking spring bed in the corner with the softest of woollen blankets. In another corner was a small stove with a well filled coal bin in the rear of it. A wash basin with running water, electric light fixtures, telephone, and the wooden walls were papered and burlapped. Over the desk was a picture of the Kaiser. In addition there were German spiked helmets and caps, uniforms, pistols, swords, binoculars, maps, one Iron Cross, postcards, magazines, newspapers.

In the drawer of the desk, I found a small Eastman Kodak, an English dictionary, and a large quantity of note paper engraved with the emblem of the Iron Cross. I presume the winners of the Iron Cross were allowed to use this kind of stationery. In addition, I found the photograph of an N.C.O. of the 263rd Bavarian Regiment. This man's body I subsequently found in a shell hole directly on top of his dugout. He had evidently fought to a finish, as his rifle lay by his side with magazine empty. His gas helmet was suspended by a strap from his shoulder. On his tunic was the Iron Cross Ribbon. This photograph and ribbon I have in my possession at the present time. Later on, when we buried the body, we found a small .22 calibre Colt automatic pistol fastened to his belt.

To the left of the staircase was another door which led along a passageway, both sides of which had rows of bunks. With the aid of the candles we had, I could see that there were several other exits or entrances, similar to the one we had come down. As I could not make out any signs of daylight from above, I judged that the entrances had been blocked by the effect of our barrage.