CHAPTER XV
THE BOMBS
A WAR OF ANOMALIES—BACK TO PRIMITIVE WEAPONS—BOWS AND ARROWS—HAND GRENADES AND BRICKBATS—AN INDIGNANT DOCTOR—"ARE YOU THERE, ABDUL?"—MASSIVE MASSIE THE CRICKETER—A RESOURCEFUL COOK—A VERY GRIM STORY
Some talk of Alexander,
And some of Hercules,
Of Hector and Lysander,
And such great men as these:
But of all the world's great heroes
There's none that can compare
With the tow-row-row-row-ri-ro,
The British Grenadiers!
A year or more ago, when we sang this old song, we thought that the days of the grenadiers were numbered, that future warfare would know them no more.
Yet here we were on Gallipoli, reverting to the grenades of the Peninsular War, and the old Roman catapult, and even the bows and arrows. The enemy was so close to us that we could not use some of our guns to demolish his trenches. We even had to take some of our howitzers back a mile in order to hit the enemy in front of us. What a conglomeration of anomalies this war presents! In an age when our big guns can hurl huge projectiles many miles, we are compelled to fight with bows and bayonets and bombs and brickbats.
Bricks were not often used. But when the Turkish snipers "sneaked" close up to our lines through the scrub, we threw stones at the likely places. Thinking these missiles were bombs, the Turk would often run, or else disclose his position. Then we gave him a few rounds rapid.
One day a German aeroplane flew along the coast, and in plain view of the army dropped a huge bomb at our hospital ship, only missing the target by about fifty yards. There were no other ships near, so there was no excuse. This cowardly act so incensed our medical officer that he went straight out to our firing-line and threw a brick at the Turks, forty yards off. "I wear the Red Cross," he apologized, "so I cannot fire at them, and they are not supposed to fire on me. But I must show my indignation somehow."
As to the bows and arrows: this was Major Midgley's idea. At night the Turkish patrols crawled up close to our lines, and sniped away without being seen. Our flares could not be thrown far enough to show them up. So we made bows out of pine saplings and wire and sent fiery arrows into the scrub. This made the unwelcome visitors keep a respectful distance.
But if bows and bricks were only incidentals, the bombs were the real thing. In the wild bayonet charges our footballers were simply irresistible. But with the bombs our cricketers excelled. One of them exclaimed: "We've got the cows bluffed." Another boasted: "We've got 'em beaten to a frazzle"—shade of Roosevelt! Anyhow, our chaps could beat the Turks at the bomb business. Have I not already told how some of our cricketers caught the enemy's bombs and hurled them back again?