A Visit to Three Fronts, June 1916 | Page 4

bare places at
intervals, such as you see where gravel pits break a green common. Not
a sign of life or movement, save some wheeling crows. And yet down
there, within a mile or so, is the population of a city. Far away a single
train is puffing at the back of the German lines. We are here on a
definite errand. Away to the right, nearly three miles off, is a small red
house, dim to the eye but clear in the glasses, which is suspected as a
German post. It is to go up this afternoon. The gun is some distance
away, but I hear the telephone directions. '"Mother" will soon do her
in,' remarks the gunner boy cheerfully. 'Mother' is the name of the gun.
'Give her five six three four,' he cries through the 'phone. 'Mother' utters
a horrible bellow from somewhere on our right. An enormous spout of
smoke rises ten seconds later from near the house. 'A little short,' says
our gunner. 'Two and a half minutes left,' adds a little small voice,
which represents another observer at a different angle. 'Raise her seven
five,' says our boy encouragingly. 'Mother' roars more angrily than ever.

'How will that do?' she seems to say. 'One and a half right,' says our
invisible gossip. I wonder how the folk in the house are feeling as the
shells creep ever nearer. 'Gun laid, sir,' says the telephone. 'Fire!' I am
looking through my glass. A flash of fire on the house, a huge pillar of
dust and smoke--then it settles, and an unbroken field is there. The
German post has gone up. 'It's a dear little gun,' says the officer boy.
'And her shells are reliable,' remarked a senior behind us. 'They vary
with different calibres, but "Mother" never goes wrong.' The German
line was very quiet. 'Pourquoi ils ne répondent pas?' asked the Russian
prince. 'Yes, they are quiet to-day,' answered the senior. 'But we get it
in the neck sometimes.' We are all led off to be introduced to 'Mother,'
who sits, squat and black, amid twenty of her grimy children who wait
upon and feed her. She is an important person is 'Mother,' and her
importance grows. It gets clearer with every month that it is she, and
only she, who can lead us to the Rhine. She can and she will if the
factories of Britain can beat those of the Hun. See to it, you working
men and women of Britain. Work now if you rest for ever after, for the
fate of Europe and of all that is dear to us is in your hands. For 'Mother'
is a dainty eater, and needs good food and plenty. She is fond of strange
lodgings, too, in which she prefers safety to dignity. But that is a
dangerous subject.
* * * * *
One more experience of this wonderful day--the most crowded with
impressions of my whole life. At night we take a car and drive north,
and ever north, until at a late hour we halt and climb a hill in the
darkness. Below is a wonderful sight. Down on the flats, in a huge
semi-circle, lights are rising and falling. They are very brilliant, going
up for a few seconds and then dying down. Sometimes a dozen are in
the air at one time. There are the dull thuds of explosions and an
occasional rat-tat-tat. I have seen nothing like it, but the nearest
comparison would be an enormous ten-mile railway station in full
swing at night, with signals winking, lamps waving, engines hissing
and carriages bumping. It is a terrible place down yonder, a place
which will live as long as military history is written, for it is the Ypres
Salient. What a salient it is, too! A huge curve, as outlined by the lights,

needing only a little more to be an encirclement. Something caught the
rope as it closed, and that something was the British soldier. But it is a
perilous place still by day and by night. Never shall I forget the
impression of ceaseless, malignant activity which was borne in upon
me by the white, winking lights, the red sudden glares, and the horrible
thudding noises in that place of death beneath me.
II
In old days we had a great name as organisers. Then came a long period
when we deliberately adopted a policy of individuality and 'go as you
please.' Now once again in our sore need we have called on all our
power of administration and direction. But it has not deserted us. We
still have it in a supreme degree. Even in peace time we have shown it
in that vast, well-oiled, swift-running, noiseless machine called the
British Navy. But now our powers