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Page 18
THE HOLE IN THE WALL.
[Illustration: THE HOLE IN THE WALL.]
As a pictorial sequel to "Suicide Bridge" and my little account of the
great fight there, hand to hand in the darkness, the next illustration
will not be out of place. The barricade across the road, at the entrance
to a village, marks the spot to which we advanced from the stream after
that struggle in it. The clean hole in a remaining wall of the almost
demolished house on the left had been cut by a shell. The house in ruins
on the right had been a mansion, and pictures and furniture were strewn
about--some of which we used in the trenches. A case of wine had been
left behind unbroached. A cat left behind, that refused to quit, bore a
charmed life--never was hit--and often ran about on the parapet. The
parapet barricade of sandbags was called "The High Jump," because we had
to mount it and get over it each night and jump for our lives, to take
up our positions by our advanced listening and observation post. It was
absolutely fatal for anyone to show himself on the road in the daytime.
Many a time we should have liked to have stretched our legs, but dared
not. But after the fourth day we did actually get on the road, as the
enemy shifted their position, and the relief was wonderful. It had been
a speculation whether we or the Germans would get on the road, and after
dislodging them we managed it. Our men ran about, some skipping with
a piece of wire, others rolling on the ground, in their enjoyment of
newly-found freedom, occasional spent bullets reaching us from a great
distance. The position was always referred to as "Hole in the Wall."
CHAPTER IX.
GERMAN BEASTS IN A FRENCH CONVENT.
It is fitting that my sketch of a French Convent, as the abode of holy
women whose innocent lives were dedicated and devoted to the service of
the Prince of Peace, should stand by itself, apart from any drawings
suggesting less faintly the devilry of war. The nunnery had been in the
possession of the Germans for some short time before we arrived on the
scene, and bore traces of their customary depredations and violations.
The stories related by the nuns themselves were not of a description to
bear retailing in the public Press. I would to God that they could be
told to every coward of a shirker at home, to every skunk of a
"conscientious objector," to every rat of a "stop-the-war"
"pacificist." They would stir to boiling indignation the dregs of their
manhood--if they have any dregs. They would make them sick--even them;
and I should like them all to be sick--sick unto death. There are not
many of them, all told, but they are noisy as well as noisome. The good
sisters hailed the British as deliverers, and gave us a welcome I can
neither describe nor forget.
[Illustration: A VIOLATED CONVENT.]
The enemy had abstained from destroying the building, probably from a
subtle motive. They had retired to a wood in the rear. We made a sharp
attack upon them to the right of this wood the next day; caught them at
night completely unawares, and, after a very stiff fight, routed them,
and they left 150 dead on the ground.
There was a pond in the Convent grounds, and while getting water for our
transport teams we came across some tin cases hidden away by the
enemy--a great find, for on getting them out we found they contained
many thousands of rounds of the enemy's ammunition. It was perfectly
dry, as the cases were watertight; so we made a big haul of most useful
supplies.
CHAPTER X.
ANOTHER SCENE OF BOCHE BRUTALITY.
The accompanying sketch is of the Market Square of Armenti�res, the
building shown in the centre being the Town Hall. The cobble stones of
the roadway and the lattice-shuttered windows are of the style which has
lasted for generations. This quaint and picturesque town was devastated
and almost totally destroyed; in fact, the bit of it I show was the only
portion the enemy left uninjured. We captured the place, taking four
machine guns, several horses, a quantity of equipment and ammunition.
Two of the machine guns were mounted in the clock tower, a position
commanding the range of the street. It is revolting to recall the
stories we were told here, and carefully verified, of the shameless
atrocities of the Huns. The populace were still in occupation of the
buildings when we were driving the Germans back from the barricades. Of
course they were greatly terrified, and we did our best to pacify them
and soothe their nerves as we came in contact with them. How different
was the treatment they received from the enemy. Take the house on the
left of the picture. Here Germans walked their horses through the door
shown, along the passage into the yard in the rear, as a mere piece of
bravado--an incident scarcely worth mentioning in view of the crimes
they proceeded to commit. The householder, with his wife and two
daughters, was sitting eating his dinner when the party arrived.
The cowardly brutes shot this man on sight--in full view of his
family--carried his body out and later on buried it in the chicken run.
Meanwhile, they came back and ate the dinner. The various members of the
family were tied up to beds and subjected to the grossest of infamies
and greatest of cruelties.
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