Chapter VII: Front Matter (7)

_Paris, June 1._--I have just completed another trip to the front, probably the most important one accorded any correspondent since the war began. For several days, in the company of three Paris editors, I was escorted by an officer of the General Staff through the entire sector north of Arras where the French have been making brilliant gains in the last few weeks.

The trip was arranged suddenly by the War Ministry in order to prove the truth of the French official communiqués and the falsity of the German reports. I was the only neutral in the party. In fact, the day before we started I was informed that trips to the front had temporarily been abandoned because the fighting was too hot to take correspondents to any place on the line. During the entire time I was under heavy artillery fire and got more intimately acquainted with modern war than on all my previous trips to the front. I was especially fortunate to be picked out by the War Office over all competitors as the single foreigner permitted to go, for it so happened that we covered the same sector of fighting as that traversed last February on my first officially authorized visit to the battle zone. Thus I was able to make comprehensive comparisons of just what had been accomplished since that time.

On this trip I covered a large stretch of territory that until a few weeks ago--some places only a few days ago--Germany had claimed as her own by right of conquest. I walked through miles of trenches that only last February I peered at from other trenches through a periscope; cautiously, because they were then occupied by Germans; fearfully, because any instant the periscope was likely to be struck from my eyes and shattered by a hostile bullet.

The result of this long walk taught me many things. First in importance was that my confidence in the superiority of German trenches had been sadly misplaced. Since the trench fighting began after the battle of the Marne we have been regaled in Paris with stories of the marvelous German trenches. Humorists went so far as to have them installed with baths and electric lights, but we have all believed them to be dry, cement lined, with weather-proof tops and comfortable sleeping quarters, and as hygienically perfect as the German organization has ever made anything. This belief for me had been borne out in accounts of the German trench life reported for American newspapers and magazines.

What I can now say is that the correspondents who permitted this legend to go over the world must have been grandly entertained by the Germans in special sections of their trenches set aside as quarters for the officers. I believe that these trenches, which I saw on this trip, must compare favorably with any they hold, for they form part of what is called "the labyrinth." Some of the most desperate fighting of the war is still going on there, with the French literally blasting the Germans out yard by yard, trench by trench. In fact, this trench line was to have formed part of the new boundary line of Germany--they dug themselves in to stay.

I entered these trenches following a long passage leading from the rear of the original French lines. I thought I was still in the French trenches, when suddenly I found myself in a mud ditch, much narrower than any I had ever traversed. The bottom, instead of being corduroy lined, was rough and uneven, making very hard walking. I said to the Major with me, "You must have made these trenches in a hurry; they are not so good as your others." He replied, "We did not make them. The Germans are responsible."

Then we came to a wide place where a sign announced the headquarters of the German commandant. The sides of his underground cavern were all solid concrete, with cement inner walls separating four rooms. Paper and artistic burlaping covered the walls and ceilings, and rugs were on the floors. The furniture was all that could be desired. There was a good iron bed, an excellent mattress, a dresser with a pier glass, and solid tables and chairs. The rooms consisted of an office, dining room, bedroom, and a kitchen, with offshoots for wine, and sleeping quarters for the orderlies and cook. Kultur demanded that the Kaiser's office should have the best accommodation transportable to the firing line, but the fare of the common soldier, I should judge, averaged quite a third below that of the French--both privates and officers, all of whom share the common lot, with straw for bedding and either mud or stars for the roof.

Leaving this commandant's late magnificence, we soon found ourselves in another wide, corduroy-lined trench, with straw dugouts. My Major, without attempting any comparison, but merely to get my geography right, said quite simply: "We are now in the parallel French trench to that German one we just visited."

All this particular bit of trenches was where the Germans cleared out precipitately after French night attacks, and without waiting for the fearful "rideau de fer," or iron curtain, with which the French usually devastate everything before advancing. Littered through them were hundreds of unused cartridges, rifles, knapsacks, bayonets, and clothing of every description. The dead had been taken away just before our arrival. The prisoners--hundreds of them--we met going to the rear.

The second great lesson I learned on this trip I already had a good understanding of from my previous trip. It is that the "rideau de fer" is the most terrible thing ever devised by man to devastate not only men but every single object upon which it descends.

This time I saw the results of the "rideau de fer" on another long stretch of what had lately been German trenches. The "rideau de fer" is simply the French method of converging artillery fire upon a single point where they intend to attack or where they are being attacked. The fact that it is possible is due to the enormous number of guns and the unlimited supply of high explosive shells.

Behind the entire infantry lines there seems to be an endless row of batteries of "seventy-fives," close up to the trenches. These terrible little destroyers can whirl in any direction at will, so when the order comes for the "rideau de fer" at any point, literally hundreds of guns within a few seconds are converging their fire there, dropping a metal curtain through which no mortal enemy can advance.

In this section the French dropped nearly a quarter of a million shells in one day. Unlike the English shrapnel, which makes little impression against earthworks, the French use explosive shells almost entirely.

As I walked over this section after the curtain had been lifted, I was absolutely baffled for descriptive words. All the earth in that vicinity seemed battered out of shape. The dead needed no burial there. Down under the wreck and ruin the dead all lie covered just where they fell.

Among the places I either visited or at least was able to see plainly, all of which were held by the Germans at the time of my last trip, were Saint Eloi, Carrency, Notre Dame de Lorette, Souchez, and Neuville Saint Vaast, where the fighting still continues from house to house.

I found the same efficient, imperturbable army that I discovered previously, all absolutely sure of complete victory not very far off. I got an illustration on this trip of the imperturbability of the French soldier in such a way as I never before believed existed. We were walking along a country lane to a turning where a trench boyau began. Just at the turning the nose of a "seventy-five" poked across the path. Although the gun was speaking at its high record of twenty shots per minute, several soldiers lolled idly about within a few yards, smoking cigarettes. We stood off at an angle slightly in front, but about thirty yards away.

It was evening. We could see the spurt of flame from the mouth of the gun as the shell departed to the distant Germans.

Across the road in the direction the gun pointed was a field. There, almost in the path of the gun, which, instead of being raised at an angle, was pointed horizontally, and only fifteen yards away, I saw a man grubbing in the soil. He seemed so directly in the path of the shells that I don't believe they missed blowing off his head by more than two feet. But he just grubbed away, almost on his hands and knees. If the gunners saw him they paid not the slightest attention, but just calmly went on firing.

One of our party called the situation to the attention of an officer, who immediately began dancing up and down, calling to the man to "Come out of that before you are killed."

The man then raised his head and looked our way. He was a soldier. His cap was slanted over one eye, his pipe dangled from his mouth, and his face wore an expression of irritation. Seeing the officer, he saluted, but did not trouble to stand up.

"What are you doing there?" the officer called. The man raised his dirty fist to his cap, and said, "Digging carrots."

As we gasped our astonishment he calmly went back to his grubbing, this time, it seemed, slightly nearer to the flash of the cannon than before.

Another impressive sight afforded me was the manoeuvres behind the lines. I do not mean strategic manoeuvres bearing upon real operations, but manoeuvres such as were held in previous years--mimic warfare within the sound of real war and only a couple of miles away. Approaching the front, we were continually passing through these manoeuvres. I calculated that I saw thousands of soldiers playing at war and snapping empty rifles who the day before stood in the trenches firing bullets, and who will do it again tomorrow. The manoeuvres come during "days of repose" from the trenches, when the men know they at least have that day more to live. Every field, every road was full of them.

We motored along country lanes preferably to the main highways, where our autos would be more easily discerned by the German aeroplanes constantly hovering about. In these lanes we found lines of men sneaking along, sometimes crawling inch by inch, to surprise an imaginary enemy down around the bend. In the fields we saw charges and counter-charges from trench to trench. We saw cavalry manoeuvres across the open country and cavalry on foot facing each other in long lines along the roadsides, fighting desperately with lance and clubbed carbine.

Occasionally a real shell would come popping over from somewhere to tear a hole in the roadside to make our automobiling more difficult. In fact, we discovered that during "Joffre's offensive" days of repose mean drill, drill, and more drill, and when the men are not drilling many of them are guarding prisoners.

Along other roadsides we saw hundreds of prisoners, usually in charge of a cavalry company marching them to the rear. At one place we stopped and talked with them--several could speak French. There were many well set up, fine-looking fellows, who seemed perfectly content to do no more fighting. About a dozen under one guard were across the road in a meadow, tossing a tennis ball about, laughing and joking. Others were eating luncheon. It was just 1 o'clock. They had the same fare as their captors, the only difference in service being that the captors got theirs first.

Our officer talked to the Captain of the guard, who explained that his lot of about 400 had just been taken at Neuville Saint Vaast. Our officers then talked to the prisoners. I was surprised to note the extraordinary decency of their attitude and conversation. There was no boasting, no arrogance, no animosity. On the contrary, I heard one Captain telling the prisoners considerable they apparently did not know about the progress of the fighting in that neighborhood. He smiled as he talked, and concluded by telling the men they would be well fed and well treated.

I also noted the attitude of the prisoners. As a French officer approached the German soldier, true to his years of iron discipline, leaped to his feet and stood rigid as a poker through the talk, but never the raising of a hand to cap, never the salute to the Frenchman.

I strolled down the road and found another with whom I was able to talk. He was a non-commissioned officer, young and very intelligent. I told him I was an American, which aroused his interest. He wanted to talk about America. He had friends there. I asked him:

"How long do you think Germany can hold out against so many enemies?"

He stood very straight, looked me directly in the eye, and said: "Germany knows she is beaten, but she will fight to the last cartridge."

He spoke French. His final words, "La derniere cartouche," rang out. His eyes flashed. Several others crowded about.

Just then a company of Spahis cavalry came clattering down the road--a more ferocious-looking lot I have never seen--and disappeared in a cloud of dust. All of us turned to look, the prisoner remarking: "I'll say one thing, though: we never thought we would have to fight men like those."

Coming from the trenches at night, we waited in a little hamlet about a kilometer in the rear for our automobiles. About 1,000 soldiers were there, waiting to return to the trenches in the morning. They completely surrounded us, singling me out for observation on account of my khaki clothes. I heard one ask our Captain about me. The Captain replied that I was a correspondent of THE NEW YORK TIMES. Many had never seen an American before. I was conscious that I was an object of intense curiosity.

I saw one little chap pushing through the crowd. He stood before me and thrust out his hand. "Hello!" he said. I thought his "Hello!" might be French quite as easily as American, so I merely returned his handshake. He grinned, and then said in perfectly good "American": "You forget me, huh?" I admitted my shortcoming in memory; but his beard was very thick and stubby and his uniform was very dirty. I complimented his linguistic ability. He waved his arms, saying: "Huh, didn't I live eight years in little old New York?" Then he came still nearer, saying: "You don't remember me, and I have served you many a cocktail. I don't know your name; but I am sure."

After something like a jar I gasped out, "Where?"

"Five years ago, at Mouquin's," he replied, and then I did remember him, and while the others stood about marveling at their "educated" comrade who could actually converse with the American, we talked about many of the old newspaper crowd in New York who frequented that restaurant. He had sailed on Aug. 4 to rejoin his regiment.

The automobiles arrived, and I climbed aboard. He reached up his hand.

"Tell those folks back in America that we are all doing fine," he said. Then his voice sank to an impressive whisper: "And take it from me, you can say we are giving the Germans hell now."

As our automobile jerked suddenly away into the night I could hear my ex-waiter excitedly introducing American journalism, particularly THE NEW YORK TIMES, to his regiment on the battlefield.

WYTHE WILLIAMS.

THE LABYRINTH.

[Special Cable to THE NEW YORK TIMES.]

_Paris, June 2._--This is a story about what, in the minds of the French military authorities, ranks as the greatest battle of the war in the western theatre of operations, excepting the battle of the Marne, which has already taken its place among the decisive battles of the world's history. This battle is still raging, although its first stages have been definitely settled in favor of the French, who are continuing their progress with less and less opposition.

So far the battle has received no name. The French official communiqués laconically refer to it as "operations in the section north of Arras."

I cannot minutely describe the conflict; no one can do that at this stage. I can, however, write about it and tell what I have seen these past few days when the Ministry of War authorized me to accompany a special mission there, to which I was the only foreigner accredited. I purpose to call this struggle the battle of the Labyrinth, for "labyrinth" is the name applied to the vast system of intrenchments all through that region, and from which the Germans are being literally blasted almost foot by foot by an extravagant use of French melinite.

There have been successive chapters by different writers describing and disposing of as finished--though it is not finished--still another battle which, from the English point of view, takes top rank, namely, the battle of Ypres. While a British defeat at Ypres might mean the loss of Dunkirk and possibly of Calais, a French defeat at the Labyrinth would allow the Germans to sweep clear across Northern France, cutting all communication with England.

The battle of the Labyrinth really began last October, when General de Maud-Huy stopped the Prussian Guard before Arras with his motley array of tired Territorials, whom he gathered together in a mighty rush northward after the battle of the Marne. The crack Guards regiments afterward took on the job at Ypres, while the Crown Prince of Bavaria assumed the vain task of attempting to break the more southward passage to the sea.

All the Winter de Maud-Huy worried him, not seeking to make a big advance, but contenting himself with the record of never having lost a single trench. With the return of warm weather, just after the big French advance in Champagne, this sector was chosen by Joffre as the place in which to take the heart out of his enemy by the delivery of a mighty blow.

The Germans probably thought that the French intended to concentrate in the Vosges, as next door to Champagne; so they carted all their poison gases there and to Ypres, where their ambition still maintains ascendency over their good sense. But where the Germans think Joffre is likely to strike is usually the place furthest from his thoughts. Activities in the Arras sector were begun under the personal command of the Commander in Chief, who was still personally directing operations during my visit only two days ago.

I doubt whether, until the war is over, it will be possible adequately to describe the battle, or rather, the series of battles extending along this particular front of about fifty miles. "Labyrinth" certainly is the fittest word to call it. I always had a fairly accurate sense of direction; but, standing in many places in this giant battlefield, it was impossible for me to say where were the Germans and where the French, so completely was I turned around on account of the constant zigzag of the trench lines. Sometimes, when I was positive that a furious cannonade coming from a certain position was German, it turned out to be French. At other times, when I thought I was safely going in the direction of the French, I was hauled back by officers, who told me I was heading directly into the German line of fire. I sometimes felt that the German lines were on three sides, and often I was quite correct. On the other hand, the French lines often almost completely surrounded the German positions.

One could not tell from the nearness of the artillery fire whether it was from friend or foe. Artillery makes three different noises; first, the sharp report followed by detonations like thunder, when the shell first leaves the gun; second, the rushing sound of the shell passing high overhead; third, the shrill whistle, followed by the crash when it finally explodes. In the Labyrinth the detonations which usually indicated the French fire might be from the German batteries stationed quite near us, but where they could not get the range on us, and firing at a section of the French lines some miles away. I finally determined that when a battery fired fast it was French; for the German fire is becoming more intermittent every day.

I shall attempt to give some idea of what this fighting looks like. Late one afternoon, coming out of a trench into a green meadow, I suddenly found myself planted against a mudbank made of the dirt taken from the trenches. We were just at the crest of a hill. In khaki clothes I was of the same color as the mudbank; so an officer told me I was in a fairly safe position.

Modern war becomes quite an ordinary--often even a sedate, methodical--affair after the first impressions have been rubbed off.

We flattened ourselves casually against our mudbank, carefully adjusting our glasses, turned them toward the valley before us, whence came the sound of exploding shells, and calmly watched a village developing into nothingness in the sunset. It was only about a thousand yards away--I didn't even bother to ask whether it was in French or German possession. There was a loud explosion, a roll of dense smoke, which was penetrated quickly enough by the long, horizontal rays of the descending sun to permit the sight of tumbling roofs and crumbling walls. After a few seconds' intermission there was another explosion, and what looked like a public school in the main street sagged suddenly in the centre. With no entre-acte came a succession of explosions, and the building was prone upon the ground--just a jagged pile of broken stones.

We turned our glasses on the other end of the village. A column of black smoke was rising where the church had caught fire. We watched it awhile in silence. Ruins were getting very common. I swept the glasses away from the hamlet altogether and pointed out over the distant fields to the left.

"Where are the German trenches?" I rather uninterestedly asked the Major.

"I'll show you--just a moment!" he answered, and at the same time signaling to a soldier squatting in the entrance to a trench near by, he ordered the man to convey a message to the telephone station which connected with a "seventy-five" battery at our rear. I was on the point of telling the officer not to bother about it. The words were on my lips. Then I thought "Oh, never mind! I might as well know where the trenches are, now that I have asked."

The soldier disappeared. "Watch!" said the officer. We looked intently across the field to the left. In less than a minute there were two sharp explosions behind us, two puffs of smoke out on the horizon before us, about a mile away.

"That's where they are!" the officer said. "Both shells went right in them."

"Ah! Very interesting!" I replied.

Away to the right of the village, now reduced to ruins, was another larger village; we squared around on our mud bank to look at that. This town was more important; it was Neuville-St. Vaast, which is still occupied by both French and Germans, the former slowly retaking it, house by house. We were about half a mile away. We could see little; for, strangely, in this business of house-to-house occupation, most of the fighting is in the cellars. But I could well imagine what was going on, for I had already walked through the ruins of Vermelles, another town now entirely in French possession, but taken in the same fashion after two months' dogged inch-by-inch advances.

So, when looking at Neuville-St. Vaast, I suddenly heard a tremendous explosion and saw a great mass of masonry and débris of all descriptions flying high in the air, I knew just what had happened. The French--for it is always the French who do it--had burrowed, sapped and dug themselves laboriously, patiently, slowly, by tortuous, narrow underground routes from one row of houses under the foundations, gardens, backyards, and streets to beneath the foundations of the next row of houses. There they had planted mines. The explosion I had just witnessed was of a mine. Much of the débris I saw flying through space had been German soldiers a few seconds before.

Before the smoke died away we heard a savage yell. That was the French cry of victory. Then we heard a rapid crackling of rifles. That was the sign that the French had advanced across the space between the houses to finish the work their mine had left undone. When one goes to view the work of those mines afterward all that one sees is a great, round, smooth hole in the ground--sometimes thirty feet deep, often twice that in diameter. Above it might have been either a château or a stable; unless one has an old resident for guide it is impossible to know.

It takes many days and nights to prepare these mines. It takes careful mathematical precision to determine that they are correctly placed. It takes morale, judgment, courage, and intelligence--this fighting from house to house. And yet the French are called a frivolous people!

A cry from a soldier warned us of a German aeroplane directly overhead; so we stopped gazing at Neuville-St. Vaast. A French aeroplane soon appeared, and the German made off rapidly. They usually do, as the majority of German aeronauts carry only rifles; the French now all have mitrailleuses. A fight between them is unequal, and the inequality is not easily overcome, for the German machines are too light for mitrailleuses.

Four French machines were now circling above, and the German batteries opened fire on them. It was a beautiful sight. There was not a cloud in the sky, and the sun had not yet gone. We could not hear the shells explode, but we could see little feathery white clouds suddenly appear as if some giant invisible hand had just put them there--high up in the sky. Another appeared, and another. There were several dozen little white clouds vividly outlined against the blue before the French machines, all untouched, turned back toward their own lines.

Again our thoughts and actions were rudely disturbed by the soldier with us, who suddenly threw himself face down on the ground. Before we had time to wonder why a German shell tore a hole in the field before us, less than a hundred yards away. I asked the officer if we had been seen, and if they were firing at us. He said he did not think so, but we had perhaps better move. As a matter of fact, they were hunting the battery that had so accurately shown us their trenches a short time before.

Instead of returning to the point where we had left our motors by the trench, we walked across an open field in quite another direction than I thought was the correct one. All the time we heard, high overhead, that rushing sound as of giant wings. Occasionally, when a shell struck in the neighborhood, we heard the shrill whistling sound, and half a dozen times in the course of the walk great holes were torn in our field, some times quite near. But artillery does not cause fear easily; it is rifles that accomplish that. The sharp hissing of the bullet that resembles so much the sound of a spitting cat seems so personal--as if it was intended just for you.

Artillery is entirely impersonal; you know that the gunners do not see you; that they are firing by arithmetic at a certain range; that their shell is not intended for anyone in particular. So you walk on striking idly with your stick at the daisies and buttercups that border your path. You calculate, almost indifferently, the distance between you and the bursting shell. You somehow feel that nothing will harm you. You are not afraid; and if you are lucky, as we were, you will find the automobiles waiting for you just over there beyond the brow of the hill.

The Modern Plataea

By Frederick Pollock

[From King Albert's Book.]

Nearly 2,400 years ago the Boeotian city of Plataea was one among the many lesser Greek republics. Her citizens earned immortal fame by taking part with the leading States of Athens and Sparta in the decisive battles, fought on their own territory, which delivered Greece from the fear of Persian conquest and saved the light of Greek freedom and civilization from being extinguished. To this day the name of Plataea is held in honor throughout the world; for many years that honor was unique. Belgium has now done and dared for the freedom of modern Europe as much as Plataea did of old: she has, unhappily, suffered far more. As her valor has been equal and her suffering greater her reward will be no less immortal. Belgium will be remembered with Plataea centuries after the military tyranny of the Hohenzollerns has vanished like an evil dream.

A British Call For Recruits

* * * * *

Is Your Conscience Clear?

Ask your conscience why you are staying comfortably at home instead of doing _your_ share for your King and Country.

1. Are you too old?

The only man who is too old is the man who is
over 38.

2. Are you physically fit?

The only man who can say honestly that he is not
physically fit is the man who has been _told_ so by a
Medical Officer.

3. Do you suggest you cannot leave your business?

In this great crisis the only man who cannot leave his
business is the man who is himself actually doing work
for the Government.

If your conscience is not clear on these three points your duty is plain.

ENLIST TO-DAY.

God Save the King.

* * * * *

This advertisement, occupying full pages, was recently run in the British press.

The British Army in France

Richebourg, La Quinque Rue, Festubert, and Ypres

By the Official "Eyewitness" and Sir John French

SAXONS SLAIN BY PRUSSIANS.

_Under date of May 21, 1915, an Eyewitness with the British Headquarters in France, continues and supplements his narrative of operations:_

The ground our troops were holding on Monday, May 17, projected as two salients into the enemy's territory, one south of Richebourg-L'Avoue and the other to the north of Festubert. The purpose of the operations undertaken on Monday was to connect up the space which lay between them. In this we were successful.

At about 9:30 A.M. on Monday, May 17, our forces attacked the enemy occupying this area, from north and south, and gradually drove him from all his intrenchments within it. The Germans here, pressed on three sides, subjected to a cross-fire from several directions and to continuous bombing, reached the limits of their endurance during the morning, and over 300 surrendered.

After this area had been made good by us fighting continued throughout the day, and our troops, having joined hands, pressed the enemy still further eastward, forcing them out of one post after another. As the afternoon wore on more prisoners fell into our hands, entire groups of men giving themselves up.

The centres of the hostile resistance in this quarter were the clusters of buildings which were very strongly held and surrounded by networks of trenches dotted with numerous machine gun posts, and in front of one of the nests of works near the Ferme Cour de L'Avoue, between La Quinque Rue and Richebourg-L'Avoue, a horrible scene was witnessed by our troops during the day.

Desperate fighting was going on in front of this farm when the remains of a battalion of Saxons, which, it appears, had been hastily brought down from further north and thrown into the fight, having decided to surrender en bloc, advanced toward our line. Not knowing what the movement of this mass of men implied, our infantry poured a hail of bullets into them, whereupon the survivors, some hundreds strong, halted, threw down their rifles, and held up their hands, and one of their number waved a white rag tied to a stick.

Our guns continued to fire from the rear, and whether our infantry, who, by this time, have had some experience of the treachery of the enemy, would have paid any attention to these signals is uncertain, but the matter was taken out of their hands, for as soon as the Prussian infantry on the north of this point realized what their Saxon comrades were trying to do, they opened rapid fire from the flank, enfilading the mass. It appears also that the news of what was happening must have been telephoned back to the German artillery further east--which was also probably Prussian, since its guns suddenly opened on the Saxon infantry, and under this combined fire most of the latter were very soon accounted for.

Among the many scenes of the war there has probably been no more strange spectacle than that of the masses of gray-coated soldiers standing out in the open, hands raised, amidst the dead and dying, being butchered by their own comrades before the eyes of the British infantry. The fact that the victims of this slaughter were Saxons was a source of regret to us, since the Saxons have always proved themselves more chivalrous and less brutal than either the Prussians or the Bavarians--in fact, cleaner fighters in every way.

While we were thus pressing forward gradually on the section of front between our two original points of penetration, our troops on the right in front of Festubert were making good progress southward along the German trenches. Their attack began at 11:30 A.M., and the Germans were soon cleared out of their line in this quarter up to a point a short distance south of Festubert, where they made a strong resistance and checked our further lateral progress.

The fighting here was made up of a series of isolated and desperate hand-to-hand combats with bayonet and hand grenades, and, since the Germans were, at many points, outflanked and enfiladed, their losses were very heavy, for in the narrow trenches there was often no room for escape, and the only alternative was death or surrender. In some places the trenches presented a horrible sight, being heaped with German corpses, many of whom had been blown to pieces by our bombardment carried out previous to the original attack. By about noon the total number of prisoners captured since the commencement of the attack on Sunday had increased to 550.

On the extreme right the Germans were pressed back along their communication trenches in such large numbers that they occasionally formed an excellent mark for the machine guns in our own line to the north of Givenchy, which were able to do great execution at certain points.

By midday the total front of the "bite" taken by us out of the enemy's position was almost exactly two miles long; but, as trenches and isolated posts were taken and retaken several times, the exact situation at any moment, as is usual in such cases, is somewhat obscure. Further progress was made to the south during the afternoon and after dark, and various posts and breastworks east of La Quinque Rue, from which we had withdrawn the previous night, again fell into our hands, although the enemy continued to hold some trenches in rear of them. But they again formed an exposed salient, and were once more temporarily evacuated by us.

At nightfall we held a continuous line embracing the whole of the German original front trenches from the south of Festubert to Richebourg-L'Avoue, and, in many places, were in possession of the whole series of hostile entrenchments, with the exception of a few supporting points and machine-gun posts in rear of the zone.

EAST OF FESTUBERT.

_The following dispatch was received on May 26, 1915, from Field Marshal Sir John French, commanding in chief the British Army in the field:_

The First Army continues to make progress east of Festubert. A territorial division carried last night a group of German trenches, capturing thirty-five prisoners, and this morning it captured one officer, twenty-one men, and a machine gun.

Since May 16 the First Army has pierced the enemy's line on a total front of over three miles. Of this the entire hostile front line system of trenches has been captured on a front of 3,200 yards, and of the remaining portion the first and second lines of trenches are in our possession.

The total number of prisoners taken is 8 officers and 777 of other ranks. Ten machine guns in all have fallen into our possession, as well as a considerable quantity of material and equipment, particulars of which are not yet available.

GERMAN GAS WARFARE AGAIN.

_Under date of May 28, an Eyewitness with the British Headquarters in France continues and supplements his narrative as follows:_

Monday, May 24, witnessed a fresh development in the situation in our front. It was a most brilliant May day, the heat of the sun being tempered by a light breeze, which had blown from the northeast during the night, and in the course of the morning had veered round toward the north. This breeze gave the enemy the opportunity they awaited of repeating their gas tactics against our position in front of Ypres, which, though reduced in prominence, was still a salient in the general line.

Between 2 and 3 o'clock in the morning a violent bombardment with gas shells was started against a section of our line about two and three-quarters miles long, and divided into four approximately equal parts by the roads from Ypres to St. Julien and Moorslede and the railway from Ypres to Roulers. The supply of gas available must have been great, for it continued to pour southwestward for some hours in great volume, in some places reaching to a height of several feet. Owing to the direction of the wind, also, it swept southward along our line as well as penetrating behind it.

The manner in which such an attack develops with a favoring wind cannot better be described than by the reports of its progress brought in on Monday morning by our aerial reconnaissances. One observer who crossed the opposing front in this quarter shortly after dawn reported when he came back that a thick cloud of what looked like smoke outlined the whole of the German trenches. The next observing officer, who arrived some time afterward, stated that to the west and southwest of the German line he could see a broad band of yellow grass and trees which looked as if they had been bleached. A third, who came in later, stated that the whole area behind our line was covered by a mist so thick as to interfere with observation.

This attempt to asphyxiate was of course preliminary to an assault against the salient, for which infantry had been massing on the east. It was carried out from three directions, being pushed forward under cover of a heavy bombardment against the northern face from the neighborhood of St. Julien, against the northeast face from Zonnebeke along the Roulers Railway, and against the west direct from the Polygon Wood. On the greater part of the front assailed our troops were able to stand their ground, and to maintain their positions in spite of the poisonous fumes, but in certain sections they were forced to evacuate the trenches, and the German infantry succeeded in getting a footing in our front line near the farm to the north of Wieltje, for some distance astride the Roulers Railway, and to the north and south of the Menin Road on the south of the Bellewaarde Lake.

In doing this the enemy lost considerably both from our artillery fire and the rifle fire of the sections of the defense which were able to maintain their position. Counter-attacks were organized during the morning, and by about midday our infantry had succeeded in reoccupying our former line to the north of the railway. By evening there were no Germans west of our original position on the south of the Menin Road, though we had not been able to reoccupy our line in that quarter, nor near Wieltje. The advance of the enemy, however, had been stopped. In the neighborhood of Hill 60 a party of our infantry during the night bombed their way for some forty yards up a trench which the Germans had taken from us, destroyed the enemy's barricade, reconstructed it, and held the trench.

In the centre, near Bois Grenier, a slight success was gained in the evening, our troops seizing some ground between our front line and that of the Germans near the Bois Grenier--Bridoux Road. This ground had been partially intrenched during the previous night, and at 8:50 P.M. the infantry advanced under cover of our artillery and established themselves in the new line.

On our right, in the neighborhood of Festubert, our troops continued their pressure, gaining one or two points in the maze of trenches and defended houses here and there, in spite of the heavy artillery and machine-gun fire to which they were subjected. Before dark the German infantry was observed to be massing opposite Festubert, as if to counter-attack in force; but their two offensive efforts made during the night were not serious, and were easily beaten back.

On Tuesday matters were quieter. On our left the German infantry attacking the Ypres salient did not, in the face of our resistance, attempt to push on further, nor was gas employed, but the bombardment of our positions was maintained. Except where he had retained or regained our original line our position was established behind the portions which the Germans had succeeded in occupying.

A GAIN AT GIVENCHY.

_The following dispatch was received on June 4, 1915, from Field Marshal Sir John French, commanding in chief the British Army in the field:_

On the night of the 30th of May we seized some outbuildings in the grounds of a ruined château at Hooge. Since then our trenches there have been subjected to a heavy bombardment.

Fighting on a small scale has been continuous. At one time we were forced to evacuate the buildings, taken by us, but last night we recaptured them.

Northeast of Givenchy last night we expelled the enemy from his trenches on a front of 200 yards, taking forty-eight prisoners. Our infantry, however, was unable to remain in occupation of these trenches after daylight, owing to the enemy fire.

_Field Marshal Sir John French in a report, dated June 8, on the fighting along the British line, says:_

The situation on our front has not changed since the last communication of June 4. There has been less activity on the part of the artillery.

On the 6th, in front of the Plogsteert wood, we successfully exploded a mine under the German trenches, destroying thirty yards of the parapet.

We have brought down two German aeroplanes, one opposite our right by gunfire, and the other in the neighborhood of Ypres, as the result of an engagement in the air with one of our aeroplanes.

AN ADVANCE NEAR YPRES.

_Sir John French's report of June 16--the first since that of June 8--said:_

Last week there was no change in the situation. The enemy exploded five mines on different parts of our front, but none of these caused any damage to our trenches, and only one caused any casualties.

Yesterday evening we captured the German front-line trenches east of Festubert on a mile front, but failed to hold them during the night against strong counter-attacks.

Early this morning in the neighborhood of Ypres we successfully attacked the enemy's positions north of Hooge, (to the east of Ypres.) We occupied the whole of his first line of trenches on a front of 1,000 yards, and also parts of his second line.

By noon today 157 prisoners had passed to our rear. The German counter-attack has been repulsed with heavy losses.

ALLIES IN CONCERTED ATTACK.

_Field Marshal French's report of June 18 indicates that a strong, concerted attack was then being made by British and French troops upon the German front from east of Ypres to south of Arras. This report preceded the French announcement of victory in the battle of the Labyrinth, an account of which appears elsewhere. It says:_

The fighting in the northern and southern portions of our front continued throughout June 16 in co-operation with the attack of our ally about Arras.

East of Ypres all the German first-line trenches which we captured remain in our hands, in spite of two counter-attacks, which were repulsed with heavy loss to the enemy. We were, however, unable to retain those of the enemy's second-line trenches which we had occupied in the morning.

East of Festubert, as a result of a further attack on the afternoon of the 16th, we made a slight advance and, judging by the number of dead Germans in the trenches entered by us, our artillery fire was very effective.

The Dardanelles Campaign

Progress of the Allies in June Slow and Difficult

In his speech at Dundee on June 5, from which the passage
concerning the Dardanelles is reproduced below, Winston
Spencer Churchill's reference to "losses of ships"
constituted the official comment on the sinking by submarine
attack on May 26 and 27 of the British battleships Triumph
in the Gulf of Saros, and Majestic off Sedd-el-Bahr. That
increased to six the sum of battleships lost to the Allies
in the Dardanelles operations. The review of the operations
from May 15 to June 17, shows a development of slow trench
warfare on land, which postpones the attainment of a few
miles to a victory confidently predicted by Mr. Churchill.

A FEW MILES FROM VICTORY.

_In the course of his speech at Dundee on June 5, 1915, Winston Spencer Churchill said:_

The operations which are now proceeding at the Dardanelles will give him (Mr. Balfour) the opportunity of using that quality of cool, calm courage and inflexibility which fifteen years ago prevented Ladysmith from being left to its fate and surrendered to the enemy. I have two things to say to you about the Dardanelles.

First, you must expect losses both by land and sea. But the fleet you are employing there is your surplus fleet, after all other needs have been provided for. Had it not been used in this great enterprise it would have been lying idle in your southern ports. A large number of the old vessels, of which it is composed, have to be laid up in any case before the end of the year, because their crews are wanted for the enormous reinforcements of new ships which the industry of your workships is hurrying into the water. Losses of ships, therefore, as long as the precious lives of the officers and men are saved--which in nearly every case they have been--losses of that kind, I say, may easily be exaggerated in the minds both of friend and foe. Military operations will also be costly, but those who suppose that Lord Kitchener--(loud cheers)--has embarked upon them without narrowly and carefully considering their requirements in relation to all other needs and in relation to the paramount need of our army in France and Flanders--such people are mistaken, and not only mistaken, they are presumptuous.

My second point is this. In looking at your losses squarely and soberly you must not forget at the same time the prize for which you are contending. The army of Sir Ian Hamilton, the fleet of Admiral de Robeck are separated only by a few miles from a victory such as this war has not yet seen. When I speak of victory I am not referring to those victories which crowd the daily placards of any newspapers. I am speaking of victory in the sense of a brilliant and formidable fact shaping the destinies of nations and shortening the duration of the war. Beyond those few miles of ridge and scrub on which our soldiers, our French comrades, our gallant Australian and New Zealand fellow-subjects are now battling, lie the downfall of a hostile empire, the destruction of an enemy's fleet and army, the fall of a world-famous capital, and probably the accession of powerful allies. The struggle will be heavy, the risks numerous, the losses cruel, but victory when it comes will make amend for all. There never was a great subsidiary operation of war in which a more complete harmony of strategic, political, and economic advantages were combined, or which stood in truer relation to the main decision, which is in the central theatre. Through the Narrows of the Dardanelles and across the ridges of the Gallipoli Peninsula lie some of the shortest paths to a triumphant peace.

TWO WEEKS' FIGHTING.

By The Associated Press.

_PARIS, June 14.--An official note given out today presents a summary of the operations in the Dardanelles from May 15 to June 1 as follows:_

Heavy fighting has taken place during this time. Today our progress is somewhat slower than it was in the beginning, but every inch of ground gained has been organized in such a manner as to permit the repelling of counter-attacks, and each advance has been held. The physical aspects of the country make fighting extremely difficult and dangerous, as the battle front presents the form of a triangle.

During the second half of May there were attacks on the Turkish line of intrenchments in front of Kereves Dere and the redoubt called the 'Bouchet,' which we took May 8. All the Turkish counter-attacks failed completely.

Our position being assured here, we endeavored to capture a small fortress situated on the extreme left of the enemy's line. On account of the strategic position of this fortress it was impossible to take it in the ordinary way by an artillery attack, followed by a bayonet charge; such a method would have resulted in heavy loss of life. The attack had to be a surprise. On the night of May 28 a mixed company composed of thirty-four white and thirty-two negro troops, all volunteers, under the command of a Lieutenant, received orders to slip out of our first trench one by one and crawl on their hands and knees to the opposing trench. Here they were to surprise the occupants and kill them without a shot. Two other companies bringing up the rear were to go at once to the assistance of the first company if the plan failed.

At 11:45 P.M. our men, having gone forward in accordance with instructions, rushed over the embankments of the enemy trenches. The Turks were completely surprised. They discharged their guns into the air and immediately took to flight. Thanks to the rapidity of our attack our only casualties were one Sergeant and two men wounded.

The Turks attacked twice without success, and dawn saw us firmly established in our new positions.

A GENERAL ASSAULT.

_LONDON, June 6.--Official announcement was made tonight that the British troops at the Dardanelles, as a result of their new offensive movement last week, captured two lines of Turkish trenches along a three-mile front. The statement follows:_

On the night of June 3-4 the Turks, having heavily bombarded a small fort in front of the extreme right French position, which previously had been captured, launched an infantry attack against it which was repulsed with heavy loss to the enemy. At the same time the Turks set fire to scrub in front of the left centre of the position occupied by the British division and attacked, but with no success.

On the morning of the 4th of June Sir Ian Hamilton ordered a general attack on the Turkish trenches in the southern area of the Gallipoli Peninsula, preceded by a heavy bombardment by all guns, assisted by battleships, cruisers, and destroyers.

At a given signal the troops rushed forward with the bayonet. They were immediately successful all along the line except in one spot, where the heavy wire entanglement was not destroyed by the bombardment.

Indian troops on our extreme left made a magnificent advance. They captured two lines of trenches, but, owing to the fact that the troops on their right were hung up by this wire entanglement, they were obliged to retire to their original line. The regular division made good progress on the left centre, capturing a strong redoubt and two lines of trenches beyond it, about 500 yards in advance of their original line.

The Territorial Division on our centre did brilliantly, advancing 600 yards and capturing three lines of trenches, but though the advanced captured trench was held all day and half of the ensuing night, they had to be ordered back in the morning to the second captured line, as both their flanks were exposed.

The Naval Division on our right centre captured a redoubt and a formidable line of trenches constructed in three tiers 300 yards to their front, but they, too, had to be ordered back, owing to the heavy enfilading fire.

The French Second Division advanced with great gallantry and élan. They retook for the fourth time that deadly redoubt they call 'Le Haricot,' but unfortunately the Turks developed heavy counter-attacks through prepared communication trenches, and under cover of an accurate shell fire were able to recapture it.

Commander of the French Land Forces Operating Against the Dardanelles

(_Photo from Medem_)]

On the French extreme right the French captured a strong line of trenches which, though heavily counter-attacked twice during the night, they still occupy.