The History of the Prince of Wales' Civil Service Rifles

CHAPTER XXIX THE VOYAGE TO SALONICA—MALTA—SALONICA, 30TH NOVEMBER, 1916—JOURNEY TO KATERINA—OUTPOSTS AT STIPI. Rough Sketch Map Showing Trenches at “Neuville st Vaast” Also Sketch of the Neuville st Area. Scale ½" = 100 Yds. Three companies of the Battalion held the front line while the fourth company was in support on the right flank; the left flank support being furnished by the third battalion in the Brigade. While holding the line, Battalion Headquarters were situated in the Elbe Shelters, but when the line was handed over, and the Battalion had become support or third battalion of the Brigade, Battalion Headquarters transferred their activities to Maison Blanche. On the 5th of July the Battalion were taken out of the line for a “rest,” but the word proved a misnomer. The Battalion was taken back as far as the Aux Rietz Cave in rear of Neuville St. Vaast and La Targette. Three companies were located in the cave, while “A” Company were billeted in dug-outs near La Targette. In the front line the Battalion had the good fortune to be housed in excellent dug-outs bequeathed to us by the French, but in no place on the whole British front could have been more secure from air-raids and shell fire than the Aux Rietz Cave. Down wooden steps for over a hundred feet the weary infantrymen stumbled, and finally a wonderful underground world presented itself. A large cave capable of holding a thousand men, with hundreds of small candles lighting its sombre darkness, was the new home of the Battalion. Down here cook-houses were established, and all were able to roam about free from bombs, shells and bullets. A hot meal was soon prepared, and the weary Tommies soon fell asleep, in spite of the great heat and oppressive “fugginess” of their underground dwelling. The Battalion had not, however, escaped all the horrors of war, for the orderly sergeants of companies soon appeared and detailed numerous working parties, which were sent up the line that same evening to furnish Royal Engineer mining fatigues. Within a few hours most of the Battalion was retracing its steps through miles of trenches, knee deep in mud and water, to the front line, and after about six or eight hours strenuous work lifting and carrying heavy sandbags full of clay, they returned to the cave at Aux Rietz. A few hours’ respite was granted, and then the working parties were again paraded for another tour of duty with the Royal Engineer sappers. In fact, for several days it was a constant procession day and night of weary working parties leaving and returning to the cave. No one grumbled at the actual work with the Royal Engineers, but the long journey to and from the line provided sufficient for a “grouse”; every one longed for the front line again. The desire was quickly granted, and the Battalion were soon back in the trenches, and not until the 4th of August was it relieved. During this long stay in the line the Battalion became “old soldiers.” The cook-houses in the Elbe Shelter were thoroughly organised, and provided a hot meal each day to the men and a cup of hot cocoa each morning at “stand down.” The daily post and canteen stores came up with the rations each night, having been brought as far as Battalion Headquarters by the transport and Quartermaster’s staff; from which point company ration parties carried them to the front line. Specialists such as signallers, snipers, and bombers, overcame the various difficulties of their work. Every man learnt the way round his own particular sector; names of trenches, saps and craters became familiar, in fact the whole place became “a home from home.” Friends were made with the artillery forward observation officers and men, and the tunnellers on our front became companions in distress. A great deal of mining was carried on in this part of the British front, and our tunnellers were extremely busy combating the activities of the Bosche, and many restless nights were spent wondering whether the constant tapping underground was that of friend or foe. Casualties were fortunately not very heavy, although one recollects with sadness such incidents as the dug-out in Argyle Street being blown in, burying Sergeant Wigney and his gallant fellows, but on the whole the Battalion had been lucky. On the 4th of August the Battalion was relieved and marched back to Bray, this time for a real rest. The Quartermaster’s staff had prepared a hot meal, and after this repast was finished every one settled down for a well-earned rest away from the continual noise of the front line. The next few days were spent in cleaning up, replacing damaged equipment and boots, writing letters (not forgetting the censoring) and attending sundry parades. Dinners and suppers of varying degree were held either in the huts or in the local estaminets, and every one appreciated the restful green fields and shady trees near Bray, which had not been destroyed by the ravages of war. Entertainment was provided at Acq by the Divisional concert party, and our own Battalion concert party, “The Plumes” of Warminster days was resuscitated in an endeavour to add to the gaiety of life. On the 9th of August His Majesty the King visited the observation posts at Mont St. Eloy near by, and many of the Battalion were privileged to line the route and cheer His Majesty who was accompanied by His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales (our Honorary Colonel) and the Commander-in-Chief, Sir Douglas Haig. On the 12th of August, after a week’s rest, the Battalion again proceeded to the line, and the old life amid the constant “strafes” of the Hun was resumed. Reliefs between companies were carried out with precision, and various fatigue parties, sap guards, gas guards, patrols and wiring parties kept every one busy. Parties of officers and N.C.O.’s spent a few days with the artillery batteries for the purpose of instruction. Nothing of importance, however, marked this tour in the line, and on the 1st September the Battalion was relieved and marched back to the huts at Bray. On the 6th of September, we were again ordered up to the trenches. This tour of duty was to be one of importance. A mysterious section of two officers and twenty men were left behind to train for a raid on the Hun lines. The party was under the command of Lieutenant B. Peatfield, with Second Lieutenant G. E. Thompson as his second in command. The raid was of considerable importance as information of the exact disposition of the enemy was urgently required at General Headquarters in order to ascertain which German Divisions had been withdrawn from the heavy fighting on the Somme. The raiding party were trained over a facsimile of the actual ground over which they were to raid which had been dug near Divisional Headquarters. When the party arrived at the trenches on the 10th of September, excitement in the Battalion ran high. The raiders, all of whom were volunteers, were located in a small dug-out in the Paris Redoubt, and made preparations for the show. Unfortunately Private Rule, “B” Company, one of the party, was killed by a trench mortar shell that afternoon, but undaunted the remainder looked forward to the adventure. The raid was to be launched from the Paris Redoubt on the night of the 11th September, and was to be supported by covering fire from our trench mortars and machine guns while the artillery assisted the operation with a heavy local “box” barrage. Early in the evening all the officers concerned in the raid gathered together at Battalion Headquarters in the Elbe, and final instructions were issued, and watches were synchronised. Just as this party came out of the dug-out a salvo of shells arrived and caused great consternation, but no casualties occurred. That evening all sap guards were strengthened, and in the middle of the night every one “stood to,” when suddenly the barrage from our lines burst forth with a terrific crash, and the raiding party with its blackened faces sallied forth. No one but those who actually took part in the raid can describe the inferno which reigned for the next few minutes. The Hun soon sent up his S.O.S. signals and retaliatory fire opened up, but most of this fell in the “D” Company area on the left flank of the operation, where two lamps had been specially erected to mislead the enemy as to the actual part of the line from which the raid had started. Shortly afterwards the success of the raid was wired to all companies, and a sense of relief overwhelmed the Battalion. Apparently our fellows had followed closely to the creeping barrage of our trench mortars and had entered the Hun trench, killing or wounding the occupants, and bringing back a few prisoners. Luckily none of our men were killed although wounds were numerous among the raiders, and unfortunately Private J. F. Small of “B” Company succumbed later to his severe injuries. Both officers had been badly wounded but stuck to their job, and inspired the men by their example. Second Lieutenant G. E. Thompson, together with Private A. Small, returning to the Hun trench to rescue the latter’s brother who was found to be missing at the first roll call. Valuable information had been obtained, and only the death of Private J. F. Small, who had been so gallantly rescued, marred the operation. Credit must be given to the artillery, machine gunners, and trench mortar batteries who so ably assisted in making the raid a success. The raid placed the Battalion on a high footing, and great credit is due to all concerned. On the 25th of September, the Battalion was relieved, and although nothing of importance happened after the raid, for many nights afterwards we expected a return visit from the enemy. The return to Bray was accompanied by the usual luxuries of baths at Maroeuil, the concerts at Acq, and the refreshments of the local estaminets. On the 26th, ribbons were presented by the Divisional General to those members of the raiding party who had escaped unwounded; while on the following day the Corps Commander, Lieutenant-General Sir Charles Fergusson, K.C.B., inspected the Battalion. A few days afterwards, on the 30th September, orders to return to the line were received, and the march was accomplished without loss, although the enemy artillery was active on the roads leading up to the trenches. Nearing the line a great activity on the part of the enemy machine gunners and snipers was noticed, and it was learnt that during the night the Germans had exploded two large mines on our front near the Claudot Sap. The London Scottish were holding that sector of the line that night, and it is to their great credit that the Hun made no inroads on our front. How great a fight they had made was best judged from the heavy casualties they had sustained. “D” Company of the 2/15th relieved this part of the front, and by dint of hard digging under considerable fire soon consolidated the new craters, and linked them up by saps with the observation line. Days of comparative quiet ensued, although at this time the enemy commenced to use large trench mortar shells standing some thirty-six inches high, with a diameter of ten or twelve inches. As a retaliation for this unwelcome increase in the size of missiles a deep emplacement was made in rear of “D” company’s sector in the Bessan Redoubt, and in it was placed a very heavy type of British Trench Mortar, having a projectile of similar proportions to those introduced by the Bosche. This shell was nicknamed the “Flying Pig,” and to fire it was only an experiment, so all the men in the trenches in advance of the emplacement were temporarily withdrawn lest the shell should accidentally fall short. The test was successful, and large craters about ten feet deep, and twenty yards wide were made in the Hun lines. However, the experiment was not taken by the Hun in the right spirit, and retaliation on his part for the next few days was very brisk. A strafe of shells from guns and minenwerfers of all calibres was poured on to the unoffending infantrymen’s heads. Dug-outs were blown up, but the resultant casualties were small. “D” Company’s headquarters dug-out was destroyed, and the signallers were entombed, but several hours work got them out, and they were rescued little the worse for their experience. After these few days of continual bombardment a sigh of relief was breathed when the Canadian Division much depleted in numbers through heavy fighting on the Somme, marched up to take over the trenches at Neuville St. Vaast, and the Battalion left this sector for the last time. Rumours of transferring our activities to the Somme were soon afoot, and after a few days rest at Bray, the Battalion made tracks for the Abbeville area via Hermaville, Frevent, Auxi-le-Château, and Beauvoir Rivière. Each night billets were arranged in the villages en route, and pleasant evenings in the local estaminets were spent after the day’s march. The weather was only moderate but the Battalion was well seasoned by now, and cared little for the discomfort of the trek after its long stay in the trenches. The Battalion finally halted at Francière a few kilometres south of Abbeville, and leave to England was granted to a privileged few. Preparations for a journey to the East were made, and these soon dispelled all rumours of fighting on the Somme. On the morning of the 15th of November, the Battalion marched to Longpres and entrained on the familiar “8 Chevaux et 40 Hommes” troop train bound for Marseilles, leaving Longpres at 4.0 p.m. The journey to the south of France was most enjoyable, and the route taken was via Montreau, Dijon, Macon, Pierre Latte to Marseilles. At each of these places a halt was made when rations for the next stage of the journey were drawn, and hot tea prepared by permanent staffs stationed on the route was issued. Although halts sometimes were made in the middle of the night, most men were lured from their uncomfortable beds in spite of the cold nights to drink the hot tea. The weather though cold was bright, and while daylight lasted everyone drank in the beauty of the French scenery, especially while passing along the valley of the Rhone, with its wonderful river scenes and terraced vineyards, which clothed the rugged slopes of the valley. Marseilles was reached on the 17th of November, after a journey of just over two days, and the Battalion marched to the Rest Camp on the western outskirts of the city. Here it poured constantly, and the whole camp was a veritable quagmire; fortunately the stay was a short one, for on the 19th November, 1916, half the Battalion marched to the Docks, and boarded the Transylvania , one of the large Transatlantic liners, at 11.0 a.m., bound for Salonica, while the other half followed in the Megantic , a week later. CHAPTER XXIX THE VOYAGE TO SALONICA—MALTA—SALONICA, 30TH NOVEMBER, 1916—JOURNEY TO KATERINA—OUTPOSTS AT STIPI. H.M. Troopship Transylvania , which was unfortunately sunk by torpedo a few weeks later, set sail from Marseilles at midnight on the 19th November. A rough sea was encountered, and it was afterwards learnt that a tidal wave had swept over the harbour that night, destroying a great amount of shipping. The next day all was calm, and the officers and men of the Battalion became accustomed to their new surroundings, and acquainted with the interior of this huge vessel. Boat drill was the novelty, but even this soon became a “bore,” and after the first few parades everybody looked upon the compulsory life-belt attached to one’s body as a millstone, rather than the reverse. On the 20th, the islands of Corsica and Sardinia were passed about 4 p.m., and on the following day the vessel steamed along the north coast of Africa. During these days the calm Mediterranean lulled all into a sense of peace and security, and only when the three blasts of the ship’s syren disturbed the quietness and everyone bustled to their boat stations did one realise the possibility of enemy submarines spoiling the trip. It is said that R.S.M. Freemantle gained a handsome monetary reward for spotting a submarine, but the fact that only the R.S.M. saw it causes doubts in many minds. Regardless of any submarine reported to have been seen by the R.S.M., the Transylvania was ordered by its escort of torpedo boat destroyers to put into St. Paul’s Bay, Malta, on the morning of the 22nd November, and about midday on the 24th, the liner proceeded into the harbour of Valetta. This harbour is one of the most wonderful in the world, and has a very narrow, heavily fortified entrance leading from the outer bay to the inner harbour, which was full of shipping, while men-o’-war of all classes were constantly passing in and out. The town itself is on the high ground around, and was glistening white under the hot sun of the Mediterranean, which poured down its rays from a cloudless blue sky. During the night of the 24th, a slight mishap occurred to the Transylvania and she broke from her moorings, but the Battalion slept on under the protection of the submarine-forbidden harbour, unaware of any possible disaster. It was not until the 27th that the word to proceed was given by the Naval authorities, and a few days’ stay at Valetta had been thoroughly enjoyed by those members of the Battalion (officers and N.C.O.’s only, I am afraid), who were permitted ashore. A route march through the town had been arranged for the troops, but unfortunately this had to be cancelled on the receipt of orders to sail. The journey was continued from Malta without event, and on the 29th November we passed the islands of the Greek Archipelago, the names of which were always in dispute and finally were dubbed with nicknames such as Enos, Kolynos, Thermos, Chaos, and so on. When nearing Salonica several hospital ships, which had been ruthlessly torpedoed, were just visible above the water where they had been beached. The next day, the 30th, the harbour of Salonica was reached, and the Battalion disembarked on the quay during the morning. From the harbour the town of Salonica looked very fine, and extends from the green slopes of the hills on the east along a flat stretch of some five miles to the low dismal country at the foot of the Greek mountains. The town is dotted with mosques and oriental churches, and the famous White Tower on the promenade forms a striking contrast to the low shops and hotels which line the harbour front. However, all this apparent beauty was soon dispelled, and the mud and smell of even the main thoroughfares was simply indescribable. On the quayside hundreds of troops, French, Serbians, Russians and Greeks, were shouting and making the harbour a babel of foreign tongues. The route taken by the Battalion lay through the western end of the town, and the curious shops with their gaily-dressed, though ragged, merchants caused much comment among the troops. Slow, lumbering oxen wagons formed the local method of transport, and these, intermixed with the heavy army motor lorries, caused considerable congestion. After the jumble of traffic through streets a foot deep in mud and filth, the Battalion was relieved to strike the main high road for Dudular. All along this road were signs of military activity; ordnance stores, A.S.C. dumps, motor lorry parks, and ammunition depots lined the route, and a few miles from the town the Battalion passed two extensive canvas general hospitals. Through this military city, which had sprung up with mushroom-like growth during the war, a railway had been built, and it struck one as being extremely humorous to see a green engine with L.S.W.R. in golden letters on its side puffing along under the control of the R.E. drivers. What visions of Waterloo and leave trains! This line was continued as far as Monastir, and troop trains of French and Serbians constantly passed up and down. The camp was finally reached after a march of about eight miles, and was situated on barren, desolate ground, which extended from a chain of hills to the marshes along the Salonica-Monastir Road. On this plain the whole Division was concentrated under a huge canvas camp. The ground was rough, uneven, stony and cut by numerous “nullahs.” Every one pitched his tent wherever the geographical and geological conditions permitted, and it is regretted that the beautiful straight lines of tents that distinguished our camp at Saffron Walden were no longer to be seen. Natives wandered around the camp and were promptly dubbed “hoojahs,” a word which was attached to all things Greek for want of a better descriptive word. These natives presumably desired to sell their fruits and wares, but judging by their mixed uniform of khaki and native garb it was doubtful whether “scroungeing” was not their real intention. On the few more level spots that were available football commenced, and for the first few days life was enjoyable. Letters were again allowed, and in spite of drills and parades it was a most restful time by day. Night time, however, was disturbed by the inroads upon the tired flesh of the troops by numerous “minor horrors of war,” which had been encouraged to life by the blankets and conditions generally on board the transport ship. Changes of underclothes were issued and washing in the muddy streams somewhat arrested the unpleasantness. This period was a particularly busy one for the Quartermaster’s Stores, and stores and equipment peculiar to the East were issued, among which were bivouac sheets. Each man having been presented, gratis by the thoughtful authorities, with a small khaki canvas sheet about a yard square, together with a pole 2 feet 6 inches long, two tent pegs and a piece of stout cord, bivouac parades were instituted. The erection of a bivouac was not an easy matter on such stony ground, and even when erected (sometimes by the aid of bayonets and entrenching tools, the use of which was soon forbidden) the open end provided little comfort from the cold winds which blew from the hills at night. To add to this discomfort, heavy torrential rains poured down on the 8th December, and bivouacs fell down on their occupants during the night with alarming rapidity, even the bell tents which remained were rooted from their moorings, and an unpleasant night was spent. The ground soon became a quagmire, and in the nullahs streams of brown, muddy water rushed along. The colour of the water used for cooking and making tea was of the same delightful solidity, and there was little difference between the tea before and after brewing. However, the weather improved slightly, and the next item of interest was the arrival of over 100 mules for the transport section, “straight from the nest” as it were, and with no decorous idea of military discipline. The Quartermaster’s Stores was full of pack saddlery absolutely new, slippery and unpliable, and the following day “Bill Bailey’s Circus” was in full swing. The transport section, under Second Lieutenant F. T. Bailey, was supplemented by fatigue parties from the Battalion, until each mule had nearly a dozen attendants, all of whom were absolutely necessary. The mules were then dressed in their new kit by the untiring energies of the transport section and their co-opted fatigues and paraded for the Commanding Officer’s inspection. This, however, did not last for many minutes; objections were raised, not forgetting the hind legs, by the four-footed members of the transport, and “saddles reversed” was soon performed. It was infectious, and half the animals soon left the arena with kits incomplete, or at least in quite the wrong places on their bodies. Finally the parade, or rather what was left, was dismissed, and then followed the counting of the mules, several of which had escaped. This, however, did not disturb the Transport Officer, he calmly remarking, “They will turn up at feeding time.” The next morning a recount was made, and apparently the mules had decided with which Regiment in the Brigade they would be billeted. Exchanges were made and, needless to say, the receiver was never the chooser. On the following day, after another wet night when the mule lines had become a horrible mixture of muddy transport men, mules and saddlery, the Battalion, complete with transport, was ordered to parade for a route march, apparently not so much for the benefit of the troops, but as a test for the endurance of “Bill Bailey’s Circus.” The mules were “dressed up” and the saddles loaded with panniers, etc., and after a considerable delay the Battalion started along the road. A few paces was sufficient to bring about a debacle in the column; packs slipped, and the men were detailed to fall out and reload the mules. Every yard of the route was strewn with loads of all descriptions, many of which had, no doubt, been unevenly weighted. The plain was dotted with muleteers chasing after mutinous mules which had dispensed with their encumbrances and taken flight. How many mules finished the march is not recorded, but sufficient to say the march proved amusing if nothing else. The next few days were spent in scraping mud and salving blankets, waterproof sheets, equipment and saddlery, which had been mislaid in the mud that followed the heavy rain each night. On the Sunday, 10th December, a Brigade route march was ordered, and we were inspected by our new Brigadier, General F. M. Edwards, C.M.G., who had taken the place of Brigadier-General Baird, who had remained in France. The same afternoon secret orders were received, and by midnight the Battalion, less its transport, was marching to Salonica Docks. After a few hours’ wait on the quayside, the Battalion embarked on board H.M. torpedo boat destroyer Mosquito , and set sail for somewhere in Greece. Accommodation was very limited, and the black smoke from the funnels of the boat soon covered every one with soot. The officers and crew of the destroyer did all in their power to secure the maximum amount of comfort for the troops, and the whole of the Battalion officers were given an excellent breakfast in the small ward room. During the afternoon the Greek coast was approached, and in the distance we could see the snow clad peaks of the Olympus group. The destroyer anchored a few hundred yards from land, and parties of the Battalion were sent ashore in the small boats. Great credit is due to the Naval folk for their handling of these boats, and, with the exception of a few hasty members who jumped ashore out of the boats too soon, no mishap occurred, and with a cheer from both arms of the Service the destroyer left for sea. The Battalion lined up on the beach at a place called Scala Vromeris. The weather was glorious and the wet clothes of the unfortunates were soon dried. Small fires were made on the beach and a frugal meal was partaken. Scala Vromeris consisted of a few wooden huts, and apparently was the “port,” or rather the landing place, of the town of Katerina, which lay a few miles inland. Only a few Greeks were in occupation, and a large party of Maltese, working under some French soldiers, were housed in the small huts. Orders were received to march inland, leaving a rear party of about 50 men to await the arrival of stores from Salonica. The march was along a genuine “Greek” road, the chief constituents of which were mud, holes, ruts and large stones, but the route was without steep gradients, and the town of Katerina was reached early in the evening. This was a typical Grecian country town, and the natives thronged the streets half in fear and half in jubilation on the arrival of the troops. On the further side of the town was a large Turkish barracks, and here the Battalion was billeted. Men soon made purchases at the shops of very inferior tasteless cigarettes, but nuts and fruit were of excellent quality, though the prices were somewhat exorbitant. A party of officers found their way into a “café,” but when one realises that the plates were returned three times to the washer-up before they could be accepted for eating purposes, the quality of this “café” can be better appreciated. Like the rest of the town and its people it was extremely filthy. The next day was spent in cleaning up the barracks, which afterwards reached a state of comparative comfort in spite of the broken windows and damaged floors. The day was peaceful enough, but when the day’s rations of bully beef and biscuits had been eaten every one wondered where the next meal was coming from. Neither the stores from Scala Vromeris nor the Battalion transport had yet arrived. The town itself had been practically exhausted of its eatables, and finally the question was settled by means of “local purchase.” A flock of sheep was bought by the Brigade, and mutton was issued to the men, but even fresh killed mutton stewed in mess-tins does not make a very substantial day’s feed for hungry troops. The Battalion, however, managed to “scrounge,” and a few additions were obtained privately from a French Quartermaster’s stores located in one part of the barracks, and these helped to eke out the meagre rations. It was a couple of days afterwards before the Battalion transport, which had taken an overland route from Salonica, arrived, and stores also arrived from the shore, though in the meantime it had been necessary to eat our “iron rations.” Both the transport and the stores’ escort had their special adventures. At Salonica the Battalion stores had been loaded on flat lighters, which had proceeded to Scala Vromeris in tow of tugs. Heavy seas were encountered and many of the lighters broke loose and some drifted back to Salonica, while others, with half their cargo washed overboard, fought their way to Scala Vromeris. Those that landed back at Salonica proceeded under better conditions a day or so later, and on arrival were soon unloaded by the fatigue party we had left on the sea-shore. Much, however, was lost at sea, including officers’ valises, mess boxes, cooks’ gear, spare saddlery, Lewis gun panniers, ammunition, blankets, etc., but what remained was carted from the shore to Katerina by the aid of local ox-waggons, which lumbered along at a snail’s pace. The Battalion transport, which had travelled overland from Dudular Camp near Salonica, left there the same evening as the Battalion, and had been brigaded with the transport of the other units in the 179th Brigade, and had been escorted on the route by mounted troops. The journey was not a happy one, and they had only moved at night for purposes of secrecy. This fact alone made travelling difficult, but the wet weather multiplied their troubles threefold. The roads were heavy and badly made, mere tracks across waste land, and maps were indistinct and even incorrect. Many of these tracks were built up above the level of the surrounding country, and so heavy were the floods that the water covered these roadways, and frequently pairs of mules were struggling in the water at the roadside sometimes five feet deep. When the catastrophes happened there was nothing to be done but to cut off the load and give it a watery grave; no attempt to salve them was possible or even desirable in the darkness. On one of these occasions, when mules and muleteer were thrown into the deeper water, an artillery officer, at great personal risk, dived in and saved the mule driver’s life, and Private Phillips, of our own transport section, was highly commended for his assistance, while the officer later received the Silver Medal of the Royal Humane Society for saving life. However, all is well that ends well, and the various parties of the Battalion which had set out from Salonica by different routes reunited at Katerina, but as a result of their respective adventures huge deficiency lists were prepared. For the next week the whole Battalion was employed on road making, and other Battalions assisted the R.E. parties to repair the embankment of the coastal railway from Salonica to Lharrisa, which had been washed away in many places. It was not long afterwards that the deserted railway station we had passed on the way from the coast became a centre of activity. Ration trains arrived daily from Salonica, and a large dump of stores and ammunition was formed at Katerina Station. The Army Service Corps and Royal Engineers did great work, and soon rations, letters, and stores appeared with unfailing regularity from the Base. The Brigade soon established itself comfortably at Katerina, and even the local residents appreciated the situation and replenished their stores with foodstuffs, wines and cigarettes. A word must also be said in praise of the N.C.O.’s and men of the French contingent in this area. They did all they could to welcome the Britishers, and dinner parties were held nightly in the Turkish barracks in our honour, probably to the detriment of the French ration supply, but that was beside the point; “a short life and a gay one” was their motto. After dinner, songs in English and French were sung, toasts were drunk and friendships made. These convivial evenings will live long in the minds of those who participated. On the 20th December, 1916, the Battalion marched out to Stipi, a few miles south of Katerina, to take over an outpost line which had been held by the Queen’s Westminsters since our arrival in this part of Greece. The march was over rough country, and the additional kit in the shape of bivouac sheets, waterproofs, blankets, winter clothing and cardigans, extra bandoliers of ammunition fairly broke the backs of the men. “A,” “C” and “D” Companies relieved the outpost line, and “B” Company, with Headquarters, Transport, and Quartermaster’s Stores were kept in reserve. The outpost line was along the low ridge of hills which ran from Stipi to Kundariotisa, and strict orders were issued that no movement on the skyline should be made by day. Bivouac camps were therefore erected on the reverse or northern slopes which ran down to the grassy valley of the River Mavourneri. From the southern slopes of this ridge the panorama was wonderful, a flat stretch of country for some twenty miles could be seen in the direction of Lharrisa, so that observation from the defences was perfect. On the further side of the plain rose the gigantic chain of snow-capped peaks, of which Mount Olympus formed a massive centrepiece. This mountain wall cut off the Katerina area from the rest of Southern Greece. Only by way of the narrow seashore plain and through the famous Petras Pass on the west of Katerina could the south be reached. At this time the attitude of Greece towards the Allies was questionable, and the position taken up by the Brigade was to secure the base at Salonica from any attack that might have been made from the south. The Battalion employed itself now in commencing to dig a defensive line on the southern slopes of the ridge, and trench-digging in this part of the world was extremely laborious, as the ground was practically solid rock. Barbed wire was not obtainable, and for the purpose of obstacles thick zarebas of short, stiff, prickly thorn bushes which covered the hill-side were used for entanglements. In our spare time football was played, and platoon and company competitions were soon in full swing. A splendid flat field had been cleared near the river bank, and was the scene of many exciting struggles. Christmas was approaching, and funds were collected for additional luxuries. The canteen opened by Brigade at Katerina was insufficient to supply the extra needs for the festive season, and Lieutenant Andrew and an able assistant were sent to Salonica by rail, where a Base Canteen was successfully attacked, and on Christmas Eve large supplies of Christmas goods arrived; not so much in quantity as we should have liked, but considering the difficulties of transport, Lieutenant Andrew was to be congratulated. Chicken and eggs were purchased from the local villages of Stipi and Kundariotisa, and altogether a happy Christmas was spent in the bivouacs. Christmas decorations were numerous and consisted chiefly of grey-back shirts and underclothing which had become unpleasant to wear and decked the surrounding thorn bushes. The festival of Christmas was celebrated by the local residents, and I had the pleasure of accompanying the Commanding Officer to the village of Stipi, where the chief man of the village bade us enter his house. Here we were ushered into the best room and seated on mats on the floor while the daughters of the house, in gay dresses, waited upon us, bringing in coffee, aniseed liqueur and apple jelly as refreshments. Conversation was carried on through the medium of the heir to the house, who had picked up a smattering of French in Salonica, where he was employed. For the men sing-songs were arranged and sports were held, but the festivities of Christmas soon ceased, and the work on the trenches was resumed. New Year celebrations were limited to an excellent concert given in the Turkish barracks at Katerina by the French soldiers, and those who were privileged to attend thoroughly enjoyed their efforts. The weather continued fairly fine, though spells of heavy rain, and sometimes snow, fell, making life in small canvas “bivvies” rather miserable. The Battalion remained on this outpost line for just over six weeks, during which time a strong defensive line facing Lharrisa had been built, and this was continued to the coast on the left flank by a series of strong points built and manned by the Westminsters. Road making and bridge building were carried on by the reserve Company, and I am sure the local Greeks must have appreciated our efforts, which resulted in the many military roads connecting Katerina with the surrounding villages. Occasionally field days were held by the Brigade, the rendezvous always being the Tumulus, which was an ever-present landmark for miles around our position. Kit inspections were frequent, and the losses of equipment, etc., resulting from our journey from Salonica led to lengthy sittings of a Board of Enquiry, and consequently many entries were made in pay books for loss of kit. In our spare time we played football after the day’s work, and keen competitions between platoons and companies resulted. Matches were arranged with the other Regiments in the Brigade, in which the Civil Service came through with considerable credit. For the benefit of officers a riding class, under the Medical Officer, Dr. J. W. Leech (John Willie to all his friends) was instituted, and the quality of riding in the Battalion greatly improved. While referring to John Willie’s equestrian ability, one must not overlook his medical skill. His sick parade each morning was divided into two classes; one from the Battalion and the other from the local villages, which brought their sick for attention. Frequently the Doctor was called out to a village to attend an invalid, and among the natives his skill was considered wonderful; not that I infer the Battalion did not appreciate his efforts, for his droll manner and Irish humour were characteristics we all loved, and his attention to all ranks was without fault. The only difference was that the natives presented him with fowls, fruit and small gifts, whereas the unfortunate recipient of a No. 9 offered his thanks in words alone. When a man was beyond the curative powers of a No. 9 or its brother pills he was transferred to the Field Ambulance, which had been established at Katerina. The country around was rough, and was only traversed by mule tracks, so that it was impossible to bring motor ambulances up as far as the Regimental Aid Post. The lying cases were, therefore, taken to hospital by means of a strange vehicle drawn by a mule. This vehicle simply consisted of two long poles some twenty feet in length which were attached to the mule after the manner of shafts, while the ends dragged on the ground behind the mule. These two poles were secured to each other in rear of the mule, and the stretcher was fixed resting between the poles, so that the patient’s head was higher than his feet. Whether this was a comfortable means of transit must be left to the judgment of the victims, but undoubtedly it was the most suitable means in those parts. No mention hitherto has been made of “Peter,” who was appointed Battalion interpreter. He was an undersized Greek, who loved the Regiment, and no doubt worked very hard in the “Grecian way,” and although no one understood his parleys with the local natives when we wished to dig up their land for trenches, it is believed that he coerced them by the authority given to him by the wearing of the Prince of Wales’s feather in his cap. He loved the Battalion better than his countrymen. About the middle of February the Battalion left the outpost line at Stipi, and two Companies, “A” and “B” proceeded to Katerina barracks together with Headquarters Company, Transport, and Quartermaster’s Stores. The other two Companies, under the command of Major A. A. Oliver, moved to Kolukuri, a few miles west of Katerina, and erected their bivouacs in Shrine Woods. Here a flank defensive line was held by night posts. From the 15th of February until the 28th the Battalion remained in these stations, and the only excitement which broke the monotony of the life was the visit of a strange aeroplane, which flew over the square at Katerina barracks. No one understood its mission and gazed at it curiously, for underneath its wings were two large blue crosses and not the black Maltese cross used on German aeroplanes. After it had taken note of everything it flew away; no one fired at it, and no one to this day knows the meaning of this “mystery” plane. Orders from Brigade to fire at it came later on, but by that time the plane was well out of the range of our field guns. On the 28th of February the Battalion concentrated on the main road near Kolukuri on the way to the Petras Pass and proceeded up towards the Pass, where a strong defensive position had been held since our arrival in December by the London Scottish. The Battalion halted at Kalivia Miljas for the night, and the most unpleasant night it proved to be with the heavy rains. The following day orders were received to return to Katerina, and the Battalion marched back again as far as the banks of the River Mavourneri, just outside the town. In flood time the river is over a mile in width, but at other times it dwindles down to a fast stream only 40 to 50 feet wide. It was on the rough, dry sandy bed of the river that the whole Brigade was encamped, and here preparations for a long trek were made. The weather was fine, but the strong winds that blew and raised sandstorms made it an unpleasant resting place, and no one regretted the order to move, which was received on the 9th of March. Before ending this chapter on our stay in Macedonia, the following letter, written from Greece, might prove interesting:— “Macedonia is a lovely country, and the lack of reading matter a considerable hardship. It is a land of bare treeless valleys, strongly reminiscent of the Veldt and high snow-clad spurs of the Balkans. Of the people, the less said perhaps the better. St. Paul in old time was of the opinion that the Thessalonians were ‘lewd persons of the baser sort,’ or words to that effect, and my experience is that they have not improved by keeping in the interim. A motley mixture of Turks and Bulgars with a smattering of Greeks, they are undoubtedly picturesque in garb, more undoubtedly filthy in person and habits, and most undoubtedly the finest collection of thieves, brigands and cut-throats that could be brought together. When the brigandage business is slack, as at present, they apparently fill in their spare time as herdsmen and shepherds. We are employing considerable numbers in road making and the other day I heard the following: A party of Greeks came along towards our transport, and one bright youth on sighting them lifted up his voice to his chum, ‘Look out, Jack! Here comes Ali Baba and his forty —— thieves.’ “The days are hot and the nights bitterly cold, while at times a terrifically strong and piercing wind, called the Vardar blast, blows from the Balkans. Taken altogether the majority of us heartily wish ourselves back in France.” CHAPTER XXX LEAVING KATERINA—TREK TO THE DOIRAN FRONT—KARASULI NIGHT On the 10th of March, 1917, reveille was at an early hour, and by eight o’clock in the morning the 179th Brigade had formed up in column of route together with the Artillery, Royal Engineers, Machine Gun Corps, and Army Service Corps detachments which had joined it since its arrival at Katerina in December, 1916. The whole town turned out to bid us farewell, and the local band played appropriate music in the market place. Flags decked the low-built houses of the town, and the people of Katerina were sorry to lose the Brigade which, during its short stay, poured thousands of “drachmas” into the town coffers, turning indolence and poverty into business and wealth. The French Commandant also did honour to the British troops and furnished a strong guard of honour, which gallantly stood at the “Present” while the Brigade passed by. The first day of the march was to a place called Tuzla, near the coast some ten miles north of Katerina, and although ten miles on a good English road is a small journey, the badly cut-up roads of Greece and the heavy kit the men were carrying made the journey appear to be twice its actual distance. Mules were loaded to their fullest capacity, and many loads slipped off, causing disorganisation on the march. Eventually, after about five hours’ marching, the Brigade reached the night’s bivouac area, where a terrific cold wind was blowing from the sea. However, “bivvies” were erected and a meal prepared, and every one retired for the night, wondering what the next day would bring. Every one was astir early the following morning, and after an early breakfast the camp was packed up. Then the real fun of the day commenced; this was the loading of the mules. Although I have not yet described this performance in detail it might interest those who did not actually participate in the trek. Loads were arranged and specially lashed with strong ropes. The great art was to prepare loads in pairs, each of which was of equal weight. Of course, with such articles as blankets, Lewis gun panniers, ammunition boxes, where an equal number solved the difficulty it was an easy matter; but when it came to the question of cooks’ gear, pioneer tools, officers’ valises, and so on, it developed into a matter of either exceeding great skill or pure luck. Having thus made up two loads of equal weight and examined the mule’s girth, the muleteer would stand at the animal’s head and say nice things to it with a view of taking its attention from the loads. Two men would then stand on either flank of the beast and lift the loads, with the intention of hooking them on to the saddle by the rings attached to the lashing ropes. The loading on both sides had to be performed simultaneously, or otherwise the weight on one side only simply twisted the saddle under the mule, annoying the animal to such an extent that it would immediately kick out and break loose, dashing about with the load under its stomach. Such escapades on the part of the mules were all too frequent; the mules hated the loads, and to add to the difficulties of the performance commenced to dance a “tango” on the feet of the unfortunate fatigue men trying to persuade it to carry a couple of heavy side loads. Towards the end of this trek, however, the men became aware of this side-stepping by the mules, and eventually experts in each Company developed, and the balancing of the loads, the synchronisation of the hooking-on process, became matters of skill as the result of sad experience. From Tuzla the line of march was to Livanovan, and as a contrast to the very cold wind of the previous day the sun poured down, and the journey of twelve miles was over the same badly-made roads, while steep gradients were also encountered. On the 12th of March the Brigade proceeded to Gida, a further distance of twelve miles. On arrival a flat piece of ground was found for the camp. On the march each man carried a few pieces of stick or wood from ration boxes, and at the end of the day’s march a supply of wood for fires was immediately ready on arrival in camp. During this trek great credit was due to the cooks, both in the companies and the officers’ messes, for the splendid way in which they immediately set to and prepared meals for their expectant clients at the end of the day’s march. I know that at Gida, Evison (“D” Company’s mess cook) and his batman pals had so trained themselves that on the arrival of their Company Officers from the men’s lines, after seeing the mules unloaded and the men settled down, a splendid meal of fried eggs and bacon, biscuits and butter, tea, and Welsh rarebit was spread on the mess table-cloth. (“D” Company always boasted of this cloth, regardless of its doubtful snowy whiteness at times.) The next day, the 13th of March, was very trying owing to the great heat and the distance covered, just over 20 miles. A midday halt was made on that part of the road where the transport section had had such a disastrous time on their journey from Salonica in December, and the mule drivers regaled every one with the horrible details of their experiences. The roads were being improved near the town of Topscin by parties of Bulgar prisoners under French guards. As the column approached Topscin village the sounds of music greeted it. The town was in the hands of the French, and their band had turned out to welcome us. The “Marseillaise” and “God Save the King” were rendered alternately while the whole Brigade marched by. Just after leaving Topscin we crossed the Vardar River, and a couple of miles beyond, the new camping ground was reached; but the rain which had then set in made the arrival miserable. It was then 6.0 p.m. and every one was dead-beat, but an issue of rum livened us up a little. The following morning bivouacs were struck and the march resumed as far as Amantovo, a distance of 14 miles, and it was during this march that the first man of the Battalion fell out, and only the excessive heat caused him to faint, showing how splendidly he had stuck to it. The camp at Amantovo was on soft, grassy ground, and the pegs of our bivouacs were driven in with ease, a change after the stony nature of our previous camping grounds. The last part of the day’s march had been over grassy downs, and the beautiful weather made it enjoyable. To add to the happiness, however, there was a surprise in store; a ration of oranges was issued that night. The next day’s march was to be performed in two parts. The start was made about 8.0 a.m., and the route lay through pleasant valleys and over undulating grassland. A few miles from Amantovo the Battalion marched past the Commander-in-Chief of our forces in Salonica, General Sir G. F. Milne, K.C.B., and his staff. The General was greatly impressed with the fitness of the Battalion. About midday a halt was called and cooking commenced. Plenty of water, duly chlorinated, of course, was drawn from the local streams. In the afternoon small card parties were made up in the Battalion, others slept, while others read novels; each man in some sections carried a small sevenpenny novel, and by exchanging there was plenty to read. Just ahead of the Battalion was a tumulus, and from this point it was said that the “line” could be seen, but of course it was forbidden ground. The progress of the Battalion having been thus barred, we settled down to a very pleasant, restful afternoon in the warm sunshine, little dreaming of the eccentricities of the Macedonian springtime. At twilight the order was given to move off, and with darkness came rain, and such cold rain, too! The wind sprang up and the first few miles were spoilt by “concertina work” by the column, a most dreaded thing for infantrymen with a heavy kit. However, after the first halt the movement of the column settled down and became more tolerable; but accidents to the mules soon disorganised the column again and connection in the dark became difficult. The Battalion floundered on through mud and slush over what must have been ploughed land, I think. Mules now began to fall out with unfailing regularity and men were constantly detailed from the ranks to reload them, and a very straggling column resulted. No one seemed to be certain of the way over this strange country in the pitch darkness. No one appeared to have a watch, either, for no halts were called; certainly the ground was too thick in wet mud for halting purposes, but after three hours marching over such ground in pouring rain all infantrymen felt the strain. Onwards the Battalion struggled, mile after mile, through this awful morass of mud and the pelting rain. Every one longed for a halt, but this was not to be; not until the Battalion arrived on the outskirts of Karasuli did that precious whistle break the silence. Then every one just sat down in the middle of the road. The men had marched for six hours without a halt or even taking off their packs. Remarkable to relate, the number of men who fell out was practically nil; there were no estaminets here, and to fall out would mean a lonely night in the desolate wilds of northern Greece; and this was an unpleasant prospect. At Karasuli a fairly long halt was made and spirits revived, but being under enemy observation no smoking was allowed; this was the last straw, and the Hun and his Allies had curses heaped upon their heads that night, if ever. Rumour that the final halt was only a few hundred yards ahead helped to improve matters, but even this flicker of hope was damped by the heavy rain that constantly poured down. The whistle sounded again, and off the Battalion moved, though no one knows the route taken to this day. Brigade staff certainly did its utmost to sort out the mixed column of men, mules and transport of all regiments. The country here was broken by deep gullies or “nullahs” along which the water rushed in torrents. For over an hour the Battalion staggered along over the broken ground, one moment stumbling down a steep rugged bank of a nullah, the next crawling on hands and knees up the slippery bank opposite, and frequently wading nearly waist deep in water. About 1.0 a.m. the Battalion halted. Rain had fallen for hours and the ground was churned up into a quagmire, but a halt, even in these surroundings, was welcome. Men threw off their packs and, in spite of their weariness and exhaustion, it was to be admired that all the mules, which had also struggled through this terrible journey, were immediately unloaded. Kits, rifles and mule loads had been thrown on the ground by the overwrought men, and some just lay down from sheer fatigue; others stood in the bitter cold and awaited the dawn. Some of the more energetic dared to put up their bivouacs, but soon gave up the idea of sleeping owing to the terrific cold wind that blew. Those who were able to move were issued with rum, but I am afraid that owing to the difficulties of the situation and the fact that many men had fallen into a delirious sleep it was unequally divided, and in the darkness it was difficult to discern whether a staggering man was the outcome of too much marching or too much rum. Towards dawn the downpour ceased a little, but the shivering troops, mud from head to foot, still stood in the withering clutches of the Vardar blast, and one man remarked, looking at the surrounding swamp, “Guess I’m standing in the Blasted Vardar, too!” Gradually daylight appeared, and what a scene—drenched men, cold, miserable, hungry and tired. The sick parade was extremely large that morning. Many had become so exhausted that they had laid down in the wet mud during the night and the next morning were, of course, physical wrecks; others had reached a state of delirium and wandered about bereft of their senses, and mention has already been made of the third group, the men who had “really” got the rum. The balance of the Battalion simply felt done up. However, all those who had not been sent to the field hospitals at Karasuli set to work and dragged from beneath the mud, rifles, equipment, bivouac sheets and remnants of the mules’ loads, and sorted them into dumps. The sun shone and life appeared possible, even if not desirable, in this wilderness of mud. About midday the Quartermaster’s Stores sent fatigue parties to an A.S.C. depôt a mile or so away, and fresh meat and rations were issued. Small fires were soon started and the old “gyppa” was on the boil. Every one looked forward to a nice hot meal, when orders for an immediate move were received. One can pass over this scene without expressing the views of the troops; it can well be imagined how pleasing it was to see the half-cooked “gyppa” poured away into the mud, as the cooks’ gear had to be packed on the mules at once. Soon afterwards the clank of the entrenching-tool handle against the rifle butt and the rattle of the water bottle and other impedimenta associated with troops on the march was heard. The Battalion moved off with Platoons at intervals of 100 yards. The road from Karasuli was in good condition and had dried up under the warmth of the sun and the constant wind, but a mile or so from the camping ground to that main road was covered with deep nullahs and ravines. As we passed over it we wondered how the Battalion had ever marched over such ground the previous night. Once on the main road a decent step was taken and the troops felt the benefit of a good road, and made headway. However, the wind renewed its violence of the previous evening and blew into the face of the Battalion so that the benefit of the better road was soon nullified by the Vardar Blast. Clothing was still saturated with the rain of the night before, and the cold wind simply pierced us to the bones. Snow fell and added to the misery of things and soon the country-side was white; to say nothing of the Father Christmas-like appearance of the troops. When darkness came things really became difficult and the march developed into a hopeless plodding along, fighting against a biting cold head wind the whole while. For the first nine miles the route was along the main road, and the mules retained their loads with comparative ease, and not like the previous day’s march when they slipped and fell over on the treacherous muddy tracks. So extreme was the cold that after each ten minutes halt it was with difficulty that men rose from the ground; most of them were frozen stiff. About 10.0 p.m. the head of the column was seen crossing the rough ground on the left of the main road. Hopes were raised, and if even a bivouac in the snow was an unpleasant prospect, the ending of the march was some consolation. Visions of a new camp were becoming plain, but when the Battalion followed this column across the rough ground for over an hour hopes were shattered. From the roadway onwards men of all regiments in the Brigade lined the route; floundering over the rough ground after a stiff march had proved too much for even some of the stalwarts who had braved the night at Karasuli. Transport limbers and mules blocked the way, either stuck in the small nullahs that crossed the route or else the animals had become too exhausted to move. In fact, it was not an uncommon sight to see dead mules on the ground, having succumbed to the extreme cold, and when mules “gave up the ghost” it can be well judged how the men suffered. No one had any fear of being lost this night should he fall out; the route was well marked by deserted limbers, dead mules and fallen loads. About midnight the journey ended and the Brigade halted near the deserted farm buildings which were occupied by the Headquarters of the Brigade in the line. When the signal to halt was given every one just sat down exhausted, but the lesson of the previous night had been learnt, and little sleep was attempted. Small fires were lighted and mess tins were brought out and tea was made. “Scroungeing” parties went round and “won” blankets, tarpaulins, etc., from wherever possible, regardless of the Battalion or Company to which they belonged. Some officers, by dint of hard work, had even erected a bell tent, having a limber pole for its support. Whose tent and whose pole were never questioned. The night thus passed fairly quickly and every one made the best of a bad job. The snow had ceased, and it was, therefore, an improvement on the downpour twenty-four hours previously. As soon as daylight came every one was astir with the exception of the favoured few who had confiscated a pile of officers’ valises and rigged up a temporary shanty. However, their rest was soon disturbed and orders were given to “fall in.” The day was brighter and this cheered us a little. The Battalion soon marched off and soon sites were allotted to Companies in the deep nullahs or ravines about 500 yards from the deserted farm buildings. In the warmth of the sun, the sheltered positions in the ravines soon made us forget the discomfort of the night. The debris of the previous night was collected and every one enjoyed a hot meal which the cooks soon prepared. The afternoon was spent in rest and sleep. However, war is war, and there is no rest for the wicked. The writer, together with another officer and some N.C.O.’s from each Company, were detailed to go up to the line for reconnaissance purposes that very afternoon. But even the darkest cloud has its silver lining, and after a trudge of four miles the party which had come over the skyline in twos and threes were welcomed by the Headquarters of the London Irish (2/18th London Regiment), and were soon detailed to Companies for the night. It was the 17th of March, and the London Irishmen who had been settled in the part of the line for some weeks celebrated their patron Saint’s day in the proper style, and the requisite canteen stores and drinks had been acquired. No one could have been more hospitable, and the wretched advance party which had left Kolonova that afternoon felt that the war was not so bad as it might have been. Perhaps it would not be out of place to mention here that one of the toasts drunk in the Company dug-out where the writer was so kindly entertained was “To our 1st Battalions, the 1st Civil Service Rifles and the 1st London Irish Rifles.” These Battalions were serving in France with the 47th Division and had curiously left England on St. Patrick’s Day in 1915. The 17th of March is “The day” in the history of our 1st Battalion, but it has its place in the history of the 2nd Battalion. It was the end of what is popularly known as the “Karasuli Trek.” During the past week the Battalion had marched from Katerina, near Mount Olympus, to Kolonova, on the Doiran Front; a distance of about 100 miles had been covered in seven days. The march was over rough country the whole way. Extremes of weather had been encountered during these few days; from the hottest of Mediterranean suns at Livanovan to the wettest of oriental rains at Karasuli, and to the bleakest of blizzards and snowstorms that the Balkan Heights at Kolonova can produce. The man who was able to stick to his guns throughout this trek can well boast, and only the terrible experiences of the last two nights of the journey deprived many of the same boast. CHAPTER XXXI ON THE DOIRAN-VARDAR FRONT—THE ADVANCE A short description of the situation on the Doiran-Vardar sector of the Salonica Front will no doubt assist the reader to better realise the type of operations peculiar to this theatre of war. A few miles west of Lake Doiran was a mountainous ridge running north and south, about five or six miles long, known as “P” Ridge. This chain consisted of a series of five distinct peaks, the southern one, “Pip 5,” being about 800 feet high, while the remaining four progressively increased in altitude until “Pip 1” at the northern end reached the height of about 1,700 feet (or 535 metres); this was the famous “535” which dominated the country for many miles around, in fact on a clear day the peak could be distinctly seen from the hills at Dudular near Salonica, some 60 miles away. The Bulgar held practically all this ridge of the “Pips” except at the lowest part at the south, where the British had gained a footing. The Bulgar was strongly entrenched on all the slopes of the ridge, and each peak was an almost impregnable fortress in itself. From the northern end the enemy lines ran due west along a mountainous chain some 1,000 to 1,200 feet high through the town of Devedzili, thence south of Paljorca to Pobreg. Just east of Pobreg the line ran due south for some six miles along another ridge of hills about 600 to 700 feet high which terminated at the “Nose,” a fortified stronghold on the borders of Serbia and Greece. From the “Nose” the enemy trenches were situated on the hills just north of Macukova, finally having the right flank on the banks of the Vardar at a point some four miles from the “Nose.” The British line ran from the southern extremity of the “P” ridge in a south-westerly direction to the village of Bekerli, from which point it ran practically due west to the Vardar, where our lines were only about 1½ miles from the enemy trenches. The whole of the British line was on the low hills just north of the Cidemli Dere, a valley through which a small stream of about 20 feet in width bubbled along. South of this stream the reserve British positions were situated on the chain of the Kolonovan Heights (500 feet) which ran along north of Ardzan, Smol and Karasuli. It will therefore be seen that only on our flanks were we in close touch with the enemy; on the left flank near the Vardar for about four miles east of the river banks as far as Reselli opposite the “Nose” where the enemy line turned north, and on the right flank at the foot of the “P” ridge at its southern extremities south of the village of Krastali. Even at these points the lines were at least a mile apart. The remainder of “No Man’s Land” consisted of a plain through which the ravine of the Selemli Dere formed a definite line between the opposing parties. From this ravine the ground was fairly flat for about 500 yards on each bank, but it soon developed into a land of hillocks some hundred feet above the level of the Selemli Dere plain, forming the foot-hills up to the higher ground held by the two armies. In this part of “No Man’s Land” were dotted the deserted villages of Dautli, Selemli and Sejdelli. The enemy had taken up a strong defensive line on the high ground which overlooked the whole of the lesser hills on the southern side of the Selemli plain, and his observation on our movements was therefore good. Any movement by day on our part was restricted, and from the commanding position of “P” ridge he could practically look into our trenches which had been constructed on the forward slopes of the small hills north of the Kolonovan Heights. In daytime these trenches were therefore only held by a sentry group, while the remainder of the garrison retired to the small bivouac camps which had been dug in on the reverse slopes.

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