The NZ Truth was a popular and populist newspaper of the late 19th-20th century. As such, and unconstrained by any of the polite customs of it contemporaries, "Truth" makes for excellent copy, a real picture of its times.
One of the social aspects of the times was racism. I have included some of its racist opinions and utterings but state here that they of their time and I do not agree or sympathise with a single word of them.
It is matter of congratulation that, so far, only in one or two isolated instances has there been any man-handling of nonnaturalised Germans in any of our New Zealand cities. True, the windows of the German Consul at Wellington were smashed, and, "Truth" is informed, his confrere's office at Christchurch did not escape damage. Such incidents are generally the result of hot-headed youth and are very much to be regretted. The foolishness of such actions must be apparent to all. If we are so confident of the justice of Britain's cause, of the prowess of her soldiers, and the ability of her war-chiefs to bring the present regrettable conflict to a successful issue, then we can afford to be magnanimous towards individual Germans who have become settlers in this Dominion. The excuse has been made in the hearing of "Truth" that, in the case of the smashing of the Wellington Consul's windows, the foolish act was one of retaliation for the wrecking of the British Embassy at Berlin. "Truth" cannot see how this excuse can hold, as the news concerning the wrecking of the Berlin Embassy did not reach God's Own till a couple of days after a similar happening to the German representative's office in Wellington. But even so, if the idea was to "get one back" on the Berlin Germans that was the wrong way to go about it. The smashing of the British Embassy at Berlin meant a loss not to Britain, but to Germany. The buildings, etc., in Germany are part of the national wealth of Germany, and it matters not who the occupier or nominal owner may have been — in destroying such the wreckers were destroying a proportionate part of Germany's national wealth. New Zealand, like every other country, is exactly the same position. The wrecking of premises belonging to, or occupied by, Germans recoils upon ourselves, as, in doing so, we are but destroying a portion of New Zealand's wealth and a portion that never can be replaced. If this fact were recognised as it ought to be, such incidents would be conspicuous by their absence. But this apart, it is well for every New Zealander, no matter what his opinion of the war may be, to remember that we, as a people, are not at war with the German people but with the German war-lords, in whose blood-stained hands the workers of Germany are but pawns.
It is recognised on all sides that this unfortunate European conflict will be the cause of much sufferlng and loss even in this outlying portion of the British Empire. The money-bugs and profit-snarers have not been slow in making a flanking movement in order to avoid the full effect of the enemy's fire, so-to-speak. Already the plundering profiteers have increased the cost of many of the most necessary of our commodities, the bankers have had paper money (which they have so unanimously denounced in the past as a foolish if not a wicked thing) made legal tender, and these last and their cobbers and collaborators in cornering cash have induced the Government to pass a moratorium covering mortgages and similar securities. While all this was being done, where were our Labor members? Here, under their very noses, the representatives of Plute were looking after their own and their master's interests, but it did not seem to suggest to the Labor group what they should do in such a case. "Truth" thinks they herein let slip one of the finest opportunities to expose the hollowness of many of the - Liberal as well as Tory - objections to certain demands in the Labor programme. The making of notes legal tender, which politicians on both sides of the House had declared, times out of number, would bring ruin upon the country, has been introduced, not by the Socialist but by the Tory, and in order to SAVE the country from financial ruin! This point cannot be too strongly emphasised.
| "MEIN UND GOTT!" Victory must be ours if my People but trust ME and God. — Der Kaiser. Hoch der Kaiser! Our eyes to God and our fists to our foes. — General von Bernardhi. -15/8/1914. |
THE TREACHEROUS TEUTONS.
Campaign of Calumny.
It is a safe policy to kick a dying dog. He is too much occupied with his own troubles to kick back, and can seldom find a friend to put in a kick on his behalf. The papers, which only a few months ago were full of panegyrics of the German people and the German Emperor, can now find nothing bad enough to say about either. The whole vocabulary of abuse is ransacked for fitting terms in which to describe their iniquity. Just as, at the outbreak of the South African war, the papers suddenly discovered that the Boers were a
DIRTY, IGNORANT, TREACHEROUS and cowardly race, who ought to be swept off the face of the earth, so we are now invited to believe, on the same authority, that the Germans are a
BRUTAL AND DEGENERATE PEOPLE, rotten to the core, and ruled over by an epileptic Emperor. And yet, while conducting the campaign of calumny, the day-lies affected to be shocked when hooligans attacked inoffensive Teutons in our midst, naturalised citizens of New Zealand and subjects of King George! The day-lies have been demonstrating to their own satisfaction the political, military, and moral worthlessness of the Germans; and now, Archibald Strong, an Australian writer, informs the Sydney "Yellard" that their literature is utterly brutal and banal, given up to the gospel of Nietzsche and the glorification of force. The German nation has "lost her soul in the slough of materialism," and her literature is sterile of any ideals "higher and nobler than one of wanton, vainglorious aggression." Even as the prophet, Mr. Strong has wandered from Dan to Beersheba, and found all barren. "The golden days of Weimar are gone, and the great and beneficent Duke who protected Goethe and Schiller has given place to
A BLOODTHIRSTY MEGALOMANIAC bent on vulgar conquest and caring nothing for things of the spirit" This sounds more like political partisanship than literary criticism. The worst that can be said about the German Government and its policy is undoubtedly well merited; but it shows little wisdom and no sense of fair play to carry the attack behind the domain of politics, and to declare that a people who have done so much for the culture and enlightenment of the world have no ideals higher than those of "the brutes that perish." A writer of Mr. Strong's standing should be above joining in the diatribes of the daylies and the party cries of the mob. 5/9/1914.
"A PRISONER OF WAR."
A "John's" Ridiculous Blunder
Arrests a Scot on Suspicion of Being a German.
Where the Auckland Police Might Act
"Truth" has yet to learn that any useful purpose has been served by the arrest and incarceration of Germans, who, prior and up to the declaration of war against Germany by Great Britain, were peacefully following their lawful vocations in the Dominion. Naturally, when Great Britain declared war on Germany, loyal little New Zealand was at war against the German, but whether it was necessary to put the country to the expense of maintaining on Somes Island, in Wellington Harbor, the harmless Teutons, most of whom no doubt were glad they were in a British community, has yet to be proved. So far as Auckland was concerned all the Germans or most of the "Prisoners of War" taken were the members of the German Band, who, when hostilities were commenced, could not play "God Save the King" and "Rule Britannia" loud enough
IN THEIR EARNEST EFFORTS to prove how loyal they were to the flag under which they had made their homes. No doubt such captures are part of the game of war, but it seems little short of ridiculous that individuals, who had been in the Dominion for years, because of the accident of having been born Germans, should be seized and cast into prison. Of course, if it could be reasonably suspected that the said "prisoners of war" had intended blowing up railway bridges or doing other wanton mischief their detention would have been justified, but to intern them just because they were German born strikes "Truth" as far-fetched and scarcely just. "Truth" makes these few remarks in order to point out that in hastily rounding up the harmless exiled subject of the Kaiser, who no doubt is glad that he is thousands of miles away from the Vaterland, the police authorities, in Auckland at any rate, have gone about their business in a funny sort of way, and have missed more than one German who is likely, if given half the opportunity, to do some damage. In Auckland there is one German subject, formerly connected with the German Consulate, who has so far failed to take the old adage to heart, "A still tongue makes a wise head." On the contrary, this German
NATURALLY A PARTISAN, is letting his tongue run riot, particularly in hotel bars, and it might possibly happen that the best thing for him would be to send him down to the Island with his compatriots. This man, who is really a German official, has received more than one warning, yet from the accounts which have reached "Truth," he has failed to take advantage of the friendly hints given him. The official or ex-official of a nation at war with Britain, who in a British country is not wise enough to draw in his horns, and sing small, is only inviting trouble of a serious kind. If a German in New Zealand at the present time should be so foolish as to
BREATHE ANTI-BRITISH SENTIMENTS, he must be prepared for what is bound to come to him, should he, in one of his silly moments, fall into the hands of exuberantly patriotic Britons. No doubt the police of Auckland have their eye on this terrible Teuton, but, if not, and the John 'Ops set out to find him, "Truth" trusts that the police will not repeat the egregious blunder of Saturday morning last. On that date Constable Gourley met a Scot in Queen-street, Auckland, took him to the wharf watch-house and there accused him of being a German. This was adding insult to injury and naturally raised the Scot's "birse" and provoked him to tell the "John" that "he cudna tell the difference between a quey an' a stirk if he didnae ken a man who had been
BROCHT UP ON BURGOO frae a fusionless individual who had been bred on sauer-kraut." However, joking apart, this thing really happened on Saturday morning last. The Scot has been a resident of New Zealand for 40 years, and is a carpenter by trade. He obtained a ticket, which he still possesses, from the agents of the Star of India to visit that vessel. Whether it was because he had boarded the vessel and had excited the suspicion of somebody or other, "Truth" does not know, but on Saturday morning he was stopped in Queen-street by the constable named, accompanied to the wharf watch-house, and there accused of being a German. He was subjected to the indignity of being searched, and on demanding to know the why and the wherefore, was told that the police believed he was a German; that the agents of the Star of India had given certain information, and that he answered the description of the suspected German. A few further inquiries from the shipping agents sufficed to show that the police had made a mistake and a very indignant Scots carpenter was sent about his business. "Truth" is not inclined to treat this thing as a joke. If
THE POLICE ARE SO THICKHEADED as to make the mistake of confounding the rolling "r's" of a Scot with the thick gutturals of the Teuton, then the powers that be had better put intelligent men on the job of seeking out the wily Gorman enemy in our midst. What warrant was there for this outrageous detention of an honest Scottish carpenter on the ground that he was a German? Are the police losing their heads? If this is a sample of the manner in which they are rounding up the German it is no wonder that real Germans, with sinister designs, the sort with which "Truth" has treated, are allowed their liberty, and are not interfered with, even when they openly speak and boast of German enmity to Britain. 5/9/1914.
Hock! Der Kaiser.
Turkey has purchased the German cruisers Goeben and Breslau, which fled for safety to the Dardanelles. The German officers and crews have been removed from the ships, their places being taken by Turkish seamen. This Ottoman Goverment paid L5,000,000 for the two ships.
Come, all you Jolly sailor boys. And listen to my tale
About a modern "Navee," Whose ships are up for sale.
It happened in the year '14, and on the mighty main,
The British first caught sight of them, but never did again.
When ships with guns and admirals come out upon the sea.
We look for deeds of derrin' and tales of chivalry.
But seemingly the German ships, when when chance to flight befell,
Rushed fearfully to Turkey land, and there her ships did sell.
In all the comic songs we hear, or strange things that we see
A bigger joke you couldn't find that ships of Germanee.
And so twill be in days to come, instead of fight or steer,
A German naval officer must learn to "auctioneer"
In place of their old ensign, of which they used to brag,
The sign "three balls" and "This for sale" will mark the German flag. -5/9/1914.
Hindsight is a wonderful thing. The incident which led to this slight piece of poetry was to have momentous consequences for New Zealand. The two German ships were caught in the Mediterranean and managed to evade the Royal Navy and escape to a neutral Turkish port. Turkey had ordered and paid for two battleships from British yards but were denied them by the opening of the war and a contract clause which assigned them to the Royal Navy in such circumstances. Turkey took advantage of the arrival of two modern ships and the preoccupation of the Russian Empire to begin hostilities against its historic foe. This put Turkey in the Great War, leading to the Gallipoli landings of 1915. The landings were ultimately intended to reopen the Dardanelles trade routes which had carried 90% of Russia's sea trade and were desperately needed for the supply of war materiel.
Meanwhile, in Milton, "Truth" began to show that the "German people" were not as worthy of its support as at the beginning of the War, although the actual text of the story seems ambivalent.
Hindsight is a wonderful thing. The incident which led to this slight piece of poetry was to have momentous consequences for New Zealand. The two German ships were caught in the Mediterranean and managed to evade the Royal Navy and escape to a neutral Turkish port. Turkey had ordered and paid for two battleships from British yards but were denied them by the opening of the war and a contract clause which assigned them to the Royal Navy in such circumstances. Turkey took advantage of the arrival of two modern ships and the preoccupation of the Russian Empire to begin hostilities against its historic foe. This put Turkey in the Great War, leading to the Gallipoli landings of 1915. The landings were ultimately intended to reopen the Dardanelles trade routes which had carried 90% of Russia's sea trade and were desperately needed for the supply of war materiel.
Meanwhile, in Milton, "Truth" began to show that the "German people" were not as worthy of its support as at the beginning of the War, although the actual text of the story seems ambivalent.
GERMAN VICTORY.
Medico McCormick and Maid
The Fraulein Pots the Physician
Mrs. McCormick's Curious Conduct.
(From "Truth's" Dunedin Rep.)
The now celebrated case of Wieters versus McCormick has terminated in glorious victory for the German. This case has engaged the mildewed hamlet of Milton since June 18 last, and has aroused considerable attention, both in and around Dunedin. A very pleasing feature of the whole wrangling is the exact measure of British Justice meted out to an exiled subject of der Kaiser Bill, and the healthy castigation incidently dealt to "Sawbones" McCormick and his lovely aristocratic spouse. Mrs. McCormick will hardly try the same game on again — at least with a German.
Eight weeks ago "Truth" published the opening account of the case in which it appeared that Fraulein Wieters, from Hamburg, claimed from Medico McCormick, of Milton, the sum of £49 8/- as damages for wrongful dismissal.
Defendant on August 23, 1912, agreed to employ pursuer as a nurse and governess for a period of three years, from August 23, 1912, at a yearly remuneration of £27 10/-, £36 and £45 respectively. He further agreed that at the end of the term to pay pursuer's fare from New Zealand to her home in the Vaterlandt. Defendant
Eight weeks ago "Truth" published the opening account of the case in which it appeared that Fraulein Wieters, from Hamburg, claimed from Medico McCormick, of Milton, the sum of £49 8/- as damages for wrongful dismissal.
Defendant on August 23, 1912, agreed to employ pursuer as a nurse and governess for a period of three years, from August 23, 1912, at a yearly remuneration of £27 10/-, £36 and £45 respectively. He further agreed that at the end of the term to pay pursuer's fare from New Zealand to her home in the Vaterlandt. Defendant
FAILED TO PAY THE FULL SALARY for the second year, and on January 6, 1914, allegedly wrongfully dismissed her and refused to provide her with a passage home to Germany. The action was commenced on June 6 last and continued on June 15, came on again last week before Mr. E. W. Burton, S.M.
Lawyer Brasch represented Fraulein Wieters. From a maze of evidence and a complicated case generally, Mr. Brasch deduced much forceful argument, and through intricacies and legal quibbles, he steered his client to victory.
Lawyer Reid represented Medico McCormick and his missus. The Fraulein, plaintiff in the case, is a tall, pretty Prussian lady, possessing the fine physical bearing of her race. Her contract with Mrs. Dr. McCormick amounted as follows: —
I, Miss Johann Wieters, from Hamburg, engage myself to accept the position with Mrs. Dr. McCormick for 3 years, and to do in every respect my best for her. Should I be compelled to abandon the position before expiry of the period, I shall refund the fare. In case I should desire to return after three years' time, Mrs. McCormick will pay the return voyage. Wages: First year, 550. marks, then rise. Signed, FRAU. F. WINZER.
Frau Winzer, since deceased, was Mrs. McCormick's mother and lived ordinarily in Germany and she saw plaintiff through.
During the course of her evidence, Fraulein Wieters intimated that the contract bound her as a
CHILDREN'S NURSE AND GOVERNESS, and not as a servant, which she was forced to become. In the work she was put to do she was treated without any consideration and she was given no holidays, and had no time to herself and she worked from 5 a.m. till late at night. In winter, while suffering from affected hands, she had to wash clothes in ice cold water and had to darn lovely Mrs. McCormick's sweet smelling stockings. Mrs. McCormick had fancy hair of her own, and this the poor Fraulein had to comb and twist. Mrs. McCormick's up-to-date stove was a bad one, but her German factotum had to trip to the beach and gather drift wood to light it. Even old rags soaked in kerosene were utilised to get a blaze up. Economic Mrs. McCormick! If she spilled milk the medico's refined lady would go off like a pom-pom. In fact she could not please Mrs. McCormick if she stood on her head, and the Fraulein could not do that. Finally, on the top of all the ill-treatment and neglect Miss Wieters was dismissed by the considered medico and his aristocratic lady.
Lawyer Brasch's remarks and legal arguments were delivered at considerable length and with much accuracy, and, no doubt aided the S.M. in his final decision considerably. The lawyer asked, was Fraulein impertinent, and if so, was there such impertinence as to justify the breaking of the contract? Was she dismissed by the defendant? The latter's counsel had placed himself on the horns of a dilemma. He alleged first that she had been impertinent, and that his client did not dismiss her. If he sustains his contention that she was not dismissed, he admits that the impertinence, if any, was condoned by his client. In the correspondence after plaintiff had left his service Dr. McCormick acknowledged the dismissal, and gives reasons for it, and Lawyor Reid himself, in a letter to plaintiff openly admitted the dismissal.
The S.M. here remarked that the letters
CONTAINED AMPLE PROOF OF DISMISSAL. Magistrate Burton's decisions, which both in Milton and Dunedin have given entire satisfaction in connection with this bitterly fought-out case, were as follows:-
(1) Fraulein Wieters was wrongfully dismissed. (2) That the defendant did not immediately after such dismissal undertake to reinstate Fraulein Wieters in the position which she had undertaken to fill under the contract, but offered her a position lower in status, namely, that of a general servant at two-thirds of the current wage for a general servant.
The only question, therefore, is what damages should be allowed. The plaintiff had passed from the status of ladyhelp and childrens' German instructress for three years, to that of general servant, liable to discharge at a week's notice. A position lower in dignity, precarious in tenure, but higher in veto of remuneration. In respect of these three factors, I put the damages at £5. Then plaintiff was entitled at the end of her term to return of defendant's expenses to her native land. Having regard to the position she was engaged to fulfil she is entitled to L44 8s, second class fare to Germany. Plaintiff will therefore have judgment for £49 8s damages, with costs L1 17s. Witnesses expenses, £4 lls 8d. and solicitors' fees, £3 9s.
Thus Milton has been the scene. of a German victory, and yet both Milton and Dunedin rejoice. -5/9/1914.
Lawyer Brasch represented Fraulein Wieters. From a maze of evidence and a complicated case generally, Mr. Brasch deduced much forceful argument, and through intricacies and legal quibbles, he steered his client to victory.
Lawyer Reid represented Medico McCormick and his missus. The Fraulein, plaintiff in the case, is a tall, pretty Prussian lady, possessing the fine physical bearing of her race. Her contract with Mrs. Dr. McCormick amounted as follows: —
I, Miss Johann Wieters, from Hamburg, engage myself to accept the position with Mrs. Dr. McCormick for 3 years, and to do in every respect my best for her. Should I be compelled to abandon the position before expiry of the period, I shall refund the fare. In case I should desire to return after three years' time, Mrs. McCormick will pay the return voyage. Wages: First year, 550. marks, then rise. Signed, FRAU. F. WINZER.
Frau Winzer, since deceased, was Mrs. McCormick's mother and lived ordinarily in Germany and she saw plaintiff through.
During the course of her evidence, Fraulein Wieters intimated that the contract bound her as a
CHILDREN'S NURSE AND GOVERNESS, and not as a servant, which she was forced to become. In the work she was put to do she was treated without any consideration and she was given no holidays, and had no time to herself and she worked from 5 a.m. till late at night. In winter, while suffering from affected hands, she had to wash clothes in ice cold water and had to darn lovely Mrs. McCormick's sweet smelling stockings. Mrs. McCormick had fancy hair of her own, and this the poor Fraulein had to comb and twist. Mrs. McCormick's up-to-date stove was a bad one, but her German factotum had to trip to the beach and gather drift wood to light it. Even old rags soaked in kerosene were utilised to get a blaze up. Economic Mrs. McCormick! If she spilled milk the medico's refined lady would go off like a pom-pom. In fact she could not please Mrs. McCormick if she stood on her head, and the Fraulein could not do that. Finally, on the top of all the ill-treatment and neglect Miss Wieters was dismissed by the considered medico and his aristocratic lady.
Lawyer Brasch's remarks and legal arguments were delivered at considerable length and with much accuracy, and, no doubt aided the S.M. in his final decision considerably. The lawyer asked, was Fraulein impertinent, and if so, was there such impertinence as to justify the breaking of the contract? Was she dismissed by the defendant? The latter's counsel had placed himself on the horns of a dilemma. He alleged first that she had been impertinent, and that his client did not dismiss her. If he sustains his contention that she was not dismissed, he admits that the impertinence, if any, was condoned by his client. In the correspondence after plaintiff had left his service Dr. McCormick acknowledged the dismissal, and gives reasons for it, and Lawyor Reid himself, in a letter to plaintiff openly admitted the dismissal.
The S.M. here remarked that the letters
CONTAINED AMPLE PROOF OF DISMISSAL. Magistrate Burton's decisions, which both in Milton and Dunedin have given entire satisfaction in connection with this bitterly fought-out case, were as follows:-
(1) Fraulein Wieters was wrongfully dismissed. (2) That the defendant did not immediately after such dismissal undertake to reinstate Fraulein Wieters in the position which she had undertaken to fill under the contract, but offered her a position lower in status, namely, that of a general servant at two-thirds of the current wage for a general servant.
The only question, therefore, is what damages should be allowed. The plaintiff had passed from the status of ladyhelp and childrens' German instructress for three years, to that of general servant, liable to discharge at a week's notice. A position lower in dignity, precarious in tenure, but higher in veto of remuneration. In respect of these three factors, I put the damages at £5. Then plaintiff was entitled at the end of her term to return of defendant's expenses to her native land. Having regard to the position she was engaged to fulfil she is entitled to L44 8s, second class fare to Germany. Plaintiff will therefore have judgment for £49 8s damages, with costs L1 17s. Witnesses expenses, £4 lls 8d. and solicitors' fees, £3 9s.
Thus Milton has been the scene. of a German victory, and yet both Milton and Dunedin rejoice. -5/9/1914.
A GERMAN'S GIMCRACKS.
"Rich gifts prove poor when givers prove unkind," said Ophelia to Hamlet. According to the cable, Kaiser Bill is saying something similar to our George and the Czar, for he is selling all the stars and orders presented him by both for the benefit of the Rod Cross Fund. A gentleman would have sent them back, and, on the authority of Max O'Rell, therer are gentlemen even in Germany. Bill's popping of the dazzlers reminds one of the jilted gal who takes the medallion he gave her with his false photo in it to "Uncle" as an act of revenge on the deceiver. Occasionally "Uncle" looks sadly at her and whispers that the gorgeous present is brummy, and then she feels more like a wet hen than ever. It is rather a pity that Bill's orders and stars were not similar since he spurns them so scornfully. Still, the Empire does not grudge the Red Cross the money they may bring — his sacrificed soldiers will want a lot of patching up. -3/10/1914.
A week ago "Critic" called attention to the cruel thoughtlessness of a New Zealand schoolmaster in punishing the child of German parents for daring to cry out "three cheers for the Kaiser" one day at school. It was a foolish act but what will be said to the following which is taken from a well-known American paper the Appeal to Reason:
"Vive la France, vive la France!" screamed a score of Danish school children. They were on the way home from a German school after hostilities had begun and, with the unwise abandon of youth, dared to express their views in the enemy's territory. The shout was renewed and floated out of the car windows. "Hold the train." shouted a German officer who overheard, as the engine was about to move. He and a score of soldiers boarded the train. A moment later they dragged the boys, a dozen in all, to the platform of the station. The officer lined them up before him. He eyed them in silence a moment, and then, marching down the line, tapped four on the breast. "Forward, the four," he shouted. Without a word they stepped four paces forward "Into the car with the others." Several soldiers closed around them and with fixed bayonets forced them aboard. The four were mached away, a moment later the train started forward. As it was pulling from the station a volley of musketry rang out. The four boys had been lined up against a wall and shot. -10/10/1914.
"Vive la France, vive la France!" screamed a score of Danish school children. They were on the way home from a German school after hostilities had begun and, with the unwise abandon of youth, dared to express their views in the enemy's territory. The shout was renewed and floated out of the car windows. "Hold the train." shouted a German officer who overheard, as the engine was about to move. He and a score of soldiers boarded the train. A moment later they dragged the boys, a dozen in all, to the platform of the station. The officer lined them up before him. He eyed them in silence a moment, and then, marching down the line, tapped four on the breast. "Forward, the four," he shouted. Without a word they stepped four paces forward "Into the car with the others." Several soldiers closed around them and with fixed bayonets forced them aboard. The four were mached away, a moment later the train started forward. As it was pulling from the station a volley of musketry rang out. The four boys had been lined up against a wall and shot. -10/10/1914.
"Spy mania" consumed Britain at the beginning of the War - and New Zealand was not immune.
SPOTTING A SUPPOSED SPY.
TEUTON ERECTS SECRET TRANSMITTER.
Meddlesome Magpie Mars Amateur's "Innocent" Amusement
Fined £20 or One Month's Imprisonment.
Hugo Seward, aged 40, was charged before his Worship, Mr. W. G. Riddell, S.M., in the Wellington Magistrates Court, on Wednesday, in that, on the 19th of September, he was in possession of a wireless plant capable of receiving and transmitting wireless messages without permission of the Governor-in-Council being first had and obtained, and contrary to law, and subject to a penalty of £500.
Mr. Ostler appeared for the prosecution, and Mr. Mazengarb for the defence.
Mr. Ostler, in opening, informed the Court that the accused was a German. He had served for some years in the German Navy. In 1903 he became a naturalised British subject. When war broke out he offered his services and was enrolled in the New Zealand Expeditionary Forces. Up to this point the accused had kept within bounds. On the 19th of last month he made overtures to Messrs. Tolley and Co., electrical engineers, for the purchase of
A WIRELESS TELEGRAPHIC PLANT, and, with this end in view, the junior partner of the firm, after some conversation with the accused, agreed to sell him an apparatus and to instruct him how to use it. The plant was duly fixed up, and the accused expressed his satisfaction, and subsequently it was agreed to allow the plant to be taken away on approval. The accused installed it at his lodgings in Taranaki-street, and, shortly after its erection, a surprise visit was paid by the police, who annexed the apparatus, at the same time informing the accused that he had committed an offence by being found in illegal possession of such an instrument. Accused was arrested on a warrant and had been in custody ever since.
Henry John Tolley said he was personally acquainted with the accused in this transaction. He supplied him, at his request, with a complete wireless plant, which was capable, with a little alteration, of transmitting a message one hundred miles. He instructed the accused how to use it. So far as his firm was concerned they had no permission to stock wireless apparatus of this description, and expressed his astonishment when Lawyer Mazengarb intimated that his firm could be penalised in a sum of £500 for selling the plant in question without first having obtained permission to stock it. He knew the accused was a German, but it didn't occur to him to inform the police for the reason that he was taken off his guard by accused showing him scars on his arms and saying he had served in the Boer war. It was not ascertained, however,
ON WHICH SIDE HE FOUGHT. Agnes Mercer, the accused's landlady, said she mostly minded her own business, but when the wireless plant had been installed in her lodger's bedroom, she heard a tap, tap, tapping and a talking, and she thought the voice was familiar, so she crept upstairs very cautiously and pushed the door open, and was surprised to find her inquisitive magpie sending what appeared to be a wireless message. As a matter of fact, the magpie was tapping the key of the machine with her beak, which sounded for all the world like a telegraph operator's call. "My magpie," said the lady, "is not like her missus, she minds everybody's business but her own. I told my lodger to take his machine down because the bird would settle it. I hope you don't mind my speaking the truth," said the lady to the Crown Prosecutor, "but I have observed the police have made many calls upon my lodger. I was informed that the police had him under supervision in order to find out how he earned his living, because he seldom left the house." The accused had told her he had been appointed wireless instructor to the Territorials, but that was untrue.
Sergeant Kelly was the next witness, and he gave formal evidence of the arrest of accused and the various articles discovered, comprising the wireless instruments, a Morse code, letters of naturalisation, a
GERMAN DRILL INSTRUCTOR, and several letters. He had not known accused to do any work, and he was under police observation. When he saw accused with the plant he asked him what he wanted it for, and he replied for experimental purposes; that the students at the Technical and Victoria Colleges used the same instruments, and he wanted to learn the Morse code.
Edward Albert Shrimpton, electrical engineer, who had installed several wireless stations for the Government, was called, and gave expert evidence. He stated that the apparatus produced and erected in Court, with a little alteration, was capable of transmitting messages 100 miles. It was a complete instrument in itself and not a toy. It was extremely dangerous and capable of much mischief. Mr. Shrimpton explained to the Court, at great length, the intricate parts involved. This closed the case for the Crown. Mr. Mazengarb, for the defence, started off by hoping that the Court would not for a moment imagine that he was in sympathy with the accused because he was defending him. "Go on," said his Worship, smilingly, "you need not apologise. It's quite understood. It is your duty as counsel to defend your client, in consonance with the principles of British justice." The accused then entered the witness-box and stated that he had been resident in New Zealand for seventeen years. He was naturalised ten or eleven years ago. The police constantly visited him. He didn't know why. When war broke out, he volunteered and was accepted. He was in the Boer war. For five years he served in the 1st Company of the Australian Rifles in Sydney. He admitted purchasing the wireless plant, which
HE HADN'T PAID FOR. He gave a cheque for it, but had no money in the bank. He asked Tolley and Co., from whom he purchased the plant, to hold the cheque over, and they agreed to do so. When he got the instruments he took them in a motor car up to the Buckle-street barracks and a lieutenant came and inspected it. He made no secret of his purchase. His landlady knew it; his friends knew it, everybody who knew him knew it. He wanted to learn the Morse code and thought this was a good opportunity of learning it. When the police visited him and told him it was a serious offence to be in possession of the instrument, that he ought to be shot as a spy, he didn't know but that the police might have said it in a joke. At all events, he got frightened, and told them to take it, and they did, and they took him with it.
In cross-examination, the accused reluctantly admitted that in June last he produced what purported to be a draft for £700 to the gaze of Mr. Peverick of the People's Picture Palace and proposed purchasing a picture plant, and subsequently followed this up by borrowing £14 from Mr. Petherick on the strength of it. He also admitted borrowing 6s from Mr. Hickey on the strength of taking him to New Guinea as an operator. Two months afterwards the same draft for L700 came to light, and was produced on this occasion to a Mrs. Whittaiker, of Courtenay-place, and he he suggested buying her business off her. This lady fell into the trap, and he tapped her for five shillings, but he paid it back next day, like a gentleman. After this he proceeded to fly round in a motor car on the representation that he would purchase it but
THE DEAL FELL THROUGH there being a small difference of £100 between them. He also produced this seven century document to Lester and Co. motor dealers, Vivian-street. Messrs Hatrich and and Co. were also visited with the view of purchasing a motor, but it never materialised. Detective Lewis thought he would like to make the acquaintance of this cultured German, in order to persuade him to be a little more moderate in his tastes - but it seemed the inimitable "Hugo" bluffed the officer, who invited him to accompany him to the bank to test the genuineness of his alleged draft which had so regularly been coming to light with so little provocation. "It's too late," said Hugo, "the bank's closed." And so it was, it being five minutes past three - so he escaped, on that occasion, by the skin of his teeth.
Nothing daunted, the next victim was a Mr. Venniger. whom he tapped for a set of furs for his missus at no less a cost than L20.
Mr Ostler, the Crown Prosecutor, mercifully left him at that.
His Worship, in reviewing the case, said the Act made no mention of the distance a plant was to carry. The offence was not limited. The offence was a very grave one, this could easily be seen, as the penalty for the breach was £500. Accused would be convicted and fined £20 or a month's imprisonment. His Worship had decided to view the matter leniently owing to the the fact of the accused having been in custody for such a length of time. The plant would be forfeited to the Government. -10/10/1914.
KELTIC KANE'S KAPER
Tries to Intimidate a Teuton
Hunts Round a German's House with a Shot Gun.
An Inver-keg-illite's Loyalty.
Last week the quiet little southern city of Invercargill — in a "dry" area, where no untoward sound is heard but the popping of corks of the "glug-glug" of an emptying beer bottle — was given quite a thrill through a night alarm, when the peaceful citizens were aroused from their slumbers by the report of a fire-arm, which caused all hearts to momentarily cease action — the Germans might have arrived! In fact, a German was there and he was the cause of all the trouble.
The story was told in the Invercargill Magistrate's Court last Tuesday week, before Mr. T. Hutchison, S.M., when a thick-set, middle-aged Irishman, named John Kane, was charged with discharging firearms with
INTENT TO INTIMIDATE AND ANNOY the inmates of a house at the Bluff. Inspector Norwood appeared for the prosecution and "Costs-man" P. J. Tipping tried to do justice for Ould Ireland.
Ernest A. Nichol, clerk. Bluff, stated that he employed a man named Oscar Walther, a gardener, who lived in a cottage on witness's property. Walther was a German. On the evening of October 23, witness was at home before ten o'clock. Hearing someone outside, Mrs. Nichol opened the door and witness went outside. He saw accused outside and said, "Hullo, Jack, what's the matter?" He said, "You've got some Germans here. Bring them out." Witness said that it had nothing to do with accused, and he ordered him off the premises. Witness shut the door, accused attempting to stop him from doing so. After he had locked the door, accused demanded that it should be re-opened, but witness refused. He then went to the telephone and called up the police. A shot was fired while he was at the telephone. Two other shots were fired shortly afterwards, so witness put on his boots,
GOT HIS SHOTGUN and went down to the front gate. He saw no one in the grounds, people were coming from all directions. Walther was in his own house at the time. On looking round he found a charge of shot in a picket in the gate leading up to Walther's house. Accused was under the influence.
To Lawyer Tipping: Witness did not notice a gun when accused came to the door, but he might have had one behind him. When he shut the door accused called out, "Come on, blokes." Witness did not think that the people whom he saw at the bottom of the street were accused and his mates.
Oscar Walther said he was a German and had been in New Zealand for two years. He applied for naturalisation two months before the war broke out but the proceeding was not carried out and he remained at Bluff under conditions imposed by the police. He was a married man and was living with his wife and child. On the night in question he was lying down on the sofa when his wife called to him and he got up. His wife went to the rear window and called to Mr. Nichol, asking him if he had shot the cat.
Oscar Walther said he was a German and had been in New Zealand for two years. He applied for naturalisation two months before the war broke out but the proceeding was not carried out and he remained at Bluff under conditions imposed by the police. He was a married man and was living with his wife and child. On the night in question he was lying down on the sofa when his wife called to him and he got up. His wife went to the rear window and called to Mr. Nichol, asking him if he had shot the cat.
The Magistrate: Whom did accused attempt to intimidate?
Inspector: Both Nichol and Walther.
Witness went on to say that his wife went out and he heard a shot. He did not hear the first as he was asleep. Witness went out and looked around and then went to Nichol's. When inside he heard another shot a little closer at hand than the first seemed. He had since examined the front gate and saw shot marks in it. He had never seen accused before.
Lawyer Tipping: Witness did not serve in the German army and
WAS NOT A RESERVIST.
The Magistrate: What part of Germany do you come from? — Brunswick.
You served there? — Yes.
Then you were trained? — Yes.
For how long? — Two years.
Then you are in the reserve? — Yes.
You are liable to be called upon? — No, I don't think.
His Worship: But you would. Witness: I do not think so. The limit is forty.
Inspector Norwood: You felt frightened and alarmed at these guns going off? — Yes.
Your wife told you that the men were looking for Germans. That made you more annoyed and alarmed? — Yes.
Magistrate: It seems to me that all that is required is that this man should be bound over to keep the peace.
Inspector Norwood urged that if there had been a Britisher in the house and a German had fired the shot murder would have been done.
Lawyer Tipping submitted that neither Nichol nor Walthers were frightened by the occurrence, and the latter only became alarmed when he beard the subsequent talk.
The Magistrate pointed out that it was not frightening but intent to frighten that accused was charged with. It seemed that accused's own admission settled the point that intimidation was intended. He had to decide whether the case came within the section, and he was satisfied that it did.
Lawyer Tipping suggested that the charge be reduced, but Inspector Norwood pointed out that his only duty was to place the case before the court.
Accused pleaded not guilty and reserved his defence. He was comnittted for trial, bail being allowed in his own surety or £50.
Commenting on the case, an Invercargill correspondent writes:— "J. Kane is a wharf laborer at the Bluff, and E. Nichol is a captain of the Bluff Territorials. He belongs to the firm of Nichol Bros., and is a councillor and a member of the Bluff Harbor Board. The German, who, to all intents and purposes, is a reservist, is employed by him.
THE PUBLIC ARE INDIGNANT at Nichol employing him. Two deputations waited upon him to have the man put off and a Britisher substituted, but he absolutely refused. We do not justify Kane's action, but we denounce the man who, paid by the Military Department of Pig Island, yet kept a German reservist in his employment, when in every other, and in other parts of this country, such are in custody. Why is this captain allowed to keep such a man, and why is he allowed to retain his uniform under such circumstances? "Truth's" correspondent writes more anent the doings of E. Nichol, but, uncorroborated, it cannot publish his statements. It leaves the story just here and allows its readers to draw their own conclusions. -7/11/1914.
Mr Justice Sim of The Invercargill Supreme Court drew its own conclusions in due course and found John Kane not guilty.
Mr Justice Sim of The Invercargill Supreme Court drew its own conclusions in due course and found John Kane not guilty.
Cable advises state that there are strong evidences that the German soldiers are indulging over much in strong drink. That's probably why the Allies are getting them into such "tight" corners. -14/11/1914.
THE TEUTON AND THE SAXON.
(By JOHN NORTON.)
GERMAN INFLUENCE IN ENGLAND. (abridged)
After the death of "Albert the Good" (a very good German, indeed, to be sure, for Germany — the grandfather of the present Kaiser, be it borne in mind!), it was fondly surmised that the pernicious influence of pauperous German princeling parasites would partially, if not wholly, disappear. The death of the Prince-Consort seemed only to make matters worse. Like usury and sly-grog selling, public reprobation and legislative prohibition did not destroy the evil but only drove it underground, there to flourish in obscurity more vigorously than ever. The loss of her husband, to whom she was tenderly attached, and for whom she mourned long and deeply, drove Victoria into that seclusion from which she so rarely emerged. She mourned in secret, and wore widow's weeds till the day of her death. The last twenty-five years of her life is a sad and and saddening story of selfish seclusion and sordid saving of millions, concerning which the less said the better.
It is pertinent, however, to point out just here, that during this prolonged period of seclusion of the monarch that German influence at the British Courts though less apparent, became more obvious through its injurious effect on public affairs, more especially in those of the Army and Navy. It is no exaggeration to say that the land and sea services literally swarmed with Germans. Then it was that Britons saw and suffered with shame the sight of a German nincompoopish noodle nonentity like the Duke of Cambridge, a German cousin of Queen Victoria, masquerading in a British field-marshal's uniform for fully thirty years as Commander-in-Chief of the British Army. This German popinjay soldier used to review the troops at Aldershot from under the shade of an umbrella while on horseback!
This remarkable specimen of a pro-British-German paladin is said to have distinguished himself during the Crimean War by running away from his regiment while in action, and to have got himself invalided "home" — to England (not Yarmany, O dear, no!) - on the score that he was suffering from chronic diarrhoea or dysentery, which the booming of cannon, bursting of shells, and flash of steel only tended to make "chronicer." This cronk German soldier crook, Cambridge, when he thus distinguished himself in the Crimea, was christened by "his comrades in the war" with various soubriquets, such as "Colonel Cackafoodle," "Count Cut-and-run," "Duke Don't-do-or-die." Still, although he was lumbered back to London in the literal stench of shame, this wretched cowardly, crapulous German creature was permitted, through Royal Court Influence, to occupy the place and pouch the pay, perquisites, and pickings of Commander-in-Chief of the British Army for over a quarter of a century! Gott fur dam und donner wetter; and as our old friend Blucher would, could, should, or might have said: Vas fur plunder!
The Prussian General Blucher, whose appearance on the field of Waterloo during the battle arguably turned the tide against Napoleon and in favour of Wellington in 1815, visited London after the Napoleonic Wars seemed to have been won in 1814. He climbed the memorial to the Great Fire of London for a view of the city.
"Upon seeing the filth, smoke and fog, the Prussian muttered 'Was fur plunder,' which literally translates as 'what rubbish.' Bystanders mistook the remark to mean 'What a place to plunder.'" - "Blucher: Scourge of Napoleon" Micheal V. Leggierer.
But this Cambridge-Commander-in-Chief scandal was not the limit of the nefarious German influences that permeated and proceeded from the British Court of Queen Victoria. A whole brood of German pauper princelings were permitted to prey upon the British people and to discredit the prestige of the British Army and Navy by usurping the places due, by seniority and promotion, to tried and trusted British soldiers and sailors. Under the fostering care of Queen Victoria, German influence became sufficiently powerful not only to keep a German at the head of the British Army for a quarter of a century, but also to give high commands to a whole swarm of other German pauper princelings such as the Tecks, the Saxe-Wiemars, the Hesses, the Gleichens, the Leichtensteins, the Battenbergs, and a lot of others, all more or less related to the late Queen Victoria, who, during the last two decades of her life, seemed to make it her chief care to provide places and pensions for her poor German relatives.
This promotion of German interests at the British Court became a crying scandal and a positive peril to the efficiency and safety of the British Army and Navy. But for the respect felt for her as a woman, and the honors due to her as a Queen, this Germanising of the British Court and services would probably have provoked popular protests, not only in Parliament, but in still more popular public assemblages of the people. The retirement of the Queen during twenty-five years had not increased, even if it had not diminished, the popularity of the Crown. Happily, the then Prince of Wales, the late Edward VII., more than supplied the place of his retired mother, the duties of whose place he fulfilled with rare tact and supreme success for nearly thirty years. In thus loyally and dutifully discharging the duties of Royalty, without enjoying any of the enormous emoluments and privileges of the crowned monarch, King Edward, as Prince of Wales, maintained the popularity and prestige of the Crown, and added to the stability of the Throne which the sullen seclusion and sordid stinginess of his mother were calculated rather to decrease and diminish than to increase and maintain.
Many good and loyal people — Ministers of the Crown, members of Parliament, and private citizens— thought Queen Victoria ought to have abdicated the throne in favor of her eldest son, the late King, twenty-five years before her death. That she did not do so was largely due to her own parsimonious desire to continue to have and to hoard the pay and perquisites of the titular monarch, and to a scandalous political Court intrigue or conspiracy between the "German Gang" and a mob of Wesley-Methody Wowser politico-parsonical pulpiteers. The "German Gang" did not like the late King Edward, who, although he spoke English badly, with a German accent, was true pro-British in head and heart. The bad-breathed, Bible-banging Wowsers denounced him, when Prince of Wales, as a rake, and regarded him, when Rex, as a roue - whereas in neither capacity was old Nedward either.
King Edward was simply a good, healthy, hearty, happy man, loyal to the people and country over whom the chance of his German, parentage called him to reign as monarch. And right well did he reign: much better than his mother ever did or knew how to, or could even desire to do in view of her German prejudices arid predilections derived from, her German parentage, her German marriage, her German relations, her German friends, and her German acquaintances. King Edward did much to counteract and suppress German influences at the British Court. This made him unpopular with the "German Gang" of England, and with his nephew (the son of his sister, the Empress Frederick, nee Princess Royal, the eldest child of Queen Victoria), the present German Emperor! But Old Ned was recognised as the right sort in the right place, and a right good sport by the vast majority of loyal Britishers throughout the length and breadth of the British Empire.
It has been asserted with grim irony by some satirist of the Shavian sort, that "the late King Edward was the very best of the very bad batch of Brunswickers with which Germany has burdened England as the price paid for the Protestant succession; and the very best that we are likely ever to get out of the German Black Brunswick brood." But it will, perhaps, be prudent in these times "mingled with wrath and shame and dread" to touch but lightly on the matter of British loyalty to a German-derived dynasty, and to leave the matter just where it is while the Great German War is waging, and until we see, whether, when it is over, the late Queen Victoria's oldest grandson, the German Kaiser, will be in a position to fulfil his alleged threat to ascend the British throne by right of birth and conquest and right divine of directly descended legitimate kings.
A pretty parlous position of positive peril England would find herself in if she were compelled, for want of competent British commanders to entrust the command of her fleets to German popinjay admirals of the Louis of Battenberg stamp. How could British seamen go into action and fight with that courage, begotten of confidence in their commanders, if placed under the command of Germans when fighting against the submarines and fleets of Germany? It may be all right enough to import our kings and queens from Germany. and to accept our religion from Germany, in order to exclude the Stuarts and defy the Pope. But to permit British armies and fleets to be commanded by Germans, while Britain is fighting Germany to the death on land and sea, would be to give the world such an exhibition of child-like trust in the loyalty of the foreign foe with whom we are at war as would almost cause the ghosts of Wellington and Nelson to come forth from their graves in the crypt of St. Paul's Cathedral. How those war-gods twain of Britain would have been moved indignantly to denounce the perversity and poltroonory that would trifle with and imperil the prestige and power of England by thus juggling with the military might and jeopardising the naval supremacy of Britain which they and their brave and devoted soldiers and seamen fought and died to have and sustain!
A nation that is content to take its military and naval commanders from the enemy does not deserve to conquer or survive — is already half-conquered and well advanced along the path of national decadence and death. That Britain has not yet reached this parlous pass the removal of a German Battenberg from the position of First Sea Lord of the British Navy plainly proves. It is a happy augury of the successful outcome of this awful Armageddon now being waged by Britain, at any rate on the high seas. The Seven Seas are the highways of the peaceful commerce of the world. To protect and preserve them is the primary mission and paramount duty of Britain — to maintain them free and unimpeded for all nations willing to live and trade with her in peace. This mission Britain can discharge, this duty she can perform, without the aid or consent of Germany, either in peace or war, and most certainly without submitting her seamen and citizens to the humiliation of seeing her fleets commanded by Germans, and such Germans, too — those of the type of the peregrinating parasites, those morganatic bastard-born bummers, the Battenbergs!
JOHN NORTON.
Scott's Hotel. Melbourne.
(Hippomaniac's Day), Cup Carnival,
Anno Domini MDCCCCXIV -21/11/1914.
Scott's Hotel. Melbourne.
(Hippomaniac's Day), Cup Carnival,
Anno Domini MDCCCCXIV -21/11/1914.
A lot to unpack there, as they say, but we will have to wait until Mr John Norton can tell us how he really feels...
The piece in its alliterative entirety may be found here.
The piece in its alliterative entirety may be found here.
A Change of Title.
"The Dresden" Becomes the Bristol Piano Co., Ltd.
A Sturdy Sacrifice to Sentiment.
A discriminating public, in these days of war fever, declines any longer to be bound by the Shakesperean dictum that "A rose by any other name will smell as sweet," and insists that nothing with even a suspicion of Germanic origin shall grace its fireside, or find a place in its daily menu. Even the succulent German sausage, made of New Zealand meat by New Zealand tradesmen, has had to climb into its wrapper and change its name with all the facility of an elderly spinster after her first proposal of marriage. And this humorosity finds an echo in a dozen other directions. Even "Kruschen" salts, which are a purely Manchester manufacture from a chemical formula approximating to the Marienbad waters, have now to bear their distinctive English labels, and many a person whose name isn't Smith or Jones is being compelled to produce his birth certificate and show that his cognomen does not surreptitiously conceal a German descent. Apart from the humorous side of this attitude it undoubtedly displays a magnificent sentiment on the part of the people to keep their homes clean of any taint of reproach of supporting indirectly the enemies of the Empire. But naturally enough it has caused a considerable amount of inconvenience, where firms and other organisations have been trading under names which have some indirect association with Germany and the Germans. This has been exemplified in a score of ways, quite apart from the changing of the names of houses and streets. The fact that Germany has lost her good name in the eyes of the world is necessitating sacrifices from many British firms who have built up successful businesses under titles chosen from German cities or places. A local instance of this is the Dresden Piano Company, the most popular and most widely-successful firm of piano manufacturers and merchants in the Dominion. This firm is of English origin, is backed by English capital and is English throughout its whole nine octaves. It deals largely in English and Canadian pianos and musical instruments. The pianos stocked by the firm are notably those of John Broadwood and Sons, William Sames, Ltd., Cullard and Collard and Walter Collinson, all English makers of repute, whilst its organs come from the Canadian firms of Bell and Co., and the Imperial Organ Co., and its band instruments from the famous English Hawkes Co. But in deference to a public sentiment in this matter the firm has decided to sacrifice the title under which its business had been built up and it will in future trade as the Bristol Piano Company, Ltd., a title which will better convey the origin of its business and the nationality of the proprietors. -9/1/1915.
GAUDY GERMAN GOODS.
Pushed on the Public at Profitable Prices
"New Zealand Salesman," who reckons he has for the last forty years canvassed Godzone on the T.P. racket, and placed over L200,000 worth of German goods on the population, stuck a Union Jack in his hat last week and penned "Truth" a letter concerning the actual value of "Made in Yarmany" trash. He vouches for the accuracy of the following figures:— Wertheim sewing machines, landed in New Zealand 40s, sold for £12 8s 6d cash or Ll4 time payment; German pianos, landed at £16, sold for £39 cash or £45 time payment; German perambulators, landed cost 22s 6d, sold for 85s cash or 95s time payment; albums, landed at 6s 4d, sold for 55s or 60s time payment; field glasses, landed at 9s, sold for 57s cash or 70s time payment; watches (9ct ) landed at 24s, sold for £7 16s cash or £8 8s time payment. "Salesman" reckons that at present there's £3,000,000 worth of German goods held up in New Zealand until the merchants cover the "Made In Germany" brand with Yankee labels and dispose of the stuff to the unsuspecting public. -9/1/1915.
THE CRITIC
They may be great musicians, but the Germans seem to have put the world considerably out of tune.
Cables t'other day reported the invention by a German of a devilish contrivance for squirting flaming liquids long distances. Now, when the Allies hear the Huns say: "Let us spray," they had better "go and do likewise," or flee from the fire that is to come.
A Prussian officer has published a book entitled — Germany's future lies on the water. If they surpass her past lies on the land, they will be some lies.
Another hindrance to recruiting. Squatter Earnscleugh advertises in the "Alexandra Herald": — Wanted two men for poisoning; nine shillings a day. Why take five "bob" a day to run the risk of being shot or "gassed" at the front, when you can get nine roberts a day for being poisoned at home. -12/6/1915.
The German Emperor takes great pride in in a cannon of solid gold which he possesses. It cost £5000. Kaiser Billie was very pious in the days he had the golden toy manufactured. If all cannon in the world were made of gold and all gold was manufactured into cannon, this world would be a more peaceful and happy place to live in. -12/6/1915.
THE CRITIC
* * *The Kaiser let loose the dogs of war, and before they are chained up again he's likely to feel their teeth through his pants.
* * *A German aviator says that the height to which they can rise is 38,000 feet. Their baby-killing campaign on the East coast of Britain has shown the world that the depth to which they can sink is unprintable.
* * *Mrs. Cornelia Hussey, a New York suffragette, who died recently, left £2000 to the 'Murkan Woman's Suffrage Association. Doubtless the other Husseys will do themselves proud on the money.
* * *Should Germany be defeated, Kaiser Wilhelm, it is said, will retire to Norway, and live in seclusion for the rest of his days. "Critic" supposes he will find good accommodation for a man like himself in Hell, which is within easy walking distance of the township of Lier.
* * *Talk about the ignorance of the pressman! The current issue of the "Australasian Journalist," a publication written and edited by the cream of Australian and New Zealand newspaper men, in an article on the appointment of the New Zealand war correspondent, talks about the New Zealand expedition to NEW GUINEA! The public is certainly kept in the dark regarding many facts of military significance, but the "Journalist's" information is just about the limit. ''Critic" honestly thought the expedition went to Samoa.
* * *L.C.. of Mount Eden, takes up the implement which is supposed to be more destructive than soldiers' cutlery. He constructs a poem which scintillates in the "Lake County Express":
Call out the type that shall endorse.
The stamp of Britain's fighting force
A million men of Foot and Horse, And give the world — a lead.
"A lead?" No, no, no! Give 'em "some" lead — that's what we want 'em to do. -19/6/1915.
THE DEADHEAD'S DIARY
"Deadhead" mingled with the kiddies at Everybody's at Saturday's matinee when "War is Hell" was screened for public enlightenment. It illustrates a very sensational story of the invasion of a rural district by the Huns. A sturdy Belgian farmer, his wife and their 12 year-old son experience the bitter misfortunes of war. Their homestead is invaded, and because they refuse to say in which direction the British soldiers, who billetted on the farm during the previous night, have gone, the trio are subjected to cowardly brutalities. The father is made captive and tied to a tree to be shot, the mother is to be imprisoned in a chateau for the use of the German commanding officer, and the boy is ordered to shoot his father. A revolver is handed to him for that purpose. He is seen to point the weapon at his parent bound to a tree, and the agonised mother stands witness, surrounded by the unrelenting enemy. At the proper moment he turns the death-dealing projector on to the German general, who is shot dead, and during the ensuing consternation, the boy escapes and is pursued until the conclusion of the story, when the British Tommies arrive and mete out just punishment to the Huns. Within a few minutes the youthful audience had got the hang of the story. Every appearance of the heroic lad was hailed with frantic applause, and marked discrimination was made between the Huns and the Tommies by hoarse groans for the enemy and lusty cheers for our lads. An exceptionally exciting and humorous comic called "Hogan's Mussy Job" was also screened. Asked which they liked best, a batch of boys told the writer, "War Is Hell." Who says the barbarian is not born in us? -26/6/1915.
RATTLING THE HUNS.
1917!
| The Patriotic Pickpocket. The merchant in New Zealand who siezes upon the war as an excuse for bumping up the price of the neccesaries of life can only be likened to a common pickpocket — Public Opinion. -30/1/1915. |
THE CRITIC
They may be great musicians, but the Germans seem to have put the world considerably out of tune.
Cables t'other day reported the invention by a German of a devilish contrivance for squirting flaming liquids long distances. Now, when the Allies hear the Huns say: "Let us spray," they had better "go and do likewise," or flee from the fire that is to come.
A Prussian officer has published a book entitled — Germany's future lies on the water. If they surpass her past lies on the land, they will be some lies.
Another hindrance to recruiting. Squatter Earnscleugh advertises in the "Alexandra Herald": — Wanted two men for poisoning; nine shillings a day. Why take five "bob" a day to run the risk of being shot or "gassed" at the front, when you can get nine roberts a day for being poisoned at home. -12/6/1915.
The German Emperor takes great pride in in a cannon of solid gold which he possesses. It cost £5000. Kaiser Billie was very pious in the days he had the golden toy manufactured. If all cannon in the world were made of gold and all gold was manufactured into cannon, this world would be a more peaceful and happy place to live in. -12/6/1915.
THE CRITIC
* * *The Kaiser let loose the dogs of war, and before they are chained up again he's likely to feel their teeth through his pants.
* * *A German aviator says that the height to which they can rise is 38,000 feet. Their baby-killing campaign on the East coast of Britain has shown the world that the depth to which they can sink is unprintable.
* * *Mrs. Cornelia Hussey, a New York suffragette, who died recently, left £2000 to the 'Murkan Woman's Suffrage Association. Doubtless the other Husseys will do themselves proud on the money.
* * *Should Germany be defeated, Kaiser Wilhelm, it is said, will retire to Norway, and live in seclusion for the rest of his days. "Critic" supposes he will find good accommodation for a man like himself in Hell, which is within easy walking distance of the township of Lier.
* * *Talk about the ignorance of the pressman! The current issue of the "Australasian Journalist," a publication written and edited by the cream of Australian and New Zealand newspaper men, in an article on the appointment of the New Zealand war correspondent, talks about the New Zealand expedition to NEW GUINEA! The public is certainly kept in the dark regarding many facts of military significance, but the "Journalist's" information is just about the limit. ''Critic" honestly thought the expedition went to Samoa.
* * *L.C.. of Mount Eden, takes up the implement which is supposed to be more destructive than soldiers' cutlery. He constructs a poem which scintillates in the "Lake County Express":
Call out the type that shall endorse.
The stamp of Britain's fighting force
A million men of Foot and Horse, And give the world — a lead.
"A lead?" No, no, no! Give 'em "some" lead — that's what we want 'em to do. -19/6/1915.
THE DEADHEAD'S DIARY
"Deadhead" mingled with the kiddies at Everybody's at Saturday's matinee when "War is Hell" was screened for public enlightenment. It illustrates a very sensational story of the invasion of a rural district by the Huns. A sturdy Belgian farmer, his wife and their 12 year-old son experience the bitter misfortunes of war. Their homestead is invaded, and because they refuse to say in which direction the British soldiers, who billetted on the farm during the previous night, have gone, the trio are subjected to cowardly brutalities. The father is made captive and tied to a tree to be shot, the mother is to be imprisoned in a chateau for the use of the German commanding officer, and the boy is ordered to shoot his father. A revolver is handed to him for that purpose. He is seen to point the weapon at his parent bound to a tree, and the agonised mother stands witness, surrounded by the unrelenting enemy. At the proper moment he turns the death-dealing projector on to the German general, who is shot dead, and during the ensuing consternation, the boy escapes and is pursued until the conclusion of the story, when the British Tommies arrive and mete out just punishment to the Huns. Within a few minutes the youthful audience had got the hang of the story. Every appearance of the heroic lad was hailed with frantic applause, and marked discrimination was made between the Huns and the Tommies by hoarse groans for the enemy and lusty cheers for our lads. An exceptionally exciting and humorous comic called "Hogan's Mussy Job" was also screened. Asked which they liked best, a batch of boys told the writer, "War Is Hell." Who says the barbarian is not born in us? -26/6/1915.
WAR-WHOOPING WOWSERS
Bad-breathed, blatant, bellicose, bible-banging bunkumites are, and have been these last ten months, bellowing from pulpit and platform, and in the press, for the brutal and bloody business of human butchery. With all the fanatical fervor of hematomaniacal helots, these whiskered wowsers, wearing their hairy haloes under their chins, howl for whole hecatombs of "Huns" and holocausts of Austrians and Turks. These 'gentle shepherds," in the name of Jesus, preach a crusade of slaughter against Christian and heathen alike. They demean themselves pretty much as demented Moslem dervishes proclaiming a jehad against Christian "infidel dogs," or the satellites of the Holy Synod in Russia prepare a judenhetz or pogrom of persecution against the Jews.
Certainly it would seem to the skeptical cynic that if these cowardly clerical curs be Christians, Christ's crucifixion on Calvary's cruel tree was, and is, a cursed consummation and a vain voluntary sacrifice on the part of Him whose advent was heralded by the Angelic Host with the heavenly hosanna of "Peace on Earth, Good-will toward all men.'' Jesus of Nazareth Himself said that He came to give a new commandment unto men: "that ye love one another" — were His own words.
These woeful, wilful, wanton Wowsers would seem by their sanguinary sermonisings to say that Jesus was a fool or a fraud in proclaiming the Glad Tidings of the New Gospel of Peace. They are for any war at any time and all the time, under any and all circumstances. No matter whether the war be one of murderous aggression, like that against China, to force British-Indian-grown opium upon the Chinese, the Wowsers are with the aggressors. If it be a war against the Soudanese, whom Gladstone declared to be rightly struggling to be free from the damnable despotism of the Khedive of Egypt, the savage, servile satrap of the Sultan of Turkey (in fighting whom Australians are to-day desperately sacrificing their lives), the Wowsers made it "werry willin'" for war, on behalf of the Moslem despots, Ismael the Infamous and Abdul the Damned.
One cannot wonder much at Wowsers of the Wesleyan missionary persuasion whooping for war against wicked heathen Moslems like the Arabs and the Turks. But when they whoop as loudly for a war of aggression against a Christian community like the Boers in South Africa, one almost wonders whether there really is a God in Heaven above, and if He actually did send His Son to redeem the world, now and here, and save mankind from the damnation of hell hereafter. Yet, when we know who and what these saintly shriekers for slaughter really are, and what they do, and how they do it, and why they do it, they can only be classed as blasphemous bounders, and dirty dogs of the most dastardly description.
In times of peace these pick thank parsons pretend to denounce war as of the devil, preach peace as the primary principle of Christianity. Napoleon, speaking exactly one hundred years ago of the tricky, not to say treacherous, characteristics of the Russians (England's most powerful Allies in the present war), said: "Scratch a Russian and you'll ever find the eternal Tartar!" The great Corsican conqueror spoke as one having personal practical experience of Russia and the Russians. In like manner, those who know the warwhooping Wowser of to-day might as truthfully say, ''Scratch a parsonical pulpiteer, and in nine cases out of ten you will find the cut throat Christian." It was this truculent type of Christian who, during the Boer war, damned that model Christian warrior and pious patriot, President Kruger, with the foul breath of their mendacious mouths.
These are the same wretched Wowsers who are now so busy bewrating and blasting Kaiser Bill and his horrid hordes of Huns. Yet it seems but yesterday that these same shriekers for the blood of Butcher Bill and his Bands of Bloody Huns were singing the praises of Albert the Good and Victoria the Gooder, Butcher Bill's grandpa and grandma, the German Queen and Prince Consort of England. The bee-yoo-tee-fool bronze effigies of these two defunct Germans still continue to obstruct and disfigure the finest open space in Sydney. They still challenge the patriotism and shock the sense, of seemly sentiment of all British citizens who are compelled to daily see and suffer these two monstrous mementoes of German dynastic domination over England.
Kaiser Bill is the oldest grandchild of the late lamented Queen Victoria. He is the eldest son of his father the late Emperor Frederick, who married the Princess Royal, the first-born child of her mother, Victoria Wettin, whose mother married the Duke of Kent, one of the blackguardly brood of the bad and mad George the Third. Kaiser Bill's hatred of England is believed to be due to several reasons. First of all: he regards himself by right of birth and blood, as the real, if not the recognised ruler of the British Empire. He and his Huns are said to attribute the painful and premature death of' his father to a complaint which his father contracted from his mother, and which ho has transmitted to Kaiser Bill's person in the shape of a suppurating ear and a withered arm. The disease from which Kaiser Bill suffers, and of which his father died, is said to be common to both the Hanoverian and Wettin branches of the German House of Brunswick, imported from Germany to rule over England in order to preserve that peculiar form of Protestant piety and patriotism of which these Bad Bill-baiting Wowsers are the faithful and fitting exponents.
It is truly bewildering to behold the horror and indignation of Bible-banging bummers at the doings of Kaiser Bill and his Huns when their lickspittle loyalty to his morally-rotten and physically putrid progenitors in England is recalled. Albert the Good was a sort of English patron saint, made in Germany; and his little dot of a wife, Wettin, who only fluked out of being born in Germany, was idolised by these Wowsers as though she were the Queen of Heaven instead of an imported German Queen of England. Of course, the wonder of this wowser worship of a German frau on the throne of England ceases when it is remembered how the Wowsers of an earlier day invited a dirty, dastardly Dutchman, with the instincts of a goat and the habits of a pig of Sodom, to come over from Holland and save them from "Popery and Wooden shoes."
William the Third, Prince of Orange — the Dutch Deliverer as William Cobbett called the author of the Massacre of Glencoe — was a dirty dog, whom the majority of Wowsers to-day still worship as their political patron saint and their religious saviour. This, too, do Wowsers still do in spite of the infamous fact that this Dirty Dutchman was an atheist and notoriously addicted to unnatural vice. What even Wowsers could see in such a foully filthy fellow as to find in him their last hope against Popery, and the sole and sure support of Protestantism, surpasses comprehension, unless it was that they saw in such a fearsomely feculent fellow a fit instrument to do the dirty job they had in hand - to deliver Great Britain up to the rule of foreigners.
The process of the promoting and preserving of Protestantism in England has been a sad and shocking story of ruffianism and robbery, lust and loot, murder and mendacity, treason and treachery. These Wowsers who are now howling so horribly about the German Huns, took their religion as made in Germany, by a renegade German monk, Martin Luther. To this day they acclaim as the chief political promoter of their particular form of Protestant piety a renegade Roman Catholic ruler, Henry the Eighth. This was another filthy, ferocious fellow, who, because the Pope of Rome wouldn't let him pursue his immoralities under the sanction of the Holy Church, broke with the faith of his fathers and the religion of the nation, and robbed the monastries and nunneries — the patrimony of the poor.
This murderous monster and patron saint of English political Protestantism celebrated his five or six successive marriages by either divorcing or murdering his last preceding wife. One of these was Anne Boleyn, mother of his worthy daughter Elizabeth. Anne was a bawd, and was said and believed by those who must have known, to be Henry's own daughter by a previous paramour, whom, strange to say, he had neither married nor murdered. Wowsers are proud of their Martin Luthers, their Henry Tudors, and their Williams of Orange, to whom they refer as the divinely inspired prophets and providentially appointed promoters and preservers of Protestantism in England ''as by law established." But why should these Wowsers so suddenly turn against such good Protestants as Kaiser Bill and his Huns? From them they have been proud, in the past, to receive not only their peculiar, very peculiar, form of Protestant religion, but also to accept from them Hun-born and Hun-bred Kings and Queens to reign over Englishmen.
The true answer to the above question would seem a lame and impotent conclusion, most humiliating to the boasted national pride of the British John Bull, who is never tired of telling himself and the world that Britons never, never, never shall be slaves, and of bellowing "'God Save Our Gracious King" or Queen, Dutch or German man or woman, as the case may be. Since Englishmen chopped off Charles's head, and desocrated Cromwell's grave, they've, never had a pure-bred Britisher to reign over them. In deference to the demand of the Wowsers of the times, they've imported their monarchs from Holland or Germany. As the result of their fantastic and fatal fancy for the foreign article they've been getting just the sort of shoddy silver sovereigns that they deserve, and might have expected.
The imported German dynasty now reigning in England has been a very bad lot. The very best of a very bad lot was the late King Edward. Old Ned was a good, genial sort of a chap, with a love of peace and endowed with tact which enabled him to do much during his all too brief reign, to preserve the peace of Europe, and to hold in cheek the Hunnish instincts of his nephew, Bad Bill of Berlin. Edward the Peacemaker (or Peace Preserver, as he would have been more appropriately called) was kept from the throne too long by his greedy, grasping, grumpy old mother, who ought to have been compelled to abdicate in his favor at least twenty-five years before she died and went to glory, where all good misers like she most surely go, along o' Dives!
Will the present and rising generation of Britishers in Australia believe that it was precisely against King Edward — the only good monarch Britain has ever had, and is ever likely to have, from the bad, black Brunswick German gang of imported rulers — that the Wowsers raged when he was Prince of Wales? Scarcely. Yet such was the case. Why? simply because he could not ''wowse'' as his mother Wettin did, and had made it plain that he had no time for Wowsers. Because Albert Edward, as Old Ned was then called, was a lusty sort of a lad, with a healthy weakness for wine and women, and a love for a "lark"' when, out o' nights with the boys in the parlors of Piccadilly or the playhouses in the Strand, the wry-faced, wire-whiskered Wesleyan Wowsers and Methody mug-wumps used to talk at him from the safe pulpit, porches of their back-slum Bethels, and blasphemously beseech the Almighty God to prolong his mother's life in order that she might continue to keep Edward from his rightful place on the throne until such time as he had learned to wail like a Wowser, or died in his sins, and gone to the devil.
But Ned did neither; he wouldn't die, and wouldn't, because he couldn't, wowse, so outlived his miserable old mother, who ought to have abdicated in his favor twenty-five years before she died — practically a patient in charge of her faithful, long-tried, and long-suffering body servant, the celebrated John Brown, who was the only man who ever dared to smoke a pipe in her late Most Gracious Majesty's presence. Such are some of the strange preferences and prejudices for which Wowsers are famous, or infamous. They prefer as a Monarch a miserable, miserly old woman to a good-hearted, sound-minded son, somewhat of a scape-grace when a boy, but something of a Solon when a man. These are the blatant, Bible-banging brutes who are now bellowing for the blood of Kaiser Bill and his Huns from platform and pulpit, and in the Press. As if war were not a sufficiently savage and shocking affair without the added fury of religious humbugs and the fanaticism of sanctimonious savages, who thus blaspheme in the very name of the Gentle Jesus of Nazareth.
JOHN NORTON.
Ss. "Bombale." At sea — en route Brisbane to Sydney.
Thursday, June 17th, 1915. -3/7/1915.
THE CRITIC
A correspondent writes: The mean, Scot Is beaten at last — and by a German, too — the dirty dog! This New Zealand specimen of a Hun is a cowfarmer out-back, some six miles from the nearest township, and he wants the Government to pay for the chaff eaten by his boy's pony because the youngster rode the animal on Saturday afternoons to attend compulsory drill.
* * *The "Inangahua Times" is not as rash as the "Wairarapa Rage." In a cable it says: — From Bowjuny westward we broke twelve kilometers south of Onstrow and reached the Bug. The "Rage" would have boldly completed the final word.
* * *Verily, this war craze is responsible for a lot. The Rev. G. W. Dale, vicar of Littlethorpe (Eng.), at a Middlesborough Education Committee, moved the expulsion of German children from English schools. And this driveller Dale pockets the ducats by professing to be a disciple of Him who said, "Suffer the little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not."
* * *An Old Country paper says:— A laborer at Middlesborough was fined forty shillings for treating a man to a pint of beer. If the "collision" Government ever brings an anti-shouting law into force here, there are lots of hard drinkers that it won't effect.
* * *The "Grey River Argus" must have an intimate knowledge of the Imperial army. Speaking of an episode it says: Tommy arrived and bayonetted the sentry. Just who Tommy is it does not reveal. "Critic" it sure that it is not Tommy Wilford, as he was bayonetting corespondents in the Divorce Court the other day.
* * *"These yeur paypurs dew mek a mess of the cabuls. 'Ere's one in th' 'Unterville Hexpress' at says— Assurance of Polish loyalty. Ov course it means 'polished loyalty.' Ah cud hedit sum o' them paypurs — specially the 'Daminyun' an' th' 'Hinangerhuer Times' better'n all thur bloom hell, hell, bees. It's my a-pin-yun that non' on 'em bilong th' Ban' a Oap." -28/8/1915.
(Translation if necessary: "These here papers do make a mess of the cables. Herre's one in the Hunterville Express that says - Assurance of Polish loyalkty. Of course it means "polished loyalty." I could head some of them papers - especially the 'Dominion' and the 'Inangahua Times' better than all the...bloody?? LLBs??...[here your humble translator draws a blank] It's my opinion that none of them belong in the Band of Hope."
The Band of Hope was a contemporary temperance organisation - members would literally "sign the pledge" to abstain. I assume the reference was to the ease with which members could join.
| A German prisoner captured the other day, in referring to one of the Kaiser's inevitable speeches, said, "The Kaiser spoke a great deal. We were tired of listening to him." — (Cable message.) THE GERMAN ARMY: "You're a damfine parrot all right, only you talk too much." -7/8/1915. |
A very amusing occurrence happened a little while ago in Belgium, which, however, might have ended very sadly. At one point of the British line the trenches were only a few yards distant from the German trenches. One day a German shouted across in English: "Is there anyone there from Lochgelly?" A Lochgelly man who happened to be in the trenches recognised the voice as being that of a German waiter who used to be in the restaurant there. So he answered, "Yes, Karl, there's four of us here." "Good." was the reply; "divide that among you." and a bomb came flying into the trench. Fortunately it did not explode. But the Lochgelly men were not to be beaten, so they stood up and levelled their rifles at the enemy's trench. Then one of them shouted, "Garcon." Up bobbed the German waiter's head, but only to bob back again as four bullets whizzed past his shining helmet. 2/10/1915.
REMINISCENNCES AND RECORDS
by "Boxer Major" (excerpt)
"Yes, Major, I am the old war-horse of the '80's and '90s. As you know, we had to fight hard the battles of Labor, without fee or reward, gaining ground by inches (like the trench fighting today), and in the end we so consolidated our forces that the rest became easy for the present-day almighties. What was our reward — the pioneers, I mean? Why, pushed out. Although I am 61 I am not done yet. The fighting blood of the Macs is still going strong, and shortly my voice, though silent lately, will be heard again.
Dear "Boxer-Major," don't think me a vain old chap. No, a thousand noes. My fighting blood is in my dear son George, and I am proud of my soldier boy. I called to see you, but you were out, but hope and trust to see you personally when more convenient, and have a chat about old times. With the kindest of good wishes, yours very truly, R. (Bob) McKillop."
I am glad that my surmise, when I got Coy.-Sergeant-Major McKillop's letter, proved to be correct, and can assure my old friend and co-worker in the Labor trenches of the first nineties that, so far from thinking him vain, I envy his natural pride in his brave and evidently highly-able and reputable son. I only wish I could share it with him; but my only son lies under his native New Zealand sod, dead in his early manhood. I envy every man who has given sons to stay the hellish Huns in their damnable, long-maturing plot to rule the world by brute force and make us all talk German.
Fancy the awfulness of a whole world sputtering, spitting and gargling nauseating gutterals in what the foul, treacherous, brutish, women-warring and baby-killing Huns have the hoggish impudence and abysmal stupidity to call a language! That alone should bring recruits on the run to every standard in every every English-speaking community in the world. Kultur? In the name of all that is reasonable and decent, how can anybody be cultured in German? As well try to be refined and impressive in Digger Indian or West Australian aboriginal! -2/10/1915.
THE CRITIC
THE CRITIC
* * *The dove of peace is having a hard time finding a place to build its nest these days.
* * *A Christchurch noospaper booms Marconi for having invented a device which renders it possible to see through brick walls. "Critic" always thought that had been made possible by the chap who invented windows.
* * *The butter boodler, as he lays back in the cosy recesses of the upholstered car as it drones smoothly along the winding road, says "This is the Life," and the miner who consumes the concentrated cow-deuce among the dust of the underground production says "Phthisis the Death."
* * *A Southern dishwipe (or rag - GBC) in its report of a court case says: After hearing the evidence for the prosecution, counsel asked leave to amend the flea. If counsel had half the fleas owned by the dawg of a fellow "Critic" knows, he'd be glad to have the little bloodsuckers ended rather than amended.
* * *"Critic" often has wondered what was meant by the expression "High School." An advertisement in the London "Spectator" has let him into the secret. It says:
Buxton College, Derbyshire, is one thousand feet high.
How's that for high. Hold Hengland isn't played out yet and Uncle Sam's skyscrapers have got to go some to ketch up!
* * * George V. unless his picture lies, Where workers have the vote.
Would not be chosen, for his size, To keep the Royal Goat.
The Russian Tsar, his cousin dear, Is not tall, please note;
And never would be chosen here. To milk the Royal Goat
But Cousin Bill though smaller still — In their eyes he's the "mote" —
Is bent on showing, come what will, He is the Royal Goat.
* * *Recent cable as a sign of the Christian times:
The German aviator who killed Pegoud, the famous French aviator, will receive an Iron Cross of the First Class.
Due ceremony would, doubtlessly, be observed and an appropriate text quoted at the Hun commemoration services. Luke 23 ch. 41 verse, probably "for we receive the due rewards of our deeds; but this man hath done nothing amiss." This causes "Critic"to strike his Christian lyre (as he would like to strike many others)
How flexible our Christian law! If one, when war doth cease
Would slay his fellow man in blood with sword or fowling piece
Upon a scaffold high he'll stand to pay the murderer's toll,
While softly prays the trembling priest to purge his tainted soul
But if in war his deed is done, there follows this inanity
A Cain who wears Christ's holy cross - the seal of Christianity.
* * *He was a Wellington man who had applied to the powers that be to be included in the tunnelling corps which has volunteered to bore holes into Turkey. His hair was fairly grey and he gave his age as 38. "How is it, Couger, that your moustache is quite dark and your hair is so grey?" inquired the examining doctor. "Bll' me, d'ye call yerself a doctor an' don't know that? Why any kid in the street knows that me 'air 'as 'ad twenty years' start o' me moue. Why shouldn't it be darker?" -16/10/1915.
"HASTE TO THE WEDDING."
In order to fill the gaps in the population caused by the frightful slaughter on the battlefields, German girls are being encouraged by the authorities to marry when very young. — Cablecram.
The Hunnish maids wed early now — At ten and twelve they marry;
For since the Kaiser wants more Huns, They may no longer tarry,
The Kaiser wants to fill the place, Of those whose blood he's shedding;
So Hunnish maids flock out of school, And hasten to the wedding. -23/10/1915.
WILY TRICKS AT GALLIPOLI
Australian Trooper gives the Turk a Testimonial
A "Sport" Whom the Australians have Christened "fatty Burns"
"It is only fair to acknowledge that, judged from a humane point of view, the methods of warfare pursued by the Turks are vastly superior to those which disregarded their German masters." — Lord Kitchener in his great speech in the House of Lords.
"Foreign travel expands the mind." sententiously observed Trooper Billy Clancy, of the Australian Light Horse, now in a London hospital (to a "Weekly Despatch" representative.) "I had to travel in a troopship to Gallipoli to learn that all I thought I knew about the Turk was not so. Many's the time I didn't know anything at all about Turks. I expected to find him a lot of jelly-bellies in baggy trousers and turned-up slippers; with gaspipe guns and hooked noses. I thought they'd be cruel cowards, rotten shots, and easy marks. I thought I was going to serve it up hot to the men with the bull's-wool whiskers. And that was just where I was wrong; I know better now.
"To begin with, my friend Bismillah is quite as well equipped as anyone else for modern war. He has a better rifle than we have, if anything. I have two scars on my left forearm that show he knows how to use it. He carries plenty of cartridges, and in his pockets two or three up-to-date bombs,
GUARANTEED TO HURT the other fellow. Sometimes he paints his face green and lets on that he is a tree. Sometimes he quits his trench and pretends he is a mountain goat, trying for a record in the hill-climbing class. But he's a soldier all the time — a born soldier and a brave one. Fighting for home and country dear is meat and drink to him.
"They used to say the Turks were cruel and tortured the wounded. No Australian believes that at Anzac now. Why, there was a Turk in the trenches opposite us at Russel's Top that we used to call Fatty Burns. Of course, that was not his name, but we called him that because he looked so much like Fatty Burns that kept the Ninety-mile shanty on the road to Winton. He had the same short beard and Roman nose, the same bright black eye and a benevolent expression as much as to say 'I wouldn't lamb a bushman down.' This Turk was the dead spit of Fatty — like brothers they were.
"He was always sticking up his head and getting fired at. Then he would signal a miss and laugh like one o'clock. You could hear him quite plain, for the trenches were only twenly-five yards apart. At last the fellows gave up shooting at him.
'IT'S ONLY FATTY BURNS,' they use to say. We got to look for his cheerful grin and sometimes we used to fire just to hear him laugh.
"One morning early, we made a bit of a demonstration, and left two of our boys wounded out on an open space between the trenches. No one could go to them, and there they lay in the burning sun. Presently somebody said, 'Here comes Fatty Burns.' The old chap puts his head and shoulders out of the trench and salaams like a Cairo shopkeeper. Were were all struck dumb. Next he climbed out of the trench, which was a bold thing to do, and walked over to our wounded. A dozen rifles were covering him, and I expect he knew it. But Fatty just strolled.
"You could have heard a pin drop, as the saying is. We watched him stroll over to the two men and lift up their heads and give them a drink of water each. He tried to make them comfortable, with us looking on, hardly able to believe our eyes. Then he strolled back quite unconcerned and we gave him a cheer. That's not all. Just before dusk he came out again, and dragged both men over near a bit of cover, so that we could get them in when dark came. And those are the people that were supposed to be cruel!
"We always had too much bully beef, and when we left the firing line we had to dispose of the surplus and leave the trench in order for those who relieved us. This time we made up our minds to chuck the beef — there were three four-pound tins of it — across to old Fatty Burns. We did, and there was
A TERRIBLE HULLABALOO when it landed. I suppose they thoupht they were some new-fangled bombs. But an hour or so later someone threw a whole lot of fine dates into the trench, and we reckoned it was Fatty. Someone said they might be poisoned, but we risked that and enjoyed them fine.
"But that's not all. A day or two after we returned to the firing line we got one of our meat-tins back — with additions. I just had time to throw my overcoat down on it when it exploded. The overcoat was never any more good, and it wasn't Fatty Burns's fault that we were sound after the meat tin came back. He had put in a stick of gelignite and filled it up with the remains of an old clock and some more scraps of iron and things. The clock-wheels fair murdered my overcoat. But what an old sport!
"There was a Maori up on Walker's Ridge who was a very fine swimmer and diver; he could stay under water longer than any man I ever saw. When he was spelling he would go in swimming, no matter what the shrapnel was like on the beach. And there was a Turkish sniper up on 'Baby 700' who was after his goal, and used to fire at him all the time he was swimming. That made a bit of fun for Te Patara, who used to tantalise the sniper something cruel.
"But these Turks have a lot of time to think, and one day the sniper turned up with a pal and a loader as well. They made it very hot for the Maori gent, who found the bullets arriving two to the second in one long stream. He kept under water and
BREATHED THROUGH HIS EARS, or something. Anyhow, he got flustered and made a long dive for the shelter of an iron barge that was stranded on the beach. He got the cover all right and stood up behind the barge in about a foot of water. Abdullah and Co., up in the hills made up their minds to keep him there.
"I should say they got two rifles fixed on each end of the barge and fired them at irregular intervals. And every now and then they would bombard the barge, 'ping, ping,' just to let him know they were watching. It wasn't a particularly warm day, there was a cold sea breeze. Te Patara had no dressing-gown at all, and about two hundred of the boys were down on the beach under cover giving him advice. It was good enough advice, but it was dangerous to take it. He only got away after dark, and then he was the chilliest Maori I ever saw. He seemed to have lost some of his love for swimming, too.
"We reckoned the Turk would not stand up to the bayonet; and he certainly ran away from it a good many times. Then the First Brigade was sent out to take the trenches at Lonesome Pine, and got the surprise of their lives. A good deal of the fighting was in roofed-in trenches, where it was as dark as Jack Johnson. And there Bismillah stood up and fought with the bayonet. He wasn't a bit particular; if he couldn't use the point he used the butt,
CLUBBING AND HACKING like a madman. That rough-house in the dark, through 150 yards of underground trenches, was one of the toughest fights of 1915. And, the Turk took all the beating the First Brigade could give him. He died fighting, but he would not run.
"Between Anafarta Village and the big salt lake there's a wide valley of agricultural land; the maps do not show how big it is. Before the landing at Suvla Bay all this land was under cultivation, and we used to watch the Turkish farmers at work. They were old boys with big long beards, and we used to imagine them going about saying to one another. 'By the beard of the Prophet,' and things like that. But we decided that they were quite harmless, and we let them get in their crops without touching them in any way. A good many of us were thinking of the crops ripening 8,000 miles away south, and us not there to help to get them in. So we let these farmers do as they pleased.
"Then came the landing at Suvla; and do you know these old boys raked up great long Snider rifles from somewhere, that fired an expanding bullet big enough to kill an elephant. One of my mates was hit with one, and it blew the shoulder clean off him. And these old boys fought as bitter as poison. Then the Regular Turkish Army came there, and when the officers
FOUND OUT WHAT THESE FARMERS WERE DOING, they kicked up an awful row and took the old guns away from them. We noticed that they went out of use very suddenly, and a prisoner we took told us how it happened. But it shows that the Turks want to fight fair, and that was our experience always.
"This prisoner was a curious fellow. He spoke as good English as I did, and he told me that he used to serve coffee at a big London resturant. He said he used to go round in a Turkish uniform with a sort of truck, and make special Turkish coffee for those who wanted it. Of course, I did not believe that, where's the sense of it? But he told me a lot of things about the Turks I never knew before, and put them in a new light to me. .After all they are only fighting for their own country, and every man ought to do that.
"Whoever planned their defences was a master hand. Every trench is enfiladed from some other one, and the lines of defence fall back, each one endangered to the attacker by that behind it. Some of their trenches were nothing but death-traps to anyone who might choose to occupy them, so skilfully were their machine-guns and snipers posted. I can tell you that we learned a lot about trench digging from our despised brother Bismillah before we had been a month on Gallipoll.
Last of all is the way their guns are placed. Ever since the middle of August the shell-fire has got a lot worse at Anzac, and the big shells come from all sorts of quarters. You can see them coming high in the air, evidently from high trajectory fire. And they come from all directions. The Asiatic shore musts be
A NESTING PLACE FOR HIDDEN HOWITZER BATTERIES, from Kum Kale along to Chanak. These shells do not come regularly or often, but the guns have the ranges of our trenches to a nicety, and no one is safe. The beach is the worst place of all, and we have got to hate our spell worse than poison. It is a commonplace at Anzac that the safest place there is the firing line. There we have shelter that is good against the shells. Anywhere else you can't have a smoke or a swim or a meal in peace. When the padre holds a service there is always a look-out man to keep a watch for shells and enemy aeroplanes.
"Yes, the Turk has taught us to respect him for a fair and brave fighter and a dashed sight better man than the fat-faced Germans I've seen driving him against our trenches with their revolvers and the flat of their swords. He is a cunning beggar, is Bismillah, but we bear him no malice for that. It is a pity he was dragged into this scrap by those German beasts. They are the enemy we are all longing to have a cut at. But when poor old Bismillah comes charging in droves against our trenches we hardly like to shoot him down with machine-guns. As one of our chaps said, 'It hardly seems fair to take the money.'" 13/11/1915.
WANTED: A WHOLE MAN
Dear "Truth," — I am a spinster 25 years old. Since my 15th birthday I have earned a living for myself. I have the natural instincts of a woman and would like to have a home of my own. I can cook, I can wash, I can mend, and I can manage a household, and, also, I love children, and could be a faithful wife to my husband, but no one has done me the honor to ask for my hand. I feel my prospects to fulfil the duty for which the Almighty created woman is daily getting poorer. The moloch war is demanding more and more victims in the flower of their manhood. I hate war, I detest strife. I do not care if Sultan or Tsar is lording it in Constantinople. I hardly read the papers any longer where to-day's news is a contradiction of yesterday's. I have enough sense to notice that we have been deliberately misled, that our lion-hearted boys have been led by incompetent officers, our Government has done nothing to stop exploitation. They allow enormous unearned profits to fill the pockets of land-owners and exporters, but when the workman wants higher wages, he is told, he must not be unpatriotic. Yesterday a girl friend of mine asked me if I had seen in the papers what a chance I had now to get a husband all for my own! She showed me what Lady MacKenzie, Lady Biron, the Marchioness of Townshend, and Lady Limerick asked Britain's women to do. Twice since this dreadful war started I have been ashamed to be British-born. The first time when a hon. member said: "We want Germany beaten black and blue and ruined politically, socially and commercially." I thought we made war to stop the Kaiser's ambitions and to stop militarism, not to enslave a whole nation. The hon. member is only an insignificant politician whose words carry no weight, and when he chooses to make himself ridiculous by losing his temper he doesn't do much harm. But what shall I say of leading English ladies who want to treat women worse than cattle on their stud farms. If they are willing to sell their own daughters to the highest bidders, if they chain them to used-up reprobates that is their own look out. If I marry the man I love, I marry him for better or worse, and if his health breaks down I hope I shall do what millions have done before me, and stand at the wash tub if necessary. If a young man sacrifices his health for the sake of his country, it is the duty of the State to care for the broken hero, even if the ladies have only one flunky to pander to their luxurious laziness instead of a small army of servants. For my part I want a whole man and not a broken hero, and if I cannot get him whole, I prefer to be an
OLD MAID. -6/11/1915.
IN DEFENCE OF BROKEN HEROES.
Dear "Truth." — In answer, to "Old Maid," in your issue of the 6th inst., she appears to be very badly done by, as regards matrimony. She must be very hard to please, or extremely critical. If not a "broken hero," how about one of the many "cold footers" that are shirking their responsibility? Evidently German militarism is preferred by her to war against it. Thank goodness that all our women are not so narrow-minded as "Old Maid," or it would be a poor look out for our King and Empire. We want Germany beaten not only black and blue but numerous other colors besides, and I hope to be one of the many who are going and have gone, to crush for ever a race whose ghastly atrocities on helpless women and children will always be remembered by other nations for countless generations to come. I wonder what "Old Maid" thought when she read of the death of Nurse Cavell! I wonder if it awakened any feeling of sentiment within her? Is it not worth while having "heroes" to avenge such a crime as this, even though they get broken in the doing of it? Then again, re the hon. member's remarks, I could not place her, after reading her letter, on the name par as the hon. member as far as brains are concerned. It is quite evident that "Old Maid" cannot have any brothers doing their little bit or else she would be only too glad to care for one of our many "broken heroes" that have been maimed fighting for King and Empire. "Old Maid" ought to learn to become a little more broad-minded, and not rush into print with a matter she has absolutely proved that she has not any knowledge of. She could turn her spare time to much better advantage by by assisting the many of her sex who are preparing the little necessaries for our "broken heroes" and our lads who are at present sacrificing their all in in the interests of Justice and our Empire.
Yours, etc. VERITAS." Waverley. -13/11/1915.
WHERE ARE THE FARMERS' SONS?
Dear "Truth." — In your issue of the 6th lnst., I noticed a letter headed, ''Wanted, a Whole Man." I have much pleasure in seconding "Old Maid's" statements, which we all know are quite correct. As was stated in the letter, the war is demanding more and more victims in the flower of their manhood. The farmers have got their nests well feathered, also the exporters: but the poor working man is told to be contented with what he gets. Where are the farmers' boys to-day? They are on the farms enjoying themselves with pleasure and the best of everything; but where were they when the great industrial strike was on in Wellington and other cities about two years ago? Well, we all know where they were. They were drawing ten "bob" a day batonning the working man down because he was striking out for his rights. To-day the working man is the first to go and fight for his country, but two-thirds of the farmers' sons are afraid to leave their mummies. I can any I did enlist but was rejected owing to bad teeth. I should be greatly obliged to you if you would furnish "Old Maid" with my address. I would like to correspond with her. My age is 24 years and I have a permanent billet and am sound and can call myself "A whole man" not "A Broken Hero."
Yours, etc., GENUINE -20/11/1915.
"WANTED: A WHOLE MAN"
Dear "Truth," — Seeing in this week's issue a letter entitled, "Wanted: A Whole Man," and signed ''Old Maid." I thought I would write and ask if it would be possible for me to find out the name of your correspondent. I do not know in this matter whether you can or will be willing to assist me; but as my views and those of the lady who writes are similar, I feel desirous of making her acquaintance. Hoping that I am not taking up too much of your valuable space. I enclose stamps for reply. — Yours, etc, "ANXIOUS." -20/11/1915.
There is a very interesting account of life in the trenches in Flanders published in the "Cornhill Magazine." The writer recounts some of the conversational exchanges which go on daily between our soldiers and the enemy. One of the Germans shouted a taunt that we were hard up for bombs. An English corporal answered, "We ain't short of bombs: 'ave a few to be goin' on with." Then one of our Tommies shouts "Hi, there! Where's our Soho barber's assistant that thinks he can talk english?" "I'm here," answers a German, "And if I couldn't speak better English than you, I'd be ashaming Soho." The private, a little nettled, rejoined, "You're doing that, anyway, you bloomin' renegade dog-stealer. Why didn't you pay your landlady in Lunnon for the lodgin's you owed when you run away?" The answer is "Schwein hund." and bullets rattle against the parapet. Lighthearted conversations in tragic circumstances. -4/12/1915.
HUNS ON ICE
Now Jacky from the Sunny South is far across the sea,
And with his brothers of the North he fights for liberty.
He gaily sings his martial song: "Australia will be there;"
And with the Lion and Tiger you will see the native bear.
Winter has set in in Russia, and the German troops are suffering so severely that any further advance is hopeless. — Cablecram.
The Hun set out without a doubt of conquering the Russian;
To shoot the bear within his lair and make the country Prussian.
He made a boast to lead his host victoriously to Petrograd,
But winter came and stopped his game, and now his movement's retrograde. -25/12/1915.
Inquisitive Sonny
He was a Chauvinist (beg pardon, an Imperialist) of the first water, and had instructed his little son to inquire of his pa if he was in need of any information at all concerning the Empiah's management, with the following result. Sonny: "Say, pa. What would happen if Germany won the war?" "What would happen? Why we'd be put under martial rule; all our rights and privileges would be cut off. The enemy would take all our vast wealth and we would not be allowed out of doors after the hour of nine. Just as they did in Alsace and Lorraine — our, well, we would be slaves." "Yes, pa, and 'Britons never, never shall be slaves.'" "That's right, my son," said papa proudly. "Say, pa, there must be a lot of wealthy people in England who are going to the war — they must be nearly all very rich people, eh?" "Oh, no, my son, quite a lot of them are workers." "What, more than half of them?" "Oh, yes, nearly all of them." "But, if they are workers, they can't have very much wealth or they would not be workers." "Oh, no, they're not very wealthy, but they have their freedom and their country to fight for." "Well, pa, if all the workers struck, as they do sometimes, and didn't go to the war, what would happen?" "Oh, don't talk such nonsense. They wouldn't do such a thing." "Yes, pa, but s'posin' they did?" "Well, England would be a lost nation. Her nationhood would die and she would become a tributary State to Germany, and all Englishmen would indeed be slaves!" "What, the rich people, too?" "Oh, well, they wouldn't be so bad off as the poor. That's why the poor know that they'll have to fight for their existence." "And is it just the same in Germany?" "Yes, my son." "And do the poor do most of the fighting there, so that they never, never will be slaves?" "Oh, I suppose if they are the more numerous they certainly will do most of the fighting." "Then, if the English poor people and the German poor people struck and would not fight, what would England lose and what would Germany lose, and which would lose the most?" "Look here, boy, you ask far too many questions. Haven't I told you not to bother me so much when you see that I'm reading the war news?" "Yes, pa but didn't you tell me that I was to ask -" "Look here, son, you're getting far too cheeky, and it's time little boys like you were in bed. These things are too much for the juvenile brain to understand." "But, pa - " "Off to bed this instant, or I'll skin you alive." -1/1/1916.
GERMAN HAUNTS OF VICE
SWEPT BY THE POLICE
FOREIGN WOMEN ENRICHED
By Aid of Pretty Girls in London
Great danger to Army officers and civilian young men with plenty of money at their disposal has for long existed in vice-stricken haunts of London managed by Germans and women of foreign nationality. A campaign to sweep away these resorts is now being actively carried on by the police.
(By S. BEACH CHESTER)
The West End of London is at last losing the persistent flavor of a German occupation. One can even delve between the surface and find an absence of Teutonic undercurrents. But, of course, there are Germans still about and, for the most part, they belong to the worst class.
"I am too clever to be interned," said one, conversing with a man he took to be a compatriot, but the latter, as a matter of fact, was a native of Lodz and still true to Russia. The speaker was one of the vampires who thrive upon the earnings of women. A man under thirty, he lets furnished flats, in central neighborhoods, to women; a woman, who is kept by an Englishman, supplies him with substantial funds. He himself has an easy life of it, and apparently escapes police attention. Other Germans of military age and equally bad habits defy the regulations to retire to their sleeping quarters at 9 p.m. Some can be found at "nests" or meeting-places at all hours. There is a German sausage-shop, near a famous London music-hall, where Germans and Austrians frequently call — a very few at a time. The place is run by the wife of an interned alien. There are German women carrying on their evil trade in the Western Central district; they have not been deported since they are not a cost to the taxpayer and are not directly troublesome.
"Relatively speaking, however, there are few German women left," stated a business man whose knowledge of Soho and Bloomsbury is authoritative. "They found — at the very outset — that the English women of a certain class were a distinct menace, in addition to being rivals. I mean that a German woman could neither walk the street nor frequent a place of amusement without the risk of being attacked or 'shown up' by angry Englishwomen. I notice a very great decrease, by the way, in the number of German men — and foreign men generally, notably Italians — who in ordinary times live on the earnings of women. There are still German men, naturalised or unnaturalised, to be seen about Leicester-square and the adjacent thoroughfares, but these men are above military age. As I have a branch house in the City I am able to say with certainty that the German clerks and officemen were the first to disappear. On the whole, I consider that London is being purged of the German element with general advantage to the community."
BARONESS AND PROCURESS. The closest observation leads on to the definite conclusion that London is indeed being cleared of its German population. There are certainly some Germans about, but, in comparison with other times, they have practically vanished. It appears that Austrians are not being interned to the same wholesale extent as their Northern Allies, chiefly because Austria is reported to be less severe with British subjects. However, an Austrian barber-shop, in a very central position, has disappeared, though a man of Hungarian nationality runs a tobacconist's business in the same building. The Hungarian in question, it may be added, is a Jew, and his son is a Territorial on active service. Again, until last week, the head waiter at a certain hotel, near Kensington Gardens, was an Austrian, who, with the connivance of the English proprietor, passed as an Italian. The man is now in a concentration camp.
(NB: the term "concentration camp" had a different meaning then than it does now. The Otago soldiers, camping and training in Dunedin before embarkation in 1914, were kept in what was called a "concentration camp." In this context, it is a place to concentrate forces or, in the above context, a place of internment.)
Baron Werner von Ou-Levachendorf, a native of Freiburg-in-Breisgau, so often mentioned in the House of Commons, was a very patriotic German, who lived in Grafton-street, Piccadilly, and also in Berkeley-square, from August, 1914, to February, 1915. Although he was an Oxford man, and had many English friends, he went in constant fear of internment. He was, however, allowed to return to Germany. Baron Frederick von Buelow, a brother of Prince von Buelow, is still detained in England, an order for his internment having recently been issued. Baron von Ou and Baron von Buelow represent the best element in their native land, and, though their presence was, no doubt, undesirable, they come under a very different category from the woman Bertha Trost.
Trost, in plain English, was a procuress, a woman engaged in trafficking in girls. A favorite practice with many of her kind is to supply a girl on short notice to meet special requirements. For example, a patron need only specify the type, contour, and age he prefers in women to be appropriately supplied. Trost could generally offer a fair selection, one hears, without having recourse to an "address book." But she is not the only German woman to "make good" in practices of this kind. There are cases where considerable sums have been accumulated by individual German womon. One of the most successful of whom, Olga K, was seen in London during the week
MADE £800. Olga came to England about ten years ago, frequented the Empire, the Albhambra, and the Continental — then at its zenith. She had a flat — which cost seven guineas a week.
For a German she was a very pretty woman; she dressed well and she prospered. Although compelled to meet a considerable expenditure, she managed to save £800 during her first ten months in London.
Sho never identified herself with other women, yet in time she came to be regarded as the leader of her class. She used to pay thirty and forty guineas for a frock — as if she wera a smart demimondaine. In the course of years she got together a great deal of money, kept a small house worthy of a better purpose, and somehow preserved her looks. Still, she was a German woman; she was reported to be the daughter of a German officer, and her first lover was a major in the German army. What is more, an accidental encounter has shown what that she is still with us — and at large. She differs from Trost in that her trade was not in other women, but in herself.
In peace time, the Germans in England were well entrenched in all the vice-stricken haunts of London. The lowest night clubs of Soho were generally in enemy hands. One vile resort, where drink could be obtained at every hour of the night, was tenanted by a fat Teuton, profits were large for years. The place is now dark and unmusical when one passes along the street. There is no longer the thumping Tango pianist, no longer the clatter of plates or the jingle of beer-mugs. Ths war has swept this "club" of clubs away. Before the war there was another German-owned, German-managed, Gcrman-pianoed place in Greek-street. It formed a part of the nether regions of Bohemia. But it has gone, fortunately, never to return.
Wherever there is vice there are Germans. Conversely, wherever there are Germans there is vice. The lowest haunts in Paris and New York have for years been in German hands. A robust insensibility seems to characterise the German race.
The German has what one may call a malignant mentality, and it extends to his womankind. "I went to school in Hanover," said a Lancashire man the other day, "and I came away with the belief that they were a sentimental lot. I have changed my views lately," he added, quietly. "The women are as bad as the men."
WITH ROYAL PERSONAGES. The pianist Janotha, a tiresome woman by all accounts, was a good example of Germans in gratitude. She took advantage of her exceptional opportunities to intermeddle with the affairs of persons identified with the State. She appears to have been perfectly corrupt, and to have used good-natured and easy-going royal personages to enrich herself, and to exploit her favorite schemes.
It is almost proverbial that anyone who has once come under the curious spell of the Kaiser's goodwill is a Germanophil for life. It is not perhaps to be wondered at, therefore, that this humble Polish woman was at heart a pro-Prussian, and, in her peculiar circumstances, something of a menace to England. The rumor that she was financially interested in the sordid business of the procuress Trost is by no means incredible, but it is of less importance from a national standpoint than her unquestioned association with royalty. Beauty establishments, while not as a rule as unblemished as the complexions they are supposed to produce, are not necessarily a danger to the nation. Janotha was a potential danger.
There is still one beauty salon not a thousand miles from Bond-street where the proprietress is an Austrian. She is said to be quite harmless to the community; and there are women even who swear by her face cream! Her business, however, is likely to die a natural death, accelerated, perhaps, by the near presence of a French rival.
France is very rightly increasing her business hold in the West End, though here and there there is a wily German behind its dainty Parisian decorations. One hat shop, nominally French, at which all sorts of women buy charming hats, has a foul-mouthed Teutonic proprietor.
BEATEN UNDER. With the passing of the German a cleaner, purer London will emerge in the future. Already the baneful influence of Teutonic vice is relaxing its hold upon us, and, as the days go by, the resorts where young officers lost their money, their health, and their happiness are growing scarcer and scarcer. Even the small hotels in the Bond-street area, where private rooms for dinner were once the rage, are no longer busy. Those of German proprietorship are tottering to a fall. London is going through a process of evolution, almost of revolution. In the inferior districts, notably in Bloomsbury, German hotel-keepers are losing their former business. Restaurants with German associations no longer thrive. In the back-waters off the Strand the German purveyors of "beds and breakfasts" are beaten under. Craven-street is being purged. And so it is everywhere, from Shepherd's Bush to the Bank.
But the future must contain no hope for the German in England. His access to every sphere must be cut off, not simply for the war, but for all time. No longer should he be able to permeate commercial life, no longer should he vote or say, "I vas han Englishmann!" There is a battlefield in our midst. It is just as important to England's future as the ground we are on in Flanders. This war must destroy for ever the easy hospitality of these shores. The "lassez faire" of the past must remain extinct, now that it has died. The days after this great conflict is over must not be days of idle good nature. The German in England is dead. Let him remain dead. -8/1/1916.
WANGANUI WORKERS, WARRIORS AND WOWSERS.
Dear "Truth," — Being a constant reader of your valuable paper, from which I glean much information, which would otherwise be pigeon-holed by other papers, it gave me great pleasure to read what "Honestas" had to say about our harvesters, to wit, the Wanganui College boys. Without a doubt it is the limit when the farmers will employ this child labor, while other labor is available. Of course, they say it is not. But the hurdle is the pay, and, as "Honestas" says, what cares the "cockie" so long as he gets plenty of labor, and cheap as cheap. Yes, these boys are students at our very "toney and aristocratic seminary," and their parents must be in receipt of more than a dollar a day, to keep them there. They can also call for them in their "benzine case" at any old time and honk them around the country. So if their parents are in a position to do these things, I think it is up to them to keep them at home during their vacation, or their sojourn from brain fatigue, even if only to clean the aforementioned buzz wagon, and to stack the champagne bottles in some convenient place, in case one of our returned soldiers in search of willing toil happens along. They can then, without any fuss or bother, call the boy to crack a bottle and drink to the health of a worker who went forth willing to fight for freedom. Crack a bottle, they will, ay, two or a dozen, for the soldier's sake — I don't think. This here old town is the dizzy limit, the Fokker aeroplane is not in the hunt with it. Why we raised nigh on £70,000 for the Wounded Soldiers' Fund; and just at Christmas time, when there were a good number of war-worn lads here, and a goodly number in need of assistance, what happened? Well, naturally one would think the committee appointed in connection with the money raised would have done their utmost to relieve any distress amongst the lads and make their Christmas a decent one. Not them. They could not be expected to spoil their own holidays. They didn't as much as open a temporary club to give our lads a chance of spending an hour or so together. No, and what happened? Why the wowsers and water-wagoners of Wanganui cut loose and roared per medium of the dailies about the way the boys hung around the pubs. Some committee this! Patriotic, my oath. Their motto: "Fighting Men First." If you had a correspondent up here you would get columns of reading for your valuable and fearless paper. With different individuals snooting hot air on the recruiting question, Conscription crisis, wowsers wailing and tearing their hair on the amount of "stagger-juice" consumed by the returned men, and the several companies who visited here for their shooting. Human parasites screaming at and abusing the workers at their audacity of wanting to live on this old earth, never thinking or wanting to think of the part the workers are playing in the world's game of war. And our Council, too, are in the hunt. They turned down the plea of a married man with a family, who all eager to do his bit in stabbing the Huns and keeping them back from upsetting the inkpot, or "pinching" the ruler on the Council table, asked that his wife be allowed 16s per week to help maintain herself and family. No chance for him. Yet I read a few nights ago where a single man in the employ of the Gas Company (a municipal concern) was granted 80s per week during his absence, and to make it more digestible to the public a local paper said:
In fairness to the young man, we must state he has a mother and sister dependent upon him.
What of the wife and family of the other worker? Nothing doing. But these self-same men will not forget to let the workers know there is plenty doing at the front, in getting in the way of the German and Turkish lead sprinklers. Patriotic to such an extent that you have to rope them in case they rush out of their homes with the piano and grid-iron to give to the soldiers' club! Just a word about some of the coves here who are workers, but their way of doing things puts a nark on others. You will see these "slobs" come out in their "Yankee rig" braced fore and aft, with three sheets in the wind, sailing up and down the Avenue night in and night out, and Saturday afternoons, "piping off the tarts," as they say, and never failing to catch a glimpse of an extra inch of ankle wrapped in openwork hose which happens to come below the Plimsol mark. "Some kids," they call themselves. I call them "snipers." And another mob will be found at the Rut. corner any day when a "meeting" is on, peering into the inside pocket of some half-pie book, at the card for the day, and 'aving a 'arf-dollar on their fancy. And, worst of all, these "coots" do not intend to go, although they are eligible. And more so, they don't forget to say what a mug others are to do so. Yes, they are "Some kids." I could dig up plenty of little incidents in this town which would boost the Rhineland town along, but I have done enough fluting. Once again wishing the old "Truth" all success, for if any paper is deserving of it "Truth" is. It gives us all a fair go; and give a colonial that and he asks no more. That is the secret of your large circulation
— Yours, etc, CHINWAGGER. -5/2/1916.
The Expressman's Patriotism
There is a certain amount of humor about this advert from a South Island paper:
When war broke out we had a large stock of German goods, paid for with British gold. We cannot throw these into the gutter; if we did certain patriotic people would pick them up. So we do the best we can — reduce them in price, promising to avoid them in future.
That puts "Truth" in mind of an ultrapatriotic person (a carrier) who declaimed loudly against those who bought German sox and paid for them in English coin. He stigmatised them as being worse than landlords or pirates. "But, why don't you practice what you preach?" asked one of the alleged pirates of English honor. "So I do," roared the carrier. "Where do you get your oranges?" asked the alleged pirate. "Oh, I don't get much, but what I do get I buy from Ah Fat — I do most of his carting." "But why don't you buy them from a white man?" asked the pirate. "You can't tell me anything about that," roared the charioteer. "I cart things for a white man and I have to wait a week or a month for my money. If I do it for a 'Chow' I get my cash as soon as the goods are dumped down." "Yes, but the white man has to support a wife and family as a rule, and he has to buy all sorts of other things which you have carted for other tradesmen." "That's nothing to do with me, I buy my stuff where I get the best business." "Well, suppose we all commenced a policy of buying from the Chinamen, who has no wife or family to support (thank God!) how long would we remain a white community? In a short time there would be no white men left to deal with. You know, 'East is East, and West Is West, and Never the Twain shall Meet.'" "Look here, old man. You kid yerself yer know something. But let me tell you this. I buy me stuff where I am treated best and I don't want any of your back chat about it. All I says is, that any cow who buys German stuff otta 'ave his napper tapped with a hax. I knows what I'm talkin' about, an' don't yer ferget it." Perhaps Goethe was right when he said, "In peace patriotism consists only in this — that everyone sweeps before his own door, minds his own business, also learns his own lessons, that it may be well with him in his own house." In war time it evidently consists of refusing to buy the sox made by your enemy, and purchasing your potatoes from a "Chow." -12/2/1916.
THE CRITIC
A British Tommy tells the following yarn. One cold morning a chalked board was pushed up above a German trench, on which was written the words: Gott mit uns. A Cockney in the British trenches, thinking the German was unnecessarily boastful, showed his patriotism and this ignorance of the Hun gibberage by sticking up a sign, which declared. We Got mittens too.
* * *Talk of the Angels at Mons! What do you make of this from a 'Murkan exchange:
The dead cat Frank wrapped up to take to the river turned into a beef steak when he opened the package after leaving a street car.
Come to think of it, cats have turned into meat pies before to-day, but if Mr. Bell is really Frank he'll admit that somebody else's steak must have turned into a dead cat!
* * *A London evening paper started it and now our scissors and paste scribes have given wider currency to the following misleading version of Archbishop Magee's famous declaration on freedom and temperance:
I would rather see England drunk and free than enslaved and sober.
What the worthy Archbishop did say was: I'd rather see Britain free than sober.
A distinction and a difference. The Cockney scribe probably had been reading Burns, who declared there was an affinity between whisky and freedom, for has he not told us:
Freedom and whisky gang thegether — Tak' aff your dram! 19/2/1916.
While New Zealand's men were fighting the dastardly hun, some of the ladies were managing to maintain home morale by promenading in the latest of fashions.
SASSIETY SPICE
BY "LADY DOT"
On the pavement promenade "Dot" has noticed a decided appearance of the "half topper" hat in all colors and trimmings. Three young maidens, evidently just out of their teens, were standing in front of a certain establishment, and two of them wore "toppers." One of white silk with plain black satin band and the other a black with a fetching ornament sticking out at a dangerous angle. The ''bhoy" of the party appeared to enjoy the tickling and dodging necessary to avoid being blinded.
A matron of (ahem) ample proportions looked firm, very firm, in a plain black "topper." She was decidedly smart and well groomed.
Another matron of advanced years wore one of those white, shiny cricket hats so much in vogue on the other side of the Tasman. She wore a very pretty black silk lace blouse over a pompadour lining. A handsome tailor-made suit completed a sensible tourist's outfit.
Her daughter, a handsome, tall Cornstalk, also wore a navy blue tailored suit and a smart red straw hat, much turned up at one side, with just a plain band of champagne-colored silk round it.
An elderly dame caused a diversion on the quay the other day by appearing in a white muslin frock with an overabundance of black stripes and checks. As she mounted a car there was quite a gaping crowd before and behind her, but not an admiring crowd — just smiles and grins.
A tall, fair, good-looking widow is wearing a well-cut black and white check costume and small, close hat. If she were to wear one of the black "toppers" or a layer hat it would be a decided improvement.
Quite the nicest military cut and braided navy frock seen for some weeks was worn by a natty girl on Tuesday. It was sharply cut away in front and the back was made in long, tight-fitting basque. Across the chest the braid and buttons were closely placed, as on the French officers' coats. Not a spot of color beyond navy blue appeared anywhere.
"Dot" is being continually banged in the eye by a rather vivid shade, or, rather, tint, of carmine pink. Fortunately it is only being worn by girls just over the "flapper" period, as it is decidedly trying both to wearers and onlookers. All the frocks seen, so far, are exceedingly well cut, and have the buckle and belt and long, loose basque effect.
Something very striking was seen in Courtenay-place. The lady wore a muslin frock of black ground and many hued stripes and a black "topper." The general effect was pleasing.
So, also, was a Newtown matron, with pretty fair hair and skin, who wore a very good tussore silk with one of the newest black velvet chemises worn over it (not under), and reaching half way to the knees. She drew many male eyes towards her and was pleasing to gaze upon.
A very handsome woman, with a wealth of bright auburn hair, cast glad eyes at many men on Tuesday last. She was wearing a champagne-colored silk suit and helmet of same color.
It is difficult to make one's way along just now. The new season's hats are on show. One Lambton-quay establishment has some real beauties in the window. But the size!
The lady in the car who vouchsafed the information to all and sundry that "'Dot' was a man," should just put the brake on her tongue, for a very feminine "Dot" was not very far from her. She was certainly complimentary and "Dot" is pleased to hear a teacher's opinion of her work even though the said teacher is engaged in a certain kindergarten establishment. Such work broadens the mind and gives those engaged a right to constitute themselves judges of everything under the sun. 19/2/1916.
THE ANGELS AT MONS.
Dear. "Truth." — I have taken a keen interest in the articles which have appeared in your columns relating to the Angels at Mons. One of the best works that I know of on this subject is that written by Camille Flammarion, President of the French Psychic Research Society, "The Unknown." In that work he selected the experiences of 1000 persons who had had personal knowledge of occult and psychic happenings. The Psychic Research Society of France invited those who had had such experiences to send them in to the President. Of course, many of them were bogus, and only those who bore the semblance of truth were selected. In this work he tells of things which seem almost incredible, and, but for the fact that they are borne out by strong testimony and the sworn statements of highly respectable people, they would bring the smile of scorn to the cheeks of many of his own supporters. In more than one place he tells of soldiers who have been killed in battle, and whose spirits have appeared to quite a number of people at the same time, and at a time which synchronised exactly with the death of the soldier or person whose spirit appeared to the people. There could be no good purpose served by these eminently respectable people asserting that they had seen certain things which had never happened. They were all selected on account of their social position and characters of integrity. There were many instances where people of high civic positions, doctors, mayors of French and English cities, lawyers and others, who would scorn to stoop to the low act comedy of a practical joke, and they had seen evidences such as those mentioned. Flaxman Low, President of the English Psychic Research Society, also mentions several cases of a similar nature; but Flammarion's is the authentic work on these matters. After reading the eminent Frenchman's work, one cannot be surprised at the assertions which have been made with regard to the "Angels at Mons," and it would appear quite possible that armies of spirits have appeared on the battlefield. If these assertions are correct, then would it not be feasible to conjure the spirits in such a way that they might push back the armies of the Huns, even to Berlin? This would give our soldiers plenty of time to recuperate, and the spectacle of armies of ghosts pushing forward our siege artillery would fill the German armies with shrapnel and dismay. This would have a far greater effect on the German morale than all the arms of the Allies. Of course, the greatest secrecy would have to be observed as, if the Germans obtained knowledge as to our methods of enlisting ghosts, they might ask the Kaiser to invoke the aid of his partner in bringing into line all the spirits of the defunct Germans who have passed into He.. Heaven for the past centuries. The spectacle of armies of Angels bursting up each other's ranks with gas and shrapnel would be awe inspiring. While the heavenly soldiers were destroying and re-destroying each other, the lady-Angels could be employed at the munition factories, and the war would progress apace. But, just at this juncture it would be well to give the Labor Party a word of advice. If it were found that it is possible to employ these armies of ghosts in the manufacture of goods there may be a possibility of the rent-lords and plutocrats invoking the aid of their defunct prototypes to commandeer the services of the armies of defunct "plugs" (as your paper terms them) in the manufacture of those commodities which are the heart's joy of the idle rich. The consequences of this would be disastrous. The depopulation of the earth would follow, and eventually all human life would cease to exist on this old planet. The idle rich are not a child-bearing set of beings, and the extinction of the human race would assuredly be the result of these meddlings with the occult. We should remember the teachings of the Bible, which tells us not to be familiar with evil spirits. If the policy of invoking the aid of spirits is carried out in its entirety it may occur to the Chinese to call up their long-gone hordes of laundrymen and "cabbegge" vendors, and we will again have Bret Hart's spectacle of the salt of the earth being "ruined by Chinese cheap labor." If we do not take heed we may have the vision of Campbell's "The Last Man" on earth and not a living human being to gaze on it:
The Sun's eye had a sickly glare, the earth with age was wan;
the skeletons of nations were around that lonely man!
Some had expired in fight, the brands still rusted in their bony hands!
In plague and famine some.
Earth's cities had no sound or tread; and ships were drifting with the dead,
to shores where all was dumb.
Surely, this dread spectacle will be sufficient to warn those who persist in "being familiar with evil spirits." Trusting it will have the desired effect and bring the war-maddened people to a proper sense of their religious duties. — Yours, etc., "ANTI-SPIRATO." Wellington. -19/2/1916.
HUMOR IN GRIM WAR
A COMMANDMENT REVISED
The Archdeacon of Westminster declares that killing Germans is a divine act, and therefore the clergy should not be exempted from service. — Cablecram.
"Thou shalt not kill" is out of date; Our Bishops now the law translate:
"Thou shalt kill all the German swine, Or drive them back across the Rhine.
Who kills the most shall gain above, Approval from the God of Love
So keep the old commandment still, With this amendment: "Thou shalt kill!" -4/3/1916.
THE DEADHEAD'S DIARY
One of the scenes depicted in the "Nurse Cavell" film, at The King's, Wellington, shows the brutal treatment accorded to a one-legged "soldier" in the nurses hospital, by a bullying German officer. The part of the onelegged bloke is played by George Farrell who, with a partner named Gaffney (also minus a leg) presented a novel act on the Fuller circuit some time ago. -11/3/1916.
"LUSITANIA, YOU 'BLANKS'!"
WHEN THE FIRST GORDONS CHARGED
A SOLDIER'S LETTER TO HIS BROTHER
New Zealander in the Trenches Somewhere in Belgium
Gets some Consolation from his "Truth" — Receives it more Regularly than Letters
"I get 'Truth' very regular, more regular than letters anyhow." Such a statement, in all probability, is the sentiment of many of our brave soldier boys who have gone from New Zealand to fight for King and Country, and if necessary, in the same cause, to make the supreme sacrifice. However, particular interest is attached to the above statement, an excerpt from a letter,: because it is a quotation from a homely, and in many senses, piquante epistle from a New Zealander, "A Pig Islander," he facetiously describes himself, who is on active service,
"SOMEWHERE IN BELGIUM" In fact, in order to comply with the regulations of the Censor, he cannot definitely describe his whereabouts, beyond giving it out that he is "at the same old place." The writer of the letter is Mr. Stan. Anderson, brother of Mr. Duncan Anderson, of Kaiwarra, and it might be mentioned, by way of preface, that Stan is a "Regular Tommy Atkins," to whom Tennyson's lines "Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die" might apply. Some time ago it afforded "Truth" pleasure to publish and, no doubt, afforded pleasure to its readers to read, the sentiments of this soldier, a Regular, who had seen and who knew what active service in Belgium meant. Letters such as these are not intended for publication, or written for effect, and the consequent result of their publication is that the reader gets some "real home truths," and what is more is able to perceive the spirit of the soldier, who does not endeavor "to paint the lily," and cannot adequately describe the conditions in which he exists.
In a letter to his brother, Mr. Duncan Anderson, Stan, writing from "the same old place" under date of December 20, 1914, he mentions "how damned glad" he was to receive a letter of November 2, and also, "that week's 'Truth' and the week after." Mentioning the regularity with which he received his "Truth," he makes reference to his brother's calling, and intimates that, he is sending along a souvenir off a meat ration. Evidently it is a ticket off New Zealand mutton, as he remarks: "You can send it up to Nghauranga and tell them to use it over again." We could do with lots more of what that ticket is hung on to."
The faint approach to a
COMPLAINT FROM THIS "CHEERFUL CUSS" is contained in the following:
The great cry now is economy. We don't get fed here the same as the "Pig Islander," which reminds me that some people have all the luck and some have the pleasure of seeing them have it.
There's a lot of philosophy in that little "kick." The writer then refers to a comrade who had at that time gone on leave to Scotland, which Stan. considered "Jam," and wished that they would give him a "holiday." The war with all its horrors is to this soldier "a gaff." He writes:
On a gaff like this a man wants to have the constitution of an ox to stand it for long.
Next he gives his account of some scrapping. He says:
The mud here is out on its own, and getting worse. We have had a proper "straffing" match this last few days. It started night before last with heavy artillery, while I was on guard, and in about a quarter of an hour you could hardly see 10 yards for gas. By ... the blighters didn't half give it to us. Worse than ever I've seen. It was like Hell let loose all night, and then when their artillery stopped to allow the infantry to attack the white-hearted ''square heads" would not budge from their trenches. Our chaps (the First Gordons) charged instead and took two trenches. And they were supposed to be the Kaiser's veterans from Prussia. They got Kaiser's veterans all right
I CUT A DECENT TALLY. Our gun is in a forward position, about 200 yards behind the ditches. And as I laid and fired I could see the result of each shot. High explosives we were using, too. That's the stuff that digs them out of their holes! They know they had the "Old Iron Division" up against them. It puts the fear of ... up them when the Gordons let out that yell of theirs, "Lusitania, you —!" Then they hop round the dugouts with hand grenades giving them "Lusitania." The square-heads don't know what it means, but the Jocks translate it with the aid of a skewer and a few jam-tins full of gun-cotton. We did not get off light, you can bet. The casualties were pretty heavy. But it was a nice Christmas box for them. Serves them right, they started it. It's all right while it lasts. Helps to while away the winter. But if I had my way I would be home out of it. That is if it was finished, and I hope it will be by this time next year. Two winters in this God-forsaken country is a gut full for any glutton. We put up some huts last week, and damnme if they
DIDN'T DROP A BIG 'UN in the first one we finished. You can guess it didn't do our little chateau much good.
New Zealand pays a ''war correspondent" something like £1000 per annum to describe the doings of our soldiers at the front. Could he but give us some news like this, the outpourings of a simple soldier's heart, and "our war correspondent" would be forgiven much, but then "our war correspondent" hasn't been to Belgium, and no doubt care will be taken to see that he doesn't get there. One paragraph from this gunner is worth the columns recently devoted to the "triumphant march in Egypt of Colonel Rhodes." Let us have Gunner Anderson's opinions on things:
But no matter how long this picnic lasts it can only finish one way. And in fact all of us old hands who are left, would sooner see it last another three years than have a makeshift peace and then go through it all again as soon as Old Bill thinks he is strong again. Anyway, when it is over and done with they will not be able to say our tribe did not do our bit. I don't want any medals for my bit.
He goes on in a very matter-of-fact way to relate, or suggest what can be done with medals. All he wants is to be landed back in God's Own Country with a whole skin, though he reckons if he should stop a bullet or a shell he "will take the count and go out for keeps."
"NO LIVING ON A GRATEFUL COUNTRY for this chicken on about a 'bob' a day," remarks this "Regular." Now, we occasionally hear growls, and plenty of kicks are forthcoming from our soldiers at Trentham if things are slightly out of order. "Truth" commends the following to growlers and patriots generally:
My pay now on this "gaff" is 1/8 a day and tucker. And, oh, what tucker! Thank ... I got my false teeth made strong. That's about what you make in an hour, so you can guess we are not making quite as much out of it as the "cockies." The infantry are worse off than us, they get about 1/3.
In a previous letter, published in "Truth," this humble member of Britain's Expeditionary force, then entrenched somewhere in Belgium, spoke in playful terms of "the Belgian Rovers." He again refers to these particular "pals," "who cling tighter than a brother, and bite worse than a Jew money-lender." The writer more definitely describes these "Rovers," they are the Belgian lice which infest the trenches. Will not the stay-at-home New Zealander's heart go out in pity to these vermin-infested soldiers of the King, in the trenches of blood-stained Belgium. Still, he is uncomplaining, quite matter of fact in the statement that "I've got hundreds of them, and so have the others. In fact, we would not be without them."
Letter No. 2, dated January 16, is also bright and breezy, and starts off with
THANKS FOR THE "TRUTH." He explains to his brother, that he received a present from his mother on Christmas Day, which he considers appropriate. He explains that be is appointing his brother "his distributing agent" for his letters. One green envelope is allowed him per week, and he is using his one envelope to cover all his correspondence. Further, "it saves our officers in the battery the trouble of censoring them, and I am always glad, as you know, to save them trouble." Now, our soldier scribe seems to be about to change his job, because he says that, "I will be right up against the blighters now." It seems that they have had a change in guns, and he explains:
THANKS FOR THE "TRUTH." He explains to his brother, that he received a present from his mother on Christmas Day, which he considers appropriate. He explains that be is appointing his brother "his distributing agent" for his letters. One green envelope is allowed him per week, and he is using his one envelope to cover all his correspondence. Further, "it saves our officers in the battery the trouble of censoring them, and I am always glad, as you know, to save them trouble." Now, our soldier scribe seems to be about to change his job, because he says that, "I will be right up against the blighters now." It seems that they have had a change in guns, and he explains:
I guess you know the feeling that drives a man. When you are having a scrap with a man you don't want to stand about 40 yards away and fling dirt at him, but want to be right into him. Well, it's the same with me. I'm finished with mud-slinging, and am starting infighting. I expect to cut bigger tallies anyway. The difference between the trench Howitzer and our gun is the range. Fire one from the trenches and the other from behind them. It's a bit more risky but that's what the extra "tanner" a day is for. And money counts with me now, and when I am going to take a missus when the "gaff" is over. That makes
MY PAY 2/2 A DAY. Magnificent salary, eh, what! In any case a man has only to go under once, and I've had a good spin, don't you think? 17 months out here and sixteen up in action. Not a bad record!
Notwithstanding the gunner's previously expressed disregard for a medal, "Truth" is afraid that this brave fellow has the feeling shared by most soldiers. He wants some coveted honor. He seems bent on getting a D.C.M., and thinks there is a better chance of getting one now that he is on the howitzer. At any rate, he says "I am going to have another shot for one, and hope I have better luck than this time." This has to be explained. Earlier in the war, Gunner Anderson was to have been mentioned in dispatches for his bravery, and the lad looked forward to a soldier's honor.
Unfortunately, the officer who had intimated his intention to recommend the gunner for bravery in action was captured by the Germans. That officer is still a prisoner in Germany. It seems to have been some satisfaction to the gunner and his comrades that mention of their brave deeds was made in "The News of the World." He proceeds:
Things are just about the same as ever here, but the weather is pretty good, considering it's winter. And EVERYTHING ELSE IS AS USUAL.
He winds up that he hopes there have been good seasons in New Zealand, and no doubt he means it when he says. "I tell you I will not be sorry when I get the sack from here, and I am looking for a job there." -18/3/1916.
| GUNNER STAN ANDERSON (Somewhere in Belgium) |
THE HORRIBLE HUN.
Orders are known to have been issued to the commanders of German submarines that should their boats be caught by the British they are to shoot their crew and themselves afterwards. That this wholesale shooting is done by order is confirmed by an incident which happened a few days ago, when a German captive balloon fell into tho sea with its occupants off the Belgian coast. On a number of French destroyers endeavoring to rescue the two aeronauts, who were clinging to the cords of their balloon, the German coast batteries opened up a heavy fire, forcing the would-be rescuers to retreat from the scene. The unhappy airmen soon became exhausted, and, relaxing their grip of the cords, sank beneath the waves. -3/6/1916.
THE CRITIC
* * *The cable-crammer tells us that "the Swedish export of iron to Germany has ceased." But the Allies export of "lead" to the German trenches seems to be much in excess of the demand.
* * *A fashion paper says: Queen Mary's accounts of her personal expenditure are kept by her chief dresser. Poor Polly! That's where "Critic" gets ahead of his lady friend. His accounts are kept by his creditors.
* * *Thus the Intelligent cable cobbler of the "'Moaning' Times":
The submarine fired a warning shot near Ushant. Some minutes later the steamer on May 2nd. The vessel gun, but the submarine escaped.
"Critic" doesn't pose as much on navigation, but he'll take a bally affid. that the submarine wasn't the only thing in the above cable that escaped.
* * *Is the trouble in Britain Dublin and will Ulster prove a turn-coat?
* * *"I am undone!" as the heroine cried when her new shirt blouse burst at the waist.
* * *Socialists should make good soldiers. Are they not noted for thejr "Marx"-manship.
* * *Speaking at Stratford (Old Dart), Mr. C. F. G. Masterman said: The Government demands as much justice for the pickpocket as for the peer. You bet it does!
* * *A French author has written a book on the war entitled "The Path of Glory," which is so successful that it is bringing him both fame and fortune. Yet the Poet Gray told us in that immortal "Elegy" of his that "The paths of glory lead but to the grave."
* * *A par in the "War Cry" informs us that:
Staff Captain Gunn has a voice of l5in. calibre.
Gee! if they had had a Gunn like that on the Queen Mary she might have saved herself and made a lot more German scrap iron!
* * *Owing to the filth and refuse now being dumped therein the streak between the Mediterranean Sea and the Red Sea is in danger of becoming known as the Sewage Canal. 10/6/1916.
SCIENCE AND SLAUGHTER
"Sleepy" Governments; and Men's Lives
(From Sydney "Truth.")
Lord Montagu, of Beaulieu, is one of "the Barons of England" whose existence helps to explain the fact that the average Englishman "dearly loves a lord," in spite of the fact that some of them are brainless nincompoops, others decidedly degenerate, and still others extorters of the uttermost farthing that it is possible to wring out of an unfortunate tenantry. In spite of the faults of many of the hereditary aristocracy of Britain, however, there are members of the British aristocracy who do try to be truly "noble," and who achieve some measure of success. Lord Montagu is not a member of an old baronial house; he is but the second Baron of Beaulieu, but what his house lacks in antiquity, it is apparently able to make up in brains; for Lord Montagu of Beaulieu is distinguished as one who is prominent in both science, and engineering, and has also shown himself to possess ability as a writer for the press.
Lord Montagu of Beaulieu is an "all-round sport." He has also held the rank of colonel in the British volunteer forces. It was well-known too, that he had given special attention to the study of aviation. Consequently, nobody was surprised when Montagu of Beaulieu was called upon to give evidence before the newly-formed Air Control Board, which is conducting an inquiry into the condition of the air service in the United Kingdom. What he said before the inquiry is thus reported:
Lord Montagu, of Beaulieu, detailed the difficulties of himself and others in endeavoring to speed up progress in aviation. It seemed as if the Government had been asleep, as warnings fell on deaf ears. There were changing, drifting policies until war broke out. Britain then did not possess serviceable rigid airships to act as the eyes of the Fleet. There were some aeroplanes, but we were wholly unprepared for a great, or even a small, war. Our superiority in the early stages had been solely due to the skill and pluck of the pilots. The Royal Aircraft Factory ought to be devoted to research work instead of competing with private manufacturers.
Thus again is proof provided of the intellectual bankruptcy of the plutocratic rulers of Britain. Such men may be all right in the counting-house, in calculating the profits earned for them by zealous, capable and brainy employees; they may be right enough in occasionally scrutinising the books of accounts kept for them by the competent accountants that every capitalistic enterprise, of course, employs; but when an emergency arises which necessitates the expenditure of brainpower in lines of life apart from the huckstering and account-keeping to which British traders and their relatives are accustomed, then the profitmonger and tricky trader and their clans fall. This is, as we have already pointed out in these columns, the cause of the miserable exhibition that the rulers of Britain have made of themselves during this war. Ever since the Reform Bill of 1832 was made law, Britain has been governed, not by its aristocracy, but by its owners of capital and their relatives or professional parasites. Britain is not a democracy, although before the war broke out, it appeared to be in the process of becoming democratic.
We were repeatedly told by the crapulous collection that blunderously, banally, and bourgeoisly "bosses" Britain that Zeppelins were "unwieldy monsters" that were quite useless, and that would be soon disposed of by the superior aeroplanes, and other aircraft, of the Allies; but, with astonishment and grief, the British people beheld the so-called "useless" Zeppelins calmly sail over to London, and drop death-dealing bombs upon the defenceless women and children of the great Metropolis. An efficient air service would have been able to prevent any airship from getting to London; but if, by any unfortunate chance, it did succeed in reaching the English metropolis, then that airship ought to have been at once destroyed. What the British people saw, however, was that Zeppelins seemed to be able to come and go when they liked, almost with impunity.
At last the British airmen, by their own individual initiative, did succeed in acquiring an ascendency over the invading airmen; but this ascendency had not lasted long before — according to the evidence at the Air Inquiry to which we have referred — "larger and better German machines made their appearance." This was last summer, yet, although summer is again beginning in Europe, it has been found necessary to hold an exhaustive inquiry into the state of the air service, in order that Britain may be better prepared to meet more attacks from German enemies in the air. There is even, apparently, a lack of energy in the training of air pilots. Lord Northcliffe stated, in the House of Lords, on the 23rd ult., that "unless pilots were trained in increased numbers, Britain would be hopelessly short of them in 1917."
"It seemed as it the Government had been asleep," said Lord Montagu, of Beaulieu. Quite so; this is the normal condition of British bourgeois rulers. The business of government is not taken seriously. To "rub along" is all they, ordinarily, care about; to look "respectable" and guzzle and gormandise, and make stolid, sterile, stupid speeches, which perspiring penmen have to puff next day as "statesmanlike utterances" are their principal occupations. Of course, this has not been the way to win the war; and we should have lost it had it not been for the perfect patriotism of the British people, who volunteered for military service in amazingly large numbers. -10/6/1916.
THE 'ROO SPRINGS A SURPRISE.
The Anzacs have already distinguished themselves in Northern France, and have inspired the Germans with a wholesome fear. — Cablecram.
After leading the Turks a merry dance, The Kangaroo hops off to France.
With courage that never is known to fail, He goes for the German tooth and nail;
And Hans the Hun gets such a scare, He says, in terror: "The game's not fair.
I've fought the bear and the lion, too, But the Lord save me from the kangaroo!" -10/6/1916.
JOFFRE COOKS THE GERMAN GOOSE.
The German offensive against Verdun has failed lamentably. The German Crown Prince, who was responsible for the fiasco, has been recalled. — Cablecram,
The Willie-bird that spread its wings, And shrieked, "I am an eagle,"
Has proved to bo a silly goose, Which French chaff can Inveigle.
At Verdun Petain wrung its neck (He knew what he was doing):
And now with Joffre as the cook, That German goose is stewing. -10/6/1916.
GORE AND THE GERMANS
Poppelwell Pulverises the Pietists
A Wowser's Will o' the Wisp.
(From "Truth's" Dunedin Rep.) Last Friday at the Magistrate's Court, Gore, before Mr. H. A. Young, S.M., Max Graeve was charged that on June 4 he did discharge fireworks in a public place, Main and Mersey Streets, Gore, contrary to the Statute. Also Alexander Schultz was charged that on the same date he did assist in the commission of the said offence by supplying Max Graeve with the fireworks. June 4 fell on a Sunday, and, as gathered from
LAWYER POPPLEWELL'S PERTINENT REMARKS it seems that the sanctity of Gore's scrupulous Sabbath had been more outraged by the fireworks and stink bombs than was the patriotism of Gore's puling pietists. "Patriotism with some people," said Lawyer Poppelwell, "seems to consist of abusing people of another nation."
Lawyer Poppelwell represented the defendant Schultz, who was present. Graeve was unrepresented and did not put in an appearance.
Inspector Norwood, in the course of his remarks, said that on June 3 a young man named Max Graeve, who resides at Invercargill, accompanied by a young man named Robert Herman, visited Gore. Herman stayed at Graeve's father's place that night. On Sunday these young fellows met some others, and all went to the band room, as Herman was an Invercargill bandsman. Here some crackers were discovered that were left over from a festival held a year or two ago. The young fellows had a dog with them, and Schultz gave the crackers to Graeve who sometime afterwards fired them off in Mainstreet to amuse the dog. In another street other crackers and rockets were discharged. The fact that Schultz gave Graeve the crackers was the principal cause of the whole thing. It was a case of somebody telling somebody else that a German victory was being celebrated when there was not a particle of evidence to prove anything of the kind.
Lawyer Poppelwell said he was quite prepared to admit the facts. Schultz was a sergeant in the local band and on the Sunday afternoon took his friends to see the band room. He found the crackers there and quite innocently gave them to Graeve to fire off at or
TO AMUSE THE DOG that was with them. They were simply having a little joke at the expense of the dog. There was not one word uttered about the war or the naval victory — but the day was Sunday! It was a question whether the information disclosed an offence on the part of Schultz. It was certainly very regrettable that a section of the public lost their heads and made such an unreasonable fuss. Patriotism, with some people, seemed to consist of abusing people of another nation. Schultz, in any case, was a Pole and not a German.
Percy Ross said he was standing near the Post Office on June 4 at about 4 p.m. He saw several young fellows in Main-street, and heard a string of crackers exploded. A little while after he heard a rocket go off. He did not see who fired it. The men were in front of a fruit shop for about fifteen minutes. He did not report the matter, but he mentioned it to a member of the "Ensign" staff.
Hugh Graham, the other onlooker, corroborated.
Constable Murphy said he met Schultz, who signed the written statement produced. Schultz said he only returned from Dunedin show on Saturday night and had a bottle of whisky with him, from which he and a few others had a nip or two. After the incidents (as detailed) in Main and Mersey-streets the party went to Graeve's, where they had three glasses of beer each. They did not mention war or a naval victory at any time.
The S.M. remarked that he was satisfied that there was an offence disclosed as set down in the information.
Lawyer Poppelwell said that the whole petty thing had been made a mountain of. It was regrettable that the good name of the district should have been held up as it had been when there was not a particle of truth in the statements made. It showed how far some people would go. How often had they heard crackers fired off on a Sunday, yet, in the repport in the local paper, regret was expressed because it was the Lord's Day! No inquiry whatever had been made, and the subject was mentioned in Parliament. After making exhaustive inquiries the police found that there was not any evidence at all
TO DISCLOSE DISLOYALTY, and there was nothing in the men's conduct to suggest disloyalty even. Schultz, in giving evidence, furnished details as already given. The matter of the war or the naval battle never once entered their minds. The S.M. said it was quite clear that these young men were not celebrating any German naval victory, and nothing in their acts nor in the words used by them was disloyal. It was very indiscreet for young men with German names, and under the special circumstances existing at the time, to let off fireworks in the streets.
Schultz and Graeve were convicted, and each was fined £3 with costs 9/- in each case. -24/6/1916.
GORE GERMANPHOBIA
TOUCHING UP THE TEUTONS IN TOWN
AN AFTERMATH TO THE GERMAN DEMONSTRATION
Citizens who were "On their Ear"
Magistrate Young's Sensible Sentiments
(From "Truth's" Dunedin Rep.)
Last week "Truth" reported on the cases in which two young men appeared and were convicted owing to their "fireworks" on the Sabbath at Gore. Drink had a lot to do with such boisterous conduct, conduct, by the way, transmogrified by the "Mataura Ensign" into
DISLOYAL AND PRO-GERMAN BEHAVIOR. Following upon these cases a few day's later, three Britishers appeared in Court, drink being the alleged lubrication that set their patriotic pulses beating to excess. The Magistrate's Court at Gore was crowded to the door when, Mr. H. A. Young, S.M., adjusted himself on the bench, and obliquely, through his pincenez, surveyed the washed and unwashed beyond the wooden barrier. John Fletcher, cattle king, Joseph Davis, exstation master, and Alec Beattie, a tinker, were charged with being drunk in Main-street on Saturday evening, June 10. Also, Fletcher was charged with wilfully breaking a pane of glass, value £17, the property of Carl Bowmast, and with being found by night with an article of disguise, to wit, a mask. Joseph Davis was charged with having
A MASK IN HIS POSSESSION. Alec Beattie had to answer a similar charge, and also with being found by night armed with a bayonet without assigning a valid and satisfactory reason for being so armed. Beattie was further charged with inciting to commit an offence.
Inspector Norwood prosecuted. Accused pleaded not guilty. Constable Woods stated that at 9 p.m. on June 10 he observed the three accused in Main-street, opposite Grahame's. Fletcher, Beattie and another man he did not know were having an argument on the footway. Both were "under the influence." Witness spoke to them and then Davis came up. He also showed signs of liquor. Fletcher wanted to fight. They went away, and when he saw them again they were in custody in the police station. Fletcher was very drunk. Beattie was mad drunk, but Davis not quite so drunk as either. Davis had a medicine bottle half-full of whisky and Fletcher had a whisky bottle half-full. He judged Beattie to be mad drunk by his utterances. The accused were bailed out when sober.
Constable Murphy said he assisted in the arrest. Fletcher and Beattie were very drunk. Both Fletcher and Beattie had whisky in their possession. Fletcher and Beattie had been leaning against a verandah post and were quite helpless. Their speech was a long way from normal. They were nearly five hours in the lock-up. Beattie resisted Sergeant O'Connell.
Sergeant O'Connell said he assisted in the arrests, which took place near Bowmast's shop. He observed A. Copland there also, but he was not near enough to say if Copland was drunk.
Constable Fenton said that Davis and Fletcher had masks in their possession. Beattie had a bayonet concealed in
THE LEG OF HIS TROUSERS; it was suspended from his braces. When in the police station, Beattie said he would run the bayonet through the next ...... of a German he met.
Andrew G. Copland, a squatter way back in the "never, never land" behind Gore stated he saw the three accused in Main-Street on the night in question. He had a drink with them. Fletcher certainly was drunk, but not very drunk. Beattie seemed to be pretty drunk. Davis seemed to witness to be sober; he was thoroughly capable and could walk correctly. He did not think the accused were so drunk that they needed the repose and security of the lock-up.
The S.M. dismissed the charge of drunkenness against Davis.
John Fletcher, one of the accused, said that they had two or three drinks before meeting Copland. They were on their way home when they met him. When the window was broken the witness was in the vicinity of Bowmast's shop. He heard the smash. Constable Murphy arrested himt. He had had some liquor, but was not in a state of drunkenness. Indeed, he was quite capable.
Joseph Davis said that Fletcher was not drunk. None of them were drunk. They were all so sober that witness was quite prepared to allow them "to walk over a stream on a plank."
J. M. Wise, a smart young fellow, manager of the National Club rooms, Gore, saw the crowd, and becoming inquisitive, he went over to the police station to see what was the matter. On being told, he informed the police that the accused were friends of his, and he would bail 'em out.
Constable Murphy said he was standing at the police station on the night in question when he heard a pane of glass being smashed. Witness ran down to Bowmast's shop and saw the accused on the path, and Copland on the side of the street by the footway. (Carl Bowmast is a naturalised German and has a "rag" shop in Main-street, Gore.) The three accused were arrested. He heard Davis say to Constable Fenton, "Let me go and I will tell you who did it. I saw a man put his elbow through it." Witness searched Fletcher in the police station and found the black mask (produced) in Fletcher's coat pocket. He saw a bayonet taken from Beattie. Fletcher advised Davis not to answer any questions. The window of the shop was 10ft by 6ft. "The feeling in Gore," said Constable Murphy "was very strong, also with the mob on the street that night. I am thoroughly satisfied that the scare article in the local 'Ensign' is responsible for all the trouble."
A. G. Copland said he heard Beattie say something about breaking Bowmast's window. Witness told him to do nothing of the kind, and Beattie said, "All right, I'll go home." When they arrived at Bowmast's shop he turned round to see if they were coming. He saw Fletcher throw a stone. He did not actually see the stone, but he saw the movement of Fletcher's arm.
"I do not believe," said Mr. Copland, "in such cowardly matters as destroying property, as British Insurance companies have to pay for it. I should say that
THE PRESS IS RESPONSIBLE for all the bother."
The charge against Beattie of inciting to commit an offence was dismissed.
For the defence, Joseph Davis said that Beattie came to his place prior to going to Bowmast's to have some liquor. Witness made the masks for the purpose of having "a lark" with Bowmast. He gave one each to Beattie and Fletcher. But, in the end, they did not go to Bowmast's as they met Fletcher in the street, who had a bottle of whisky. Their original intention in regard to the masks was to play "a lark" on old Jack (Bowmast). The first witness knew of the window being broken was when he heard the crash.
John Fletcher corroborated.
Alec Beattie also corroborated, and said that with regard to the bayonet, he took it to the shop to get a handle on it for pig sticking, but found that to do so would destroy the catch that fixed the bayonet to the rifle. He did not know how the window was broken and denied ever using the words "He would stick it into the first ...... of a German he met." The bayonet was Government property.
Magistrate Young said that in regard to the bayonet incident, two things were necessary: The first was he (the Magistrate) must be satisfied that accused had lawful means of support, and second that accused had some valid reason for carrying the bayonet. Accused had means of support, and the charge would be dismissed. With regard to the masks, none of the accused had satisfied him that they had a lawful excuse for having them in their possession. On this charge he would find all guilty. It was quite clear that one of the accused broke the window and he was satisfied that it was Fletcher who threw the stone. With regard to the masks, they were liable to three months' imprisonment without the option of a fine. On this occasion they would be convicted and ordered to come up for sentence when called upon. Fletcher would be convicted and ordered to pay the amount of the damage done the window, viz., £17.
Said Mr. Young: "There has been no attempt made by the defence to justify any of the acts mentioned, such as German names, nor any excuse put forward. I may point out that in Wellington there is an Aliens Board, which deals with aliens, it is open to any person to make representation to the Board concerning
ALIEN ENEMIES OF THE EMPIRE. The Board would consider the matter and make representation to the Government, which would deal with them. There is no need for any young men in this country to take retributive action into their hands. These young men (the accused) may have been influenced in their action by indulgence in liquor, or influenced when in liquor by the correspondence in the newspapers and references to other matters alleged to have taken place in Gore. There was nothing to justify the action of these men." 1/7/1916.
TAKING TIRPITZ'S TIP
Owing to the heavy German losses in the North Sea battle, the German Conservative Party urges the revival of Grand Admiral von Tirpitz's policy of unrestricted submarine warfare. — Cablecram.
The German ships are safe at home, They came back in the gloaming;
And all that's left of them resolve, To go no more a-roaming.
Their motto now is "Safety first," While battle scars they're cleaning;
They mean to take a tip from Tirps, And stick to submarining. 15/7/1916.
Unrestricted submarine warfare - the torpedoing of legitimate naval targets in the form of Allied-flagged merchant ships and neutral ships bound for allied ports - allowed German submarines to make use of their greatest advantage in warfare: their ability to strike while submerged and undetected. It came close to beating Britain through starvation.
Civilian deaths, especially of neutral American passengers, did the German cause no favours in the eyes of the rest of the world. And it was a major cause of the entry of the USA to the Great War in 1917.
"A SPY KILLED KITCHENER!"
ENGLAND HAS TAKEN UP THE CRY
SPY SYSTEMS OF THE WARRING NATIONS
Heads of the English and German Secret Services
Professional Spies Keep Pretty Clear of Danger
Though the British Admiralty announced its belief, on the evidence of the survivors, that H.M.S. Hampshire was blown up by a floating mine, and not torpedoed, the opinion has all along prevailed that a "spy killed Kitchener," and the London correspondent to an American newspaper asserts that all England has taken up the cry that "a spy killed Kitchener," and a new spy hunt is on. The great newspapers are upbraiding the Government because they have not interned all alien Germans and Austrians. London and the far corners of the Dominion are scouring the British earth for new suspects and acting against old suspects. More aliens and alleged aliens will be interned. Perhaps a few heads will fall from high places, as has happened before. The public clamor must and will be satisfied. Meantime, there sit in a few secluded offices in London sharp-eyed and keen-witted British secret service directors in whose minds is a distinct picture of how
THE GREAT "K. OF K." came to his death, and who know that only by arresting every man and woman in the land could they be absolutely sure of bagging the person responsible for the tragedy.
And the man who wrought the end of England's idol most probably sits in London unmolested, and without reasonable prospect of being arrested. He may well be living at the Carlton or the Ritz, or he may be working hard and faithfully to-day in the Admiralty or the War Office — lamenting Kitchener's death with the rest of England.
The writer asserts that the chances are 600 to 1 against this person ever being found out. His story will remain untold. He accomplished what the Kaiser and ten million troops could not do, but he will receive no iron cross, no pour le merite. Some day he may be amply rewarded, but he alone will know why.
To the average man or woman, a spy is a creature of fiction; in the present war he is a tremendous factor, an institution on whose success or failure may depend the fate of nations. Besides some of his deeds of cleverness and daring the most thrilling fiction that is written around him is dull and tiresome.
Against the assertion of the Admiralty that the Hampshire was mined, the writer in question goes on to say that it is probably true that Kitchener's death was due to a spy. There are few or no mines in the vicinity of the Orkney Islands. The nearest mine field is the one that protects the port of Kirkwall in Scotland. The route of the Hampshire was probably the safest to be found in European waters. The course is even
THOROUGHLY SWEPT FOR FLOATING MINES to safeguard the great neutral traffic between and England and America. A German submarine may have chanced upon the spot as the Hampshire was passing, but this is extremely unlikely. It is much more likely that a submarine put out from Wilhelmshaven with orders to hide in the exact course of the Hampshire and destroy her as she passed. Or a flotilla of submarines may have infested these waters to cover deflection from the Hampshire's natural course. And the man who gave these orders knew that aboard the cruiser was Earl Kitchener.
In the light of the result achieved, and some of the other "jobs" that have gone before in this war, the killing of Earl Kitchener must have been comparatively easy. The knowledge that he was going to Russia was generally shared in official circles. The spy, placed to receive just such information, probably knew the plans in detail. Then it became a matter of transmission to Germany. And herein is the great mystery, for, despite all precautions which the
BEST INTELLIGENCE DIVISIONS of the world can devise, important and exceedingly private information reaches Germany from England and England from Germany.
There is always the medium of personal delivery, of agents who travel the seas in the guise of business men on faked or sound passports, but few such are left after two years of combing. The cable and wireless to-day are the most reliable means of communication, but regulations of always increasing stringency have made this medium difficult. To avert suspicion it is often necessary nowadays for secret service agents in belligerent territory to transmit their messages to the desired point through relays which girdle the globe, through brother agents who are posted to the very outposts of civilisation for that purpose. Let no reader imagine that such systems do not exist. Not long ago the British Admiralty received
A SECRET REPORT FROM GERMANY telling exactly on what day Sir Roger Casement might be expected to arrive off the coast of Ireland, that two other Irishmen would accompany him and that a shipload of arms would complete what was primarily a submarine expedition. This is more remarkable than the fact that Kitchener's plans became known in Germany, because the conditions under which the alien spy must work are ten times more difficult in Germany than in England. And Casement's plans were guarded far more carefully than Kitchener's probably were.
Many knew that Casement would attempt to reach Ireland, but when no one knew except those who went and a few officials who arranged his going. But a spy also knew and, what is more, he got his information to England. Speaking of Casement, he was probably the most spied-upon man in the war. Living in Germany; he was watched by both Germans and British. No German official doubted Casement's sincerity, but he was watched for safety's sake; no British official doubted Casement's insincerity and he was watched for the same reason. Change hotels as often as he would and did — Casement could not evade the British spies. The writer (who, apparently, had been in Germany) had seen Casement hang up his coat in a Berlin hotel and return from lunch later to find that
EVERY POCKET HAD BEEN RIFLED, and every scrap of paper contained therein taken.
German spies were laid to catch the British spies who dogged Casement, but none was caught.
More than a year ago the writer stood on the heights of Scarborough Castle on the east coast of England two hours after the German bombardment. Less than two months ago the commander of one of the two German cruisers that took part in the bombardment described to him in detail a field gun that stood concealed on the outermost point of this cliff.
A year ago the writer was captured aboard a Dutch steamer in the North Sea by a German submarine which located us in a dense fog soon after daybreak. That submarine commander knew when and where we were going to the smallest point of his compass and knew to the last egg and two Americans
WHAT AND WHO WERE ON BOARD. Spies are to admiralties what navigators are to the ships.
More than a year ago, while Lord Fisher was still in active command of the British high sea fleet, it was said by responsible officials that one of Fisher's greatest difficulties was the work of German spies. At that time it was practically impossible for Fisher to issue an important order to his fleet without Berlin knowing the contents as soon as did the ships of his own fleet.
THE BRAINS OF BRITISH SECRET SYSTEM There is probably no more efficient officer in all Great Britain than the man chosen by wise Admiralty heads to combat this German system of espionage and to penetrate at the same time the German espionage armor. He is Captain William R. Hall, at the outbreak of the war commander of the cruiser Queen Mary, destroyed in the fight off Jutland, and one of the first British commanders actually to sink a German man-o'-war. This he did in his first Heligoland battle.
Hall is a new fighter of the finest type, a sailor with
THE SALT OF THE SEVEN SEAS in his veins and hatred for no man in his heart. They made him chief of the Intelligence Division of the Navy because he knew men as well as ships and the rest of the world as well as Britain. The writer says, "I have known his encouraging smile to batter down spy disguises where the usual third degree methods would be futile. It takes a strong man to talk an hour with Hall and not reveal himself."
At a time early in the war Hall made it known to two or three women in London that he suspected them. He let them feel uncomfortable without actually frightening them. The result was what he expected it would be — they went to the Admiralty to complain because they seemed to be under suspicion and to justify their presence in London. Each woman had the same fate — clever women they were, but they talked too long to the smiling, sparkling-eyed little Britisher, and finally gave away their own game. I never think of Hall as a secret service director without recalling an incident that occurred on the bridge of the good ship Queen Mary as she raced in to the death after
SCORING A FATAL HIT on a German cruiser in that first tussle in Heligoland Bight.
Hall is a religious man. Also, like the ablest sea fighters everywhere, he could face death himelf with a hundredfold less feeling than would reach his heart at the sight of an enemy bound to the region of Davy Jones.
Hall first found the German with a shell at seven or eight miles. A broadside from the Queen Mary tilted the enemy and Hall rushed in at full speed. Through his glasses he could see the German turning up on end and her men crowding aft to stay out of the water as long as possible. ''I'm a bit religious, you know," Hall said to the writer, "and I don't like to see the poor beggars going down just that way, I naturally took off my cap and said a little prayer for them. I hadn't got very far with what I had to say, though, when I sort of felt that all was not well and I cast my off eye seaward. Nothing but a torpedo coming dead on amidships!
"I QUIT PRAYING RIGHT THERE long enough to throw the ship's course over so as to parallel the course of the torpedo if possible. Then I took off my cap again and said a prayer for my own crew. We paralleled her all right and she went skimming by."
This is Hall, the man who guards the secrets of the world's greatest fleet and seeks the secrets of the next greatest. He believes you should love your enemies — and shoot straight.
Asked to name a prototype to Hall, the writer points out Major Nicolli, chief of the espionage division of the German army. The two great differences between the two men are the first and obvious ones — one is a German and the other English; one is a soldier and the other a sailor. But
THEY ARE EXCEEDINGLY ALIKE. Of about the same stature, each possesses a deep sense of humor and each has the faculty of tackling each separate task of a continuing stupendous job with a smile. Nicolli concerns himself chiefly with the German armies on the Western front and most of his time is spent at Great Headquarters in France. There he directs the work of detecting enemy spies within the German lines and of spying in the enemy lines.
"I have known of but one man worsting this astute German soldier and that man was a American newspaper correspondent. Finding a man who could successfully evade his airtight regulations,
NICOLLI REWARDED HIM," he remarked. This correspondent had been in Berlin many months without seeing anything of importance or of military interest when he was suddenly seized with the idea that no one had ever attempted to cut this red tape that kept correspondents in Berlin and that it might be done. So in a "can't hang me, anyway" spirit he set out without permission from anyone for Great Headquarters. The big spectacle or nothing for him!
Charleville was his objective. At the first point where he had to change cars he followed some privates with whom he had become friendly on the train and remained with them till the next train came along. They lolled about on the grass together, exchanged cigarettes, shared lunch and did the brotherly act all round.
When the train arrived the correspondent fished out of his pocket an ancient military pass, fashioned it to resemble the pass possessed by his comrades, took good note of how they held theirs in their hands and then placed himself in the midst of the jam surging toward the gates and the inspection which everyone had to pass before boarding the train. Ostensibly struggling to keep his feet, and joking with his soldier friends betimes, the correspondent
SUCCEEDED IN GETTING THROUGH. So far so good, but at the next junction the correspondent learned that his train would arrive immediately and there would be barely time for inspection. So, instead of following the troops through the gates only to have to undergo another inspection, the correspondent made himself at home on a pile of baggage on the platform until his train came along and then quickly hopped aboard. Joining his friends again, he went on to Charleville.
At Charleville one of the first persons he met was Major Nicolli, an amazed officer indeed. He exclaimed that no man could reach headquarters without a pass from his division. The correspondent said he didn't believe it and opined that he offered fairly visible proof that the impossible was possible.
There was no train leaving Charlevllle that night, but the major invited the correspondent to leave by the first train the next morning. Having been seen with
THE CHIEF OF ALL THE SPIES, the correspondent was not further molested and was able to find lodgings in a building directly across the street from the chateau occupied by the Emperor.
PROLONGED VIEW OF THE BATTLE FRONT. All went well till the next morning, when the correspondent overslept and missed the train. Again he met the again-amazed major in the street. The major tried hard to be stern, but he could not conceal his amusement at finding a man who took such a serious order of eviction so lightly as to oversleep. The correspondent finally left headquarters the next morning, having in the meantime had a close and prolonged view of the place and its most distinguished inhabitant. Back in Berlin a week later the major called the correspondent to his office and said:
"Now, how in the devil did you get to headquarters? Please tell me."
This the correspondent did and the next week accompanied the major on a fruitful trip to eastern headquarters.
ENGLAND'S ESPIONAGE SYSTEM now is probably triple its peace footing in efficiency and numbers. Espionage, repulsive as it may be in the abstract, is a military necessity. Assign a true British soldier to espionage and he will do his work with a cleverness and tenacity that Japs or Russians, supposedly past masters in the art, could not excel.
Here is an example:
A German officer, whom I have met and known as a friend both in the field and in Berlin, believed for six months that in his company fought the best individual soldier that ever lived.
He was awarded an iron cross for his bravery and soon afterward given the greater distinction of being ordered back to Germany to study and be examined to become a commissioned officer. He finally took the examination and passed.
Two weeks later the captain was notified officially that the man had suddenly come under the suspicion of his instructors and ultimately confessed being a British spy. He was shot, but to this day his German captain will swear he was the best soldier he has ever seen.
One of the most aggravating and sometimes most heroic species of spies is the patriotic civilian inhabiting conquered territory. The Germans have had ample proof of French patriotism in this respect. One experience of the venerable General von Baesler is a case in point. This General, dubbed "bullet-proof" in the German army by reason of the miraculous manner in which he avoids injury, was sitting under a tree recently, calmly observing the
ARTILLERY PRACTICE BEFORE VERDUN. He had not been there long when a French shell arched the tree and burst 400 yards in the rear. When a second shell burst a hundred yards closer, the General remarked to his aides that it was getting warmer. When a third shell burst only 200 yards behind him, the General moved his chair to another tree several yards to his left. He had no more than done so when a shell split the first tree.
Von Baesler immediately ordered a search of the neighborhood. Soldiers turned up everything above earth and under it in vain until they came upon the remains of a house. Kicking in the chimney in this house they disclosed a French peasant with a telephone. He was arrested and tried. He confessed and was sentenced to death.
Impressed by the man's frankness and daring, the General sought him out that night and talked long with him. The General told the old peasant that he need not die. The Germans meant him no harm, von Baealer declared, and offered to spare the old man's life if only he would promise not to interfere in military matters, but attend strictly to his little farm, in which work von Baesler would see that he had ample help. To all of which
THE AGED PEASANT REPLIED, "I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You are a soldier and a noble one. But I am a soldier, too. I fought for France in 1870. Now would I again fight for France, but I am too old, as you see. That I am too old to fight has caused me deep pain and sorrow. But I discovered a way in which I could direct the French battery beyond. I wanted them to kill you, sire, because it would have helped France. Again I must thank you, but I cannot promise. Free, I would do the same again if the opportunity came. I have failed this time, but I could not help trying again — for France."
The old General walked away, too deeply affected for words. The peasant died the next morning, but not before a grizzled German commander had stepped in front of the firing line and wrung his hand.
It is this kind of patriotism that makes heroic spies. There is no greater fallacy than the supposition that spies are chiefly professionals who make war their business. Professionals do not usually take chances in enemy armies, nor do they care to dare death in any other form. The professionals usually
KEEP PRETTY CLEAR OF DANGER. Their names have no rightful place alongside that of the man who would swab a gun with his body if ordered to do it. In the present war this spy work is done chiefly by traitors and neutrals. Among the neutrals is the "free lance." He sells his soul most freely but takes exceedingly good care of his body. Ocean liners are a fertile field for these men. Many Americans may be found among the neutrals now doing the work. It is an easy life. They make a good living, live on shipboard with persons whose acquaintance they could not hope to make ashore, and there is no danger involved except a possible punch in the jaw from an irate compatriot. -29/7/1916.
The "Jimmy Woodser" and the Wowser find much in common in the War Regulations Bill. -29/7/1916. |
RATTLING THE HUNS.
The great advance by a terrific bombardment from the British lines, which had the effect of "rattling" the German troops. — Cablecram.
At last the day of days arrives, For which we've all been waiting,
And Bull begins the last big fight, With no more hesitating.
He's got the men, he's got the guns, For which so long he battled;
And now his endless stream of shells, Has got the Huns well rattled. -5/8/1916.
The "endless stream of shells" was the bombardment which was to prepare the enemy lines for the "Big Push." This was the battle which would tear open the German lines, making a gap through which the British cavalry, long held in waiting for the right moment, would stream, collapsing the German front and ranging the countryside behind. It would be a proper war again, just like the glorious days of old.
Three million men were involved. One third were killed or wounded.
The soldiers assaulting German positions on the Somme were largely the civilian volunteers of 1914, new soldiers, heartened by the days of shelling directed on German positions. Nothing would be left of them, they were told - trenches and wire would be destroyed and it would be a stroll over land pulverised by five days of incessant battering with high explosive and empty of the enemy.
The reality was hell. It was the bloodiest single day in the history of the British army, with nearly 60,000 casualties including nearly 20,000 dead. The Germans had known they were coming and had constructed deep, concrete-lined shelters which shellfire could not destroy. They had built two further lines of defence behind their front, spaced so that artillery to bombard them would have to be shifted up over the ground it had already turned into a trackless wilderness.
The Battle of the Some was a success for the Allied armies. The enemy line had been forced, territory had been won back from the Germans. But the cost was exceptionally high. The future course of the "Great War" was a slogging match - a war of attrition. Each side tried to kill as many of the other as it could, to bleed it dry of its youth, manhood and morale. For the worker turned soldier on both sides, things did not look hopeful.
DEFEAT'S BITTER CUP.
German newspapers are openly discussing the possibilities of a definite military defeat now that the Allies are advancing on all fronts. — Cablecram.
By Alllies' bayonets prodded on, Whichever way he shrinks.
Poor Fritz is draining to the dregs, The bitter draught he drinks.
The next time he goes forth to war, He vows he will be wiser;
And, as he drains defeat's black cup, He murmurs, "Strafe der Kaiser." 19/8/1916.
"ON THE BALL."
A novelty was introduced into the British attack on July 1, when each platoon was supplied with a football, and the commanders kicked off. Dribbling continued, and two balls were actually kicked into the German trenches. — Cablecram.
The British boys are "on the ball," And every shot's a goal,
While every Hun is on the run, To save his Hunnish soul.
Our boys buck in and play the game — Their gaiety astounds;
They scare old Fritz, and givo him fits, And kick him out of bounds. -19/8/1916.
A SURPRISE FOR FRITZ.
The German troops opposing the British on the Western front were told that the new armies were composed of "amateur soldiers" who would run at the first shot. They found to their surprise, however, that "Kitchener's men" were more than a match even for crack corps like the Brandenburgers. — Cablecram.
Fritz thought he was an amateur — That new man in the ring
— But now he has a sad surprise, A different song to sing.
Blind, battered, bleeding, down and out. He's stretched upon the floor;
And there he waits the final count, Resolved to have no more. 26/8/1916.
| WAR'S GRUESOME GREED |
SASSIETY SPICE by "Lady Dot"
"Seventy men have just been sent back to England from France because they have foreign names," quotes an exchange. Just so. The Anti-German League has more than justified its existence, but what price that "tank" running on to the German lines and our artillery obliged to blow up the whole concern — crew and all — to save its secrets from falling into enemy hands? May there not have been a traitors' hand on the lever hoping to handle a huge reward? At any rate, "Dot" hopes not. -21/10/1916.
SASSIETY SPICE by "Lady Dot"
The probation officer in Auckland has given the women police movement a big fillip by reporting that women police are necessary to combat the immorality of Auckland city. In this contention the officer is right, because the climatic and physical conditions of that city render it difficult to control the population. Its numerous parks and watering places are frequented by thousands who are not all plaster saints by any means. The island trade, too, is answerable for a most undesirable class of men who bring with them in many cases loathsome habits and still more loathsome diseases. Here women police would be invaluable because they could guard the waterfront and wharves (there are many of the latter) and very many parks. It is a constant theme of comment by visitors anent the careless manner in which young women and old accompany men on water picnics without any chaperones. Herne Bay and other small bays teem with motor launches whose owners set out with a change of partner nearly every night. They are very careful, too, to keep the identity of the said partners a secret. A German, now interned, is said to have ruined scores of girls and boasted of the fact. Now, as Auckland's probation officer has recommended women police, let Auckland's Civic League and National Reserve band together and organise twenty suitable women as patrols. They will have the co-operation of the police authorities there. As Commissioner Cullen is relinquishing office, it may be that his successor will not be so adamant and give women a better hearing than they have received in the past.
• • • An unsavory case of a man Winter, a taxi-cab driver, who attempted an assault upon two females, has caused some startling information to reach "Dot." It is said that an ex-military officer is part-owner of a motor car, or cars, and that he is in the habit of taking out girls and giving them drink, beginning with rather harmless wine, and then gradually leading them to strong drink and ruin. He dresses in khaki in the evenings, and so turns the head of silly girls and weak women, who cannot resist the glamor of a uniform and — a gentleman! Here, again, is work for women police, which can only be done by broadminded and discreet women. In the meantime, will the ordinary-common every-day-garden variety of policemen keep a watchful eye on motor garages and ex-milltary bounders?
• • • The scenes in the trams after a reinforcement has left are often pitiable. Last week a wife, far gone in the ravages of consumption, was leaving by the Auckland night express and trying all she knew to hide her great sorrow at parting with her brave husband. A loyal male friend tried all in his power to distract her attention and earned the admiration of all who noticed him. Young wives, little more than children, proudly sported wedding rings, and beyond eyes red with weeping, appeared to have already overcome their grief.
• • • "Don't eat any of the puddings sent home by the Wellington ladies" was the astounding advice sent home by some soldiers' mothers. After a long wait. "Dot" has discovered a rumor to the effect that two Germans are employed in a certain company and who had something to do with the puddings, or came within cooee of them in some way, are the cause of the warning. If there is no truth in the rumor it is a very cruel one. If true, why does not someone inquire into the matter. We don't want a repetition of the Arawa transport scandal, where in 550 cases of ptomaine poisoning occurred as she approached the shores of Egypt on her first trip with troops.
• • • Do not dare to mention "canary legs" to the Trentham boys of the 22nd Reinforcements. Going into shorts left their tender knees exposed to a hot sun. Result, bad sun burns and cracking sores. The cure, picric acid, which turns bandages yellow. Many rude remarks and calls for a song or whistle from the "canaries" have caused much heart-burning amongst the victims to sun-burn. -25/11/1916.
THE MURDER OF CAPT. FRYATT
The British Government has forwarded a supply of booklet entitled "The Murder of Captain Fryatt." to Gordon and Gotch Proprietary, Ltd., Wellington, for free distribution. The unsportsmanlike manner in which the German authorities dealt with Fryatt, who fought and escaped from the submarine on two occasions, was at last captured by a flotllla of German seacraft, and subsequently hanged without proper trial, is plainly told. "Truth" readers can obtain the book upon application to Gordon and Gotch, Wellington, by prepaying one penny postage. -2/12/1916.
FLED FROM THE FADERLAND
A German who had left his native land to avoid military despotism had prospered in the American engineering trade. When war broke out he was sent for by the German Consul at New York and asked what he would do for Germany — would he manufacture munitions? "My plant is not suitable." said the German-American. The consul touched an electric bell button and to the clerk who answered said, "Bring file No. 20." The file was brought and the German-American was shown complete information concerning his own factory. "You remember — — who worked for you?" said the consul. "He was a German military engineer." Again the German-American was asked what he would do. "I love Germany and the Germans." he replied, "and I will give you every cent of three hundred thousand dollars I possess if you will make a bonfire of the Hohenzollerns and allow me to light the match." -16/12/1916.
AN IMPERIAL PECKSNIFF.
Of all the nauseating cant talked since the beginning of the war, commend us to the interview of the Crown Prince with an American journalist. "What a pity it is all this terrible extinction of human life. Is there one German general, one German soldier, who does not bewail the dreadful neccesity pressed upon them by this combat?" Thus the Crown Prince. And this war was engineered by these very German genarals, anxious to test the machine they had made. And Little Willie himself, through his vanity and incapacity, has been responsible for more actual slaughter of Germans than any other figure of the war. And then the plaint about his wife and children. He is a family man, and "It is no happiness to look forward to spending a third Christmas in the field away from his wife and children." It is no happiness for anyone. But the domestic touch would have come better from somebody with a better reputation in family matters. The Crown Prince's record is too well known in this direction, even in America, that it must all seem very artificial and hypocritical. 23/12/1916.
| War and Death, with their handmaidens, Disease and Famine, celebrate the Natal Day of the Prince of Peace -23/12/1916. |
1917!
THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW
New Year's Day is a world holiday. It has no connection with religious ceremonies of any kind, ancient or modern. But the Scotsman looks upon the first day of the year as particularly and peculiarly his holiday. The Northern Celt will continue to toil all Christmas Day and Boxing Day likewise, consoling himself with the thought that as a result of his industry on such days the Arbitration Court award him "treble siller." But this same person will resent any attempt to get him to give up his holiday on what he terms "Ne'erday" for the sake "o' a wheen bawbees." And on that day the faithful Scot drinks a toast, not only to the New, but to the Old Year. One of the happiest of his Bacchanalian ballads has for its title, "Here's To The Year That's Awa'." When, with a good supply of the "elements" on hand, a Scots company rises to honor this toast, it is done in these words: "To the Year that's Awa' — May the Neist be Nae Waur!" And so, as we stand on the threshold of 1917, and note the war-clouds that still darken this fair world of ours, we sigh, as we look back over the ruin and red record of the year that's away: "May the next be no worse." It may not be much to hope for, and yet it might easily be too much. During the year now swiftly slipping from the eternity before, to the eternity that is past, many homes in these bright islands have been robbed of loved ones by the ruthless hand of relentless war. We had hoped, when the now dying year, was still young, that, ere all its beads were told, the heel of the tyrant would have been lifted from the necks of Balgium and France and Servia, and the peoples of Europe allowed to breathe freely once more. But though many, many lives have been sacrificed ungrudgingly and, oh, so bravely, in the united efforts of the Allies to consummate this most laudable purpose, the day of deliverance has not yet dawned. The Mailed Fist of the brutal War Lord still grasps the nations of Europe in a stranglehold as the year of 1917 is ushered in upon the world for weal or woe.
• • • Throughout 1916 the tide of the titanic struggle has ebbed and flowed. When the year was in its swaddling clothes, the newspapers all were prating about the Big Push that was to take place on the Western Front "in the spring." But the spring passed, the summer ended, and autumn gave place to winter once again in Northern France and Belgium, and the Big Push is still in the lap of the gods. Certainly some advance has been made, and the despoilers of Belgian fertility and virginity have been driven back, with great loss, some considerable distance. Not once, nor twice, but many times during the past year great battles have been fought, in which the arms and the armies of the Entente have proved superior to those of their resourceful, unscrupulous and well-equipped enemy. At the same time the Central Powers have more or less evened up things by their successes on other fronts. Aided by their great strategic railways the Hun War Lords are able to fling overwhelming forces at chosen points against the Russians, Serbians and Roumanians, and by sheer force of numbers push their way forward. But such victories are less or more spectacular and are of little military significance when weighed in the balance with the Kaiser's failure to take Paris, to get to Calais, or to break the blockade, which, despite the efforts of the great gang of smugglers in Holland, Switzerland and other neutral countries, is slowly but surely wearling down the Hun, despite his assertions to the contrary. Then again, the success of German, arms in Roumania is dearly bought at the price paid at Verdun by the recent French success, in great measure facilitated by the weakening of the Crown Prince's command in order to strengthen the forces marching against Russia and Roumania. And thus the game of seasaw goes on.
• • • On calmly reviewing the position, one is forced to the conclusion that had things during the past twelve months turned out more favorable for the Allies than they have, it would have been little short of a miracle. The reason why the real Big Push did not come off "in the Spring" or during any other part of 1916 is because it never was intended that it should. All the talk about the coming advance was merely part and parcel of the tactics of our generals in order to keep the enemy guessing. The talk of the "coming event" was so insistent and persistent that he became seriously perturbed. His "observers" and "scouts" informed him of the great masses of men and munitions which the Allies were piling up behind the lines, and he considered these were the "shadow before" which augured the "coming event" But as days grew to weeks and weeks to months, and the Allies contented themseleves with night sniping and trench raiding, he concluded that the Big Push was a big prevarication, and in one or two instances attempted to "call the bluff" on the Allies. Luckily, on such occasions, the Entente commanders, though not sufficiently strong to break through, were able easily to repulse such ill-considered attacks, and to follow up such repulses, by becoming the aggressors and capturing a line of enemy trenches. These things but mystified the First War Lord's officers all the more, and the Big Push began to get on their nerves. Then came the dash forward at the Somme with its many thousand of Germans killed; many more seriously wounded, and almost as many taken prisoner. Had the time for the Big Push arrived, then the victory on the Somme had been a splendid starting point. It showed the German that the Allied troops could break through if they desired to break through. But for some unaccountable reason — unaccountable, that is, in the eyes of the Pessimist and the Didimus — the Allies did not "follow on." They returned to their old tactics of holding up the Hun, and all the while continuing to pile up guns and ever more guns, ammunition and ever more ammunition behind the lines. And so the longer the delay lasts the more cartain is the victory which is to follow the Big Push when, at last, it is pushed home.
• • • It will be seen then that much of our dissatisfaction with the present military situation arises out of our imperfect knowledge which prevents us from appreciating the difficulties to be overcome. No doubt we would not now look upon things with such a seeming lack of confidence in the final outcome of the struggle, had our long-eared literary lights in the day-lies not led us to expect much more, very much more in the way of a successful offensive than, when everything is taken into account, could possibly have come our way during 1916. Blessed are they that expect little, may be a somewhat satirical beatitude, but it is nevertheless true, and as true in modern military operations as in any other phase of life and struggle. Had we expected less, much that has been done on land and sea would have appeared to us as wonderful. It is our conviction that this is a sane view to take of the operations of our army and navy and of the armies of our Allies that makes us satisfied to join our Scots confreres m their seasonable toast: "To the year that has gone— may the next be no worse."
• • • And unless the purveyors of our news are still making wild guesses and guesses wide at the truth, there is much presumptive evidence that the New Year not only will be no worse than the Old, but for us immeasureably better. The work of training large numbers of men has been going on unceasingly in Britain, the making and importing of munitions of war have been pushed to the utmost limit. The Big Push expected in the Spring of 1916 and, probably wisely, delayed, will eventuate it may be when we and the enemy least expect it. It would appear as if some inkling of this has forced its way into the heads of the German filibusterers, and that they are not too sanguine of the outcome — hence the recent peace overtures of which we have heard so much. "Truth" is inclined to attach much more importance to these same overtures than the contradictory cable canards may seem to warrant. The fact, however, that Germany is willing to go back to the ante bellum position and accept that arbitration she high-handedly refused in July, 1914, shows how hard pressed she is, if not from without, then most certainly from within. -30/12/1916.
So there it is - the "Big Push" was not a failed attempt to break the German line - it was merely a demonstration to break enemy morale by showing that the Allies could break through if they wanted to.
But never fear - as great as the bombardment of Hun lines and the mass assault by freshly-trained citizen-soldiers had been in 1916 - the "Big Push," when it finally was made, would eclipse it.
And so it did. In the Ypres sector the landscape had been made into fertile farmland by generations of Flanders farmers, draining bogs and soggy land. During the preparation for the next "Big Push," artillery destroyed the drainage and rain reduced it all to mud - mud deep enough to swallow a tank, let alone a soldier laden with 60lb of equipment.
Into this mud were led the men of New Zealand and other Empire nations. This battle was named "Paesschendaele" - pronounced "Passiondale."
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