i^frembor 13, T917 
'LAND & WATER 
13 
riftf. LookinsT down the trench— -it waSi as a matter of hu-t 
only a sliallow furrow — you could' see a row -of gloaniiug 
bayonets and occasionallv a white face as a man emptied 
his maga/.ine and fingered liis pouch for another chp. There 
was a most infernal orchestra of sound — machine-guns going 
Uke kettle-drums, the buzz, the crack, and the twang of rifle- 
bullets like stringed instruments, and at quick intervals the 
tremendous bass of the artillerv and tiie crash and roar of 
falling houses. The onK- sound vou never heard was a 
Iniman voice. Odd, isn't it ? The more resolute an English 
soldier is, the more silent he seems to become. The men 
must ha\'e had a raging thirst — vou know how dry one's 
throat gets at these times — they had long ago emptied their 
water-bottles, and it was impossible for the ration-parties 
to get up. 
"It was in one of these journeys that I met Yeoman. He 
was coming down from the firing-line, and when I saw him 
the lower part of liis face was co\ered with blood — he looked 
just as if he'd cut his throat. As a matter of fact, half his 
left jaw had been shattered and the bullet must ha\e just 
missed the jugular vein. I fancy it was a flat-nosed bullet. 
His left wrist was shattered too. He'd been sent back l)y his 
platoon com.mander. I didn't take miicli notice of him— 
there were too many otiier things to think alwut. 
• I l(X)keti in at our First .\id Station, just beyond Battalion 
Headquarters where the M.O., hall-dead with exhaustion, 
was working by candle-light in overalls amidst a strange 
smell of blood, iodoform, methylated spirit, and hav. It 
was a big barn ; a row of men were laicl out like mummies 
on the floor awaiting their turn — some had gi\en up waiting; ! 
— with the soles of their boots upturned. It's odd how 
pxpressi\-e a pair of feet can be — you heard very few cries of 
j)ain. but I noticed the boots of more than one man beating 
togetlier while the rest of his body lay as still as a statue. 
"About an hour later I met Yeoman going up to the trenches 
again, his face swathed in bandages. 1 asked wl)at on earth 
lie was doing up there, and hadn't the M.O. sent him down 
to a Casualty Clearing Station. 1 suppose he thought he 
was going to get " crimed " again for disobeying a lawful 
command, and he was horribly apologetic about it. I say 
horribly because he spoke thickly like a man who's forgotten 
to put liis false teeth back. As a matter of fact all the teeth 
on the left side of his jaw bad been knocked out. 
" 'Tiiorry, thir,' he said, 'but I heard we'd no rethervth left.' 
" He went back to the firing-line. He was hit twice again 
that night, but he carried on and only retired with the Vest 
at four in the morning, when we were relieved — not mucli 
relief about it— by the K.O.S.B. and went into support. He 
mast have lost a lot of blood. 
" In that. one day — or ratTier, night — wr had. four omcerS 
killed, eleven wounded and rather more than thrfe hundred 
X.C.O.'s and men killed, wounded and missing. You know the 
rest. The long dreary winter near Richebourg. By tin- 
time spring came there were just fifty men left in the Battalion 
of those that embarked on August 14th at Avonmoiith, The 
rest wen^ all new drafts. Yeoman ? He got the D.O.M. 
Also he got a stripe as lance-corporal, and what is mucii more 
extraordinary he kept it. Eventually he became platoon- 
sergeant. His character quite changed^ — Xo ! it developed. 
He found himself. Perhaps he'd never really had a fair 
chance before. He'd had a rough time before he enlisted, 
poor as a church mouse and as hungry. D'you know, 
C , I've come to the conclusion that there's something 
wrong with our social values in time of peace. We 
give a brute who kicks his wife a fine with the option 
of a month's I.H.L., and the man who pinches a pheasant gets 
three without any option at all. Why is it that the law of 
England has always been so damned tender to offences against 
the person and so ' shirty ' about offences against property ? 
\^■hv is it that if a man steals a loaf of bread begets ' crimed,' 
while if he grinds the faces of the poor by profiteering he gets 
— well knighted for a subscription to party funds. . . . 
-My men lirouRht nothing into the world and it's quite certain 
thev took nothing out. The jiation gave them a shilling a 
day and \alued them accordingly but, my God ! thev rej^id 
that shilling — paid it with usury. They, re all dead. Or 
else they're maimed and broken for life. And there was 
a time before the war when not a damned potman would, 
serve 'em in uniform ; perhaps it'll be like that again ! 
What is it Kipling says ? ' Oh, it's Tommy this and Tommy 
that, and chuck him out, the brute.' 'Militarism,' you know ! 
I'm not saying that the men hadn't their faults, but you know 
what a ' New Model ' the old Army became after the Boer 
war. There were \-ery few ' bad hats ' in it, and even Yeoman 
xyasn't a bad sort — in fact, he was a damned good sort. \'ou 
know I often think that there was something wrong with a 
society which could offer nothing better to chaps like him 
than twelve shillings a week with rheumatism and the 'Union ' 
at the end of it (unless he reached seventy and got a beggarly 
five bob) and which could give him nothing better in the long 
winter evenings than the village tap-room. Perhaps that's 
why he poached — and enlisted. It always seemed to me 
that he felt life had never given him what he wanted 
and had a right to ask, and that he was always looking 
for something. He found it at last." 
• Wliat ? Where ? " _ 
" On the Menin ridge. A bullet. He died in my <irms the 
same night." 
The Beauty of Zeeland Waters — II 
By a British Prisoner of War 
The uriter, a frisoner of war in Holland, 'uas given the 
opportimily this sn turner of a cruise through the Zeeland 
estuaries. The other week he described his experiences 
up to Middelbnrg. Tliere he resumes the tale. 
OX market days the great square in the centre of 
Middelburg is "lined witJi stalls and booths, and here 
all the countryside, is gathered. The stadhuis, 
which dominates this open space, is a grey stone 
edifice of the most ornate Gothic. There is a forest of 
pinnacles, and mid-way up the walls statues of the 
Counts and Countesses "of Zeeland and Holland look down 
gravely from their niches. The high roof Ls crowned with 
a bordering of wrought iron and there arc rows of dormer 
windows with bright painted shutters. All the houses in 
the square are in the formal Dutch style, with curved gables 
or curious stepped facades. Th(^ tall tower of the Xieuwe 
Kerk throws the shadow of its three hundred feet over the 
rambling abbey, whose restored fabric is now used as hotel, 
public librarj-, and province offices, fn the paved square 
that one enters through low archwavs there are lime trees, 
which give acertain freshness to the cloistral walls. These 
walls of red brick are solid and unpierced, and once the abbey 
was a formidable stronghold. 
The impression of stepping back through the centuries is 
enhanced on Feast days, when all the world wears national 
costume. ' This is no artificial revival at the instigation of 
moneyed sentimentalists, but an unbroken tradition. Older 
than any building is this dress of heavy black cloth, with the 
snowy apron and the headdress trimmed with hand-made 
lace. The jewellery as well as the dress is uniform. Then- 
are gold ornaments like a cone spiral spring on the cap, ami 
round the neck are worn collars of garni t or red coral, with a 
curious gold fastening. The cimning gold work of tiu-se 
clasps i< a heritage from Spain, and the industry livr> to this 
day. Some of t;iie peasants possess trinkets handed down 
from Spanish sires and treasured with superstitious awe. 
Middelburg was one of the last cities held for Spain, and in 
the features and bearing of its citizens, as in some parts of 
Ireland, there are traces of tlic Southern strain. There are 
lurking fires in their dark eyes, and the clear skins of the girls 
retain a duskiness that contrasts with the transparent pink- 
ness of their countrywomen. Here men and women are fierce 
and quarrelsome, with a mobiiit}- of passion foreign to tliis 
slow-blooded nation. In later years they have some shadow 
of the Spanish dignity of manner. 
But the crowning glory of Middelburg is the pealof bells in 
the great church tower. We noticed their persistent clanging 
as we walked through the echoing streets, but, like a powerful 
voice in too close proximity, their tones appeared harsh and 
overpowering. We sat on deck that night, and from the har- 
bour listened to the long midnight peal. Sadness and a 
strange, unearthly triumph seemed to mingle in their anthem. 
F'or a full five minutes the golden music rose and fell, its message 
clear and strong and joyous, like the voice of one who knows 
his words are true. Again and again it died away and then 
continued, and finally its echo merged with the vibrant booming 
of the hour. It is in such moments, when we listen to a peal 
of FTemti^h bells, or stand beneath the shadow of some French 
cathedral, that the mightiness of the past seems to shame 
the boast of modern -progress. Germany has taken the bells 
from the Flemish towns that she has conquered and melted 
them for munitions. It is, perhaps, symbolic of Teutonic 
culture. .\11 the while we could hear, like distant thunder, the 
noise of guns firing on the Belgian Coast. The sound, low 
and continuous, was a sinister reminder. Then one was glad 
that Holland was neutral, that her treasures were safe from 
(ierman savages. 
There could be no greater contrast to Middelburg than 
\'lissingen. It is naval base, commercial harbour, and 
