During stand to, or immediately after, one of the most important jobs of the day takes place, namely the issue of rum. Sometimes after this we turn in for an hour or so, but generally work starts immediately. One of the first duties is tidying & cleaning up the trench. Empty bully tins, biscuits, paper & etc form the greater part of the rubbish. Then we set to & clean our rifles, after this breakfast. As a rule each man cooks his own, though in some of the quieter places the cooks do the work.
After breakfast comes the pick & shovel work, for no trench no matter how good it might be is ever finished — there is always the parapet to be strengthened or new communication trenches to be dug or other damage to be repaired. Sometimes you can hear old Fritz, hammering, sawing & hacking, sometimes a shovel swings into view. This happens too often sometimes & our guns put a few rapid salvos into him, bursting the shells all round the busy part, but again the situation is often reversed & we get them at us. One thing is absolutely certain: whichever side starts it the other is bound to retaliate, & we knock off work for an hour or so & let the guns fight it out. I suppose the gunners of both sides reckon they are chastising one another by shelling the trenches of the unfortunate infantry who have no say in the quarrel at all.
Next stop dinner, & after this as a rule all hands have a camp for we get very little sleep at night, but often our rest is broken for this is the time selected by the big guns on both sides for a little target practice. Very likely our artillery organises a combined strafe on some enemy strong point, & they lay about for all they are worth, but whatever success it may have had it has only one end: retaliation on the infantry by the Hun, so we squeeze up in the deepest part of our dugout & there try to sleep while Fritz is trying his hand.
However evening comes at last; time to stand to in the gathering dusk. Presently a long thin streak of light makes its appearance, bends high above our heads & bursts into a dazzling flame. It is the first Very light & means that the night’s work is upon us. There is great activity in the trenches now. The parapet is manned & the scientific work of the sniper, which has been going on all day, gives way to more snap shooting than anything else. Working parties get busy in places where you can’t get at in daylight. Ration parties set off down the communication trenches. Wounded are transferred under the friendly cover of darkness to the motor ambulances waiting in the roads at the rear. Parties go over the parapet to repair the wire which had been damaged during the afternoon shelling.
Now comes the exciting part, for occasionally a Boche patrol sneaks out & gets busy. There will be no shots, only the cold steel — to fire a rifle in the middle of no man’s land is to court disaster from the machine guns of both sides. This is the machine gunners’ busy times. Very often rifle fire breaks out for no reason at all & is taken up by both sides, & machine guns join in. The storm runs right along the line, sometimes for miles, everybody blazing madly at nothing, until it reaches a party who are well disciplined & they refuse to fire at nothing. Then it dies away as suddenly as it broke out, & the scared patrols crawl out of their shell holes & creep home too full for words.
So the night wears on, the ration parties return bearing rations & best of all mail, working parties are called in, the uneasy popping of rifles dies down almost to nothing, & a fairly uneventful 24 hours draws to a close.
Of course trench life is not always like this. On occasions there are other kinds, for instance your trenches may be made the object of an intensive bombardment. Such an experience is more easily imagined than described so there is no need to touch on it.
16th February. Packed up & left early this morning. While we were in platoons & waiting to move off I, or rather we, all saw a most remarkable sight: nothing less than blowing up one of our ammunition dumps quite close to Mametz Wood & less than a mile from us. First thing we noticed was an enormous sheet of flame shoot into the air accompanied by a huge cloud of black smoke, which twisted & twirled over & over. The next thing a dull heavy roar & then a succession of short sharp explosions like a packet of crackers going off — these probably were the bombs & shells which had been sent flying by the explosion. I don’t know what was the cause of it but I think it was a plane which dropped the bombs. Directly after the explosion you should have seen the great flocks of birds that flew away from the danger zone. They must have had a scare over it; probably felt the concussion, for they are bound to be very sensitive.
Had a long weary march before we finally pulled up at Bresle.
18th February. A big thaw has set in & the ground is very sloppy & wet. This is the last of the heavy frost I expect, for the mild air of late is very noticeable. This morning I noticed a few trees beginning to show signs of budding. How I am looking forward to the spring, for I love to see the flowers & leafy trees all over the countryside.
19th February. Had a bad accident out on parade this morning. Every man in the Battalion was supposed to throw a live bomb. C Coy had just finished throwing & D Coy had started. Everything went well for a while till by some unlucky accident they struck a bomb which was faulty & just as it left the thrower’s hand it exploded, killing 3 & wounding 11 more, some of them seriously. These “Mills” bombs of ours are very small & innocent looking, but they are the deadliest things for their size I know of. This caused a bit of a flutter for a while, & there was a great demand for sticking plaster, bandages, stretchers & the Dr. There is going to be an inquiry over the accident this afternoon & Jock Mackie is going to give evidence.
20th February. The Coy’s blankets were collected this morning & sent away to be fumigated & not before they were needed.
Out on parade this morning & it rained the whole time. A miserable morning for all concerned. We marched off home, wet, & sick & tired of everything connected with the military.
21st February. Out again last night & talk about a heavy fog, well she was it. We had a job to find our way to the starting point.
22nd February. Last night we had another night operation. What a mix up it was; I think we were about the only platoon in the Coy who found their right objective.
This morning we moved from Bresle to Fricourt Camp. It was a long & wearisome march & the roads were in a very bad state, swimming in water in some places.
26th February. There is a heavy bombardment going on tonight. The guns are raging properly, & flares are going up in all sorts of unexpected places. The heliograph is going, so there must be something doing. They must have located the enemy & are pouring the explosive into him.
27th February. Marched out of Fricourt Camp this afternoon. As we neared our old firing line we could see the results of our advance, for the field guns were pushed up almost to our old line & the dumps had also gone forward.
Our guides led us into one of the most remarkable places as ever you saw in your life: Eaucourt L’Abbaye, a place everyone must have heard of. She is nothing but a mass of shell holes & torn, broken & twisted timber & iron. One has to see for himself before he can fully realise the terrific shattering power of the high explosive. The Germans had a light railway running through it; now the rails are all torn up & the trucks piled high & smashed to pieces while there is enough timber lying about to supply a fair-sized town for a year.
You would wonder where on earth the guide was leading you, for all one can see is a mass of broken bricks & shell holes, but suddenly the leading men disappear & we go down a long flight of stone stairs which lead into a long narrow room, one end of which is portioned off into rooms. There are tunnels in this old joint that they reckon lead to Bapaume.
Where we are living is fully 70 ft below surface & the Germans fixed her up quite comfortably. I have been in a few queer old places but this takes the bun. In some of the rooms there are any amount of bunks, tables & chairs, & one time she was lit by electric light, & she is 3 storeys deep. There was a terrific fight for it as the number of dead lying about go to prove. In one place 3 German bombers were lying across one another, with their belts full of bombs, & one in each hand. A machine gun must h
ave spoilt their little game.
During our stay here we buried all the dead & put little crosses up, Germans included. It’s wonderful how soon one gets hardened to the sight, & after a little while he takes no more notice of dead men than he does of a rabbit. It’s a cruel thing to say but nevertheless it’s true. I do not mean to say that a man loses all feeling & sympathy — let a man get a bad crack & you will find that the boys handle him as tenderly & as quietly as any man or woman — but once a man is dead all we say is “poor devil”, & as like or not just dump him over the parados for the time being, & that’s the end of it.
3rd March. A fine performance was put up a few nights ago by a 5th Batt chap. It appears that a big German patrol captured him & the officer in charge held a pistol to his head & threatened to blow his brains out if he did not lead them to our next post. The chap did as he was told & when they got about 10 yards off the post our sentries halted them & sang out “who are you”. What did the Australian do but throw himself flat on the ground & yell out “Germans”. At this the whole post let fly with rifles & machine guns & wiped nearly the whole crowd out. They counted over 40 dead left on the ground. I reckon that was a brave deed.
9th March. Went for a bath today & we badly needed it, for was the first since Baizeau & our clothes were getting rather soiled as you may guess. We got a sort of a change — they were not too clean but they were better than nothing.
When we came out of the line we thought we were going north to Armentières or Belgium, but it appears that the Australians kicked up a row & refused to go, for they reckon that now they have stuck the Somme all through winter & done a lot of fighting they will stop here & take the good with the bad, for it can’t be very much longer before Bapaume falls & we want to be in it.
17th March. Had the best news today that we have had for a long time. Mr Champion hurried round with a map in his hand & showed us where the 5th Div had advanced during the night & captured Bapaume, Bieuvillers & Le Transloy. What a splendid victory for the Australians. As far as we can hear they were driven back twice but the boys attacked the third time & had a great victory. I am very glad that the 5th Div had the honour of taking Bapaume, for they had a severe setback at Fleurbaix last July & besides they are our sister Batt.
All day long streams of cavalry have been pouring through Albert on their way to Bapaume & a lot of our Light Horse among them. Everyone seems more satisfied now that we have got Bapaume. After all the hardships & battling on this Somme we feel now that our losses have not been in vain, for was not Bapaume the British objective & it is a great honour for the Australians to be the first to enter her.
26th March. Last night all the clocks were put on an hour, so we lose an hour’s sleep by it.
Sunday again & we had a Brigade church parade. After the parade was dismissed there was a football match between 1st & 2nd Batt officers. We could scarcely have wished for a nicer day for the sports than it has been. The sun has been shining & all sorts of birds, especially the larks, have been singing sweetly & the air seems laden with a subtle kind of sweetness which always heralds the coming of spring. This combined with the band music made a very enjoyable afternoon.
27th March. The whole Coy went for a bath this morning & we had the band with us. It was a lovely morning as we marched out & had a good wash (the second in 3 days, not bad going). Just as we finished it started to snow lightly; it came up very quickly but did not last long.
The last couple of days we have had a list posted up in our mess room & for every time one of us swears in the mess room it is pencilled up & every swear costs a penny. I have 2 to my name already, but I am not the only one who is going strong. It is a good idea for it keeps bad language down.
This afternoon we were out manoeuvring & attacking certain positions which were in the plan. We walked & ran anything from 3 to 4 miles, frightening the life out of the hares & partridges of which there are any amount round here, while the old French farmers sat on their ploughs & I daresay cursed us as we marched across their young crops & ploughed ground, but what cared we & away we went. I think it must have been done satisfactorily for I have not heard no complaints or lectures about it as yet.
Am feeling a trifle homesick tonight. How I long for this war to end so as I can get a glimpse of dear old Australia again, the finest place in all the world & it only seems to grow dearer to us as our absence from it increases. We have been just on a year in France & it seems a long, long one to me. Surely if we are spared this will be our last in this part of the world. Sometimes I think it is hopeless thinking this war will ever end, then again everything seems rosy & bright — it all depends how one is feeling. Just at present I have a fit of the blues but it won’t last long & tomorrow I shall be as optimistic as ever & laugh & feel sorry for what I have written tonight.
4th April. Got up at 5 o’clock this morning & it started to snow heavily at 6. We threw our waterproofs over our shoulders & started off, snow or no snow, but it never ceased the whole time we were on the march, & this was 7 hours. Just imagine if you can the men toiling along hour after hour, sometimes on duckboards & then again on wet & boggy ground, slippery as banana skin & the snow coming down thick as rain, but the men never grumbled but stuck it like Britons.
It was very interesting once we reached old Fritz’s trench where he started his evacuation from. Our guns played havoc with him alright, as the dead horses torn up & battered roads all too plainly showed. Once we crossed the Gueudecourt line we soon reached Bazancourt, once a beautiful little village, now only a mass of ruins & dead & battered trees. Continuing on, we struck the open & green country — what a relief from the torn & battered fields further back, possibly the most shattered & shell-torn land this world has ever seen. It seemed very funny to me getting on the green & open country, after living so long among the mud & slush with never a sign of green, nothing but miles of dreary mud & shell holes disfiguring the land.
Coming to the next village, Ville de Flosse, we saw the work of the Hun in its worst form. Every house, no matter what it was like, was absolutely smashed. One of the worst acts I reckon was the way in which they destroyed all fruit trees & vines — this was needless for they are of no military importance. It seemed a shame to see the lovely fruit trees lying about all dead. There had been at one time a great big chateau & before leaving the Germans blew it absolutely to pieces, old church & all, & cut all the fruit trees down, & pulled up his rare & lovely vines & creepers. I saw this myself & my blood almost boiled at the wanton destruction. I believe the owner got permission from the British as soon as they were driven out to come & have a look at his mansion. He said he did not mind them destroying his house & etc, but when he saw all his vines & flowers destroyed I believe he cried like a child.
People in Australia don’t know what war is, thank goodness. If they could only see for themselves some of the destruction they would have their eyes opened I’ll bet.
6th April. Last night we lobbed in the trenches, such as they are. No one was more surprised than myself when they told us we were there. Our trench, they called it? Why it was no more than 20 yds long & about up to your waist; it seemed so funny after scrapping & fighting so long in good trenches. My platoon took over 3 of these little outposts with a gap of 60 yds between & 200 between platoons & settled down for the night. We relieved the 59th Batt. When I came to look at our position I did not like the look of things at all, for it would not be a very hard job for the Huns to sneak round our left flank & take us by surprise. I pointed this out to Mr Champion & he then posted 2 sentries out from us about 100 yards so as they could give warning of anything of that nature.
About 12 o’clock the Major came round & said he wanted a patrol to go out & see if they could find any trace of the enemy on the Cambrai road. It fell to my lot so I took 2 good reliable men with me & started off. It was a brilliant moonlight night, altogether too much light for safety’s sake but that couldn’t be helped. We approached the road warily, keeping in the shadows & taking
as much advantage of the dips in the ground as they would allow. In this way we got fairly close to the last 50 yards. We lay on our stomachs & crawled. Everything went well until we got within 20 or 30 yds of the road, then all of a sudden a machine gun & some rifles let fly — I could almost feel the hot air from the bullets as they sizzled over me. I flattened out like a pancake & my one wish was for the ground to open & swallow me up for a while. We all lay there quietly, not moving a muscle, for a good 10 minutes & old Fritz did not shoot any more — he could not have been too sure of himself, had the wind up I think.
When everything was quiet I whispered to my 2 men to break back one by one while I covered their escape. They started off slowly & drew no attention & by degrees got over a little rise & were quite safe. It was my turn now & I crawled slowly away, feet first, keeping my revolver ready for instant use, but not a shot was fired. When I got over the little crest I can tell you that I breathed a big sigh of relief, for the last 15 mins had been a big mental strain. We had a very lucky escape. Got back however & reported progress, & all concerned were well satisfied, especially as I could tell them the exact position of the hidden machine gun.
All the next day we had to lie as quiet as mice, for if the Germans spotted us moving about they would blow the little trenches to pieces & us with them.
In Great Spirits Page 24
