Contents

Cover

Title Page

Publisher’s Note

Foreword

Maps

Diary of A.A. Barwick

1914

1915

1916

1917

1918

1919

Afterword

Glossary

Copyright

“If this book gives anyone as much pleasure

reading it as I have had writing it,

well it will be time well spent on my part.”

Publisher’s Note

Archie Barwick’s diary is contained in 16 individual notebooks, held by the State Library of New South Wales. He was a prolific writer, so in order to make the diary more easily accessible to the modern reader, we took the decision to edit it down from roughly 400,000 words to approximately 133,000 words. We also very lightly edited the diary where necessary to improve readability, all the while being mindful of the integrity of the writing and Archie’s natural narrative rhythm. Even though some sentences might seem a little out of place, we haven’t moved them elsewhere — it is a diary after all. We have also retained his preference to use the ampersand rather than “and”, “on to” rather than “onto”, among other things.

We very much hope you enjoy reading Archie’s diary as much as we have enjoyed creating this book.

Foreword

by Peter Cochrane, historian

When war was declared in 1914, Archie Barwick was among the first Australians to enlist. He couldn’t wait to get away. He worried he might be too short. When he was passed fit and able and sufficiently tall, he did two somersaults, thus confirming his readiness for battle. He was a country boy from Tasmania. He was 24 and as strong as an ox. He was fair-haired, blue-eyed, rubicund, single, Church of England and, yes, he was short. He was one of the “originals”, No. 914, 1st Battalion, Australian Imperial Force.

Archibald Albert Barwick thrived on war. In war he was unstoppable. He grew in confidence from one battle to another, first at Gallipoli, then in France and Belgium. He was as cool as a cucumber and brave too, and proud of it. He had so many close calls he was certain someone was watching over him. God, maybe. The hard times were very hard but he relished the entire adventure. He even surprised himself for it was very soon clear that he could lead men in the most terrible of times on the front line. When men were falling apart around him, Archie stood firm. So they made him a Corporal; then they made him a Sergeant; they told him he was officer material and he was chuffed. “I seemed to be walking on air,” he wrote. He was disciplined, tidy, polite, abstemious and moderate in all things save in the white heat of battle.

Archie was good with weapons and he was also good with words. He had limited schooling but he was a keen reader, a “bush scholar” and a lover of language, and doesn’t it show in this extraordinary diary. It shows in the homespun lucidity of his prose, in the dramatic power of his front line reportage, in his sense of his own part and the Australians’ part in momentous events; in his love of travel, his appreciation of the great cities such as Paris and London and his bucolic eye for beauty, from the smallest thing — the flower petals he pressed into his prayer book — to the unspoilt French countryside which he took to be “almost a paradise”; and the gardens of England too, gardens that sent forth, as he put it, “a perfume & incense that defies my poor humble pen to describe”.

But that’s the wonderful thing — for the most part Archie’s “poor humble pen” was up to the task. He was an aesthete who wrote of leaves “golden & russet” and he was an Aussie bloke who wrote of C Company, his company, “strung out like a mob of flukey sheep”.

Still, keeping a daily diary did not come easily to Archie. He had to work at it and, typically, he did just that. Initially he couldn’t settle to the routine but he was determined to hone his literary skills. His first two volumes come close to the immediacy of the moment but not quite. He wrote them on his way to France, his recollections of training and embarkation and Egypt and Gallipoli still fresh in his mind. Then he got into the swing of it, writing continually for the next three years, with breaks here and there, the writing routine punctuated only by sheer, unavoidable necessities like ceaseless battle or injury, or the needs of his men or a reunion with his soldier brothers Stan and Len, or those rare occasions when complete exhaustion overtook him.

The end result bears the hallmark of the true diary — raw and unpolished prose that is rich with the “diamonds” of more or less spontaneous, sometimes urgent jotting. Here is a diary that is intensely in the moment, all the more so in the trenches where death is everywhere. In one of these trenches Archie and his mates are literally sitting on the dead, for there was nowhere else to go and nowhere else to rest.

Many diggers tried to keep a diary but few kept a diary as long and lyrical as Archie’s serial volumes. Writing or fighting, his endurance was phenomenal. He turned himself into a dedicated diarist and it is not hard to see why. At the close of his first volume he wrote: “I hope all at home will find something of interest in it for them, for that is the reason why I wrote it.” In the course of the war, Archie mailed home 14 volumes and the last two volumes came home in 1919 in his vest pocket. His diary was a record of his travels as well as his war. He was a pilgrim, a lover of life, a glass-just-about-full man, a man of keen aesthetic sensibility, relishing the chance to see the world and to share the experience with the folk at home. This is not simply a war diary; it is much more than that. It is the chronicle of a gifted soldier-tourist, a self-made storyteller.

Archie did not hold back. He wrote graphically about the horrors and the heroics of his front line existence, as in the Somme offensive in July 1916:

All day long the ground rocked & swayed backwards & forwards from the concussion … [like] a well-built haystack … swaying about … Men were driven stark staring mad & more than one of them rushed out of the trench, over towards the Germans. Any amount of them could be seen crying & sobbing like children, their nerves completely gone … We were nearly all in a state of silliness & half dazed but still the Australians refused to give ground.

His stamina enabled him to lead his men year after year, to dig in, to fight, to suffer as he did and transcend that suffering, and somehow to keep writing whether early in the morning or in the few spare minutes just before tea, or in his dugout in the midst of a bombardment or when he was on leave, delighting in the comforts of a clean, dry bed or the delicious tucker in a French estaminet. “Here I am,” he wrote on 21 April 1917, “scribbling away as if my life depended on it.” Well, in a sense it did, for whether he was writing about the bloody business of war or the beauties of the countryside, the discipline of writing was therapeutic and I believe he knew it — writing helped to keep him steady and sane when others about him went to pieces. “I know I always pride myself on my nerves,” he wrote in April 1918 after an operation to remove shrapnel from his chest. He was sitting up in a hospital bed writing letters to “the boys” at the front and bringing his diary up to date. Scribble scribble scribble. Archie had become a seasoned scribbler. He was never idle.

Most importantly, Archie managed to balance the horrors of the war with the joys of sightseeing, which was a refuge and a consolation in hard times. Reading his diary, it sometimes seems as if the war was a monstrous intrusion into an otherwise delightful, all-expenses-paid tour abroad. What you notice is just how much he relished his surroundings — the people, the panoramas, the flora, the fauna, the crops, the livestock and so on. All the things that caught his eye and warmed his heart seemed to renew him, to ready him for the next battle.

The war did not stop Archie having the most wonderful holiday in France! Indeed, you might say France saved him, for at Gallipoli there was no beauty to compare but in France he found beauty and abundance everywhere. “Imagine us here bogging into the cherries … I am never tired of praising France,” he wrote. Nor did he tire of praising the countryside in France and Belgium, for it seemed to hold him in a kind of rapture. Even the most exhausting route marches provided him with an opportunity to enjoy the glorious panoramas beyond the battlefields and, of course, to register the experience in his diary. His long, flowing paragraphs are the mark of his enthusiasm.

We constantly find him reaching for superlatives: “Truly a grand sight” and “Oh how I would like some of my people to see this country”. In many a soldier’s diary that’s all you get, but Archie had the literary wherewithal to “paint” the scene for us and he does this in each and every one of his volumes. In Archie’s diary we encounter a tragic entwinement of splendour and devastation.

Archie wrote letters too and occasionally mailed off photographs, and it is clear the diary was part of a serial conversation with his mother, sister, aunties and others at home. He is thinking of them, almost talking to them, as he writes the entry for the day. “Just imagine us if you can,” he says. And “Oh I can tell you I am writing under difficulties.”

He wrote for himself and for his family and his words were ties across time and space, ties as strong as iron yet light as air. They were a means of survival and a mark of his dedication. They remind us of how love was magnified, exalted and enhanced by the perils of war, and of how much loved ones felt the heightened emotions of separation in such perilous times. The author in war, and his audience in waiting, lived in hope.

I have suggested this diary played no small part in seeing Archie safely through the war and delivering him home in good health and good spirits, so it is a joy to discover that he lived a long and fruitful life thereafter, for he deserved nothing less. Now, almost a century since he left these shores to fight, Archie’s diary will embark upon another journey and serve another valuable purpose. Having been kept safe for posterity in the climate-controlled “vaults” of the Mitchell Library, it is to travel once again, this time in published form to readers everywhere. Australians should know about Archie Barwick. He was a resourceful and resilient man, a brave and decent and chivalrous fellow, and his diary testifies to that. “Chivalrous,” I hear you say, “where does chivalry come in?” Well, there’s a sweetheart or two, or three, in this magnificent story and that’s where I’ll leave it …

June 2013

Maps

Diary of No. 914

A.A. Barwick

C Company, 1st Battalion

1914

Training in Sydney, Australia

Travelling overseas

Training in Egypt

In this journal I am going to put forward to the best of my ability a few of my impressions & experiences since joining the Army.

Well I will start first of all from the time I left Surveyor’s Creek in New England, New South Wales. How pleased I was, one fine Saturday morning, to find in the mail box a letter bearing the Government stamp addressed to me. I was almost afraid to open it for fear it might say that I was unsuitable for the Force, but I plucked up courage & opened it, & to my great joy & no less surprise, I was requested to report at once to Victoria Barracks in Sydney for medical inspection. I think I threw 2 or 3 somersaults.

When I finished reading the note, for we were all more or less crazy at that time, I was pretty sure I could pass the Dr as far as medical fitness went, for I had just been through a fairly stiff examination for the A.M.P., but I was not so sure about my height, so I took the precaution to write to Colonel Antill & ask him if my height (5 ft 4) would pass & the note I had just received was his answer.

On receipt of the note I straight away telephoned Mr Mitchell at Rutherglen, telling him of my decision & that I would be coming down on that night’s train passenger. He said he would meet me at Danglemah, as he & Mrs Mitchell were going to Sydney.

So you see it was pretty short notice. I made a rapid pack up & said goodbye to as many of my friends as I could, & that night young Golledge drove me to Walcha Road, where I caught the train & so away. At Danglemah Mr & Mrs Mitchell got in. We arrived in Sydney on a Sunday morning, & I went & took a room for the night.

The following morning found me making my way to Victoria Barracks & after some sparring about & a lot of questioning, I was taken into a room & given some papers to fill in. There were about 30 questions we had to answer on this paper, & by the time you had finished filling them in, what they did not know about you wasn’t worth knowing, provided you spoke the truth.

After this was over we had to line up with our papers in hand & wait our turn to see the Colonel. The chaps all spoke of him as being an old tiger & so we were all more or less afraid when our turn came; however he must have been in a particularly good humour this morning, for when he had a look at my papers he only put a few short sharp questions to me, & marked my papers as accepted.

As we came out from this ordeal we were formed into different squads & marched off, some to Kensington & some to Randwick Racecourse. On arrival there we were formed up in 2 ranks, & Captain Jackson came along & picked so many men out for his Company (old H). I was among these, & that is how I came to be in the 1st Battalion.

After this was over, we had all our names taken again, & then we went down to dinner. I shall never forget that dinner as long as I live. Just imagine about 600 men all shouting & talking at the one time, & some of the language was pretty warm I can tell you. For dinner we had “what do you think” roast beef, no chance, for the tables were laid with big boiled potatoes with their skins on & great junks of bully beef. Ho, ho, I thought, so this is how things are carried on, eh well that’s no good to me, so I & a few more does a get & goes into town for our dinner. That sort of tucker was going to take some getting used to, after the way I had been living.

There was not the slightest sign of any system when first I joined, for things were in a terrible state at that time, for the war had caught the authorities totally unprepared; however after a couple of weeks they began to get into their stride, & after a little time we settled down to it as well as could be expected.

That afternoon was the 24th August 1914 & from that date my military career started.

I went out to see Mr Mitchell at Croydon that afternoon & had a good yarn with him, & later on I went back to town & stopped at the People’s Palace that night. I rose fairly early the next morning, & caught the Coogee tram, & went back to Randwick. I arrived there in time for roll call, & had a sort of breakfast, of tea, jam & bread. After this we fell in for drill. What a crowd we were. I suppose there were 9 out of 10 who had never formed fours in their life before, & I was one of them. It was funny to see us trying to get through the most simple movements, & getting completely boxed up. It was about 3 weeks before I mastered the form fours properly — I could never remember whether it was the odd or even numbers who had to move. We were enough to break any drill instructor’s heart, & when some of them were spoken to they used to get quite shirty about it; however they knocked us into some sort of a shape by the time we left Randwick to go to Kensington.

The day we shifted we had our first route march with full kits up & water bottles empty. The march was about 8 miles — it seemed more like 20 by the time we finished. Everyone was glad to see that our tents were up as we marched in. That night we had a good square meal, & by this time we were beginning to get used to roughing it.

We all had our khaki & how proud we were to get it. Our Company was one of the first to get properly equipped, & we were not slow to remind the others of the fact, who I am sure were quite jealous of us, for there was the keenest of rivalry between the different Companies & this holds good even now.

They worked us pretty hard, & we were fast coming on. We had plenty of route marches, & a fair bit of musketry, which we used to do at the Long Bay rifle range. (It was out at the Long Bay range that I first saw a machine gun in action, & I had my eyes opened.) By this time I was thoroughly enjoying the life for I had got to know a good few chaps, & was beginning to get into my stride & each day was a pleasure. We had good officers, at this time.

Our food was much improved here. A typical breakfast would be viz chops or steak, plenty of bread, butter & jam, whips of tea. For dinner we generally had a stew or roast with onions, cabbage, potatoes & etc. For tea at night they always turned out boiled potatoes, what for I don’t know for no one used to eat them. We always had plenty of good tea or coffee, & stacks of bread, butter, jam & etc. It was shameful to see the bread that was wasted there, & the jam we had tons of it, good jam it was too, nearly all from Jones factory at Hobart. We used to have good times at Kenso, for most of the chaps had friends & relations, & they used to bring big hampers of all sorts of things, & of course the boys would share them round.

Not so very long before we left Kensington, Len [my brother] came down from Scone to see me, & while there he kidded me to have my photo taken in my equipment. I have regretted ever since that those photos ever reached home. If I could lay my hands on them, I don’t think they would live long — a chap looks a perfect fool in them.

While training here, I first came in proper contact with drink, & my determination never to touch it was strengthened properly. I saw enough to convince me for the rest of my life of the evils arising from the curse. Lots of our chaps only lived for pay-day, & as soon as they got their money, off to town & straight to the pubs they would go. Next morning would find them with a big head, a terrible thirst & empty pockets, & they would be humming for the rest of the week. It used to be funny some nights, when the chaps would be coming home late, & had to pass through the guard at the gate. The majority of the revellers would have bottles with them, & if the sentry was a thirsty soul, he would give the order “halt bottle pass soldier”, & if they had a bottle with them they were right, & if they could not produce the needful, well into the guard tent he would go.

One night we had a terribly heavy thunderstorm, the rain fairly fell down, & in about an hour’s time the whole of our camp was under water. Most of us lay in bed till the water started to carry us off, & then we were forced up. The drunks got a terrible ducking that night. One of them came into our tent with only his shirt on & an entrenching tool in his hand, & started to dig a gutter round the tent pole to let the water off, not bad was it. We got a proper soaking that night. All our clothes & equipment were carried away by the water, so a lot of us camped under & on the grand-stand, & needless to say we passed a most miserable night.

A fair sample of the day’s work here would be reveille at 6 o’clock, physical exercise from half past 6 till 7, breakfast at 7.30, fall in at 8, we then would drill till 12, dinner at 12.30, parade again at 2.30 till 4.30, tea 5 o’clock, night march or something from 7 till 8.30 & sometimes as late as 9 o’clock, so you see they kept us going. They used to cull a certain number from each Company nearly every day so that kept us up to the scratch.

We used to have some bonzer route marches at times. One of the best was to La Perouse. We all enjoyed our march to there, & we camped on a lovely green patch of grass overlooking the ocean. We had our dinner there, & then we all went for a swim, & the water was bonzer.

We had several marches through the suburbs of Sydney, & the people used to turn out in thousands to see the boys marching. During these marches we used to get plenty of chocolate, cigarettes, fruit & etc from the people in the street who were very good to us, but one fine day we had a big march through the streets of Sydney itself. I remember it well for it was a very hot day, & marching down the closely packed streets was worse than 100 in the shade. All along the route the streets were absolutely packed, & opposite St Mary’s Cathedral they were about 100 deep — even trees were full. We went down as far as Hunter Street, then turned up George Street & from there back to camp at Kensington without a spell. I think they were afraid to let the men fall out, for fear they wouldn’t turn up again in time for the march back. That was the most tiring march I have ever been on, & I have taken part in a few pretty solid ones.

After we had been in camp about a month we began to think we were fully trained & ready to have a cut at anything, & so the rumours began to fly about that we would be sailing any day. You can’t beat a military camp for rumours — the little country townships haven’t got a look in with the camps. Once these rumours got going, we had fresh ones every day, & some of them were very funny, but most of them seemed to come from the cooks or the pieman.

I saw the first aeroplane of my life here. It was a Frenchman flying over Randwick early in the morning. We were doing our physical drill at the time, & I can tell you there was not much notice taken while the aeroplane was in sight — we nearly screwed our necks off.

It took me some time to forget the life I had been leading previous to joining. I was always on the lookout for rain, grass, horses, birds, weather & suchlike things, instead of letting others do the thinking, for was I not in the military, where if they follow Imperial regulations they would try & make you a machine but they will never, never do that with Australians. We are not a bit better disciplined today than we were 18 months ago, & I don’t think, judging by what I have seen of well-disciplined troops, that we are any the worse for it. I think once a chap gets a liking for the country, he will never be able to shake it off. I know I am full up of the cities, & only long for the country life again.

We had a medical examination nearly every week. They were determined to find out all the weak ones before we sailed from Australia & I think they succeeded as far as that went.

We were ordered to hold ourselves in readiness to move at any time, but we did not place much reliance on it for we had had so many false alarms that we did not know how to take it.

The morning of the 18th October broke dull & stormy, & as we formed up on the parade ground at 6.30 in readiness to march off it started to rain slowly, but we did not mind that for it seemed as if our wish was at last to be fulfilled, & that we were really going to move at last. The march through the streets was very quiet for they took us round the quiet way so as to avoid the people, but before we reached the wharfs a pretty big bunch of people had collected, & we had a job to get through them in places. They gave us all sorts of things as we passed them, & there were a few tearful scenes, but they got us away well.

As each Company passed through the barrier, they were checked & marched straight off to the ferry boat, & they lost no time in getting us over to the A19 Afric. By the time the last of the men were on board, the streets & Botanic Gardens were alive with people in spite of the rain, which was now falling fairly heavy, but they were too late, & there was many a chap on the boat who they would never see again, & who no doubt was taking a last look at old Sydney & wondering when he would see it again. I know I was one of those chaps & those were some of the thoughts that passed through my wooden head.

As soon as we got on the ship we were taken down to our troop decks, & our different portions allotted to us. Our Company was very fortunate for we had as good a place as any in the ship: we were on the first deck on the starboard side, just close to the poop. After all this was settled we were served with some hot soup & bread, & we then made for the deck to see what was going on in the harbour. The crowd of people had increased if anything, but the rain was still falling, but showed signs of clearing up.

After dinner was over we were paid, & our Book opened from that day. About 4 o’clock we lifted our anchor, & followed the Suffolk who had the 2nd Battalion on board. As we passed down the harbour we could hear the cheers floating across the water to us & all the boats in the harbour set their sirens going for all they were worth. We could see the people still waving as we disappeared round the Heads. Everyone was straining their eyes to get a last look at Sydney. The rigging was full of men, who waved to the last.

We got rid of the pilot at the Heads, & we could see the sea was pretty rough outside, & I for one did not like my chance for even then I was feeling a bit funny & I am sure I was turning yellowish. I had not long to wait for I was soon feeding the fishes with a vengeance, & I might add right here that I was not the only one at the game, oh no. I had plenty of mates in the same boat as myself. We were hanging on all over the place, & I am sure I did not care if the whole concern went to the bottom. Shows you how selfish a man is, don’t it. My attack of seasickness did not last very long fortunately for the second day out I was feeling alright.

We skirted the coast most of the way down, & the afternoon of the second day at sea we ran into & through a group of very rocky & bare little islands just off Wilsons Promontory. There were a lot of birds round these islands & we sighted a whale blowing & also a full rigged sailing ship — she looked from a distance like a great white bird. That night we passed several passenger ships making for Sydney; they looked capital with all their lights shining. We thought once that we were going to Hobart, but no such luck, & then again Melbourne was suggested, but we were all out of it for we passed them both.

The third day out I think most of us had been all over the ship, & knew our way about alright. The way our troop decks were arranged we used to eat & sleep in the same place. All along the side mess tables were built running crossways in the ship. These tables were numbered & each table had a number of men (36) detailed off for the trip & 2 permanent mess-orderlies who were exempt from all other duties while they were on the job. After breakfast everyone had to get up on deck for an hour to give the orderlies time to get things cleaned up down below for the ship’s inspection, which was made every morning by the ship’s captain, Dr & some of our officers. After this was over the ship was free for the rest of the day.

We slept in hammocks slung from hooks let into the ceiling. Each hammock was also numbered so as there would be no confusion, & each man had his own number. We were all supplied with 2 snow-white blankets each. We used to have some fun I can tell you of a night, rocking one another’s hammocks. Some of the chaps used to get mad & often there would be a fight. Every morning as soon as reveille went we would all turn out or be pulled out, one or the other, & fold up our blankets inside the hammock. They would then be stowed inside a big bin at each end of the deck till about 8 o’clock, when the orderlies would put them on each man’s hook, ready to be slung when you came down to turn in. At night time all our portholes were covered, & we were only allowed a certain amount of light, for at that time the Emden was knocking about & we had to be careful.

We reached Albany after a trip of 7 days. We lay in the harbour for a few days, & then we moved up to the pier to take water in. At the entrance to the harbour a strict watch was kept by our cruisers; they were constantly on the move, backwards & forwards. We had a march through Albany & the whole town turned out to see us. That night a lot of our chaps borrowed the fireman’s clothes, & went ashore. Not a bad little ruse was it. They caught some of them coming home in the early hours of the morning, drunk of course.

While we were at Albany the New Zealand ships came in, & very smart they looked, for they were all painted a grey colour, like the warships. We now had such a fleet in the harbour as Albany never saw before; the harbour seemed to be just a mass of big ships.

On the morning of the 1st November, we lifted our anchors & the great fleet set sail. The Australian ships led the way & the N.Z.’s brought up the rear. We were escorted by 4 warships at this point: the big Japanese cruiser was in front, the Melbourne on the right flank & the Sydney was watching the other side, while the Minotaur, a British cruiser from the China squadron, brought up the rear. Our position in the line was well forward, & it was a fine sight to look back on the ships as they ploughed their way through the water. All the transports were in 3 lines & we were in the middle line, about fourth boat from the front.

All that day we watched the Australian coast fading away, till darkness shut it out, & when we got up in the morning we were out of sight of land, & nothing but the calm blue sea all round us like a sheet of shimmering glass. At last we felt we were fairly on the way to England, for when we sailed we were under the impression that we were bound for the Old Country, & great was our disappointment of learning later that we were going to Egypt to complete our training. We had a very quiet little run till we reached the Line, though of course we had plenty of fun & concerts & debates every night, while we had tugs of war, gloves, foils & etc. We saw plenty of flying fish on this run. They get well out of the water & look very pretty of an early morning with the sun shining on them as they dart through the air.

Early on the morning of the 9th November we were all surprised to see the Sydney swing out from her line & come racing over towards us. She looked fine as she tore through the water, the white foam flying from her sharp-cut bows & the black smoke pouring from her funnels. We guessed something was up, & so we watched till she disappeared from sight. We heard nothing more till nearly 10 o’clock. I was down below at the time, & all of a sudden I heard a terrible noise on deck. I hopped up & there was a notice pinned on the wall to the effect that the Sydney had destroyed the Emden. The boys were delighted, seeing as how it was our boat that done the trick, & got in before the Japanese, & our China squadron who had been thirsting for her blood ever since war broke out.

Shortly after this came another wireless saying that she was after a collier, & when she had finished with her, she would return & transfer her wounded & prisoners to the Omrah, which was our Headquarters ship. We never saw the Sydney no more till she reached Colombo, for she went on to there after the scrap. I guess she lifted a good bit of trouble off the ships’ captains, for there was always the danger of the Emden getting in unawares at night. After this we were allowed lights at night.

Our next bit of excitement was crossing the Line. We had a great big canvas bath fitted & filled with salt water, & some of the officers were dressed in all sorts of costumes. We had a Father Neptune (Capt Swanell — he was killed on the first day at Anzac at the head of his men in the charge) & then special constables, who had been duly initiated, that is ducked, & were told off by Father Neptune & his Court to arrest all & sundry they came across. These constables grabbed hold of anyone they could lay their hands on — it was no good of them protesting, in they had to go; the more you struggled, the worse it was for you. When they got them to the tank they shot them in, clothes & all on, & when you came up some of Neptune’s slaves shoved you under again with a pole until you were nearly drowned. When you went to get out, they were there to help you with hands all over grease & tar, which they took good care they rubbed all over you, besides scrubbing your teeth with grit & grease, & trying to shave you with a piece of hoop-iron. Oh we had some fun I can tell you.

Once you had been through Neptune’s hands you were free to go & help the others drag them in, & sometimes we had to storm a position taken up by some of the chaps who objected to being ducked, under a perfect deluge of water, from buckets, dishes, hoses & etc. Water & wet towels were the only weapons that were legal & the deck was a mass of flying towels. If you showed your head round the corner you would be met by a volley of them & forced to retreat unless you had a strong following to back you up. It rained that day, but being in the tropics, we were almost sweating in spite of the water flying about (the majority had nothing but their trousers on). The game got a bit too hot for the captain so about 4 o’clock he stopped it.

The heat was very intense in the tropics — the pitch used to be nearly melting in the daytime. At night everyone slept on deck. I only slept down below till we reached Albany; after that I used to sling my hammock under one of our guns, & I can tell you I enjoyed the trip.

We had a daily newspaper printed on our boat called the Kangaroo. It used to cause a bit of fun.

Sailing across the Indian Ocean the weather was lovely, scarce a ripple on the water. The water here seems very full of phosphorus, & looking over at night time it used to look lovely. I have watched the water churning away from our sides for hours at a stretch.

Colombo, our next port of call, was reached on the 15th November. The town looks very pretty from a distance, snuggled away among palm trees. This was our first sight of the East & very good it looked. Of course everyone was anxious to get ashore, but we had no luck. We left Colombo the next day & 7 days were occupied in the run to Aden. We sailed fairly close under some bare & rocky cliffs. The water here looks very deep & is alive with sharks. The town itself looks a very miserable affair, as indeed it is, for it is one of the hottest places on earth, nothing but sand & rock to be seen. Looking back as the fleet came swinging in was a very fine sight, & one that I shall remember for some time.

Leaving Aden on the 26th November we steered a course for Port Suez, which we reached after a passage of 5 days, some of it through the Red Sea. As you approach Port Suez, the sea gradually narrows until at last you would think you were going to rush the beach, for you can’t see the canal. The thing that is most prominent here is some enormous tanks, stocking petroleum I think. While we were waiting here, a big fleet of Indian transports came in & very fine they looked with the setting sun behind them.

On the 2nd December we went through the canal, & just at the entrance a fine French battleship was lying. As we passed her, the bugles sounded “attention”, & every man sprang to it while our band played the “Marseillaise”. Didn’t the Frenchmen come tumbling up on the deck when they heard that tune, & they cheered us, & we returned the compliment.

By 4 o’clock that afternoon we had fairly entered the canal. You could throw a stone from the deck to either side. It seemed very funny such a small stream of water carrying enormous boats & the desert on either side stretching for hundreds of miles, & nothing but sand, sand, wherever you looked, with the exception of a few small clumps of date palms. We steamed about 6 miles an hour through the canal & every here & there we would pass some enormous French dredger. We went through a bright moonlight night, & I & a few others stopped up most of the night for it was a most beautiful scene.

Most of the way along the banks of the canal there were British & Indian troops entrenched ready for the Turkish attack. They were dug in on the Arabian side.

We reached Port Said just as day was breaking, but early as the hour was, the native population was astir. Port Said (one of the most cosmopolitan cities in the world) seemed alive with shipping; most of it I suppose was waiting for their turn to enter the canal. Half the population of this town must surely live in little boats for there were thousands of them there, & they swarmed all round our boats, selling all sorts of things. I saw my first hydroplane here: she flew all over the harbour & town, & settled on the water as easily as a duck.

Leaving Port Said on the 5th December we passed the fine statue of de Lesseps, the great French engineer who was responsible for the Suez Canal. It stands at the western entrance, & he is looking out over the sea. We were now in the Mediterranean & it was fairly rough. We passed several little torpedo boats, & they were being tossed about like corks.

The next morning found us skirting the Egyptian coast & with Alexandria in sight. They have an immense breakwater here & Alexandria looks to lie almost level with the sea. There were a fine lot of captured German ships all tied up to the wharfs. That must make the German people mad to see that, a sure sign of Britain’s power on the water. The day we arrived the Sultan of Egypt cleared out to Turkey. We buried our first patient here. We were lucky — some of the boats had as many as half a dozen deaths during the voyage. We lay in the harbour 3 days before we disembarked. We were not sorry to get off the ship either for we had been 51 days on the water.

We left Alexandria for Cairo on the 9th December. We were marched straight into the train & away we went. The trip to Cairo was most interesting. We followed the Nile for a fair distance, & as far as the eye could reach on either side of the line was nothing but lovely green fields & groves of palm trees, with canals running everywhere. We crossed 2 or 3 very fine bridges between Alexandria & Cairo. They have peculiar sorts of houses, built of mud, & the fowls roost on top, & from what I could see the camels & buffaloes & people all doss in together. There are miles upon miles of gum trees planted along the line & they look well, even though they are in a foreign land.

We arrived in Cairo about midnight & on getting off the train, we were served with cocoa, cheese & a roll. It was very acceptable I can tell you. After this was finished we were all “fallen in” & marched down to the trams where they were waiting for us. Some of the boys done a get & never turned up for about 7 days. In a few minutes we were in & off, down a long street lined on either side by trees. We went about half a mile, & we came to a branch of the Nile, with a nice little bridge over it. By this time we were approaching Giza, which is about halfway between Cairo & the pyramids, & everyone was beginning to crane their necks to get a view of the pyramids. At last we spotted them, & very fine they looked in the moonlight with a light fog hanging round them. The Nile was in flood at this time, & all the flats were under water, which made the country look like a big lake.

We arrived at Mena about 1.30 A.M. & had to march about half a mile to our Battalion’s piece of the camp. There were only a few tents up when we reached there, dog tired, & so we threw ourselves down on the sand. We had no blankets or nothing to sleep in but our overcoats & oil sheets, & if ever I nearly perished well it was that night. We got a shock, I can tell you; we all thought Egypt would be a hot & warm place at night but we were never so sucked in in our lives. I do believe that once or twice during that never-to-be-forgotten night that I was frozen absolutely stiff. Wagga & I slept alongside one another, & he used to swear that he was as stiff as a poker more than once, & everyone had the same experience. One poor devil died through it & that was our Sergeant, Meadmore. He went to hospital the next day, & died with pneumonia about a week later.

We rose about 5 o’clock for sleep was impossible, & the first thing we made for were the pyramids. Early as we were, the Arabs were waiting for us, & fools like we engaged one to show us the sights. We first of all had to pay him 2/- each, for which sum he was to show us round the pyramids, but when we wanted to climb them he wanted another 1/- & we poor fools gave it to him. Having climbed them, on an empty stomach too, we sat down to have a look at the lovely view that lay at our feet & it was worth the trouble we took in climbing them. Right at our feet lay our camp, & the green fields stretched right away up to Cairo & beyond. The Nile was like a silver ribbon threading its way past villages & palm groves till it disappeared in the distance miles & miles away. The sun was just rising at the time, & as it threw its beams upon Cairo, the tall spires & minarets glinted like gold & silver, & all sorts of colours seemed to spring from the mosques & the citadel as the sun rose higher & higher, while the submerged flats at our feet looked like a lake of molten silver with the lovely avenue of trees mirrored in it so faithfully.

Turning round you face the Libyan Desert, & I can tell you from the top of these pyramids you get a lovely view. This morning there happened to be a fairly heavy fog hanging over the desert, & it was a splendid sight to see the sun breaking through the clouds of mist, throwing all sorts of pretty colour on it. It seems very funny; you might say right at your feet lay some of the richest ground on the face of this earth, & then if you turn round, you can say there lies some of the worst on earth, for you are looking on a desert that stretches, as the Arabs say, for the distance of a thousand days march, & is absolutely waterless.

Wagga & I sat for a good 10 minutes & looked on this beautiful scene, & then I became aware of someone who was offering me a tiny cup of coffee, about as big as a doll’s cup. That is no exaggeration, for they are no bigger. I took it & tasted it; it was as black & as strong as coffee is ever likely to be. I did not know what to make of it, but I drank it thinking it was chucked in by our guide, who had bought it for us off the Arab who was boiling it on top of the pyramid. After carving our name like everyone else on the top we started to descend, when the Arab running the coffee stall demanded 4 piastres for the coffee. There was a row straight away, & we ended up fool-like in giving the crafty old dog 2 piastres.

We then went down to the Sphinx, & we had to run the gauntlet of fortune-tellers & curio sellers who ask you easily 10 times the value of what they are trying to take you down with. They had the usual load of ancient coins 2000 years old as they tell you, all made in Birmingham (England), for which they will sell for a trifle of 10 or 20 piastres, according to how big a fool you look. Wagga & I never came at the coins, though we had our fortunes told in the sand with the usual promises of rich girls who were only waiting for your return, so as you could marry them & be happy for the rest of your life. There were scores of orange & peanut sellers, all on the same game; droves of beggars, demanding backsheesh. However we got through this mob & had a look at the Sphinx. It is a truly wonderful piece of sculpture. It has the face of a man, the breasts of a woman & the body of a lion lying down with its feet in front. It is a most enormous thing & it has a piece knocked off its nose where Napoleon had a shot at it with a field gun.

The pyramids Cheops & Chephren stand on 13 acres of land, & are 482 ft high standing on the top. During my 4 months stay at Mena I climbed those pyramids dozens of times. They are well worth a visit inside. First of all you go down a pretty steep incline; at the bottom you turn to your right & climb a few enormous rocks; once up these, you are on to a slippery sort of a passage with an incline of about 45 deg. leading upwards towards the King’s Chamber. Of course you have a lighted candle with you & you have to take your boots off to climb these slippery steps. The King’s Chamber is about 150 ft off the ground & is a wonderful piece of work. The size of the rocks in there is astonishing & they are cut as true as I think it is possible for stone to be cut. The old King’s tomb is still in there but his body has gone long long ago. They reckon the Persians got it.

Young Duke & I climbed Chephren one day. It is very dangerous going up this one, as you have to cross the face of it several times & the last lap is up a face as smooth as glass, only here & there the smooth face has been broken by the weather. Once on top, & you feel inclined for a spell I can tell you, someone took an Australian flag up with them, & it fluttered from the top for months. This pyramid was placed out of bounds later on for there were too many accidents on it, & quite a number was killed. The other pyramid Cheops is a fairly easy climb.

After we had been at Mena a little while, we began to settle down to our drill. We were well supplied with blankets, 4 per man & big double ones at that. Wagga & I slept together outside all the while, & it was tip-top for the sand was soft & clean — it did not have a particle of earth, & it was impossible to get dirty in it.

1915

Training in Egypt

Gallipoli

The islands of Lemnos and Imbros

After Xmas our training commenced in earnest, & for the next 2 months this was our drill: reveille at 6 A.M., breakfast 7, fall in 7.30, march about 4 miles at a good rattling pace across the burning sand in which at every step you sank to your ankles. After we had reached our drill ground, we had a spell of about 10 minutes, & then we would drill constantly till 12 o’clock & then have our lunch, which consisted of a dry little roll of bread & a small tin of sardines between 2 men. At 1 o’clock we would start work again, & work up till 4 o’clock. We would then march back to our parade ground, put on our packs, form up, & then skirmish 3 out of the 4 miles home again. You can guess what kind of a state we would arrive in at camp. Our clothes would be absolutely wet with sweat, the boots in spite of the heat would be wet with the sweat that had run down your legs, your tongue would be hanging out, & most of the chaps in a state of exhaustion.

Just before the camp was reached our band would meet us, & play us into camp. That would liven us up a bit — you have no idea how music will make tired men straighten up & step out. There is one piece in particular that I believe if men were staggering, & could scarcely crawl along, would straighten them up the instant it was struck up, & that piece was the “Marseillaise”. It has a fiery, joyous swing to it & I don’t wonder at the French being such demons to fight when inspired by this piece of music.

As soon as we reached the camp we would have a good square meal waiting for us, & after that was over would come the washing, bathing, showers & etc & a change into dry & clean clothes. At 7.30 there would be night operations that would last till 10 or 11 o’clock at times. We often worked & drilled 16 hours of the 24. This is no lie I can assure, it was only too true. How it culled the weak ones out; many a big strong-looking man cracked up like a piece of dry wood.

After a month of this sort of work, our day drill was shortened, for we were as near perfection as they could get us with the rifle, & our night work was extended, till towards the last we done all our drill at night time, such as taking up positions, digging trenches, attacking, scouting, silent marches, bayonet attacks, rapid movements & all the finer points of the game. The only work we done in the day was at the ranges & that was more of a pleasure than anything else. We used to have competitive firing between the companies & platoons, & I am proud to say that my platoon, No. 11, won the % every time with the exception of twice. Ours was a splendid platoon.

After all this came our Brigade & Divisional training, which was the easiest of all, though we had some long & trying marches, some of them nearly 20 miles with full equipment & pack up, but we were as hard as nails by this time. We finished our Brigade training at Sakahara, where we had a march of 15 miles, a short spell, then attacked a hill about 2 miles in front of us. That over we retired to our original position, & for the rest of the night dug trenches in hard rock. All this time we were without food or water. That was a test if you like but the boys done it easily.

The next day we done nothing but lay in the sun, or else go bathing. That night however we marched from 8 o’clock till daybreak, when the whole Brigade (4000 men) attacked a hill with the bayonet. I marched many a mile that night sound asleep; my legs moved mechanically, for I don’t remember much of the march, & there were a good few more who done the same. That over we marched miles & miles over the sand back to our camp, & everyone threw themselves down & went to sleep through sheer exhaustion. It was a very severe test, & the next day the Brigadier formed the whole Brigade up & told us that our training was over & that he was proud to be in command of such a Brigade & that we were fit for war. How pleased we all were for we used to reckon that we would never see the front.

The next day we marched back to Mena, & everyone was very glad to get his pack off, & have a spell.

When the 4th Brigade arrived here Len came out & saw me. I was very pleased to see him, & I got him transferred from the 13th Battalion to the 1st. He arrived the night before we left for the Dardanelles; just got there in time.

About the middle of March rumours began to get around that we were going any day, & everyone was getting anxious to be in it.

Now I come to the day we were told to pack up, for we were off to war. Everyone was delighted, & worked with a will. The night we left Mena bonfires were burning, & concerts were in full swing all over the place. We marched out from Mena at 12 o’clock on the 4th April & marched to Cairo a distance of 10 miles. The boys sang all the way down, & as we were going through the streets of Cairo early in the morning people waved & cheered us.

By 8 o’clock we were all on our way to Alexandria, & I’ll bet this much that a finer body of troops never left Cairo than the old 1st Div. Every man was as hard as nails & trained to the hour. I was one of the smallest men in our Battalion — that will give you an idea of what they were like — & every man was cocksure of himself, of being able to beat any man be he Turk or German, & frightened of nothing with legs on it, & that was the sort of spirit with which we landed.

We arrived at Alexandria just before dinner, & our ship was waiting for us. We had a rotten place to sleep on her, terribly crowded (all the boats were the same). Len & I slept on deck every night. It was beautiful on top, though it rained fairly heavy at times. The food was not of the best either, but no one growled, for this was what we volunteered for & so we put up with it as best we could. All that day & the next we were busy loading stores & things — they even put some motor cars aboard.

On the 7th April the Staff came aboard. It consisted of Generals Bridges, Walker, Birdwood, Godley, Carruthers, & scores of officers, so our boat was rather an important one. We left for the great adventure on the 9th April. All the other boats in the harbour gave us a good send off, & thus we sailed from Alexandria.

The water of the Mediterranean is a different colour to any that I have ever seen before; it is almost a bright blue, & looks lovely as the ship churns her way through, throwing the snow-white foam from her bows.

We arrived at Lemnos, a Greek island that was taken over by the British along with Imbros at the outbreak of the war. The entrance to Mudros harbour was netted, so a destroyer came out & showed us the way in. A lot of us thought we had arrived at the Dardanelles when we were sailing into the harbour. When we got round the last headland we could see the harbour was a mass of ships, & warships of Great Britain, France & Russia were there, including “big Lizzie”. What a monster she looked with her enormous guns pointed straight in front of her.

The next day we all were taken out in big rowing boats that would hold a platoon. Of course we had no sooner hit the water than we were racing one another for all we were worth. We rowed up round the warships & passed the Queen, Triumph, Lord Nelson, Queen Elizabeth & a few French battleships, besides destroyers, torpedo boats & submarines, both French & British. We went for these rows every day nearly — they were getting us used to what we had to do when we landed.

We were also taken on Lemnos for a march several times. It was here that we first came in contact with the French, & this much I must say about them, that finer & more good-hearted chaps I never met. They would do anything for us & we got on well with them, & the more I have seen of the French the better I like them. They are very popular right through with the Australians & New Zealanders.

Lemnos is a one-horse place. It is very mountainous & steep, & it has scarce a tree on the whole island, though when we were first there the grass & clover were lovely & there were plenty of wild flowers growing everywhere. We enjoyed the little visits there then.

We were lying off Lemnos for 13 days & the day before the fleet sailed we were all drawn up & General Birdwood spoke to us. Among other things he warned us to be careful of our water, food & ammunition, & told us that the eyes of the whole world would be on us, to see how we fought.

They must have been cocksure of breaking right through, for they told us that there would be no haggling in the villages we were to pass through as all the prices would be fixed. We were paid on the 22nd April with notes which had Turkish writing on them.

The fleet set picked up their anchors & slowly steamed out of the harbour & what a mass of ships there was. We got a certain distance out & anchored for the night. We were then given, each man, 300 rounds of ammunition & his rations, enough for 3 days. That night everyone was as happy as they could possibly be. We had mandolins, guitars, banjos & etc going for all they were worth — nobody thought of what was going to happen on the morrow — & so we went to bed about 10 o’clock, with everything ready for an instant move.

About 4 o’clock reveille sounded & up we all jumped & got dressed. There was a young moon if I remember rightly. We were all served with a big junk of steak & bread for breakfast, & while we were munching this we heard a tremendous roar. Up we all rushed to get a look at what was going on. One of our ships had opened fire on Gaba Tepe. Soon the whole fleet of warships were belting away for all they were worth. The scene was a magnificent one: the whole of the Turkish position for the length of about half a mile seemed to be a mass of flying sparks, from the deluge of shells that were being poured on to them. We watched for about 10 minutes, then the order came for every man to get ready to move off, so we harnessed ourselves up, & waited patiently. The Turks were now raining shells upon our ships, or trying to, for I never saw any hit, but one or two whistled past very close to us.

About 5 or 5.30 we heard a crackle of rifle fire & we knew then that the 3rd Bde had landed. We then got the order to fill the boats & down we filed on to a destroyer, the Ribble was her name. She had a few wounded & dead men on her — they were the first we had ever seen, but they made no difference to us. Now let me say right here, for it is as true as true can be, those of our chaps who had cards fetched them out & started playing. That was one of the first things that struck the sailors. It needed nerve I can tell you, for now it was daylight & the water was just a mass of bursting shrapnel, & they had the range to a nicety.

The destroyer rushed us over as fast & as far as she could & then the sailors met us with rowing boats. We quickly filled these & off we went with shells bursting all around. We were lucky in our boat for only one man was hit. It seemed miraculous how we dodged the shells — I’ll swear one did not miss us by more than a foot, & another one burst all over us. Though the boat stopped about a dozen shrap’s, everyone was as cool as could be, & those that could were pulling on the oars. I remember Len was pulling on one.

We reached the beach at last & we leaped out quick & lively. I must have jumped into a deep place for I went in up to my armpits & had to struggle ashore with about 150 lbs on my back, & rifle held high over my head to keep it from getting wet. Some of our Batt’s boats were not so lucky as we were, for one or two of them got smashed right up & everyone was drowned. They would sink like a stone with such a weight on them.

After we got ashore Lieut Payne got us together & we started up for the firing line. I should think it was about 6 o’clock then for the sun was just rising. No. 12 platoon had no sooner started than a shell lobbed right into them, killing 4 & wounding 9 others. That was a pretty start & made a big hole in 56 men.

We scrambled up the hill for about 200 yards, & then we dumped our packs, & started off at a fair pace for the firing line, for everyone was anxious to get up to them. We lost a few men advancing over an exposed piece of ground. It did seem funny to hear the bullets cutting into the scrub alongside us as we went along, but no one seemed afraid, & we were laughing & joking as we went along. I don’t want you to think I am skiting when you read this, for I will take my oath on it that it is true. I know myself I never felt the slightest fear the first day or two; it was when we began to realise that bullets hurt when they hit you, that we knew what fear was. The first time that fear came to me was on the third day, when we were in a perfect Hell of bullets, & men were being killed all round me. I felt frightened, & I am not ashamed to say that I had a terrible fight with myself that day: one part of me wanted to run away & leave the rest of my mates to face it, & the other part said no, we would stop & see it out at any cost rather than show the white feather. This sort of thing went on for about an hour & a bayonet charge settled the argument for me. I was fairly right after that but I am getting ahead of myself.

We reached the firing line just in time to reinforce the 3rd Brigade who were being badly cut about. Talk about a hail of bullets; it’s a marvel how any could live in such a storm of lead. I was not long in getting a crack on the ankle but I was lucky for it was a spent piece of shrapnel that caught me. It stung a bit I can tell you — I thought my foot was gone at least. I hobbled back a bit & got it bandaged up, & then I joined the boys again.

About this time the Queen Elizabeth let fly, & without a word of a lie the whole hills shook & trembled from the concussion of those mighty guns. I watched her fire all her 8.15 inch guns at once, & I thought the world surely had come to an end for she was shooting over our heads. We heard the screams of those awful shells — it put me in mind of a fast express train rushing through a deep cutting. Close on their heels came the terrific report from those giant guns, & everything trembled. I would not have cared to be within a quarter of a mile when those monster shells burst. Just imagine if you can the effect of them; each one weighs just under a ton. Where these shells burst there were hundreds of Turks — we could see them quite plainly, & were firing at them — but after the smoke & dust had cleared away there was nothing to be seen at all. What were not killed by pieces of shell & shrapnel were killed by the concussion.

The other ships were still hammering away & the roar was continuous. We advanced a fair bit that morning, & if we only had more men we would most certainly have broke right through to the Straits for they were fairly on the run, but towards evening they came at us in thousands, & we were forced to retire. Some of the boys got cut off, but they refused to surrender, & died fighting to the last.

That night we took up our position & started to dig little shallow trenches. All that night they attacked us, but we drove them back time after time. We used to get all sorts of orders, such as “cease fire”, “English on your right”, “the French are closing in on the left”, “you are firing on your own men”. They came from German officers who dressed in our fellows’ clothes, & got in our lines. They found a few of them out at once, & they were shot immediately, but we never took no notice of these orders — we could see the Turks too plain for that. The fighting never ceased that night, & as daylight broke it grew more furious than ever.

I shot 3 snipers dead today (26th April). They were picking off our poor fellows who were hobbling down to the dressing stations. The first one I killed I took his belt off to keep as a souvenir of my first kill with the rifle, the other 2 I laid out beautifully. I felt a lot more satisfied after that for I had got even with them, & that was great satisfaction to me.

The battle still raged with unabating fury, & the shrapnel fire was worse if anything today for during the night the Turks must have brought up a lot more guns & were making things uncomfortably warm for us. The warships were trying to find the Turkish batteries, but I don’t think they done much good, for the fire never slackened, & so we battled the day through. We were losing steadily but the Turks suffered just as much as we were doing. I had no water at all today for a bullet had penetrated my water bottle & let it all out, but I was not the only one in that state, for most of the chaps had emptied their water bottles to keep the machine guns going. That’s the sort of spirit they fought with; went thirsty themselves rather than let the machine gun get too hot to work.

I never saw Len since we landed, & don’t know where he is.

We held on somehow all that day & night against terrible odds. The next day, 27th April, was the fiercest day of all, it was one constant struggle. They done their damndest to wipe us right out, but if ever men fought hard, well the Colonials did that day. They got that close to the section we were holding that we were ordered to prepare to charge. At the word “charge” we hopped out as one man & before the Turks knew what was happening we were among them. I don’t remember much about it, but I can recollect driving the bayonet into the body of one fellow quite clearly. He fell right at my feet & when I drew the bayonet out, the blood spurted from his body. The next thing I remember is being back in the trench with about half the number of chaps that were there before — the other brave boys were lying dead outside with the officer who took us out. A 13th Batt officer he was, & brave as you like.

That little charge cleared them out & released the pressure for a while but they came just as thick as ever again that evening. We could see it would mean another charge so the officer in charge collected all the spare men he could find, & we got ready again. At a given signal over the boys went. The Turks did not wait this time, but were off for their lives. I had the great luck to get another unspeakable this time. I was hot foot after him, & he tripped & fell. Before he could rise I had the bayonet right through him, & he died without a struggle. It seems an awful thing to say I know, killing men like that, but there was no prouder man on the peninsula than my humble self that night.

When they ceased their attacks & accepted defeat, I had 2 rifles smashed in my hands during the fighting on the 27th April, & I also had the pleasure of knowing that I had been in the hottest part of the battle. This piece was afterwards known as the Chessboard, on account of it being so furrowed with trenches, & Quinn’s Post was just here. The piece of ground opposite us was literally covered with dead bodies, our own boys & Turks. God knows what our losses were — must have run into a few thousands.

I was very much relieved when I heard that Len had got through safely. He was fairly close to where the first charge came off & I did not know it.

On the 27th April they landed a fair number of R.M.L.I.s (they are an English regiment), & the 1st Batt were called from the trenches for a spell. Some of the R.M.L.I. took our place. Now we thought we were right, for we all thought at that time that the English soldier was unbeatable, but we soon had that silly idea knocked out of our heads, for they were no sooner in one trench taken by the 4th Brigade than they lost it, & the 15th Batt had to retake it & help them hold it.

When they got us all together, they called the roll & of the 1200 men who landed 3 days ago, only 500 were left. You should have seen the chaps shaking hands with one another & telling how so & so got knocked out & where another fellow was wounded. We were all as hungry as could be, & sleepy was no name for it, for we had no sleep for 3 days & nights. They gave us a ration of bacon each, which we fried & ate with some biscuits & bully. We had a swim, in spite of the shrapnel which was flying round.

On the fourth day the Triumph sailed in close to Gaba Tepe & knocked the fort to pieces. It was a fine sight to see the heavy stonework being knocked to dust. Those naval guns hit with some force I can tell you.

On the 27th April the Turks made a big effort to stop all reinforcements from reaching the shore. The way they tried to do it was to turn every available gun on the transports, & put a curtain of fire between them & the shore so as it would be impossible for men to come through it. It was just like a heavy hailstorm, the line where the shrapnel was bursting, but all the good they done in spite of the big Asiatic shells & all their field guns & howitzers was to sink one trawler & hit a couple of transports. They never succeeded in stopping the traffic to & from the boats.

And now let me say one word in praise of the sailors. They were in my opinion the heroes of the landing. The way they rowed back & forwards with men, in spite of the terrific fire directed on them, was marvellous for they were helpless. A few of them got carried away by the rush & enthusiasm of the boys, & snatching up a rifle went off with them. I am afraid there were not many of them saw the day through. Australia’s name was made with the British sailors from that day; they will do anything in reason for an Australian or New Zealander. Our fellows get on well with them, & they are fine fellows without a doubt. They used to bring us bread, butter, tobacco & etc when they came ashore from their ships & our fellows would exchange for this shells, bullets & all sorts of curios.

On the 28th April we spelled all day, & cleaned ourselves up. The fighting had died almost down, & things were fairly quiet. Both sides were digging in, & now commenced a series of little fights for the best position to run the trenches. There were constant attacks & counter-attacks for nearly a month after this.

On the 29th April we went back to the trenches & the first thing we had to do was to rush a trench that the Marines had held & lost. Our Company was entrusted with this piece of work. We attacked just at daybreak, & got into the trench with the loss of a few men. This is where I got a bullet which just grazed my kneecap, a very close call. Holding the trench was the job for it was cut off from the rest of our positions, & we had no communication sap cut through at that time, though they were hard at it. The Turks got all round us & we were expecting them to attack us with the bayonet, but we made it a bit too hot for them with the rifles & they kept off.

We held it all that day without water or food, for they could not get any to us without coming over the open ground, & that was certain death. Night came & we were still in it with our dead men in the trench; we had to sit on them the place was so crowded & shallow. All the time our chaps were working like Trojans to get the sap through. Nothing much happened that night, though they crept up close, & sniped a few of our men off. This is where we first came in contact with the bombs. The Turks threw a couple at us but they fell short & done no damage.

The next day to our great joy the first man got through with water & ammunition. That put new life into us, & to our great relief we were relieved that night. We were just about done for we had not closed our eyes for 2 days & nights & were nearly starving.

Our losses in the taking & holding of that little bit of trench (about 40 yds) were 15 men killed & about the same number wounded. It was afterwards known as the “Death Trap”.

I had a stripe at this time, & so was in charge of a certain part of the trench. Things were pretty quiet for a time after this, though the shell fire was pretty hot at times. We were all busy consolidating our trenches & putting up parapets & making loopholes. It was just about this time that General Bridges was killed in Shrapnel Gully, & everyone was sorry. The other Generals wanted him to withdraw all of us on the Sunday night when we were so hard pushed — the Navy had the boats all ready for us to re-embark — but General Bridges said the Australians would never give in & if they had to die he would die with them, & so he did. He was fearless. I saw him myself several times in the very thickest of the fighting, walking about encouraging the men & as cool as a cucumber.

We also lost our Brigadier & Bde Major, Colonel MacLaurin & Major Irvine, & most of our Battalion officers were either killed or wounded. My word they were a fine lot, our original officers. I don’t think there was a single squib among them. They were with their men all the time, & turned up trumps.

There was rather a funny little incident when we rushed the death-trap trench. In our Company we had a big tall chap, “Baby Bliss” we named him. He was 6 ft 3 in height & weighed a trifle of 23 stone. Well when we got into one section of the trench we had to crawl through a small hole just large enough for a man of ordinary size. Most of us got through alright, & it came to Baby Bliss’s turn. He got halfway through, & then he got stuck, & could neither go forward nor back — we had to dig him out.

The snipers were very bad about this time & parties were sent out after them. They got small mercy when our chaps caught them; they would run the bayonet through & through them. Shrapnel Gully was a terrible place for them as they could see right down it from their position. We had to build great barriers of sandbags, & the men had to go up it in little rushes from barrier to barrier. Even then scores of them were killed.

The days here at this time were nice & warm, though the nights were very cold, & we had no blankets as yet, only wet & cold dugouts, but still there was no grumbling to talk about.

I think the sunsets here are the prettiest I have ever seen. The sun used to set between 2 islands, Imbros & Samothrace, & part of the time their mountains were capped with snow, which would glisten & turn all colours with the sky as the sun went down. I used to sit & watch these sunsets for an hour at a stretch, watch them turn from gold to pink, from pink to a pretty red, & from that to a lovely blue & gold tint. It would finally go down in a deep red colour gradually fading away to a steel grey as twilight came on.

There was nothing of any importance happened, beyond the 4th Battalion & us changing places in the line, & very hard work & plenty of it — deepening the trenches, & cutting saps & gun positions for our artillery. Most of this work falls on the infantry. They are easily the hardest worked unit of the whole lot, & you can say that they do all the fighting, for all other units with the exception of the engineers are beyond the firing line, & well to the rear some of them are, especially the A.S.C. & artillery.

On the 18th May the first lot of Light Horse arrived, & they camped at the head of Shrapnel Gully. That afternoon the Turks started the bombardment, & every time a Jack Johnson lobbed in our trenches they would cheer, & when one overshot the trenches & fell in among them we would cheer. Nice, wasn’t it, & men getting blown sky high. I’ll never forget the first one that came along. It was early in the morning, & I was looking through the periscope, watching for a chance shot. When I heard a sort of whining noise, I did not take much notice, & the next thing I remember was a terrific bang, & I was lying covered with sandbags & dirt. I can remember real well me holding the periscope up with one hand so as it would not get broken. I was quickly dragged out, none the worse for my narrow shave. The great shell had not lobbed more than 10 yards from me; it threw great chunks of earth sky high & tore a hole in the ground big enough for 10 men to be buried in. After the first one came over I can tell you we watched for them for you can see them coming quite easily, & hear them a long way off — they have a sort of screech which you can never mistake, once you hear it.

All day long they bombarded us. When they first started the big shells, the Turks thought they had us at their mercy, & they got quite cheeky & exposed themselves freely, but we soon spoilt that little game, for we got to our loopholes & waited for them with pretty good result — they mighty soon kept their heads below the parapet.

Towards evening the bombardment grew fiercer, & it reached its highest point about 2.30 in the morning. The scene during this shelling was a wild but beautiful sight. The Chessboard was a mass of bursting shells, our own & the Turks’, & as they burst they threw out different-coloured flashes, some golden, some pink, yellow, blue, dark & light red, & all different shades from the different sorts of explosives they were using. There was a perfect din while this was going on, then all of a sudden it seemed to stop. It was quiet for about 10 minutes, then a terrific rifle fire broke out, & we could hear the Turks calling on their God as they came at us. Every man was ready for them, & we tore it in right & left. They broke in at one or two points, but those that got in never got out no more — they were bayoneted instantly.

We had some fine shots among us & they made nearly every shot tell. It was like shooting rabbits coming out of a warren, they were just about as helpless. The chaps almost quarrelled with one another for the right to stand on the platforms so as they could get a good cut at them. Many of them got on top & even pulled the parapets down in their eagerness for a fly at them. This is how a good few got killed.

What a time it would have been for a counter-attack, but worse luck we never had the men. General Birdwood told us after that all we could muster was 10,000 men & 40 guns against at least 30,000 Turkish regulars & 90 guns. Pretty big odds, but they could attack for ever if they didn’t put more dash into their charges, & would never have taken our trenches.

During those 2 days Len accounted for 30 Turks & Wagga got about 20 more. He was a very fine shot was Wagga. I never had the opportunity they did for I was in charge of the post we were on, & had to look after the men & see that ammunition was kept up & etc etc, but still for all that I got a few, though not nearly so many as Len or Wagga bagged. A couple of days after this General Walker congratulated Len on his shooting & his name was taken. I could never understand why more did not come out of it — he must have lost the paper with the names on it.

The ground between the trenches was simply covered with Turkish dead. There was a blind trench just in front of D Company’s trench that was simply a mass of dead & wounded Turks. They let them get in there so as a machine gun could enfilade them but hanged if the machine gun didn’t block after firing about 60 rounds, & the boys had to shoot them over the parapet, & never a man escaped.

The Light Horse never took no part in this scrap at all — they were in reserve in the gully. This was purely an infantry affair, though our artillery & Indian batteries done some fine shooting. The way the Indian batteries behaved on the first day or so of the landing is beyond all praise; they suffered heavily too. We had some Japanese bomb throwers in action here. They used to throw a bomb weighing 28 lbs away up into the air & you could watch it coming down with the bomb throwing a shower of sparks behind it, like the tail of a comet. They were a deadly thing & done a lot of damage.

On the 22nd May the Turks hoisted the flag, & all firing ceased. General Walker went out with an interpreter to see what they wanted. They had come out to arrange an armistice, but they wanted 24 hours, & we would not listen to that of course, so they arranged that they should meet at a certain hour on the next day, which they did, & arranged an 8 hour armistice. We were to bury all men halfway between our lines & the Turks were to do the same with their half. All our biggest men were picked for the job, no doubt to impress the Turks with the physique of the Australians, & I suppose they done the same. In front of our Company’s lines they got no less than 167 rifle bolts off Turkish rifles. We took their bolts & handed the rest of the rifles back & they done the same with ours. I could never see the sense of that, but I suppose they would have a job to get other bolts to fit.

Some of the German officers showed themselves, & the Turkish officers & ours exchanged cigarettes & the Turks done the same with our men. While the armistice was on a number of Turks rushed across the ground separating the trenches & gave themselves up. The Turkish officers then, so as to stop this sort of thing, ordered all men to keep their heads down & we never saw much more of them after that, excepting of course those who were helping to bury the dead. Our fellows wore a white bandage with a red cross, while they had the crescent on theirs. They won’t recognise a red cross.

The first estimate of 4000 Turkish killed was found to be a long way below the [final] estimate: it was more like 7000, without their wounded. They were taught a lesson that day.

On the 25th May our old friend the Triumph was sunk. We could see her quite plainly from where we were at that time (the Bluff). She overturned & her great red hull showed up so plainly. In about 10 minutes there was a swarm of destroyers & torpedo boats rushing all round her picking up the survivors. With a pair of glasses we could see the men quite plainly hanging on to her. We all felt very sorry at her going down, for many a time when we were getting a hot time from the Turkish guns she would quieten them for us. I don’t think they ever got the submarine that settled her.

The following day my mate young Duke was killed stone dead. He was sniping at the time & Len was observing for him, & I was sitting down having my breakfast, when without any warning he fell at my feet, with half his head blown off. I got a terrible shock I can tell you, a bigger one than you have any idea of. I couldn’t touch him, & called someone else in to take him away. I was a good bit downhearted for some time after this. I got what things I could of his & sent them home to his people, as he asked me to do if ever he got knocked, & Len went round to the orderly room & got his revolver, which he promised him if ever he got knocked. Poor Wagga was buried down by the beach & this much I know, that a clergyman read the burial service over him, but try as I would I could never find his grave. He was as game a lad as ever looked through the sights of a rifle, & I shall never forget him.

A few days after this I saw a little broad-daylight charge of about 30 Turks. They tried to rush the 16th Battalion, I think it was. We could see them quite distinctly for they were not more than 300 yards away. We put a crossfire on to them as they went across. Needless to say it was a failure & only 3 of them reached their trenches alive on the return run. Their bodies lay there for months afterwards just where they fell.

Some little time before this I had a very narrow squeak. A piece of shrapnel hit my hat & went through & carried away a piece of the scalp right on top of my head. The place is quite bare yet & no hair grows on it.

There was very little doing for a long time after this, beyond the ceaseless digging, which never stopped. Everyone was as lousy as a bandicoot — I had not changed my clothes for weeks, for the simple reason I had none, & nearly everyone was in the same street. Water was as precious as gold, & quite as scarce, so a wash was out of the question, for at that time men could not be spared from the trenches to go to the beach, there were such a few of us.

On the evening of the 28th June the Turks rushed us suddenly, but they found us ready for them, & were beaten back easily. In this scrap they lost over 300 men in killed alone. The Light Horse bore the brunt of this attack, & things were very unhealthy between the trenches for a while.

The next day we left for a week’s well-earned rest at Imbros. I spent one of the most enjoyable weeks there as ever I did in my life. I had £1 or 2, at the time, & we bought plenty of milk, nuts, fruit & etc, & if ever we enjoyed those few articles well it was here, we had been without them so long, & it was a much needed change of food. It was summer time, & the weather was delightful. Every morning we used to walk a quarter of a mile to a lovely little ice-cold spring & have a good wash, while the rest of the day would be spent in the sea. We were all sorry when our time was up.

We were back again in the trenches on the 8th July, & facing Lone Pine. The weather was now frightfully hot, & the flies were in millions. It was almost impossible to eat your meals in the daytime; the pests would swarm all over it, & even go into your mouth after it. They used to nearly drive me silly for I was always so particular about the flies. I had my meals early in the morning, & then again at night — I never touched anything during the day.

13th July. The Turks shelled us pretty heavily today, & killed a few, & knocked our parapets about a good deal.

On the next day I had the closest call of my life, & I have had a few. It had been a scorching day & in the evening I went down for a swim. There were thousands in bathing, & the water was lovely. I was drying myself along with 4 others on an old barge when without any warning I heard a terrific bang & the next thing I knew was that I was lying on my back in the water, & I could hear someone singing out. I scrambled out pretty fast you bet, & saw what had happened: a shell had burst fair on the barge, & 2 of the chaps were killed, one of them — a Dr in the 7th Light Horse — had both legs blown off. There were also 4 others badly wounded. It was a terrible sight to see the legs & arms lying about, & as hard as I was it quite sickened me for a while. How on earth I escaped is a mystery to me for I was right among them. You may laugh at me, but I declare I felt the pieces of shell as they shot past me. That scared me for a while as I had seen so many accidents on the beach.

The 15th July saw another pretty solid bombardment, & it took me all my time to dodge them, for they fell pretty thick on our trenches. This evening there were no less than 5 aeroplanes up. The first couple of months we were here, our airmen used to drop a lot of bombs on the Turks.

17th July. Had a visit from a Turkish aeroplane this evening. She dropped 2 bombs: one fell in the sea, & the other done no damage. You can hear & see a bomb coming down quite plainly, but you have no idea where it is going to land. They dropped a few bombs at different times containing darts. They are nasty things, & it doesn’t pay to get hit with them. We also had a few 11 inchers over, but they done no damage beyond blowing up the signalling stores.

18th July. Things are coming to a head fast. We had another terrific bombardment from the Turkish howitzers — it is wonderful what a small amount of damage they have done. They put 40 × 6 inch shells within an area of 100 yards on our trenches this morning. 3 batteries of R.F.A. landed here with 5 in. howitzers.

19th July. We had some walloping shells shot at us today, & one of them tried to assassinate me in my dugout so I lost no time in getting out of it.

On the 22nd July we had a 3 day “stand to”, which meant that we had no sleep for that time. We were expecting an attack from the Turks as it was the date of the feast of Ramadan, but nothing came of it.

On the 1st August the 3rd Brigade attacked & captured a Turkish trench. They had 70 casualties, very light considering the distance they had to cover. All the talk now was of our coming charge & everyone was looking forward to it.

3rd August. Had another pretty heavy bombardment this afternoon, which knocked a few more of our fellows out. We christened a few of the Turkish guns, some of the names ran like this: Beachy Bill of course takes pride of place, the most destructive gun on the peninsula; Percy Jones, a fairly silent fellow; Harry Lauder, a shell which used to sing as it come along; Asiatic Annie from the Chanak forts, a big shell which never done any harm, because it always landed very thoughtfully where there happened to be no one; Wheelbarrow Jack, a big shell which used to be shot from a mortar — it was round like a football, & used to make a creaking noise on its way to the trenches. They done a fair bit of damage, at times.

And now I come to the morning we were relieved by the 5th Batt so as to allow us to rest a few hours before the charge came off. We were all moved out into Gun Lane & Brown’s Dip & positions allotted to us. Everyone was as confident as could be.

The Light Horse started the ball rolling by an attack at 5 o’clock in the morning on a Turkish trench, which they took, but failed to hold. They were driven out by bombs, & lost a good few men.

The warships had not been idle, & along with our batteries were making the Olive Grove one of the warmest spots on the peninsula — it was a regular sea of fire & smoke. Their idea was to put as many of the Turkish guns out of action as they could before our charge came off, for the Olive Grove was swarming with guns of all calibres, & completely dominated the Pine & all our positions.

About 4 o’clock that afternoon (6th August) we were all in readiness, & a fair ration of rum was served out in the tea. This was a fairly regular thing, & I believe it done a lot of good, especially when we first landed, for the nights were very cold.

At 5 o’clock to the minute the whole of the batteries & warships were turned on to Lone Pine. They started off at a steady pace & increased as they went along til 5.15, when the bombardment reached the climax. The noise was deafening, & the shells were bursting that fast that it was impossible to hear single shells burst — it was one continuous roar.

While this was going on we were crouched in dugouts & old trenches, waiting for our turn to come. The Turks were shelling us like mad, field guns & howitzers were going their hardest, & shrapnel without a word of a lie was falling like a hailstorm. I will never forget our dugout: there were about 20 men in it, & every 2 or 3 minutes a monster shell would just miss us by about 20 yards or so. If one had just dropped a little short, it would have been the end of us. As it was we used to hold our breath when we heard it come roaring through the air, & everyone would sort of grip themselves, in readiness for the shock of the concussion. I have always found it a good plan to open your mouth & stand on your toes when you are expecting a high explosive to land near you; funny as it may seem, it takes a lot of the pressure off you. I had one very severe shock at the Pimple — my stomach seemed to fly out of my mouth & eyes were pushed right back in my head, which seemed as if it were split open. I had a job to keep myself from fainting; talk about a headache well I had one that day. There were 3 of us working at the time, & we were all thrown heavily to the ground. It was a close shave, & we could hardly move for 24 hours after it.

Len remarked to me while this shelling was going on that it was his birthday, a rather stormy one I should think & I would not like to witness many more like it. The Turks fairly drenched the little hollow where we were with shell fire, for they knew well enough that that was where the reserves would be (Brown’s Dip). To give you an idea of the severity of the shrapnel fire this ought to do: we had a lot of telephone wires stretched across from one side of the Dip to the other, & as fast as they were repaired the shrapnel cut them down again. There were a few men killed while repairing these wires; it was certain death to go out but these men never hesitated, but rushed out in their turn. Brave men if you like.

About 5.25 our fire slackened a bit & the Turks started to increase theirs. Just then I got a terrible shock or fright, whichever you like to call it, for I distinctly saw, for the fraction of a second, an 18 pounder shell coming straight for me, but by the greatest piece of luck it fell about a yard short & buried itself in the earth in front of us, & failed to explode. I did not know what to do, for to get out of the dugout seemed certain death & to stay in it seemed the same, for the gun was pointed straight at us; however I decided to stop & take my chance. They fired 3 more, & luckily none of them burst — if they had done, I should not be alive today, for the furthest shell did not lob more than 3 yards away. It’s a test of nerves I can assure you to sit there helpless & let a gun shoot at you. Besides you have no hope of dodging these small shells for they travel a lot faster than the big ones.

At 5.30 to the sec all our guns stopped & there was a lull for a moment, & then Hell seemed let loose, but above the frightful din of bursting shrapnel & rifle & machine gun fire, we heard a shout, & knew that the 2nd, 3rd & 4th Battalions were over, & as it turned out afterwards half our Batt with them. It was a race against death to reach the other side, & men fell like hailstones. You could see little white patches wherever you looked, for just before the charge everyone was issued with 3 pieces of white calico, one for each arm & the third for the back. The idea of this was so as we could tell our own men from Turks but it cut both ways, for the Turks were not slow to notice this, & tacked it on themselves. When we found this out, we were ordered to take ours off, & we had the advantage of them for a while, & they paid pretty dear for it.

Some English officers who watched the charge said they never thought that men would face such a murderous fire as the Australians did on that memorable evening. General Walker watched the attack, & when the first line reached the Turkish trenches they were seen to falter for some unknown reason, & he grew very excited. “My God the boys have failed,” he said. “No, no, they haven’t, I told you so,” he almost shouted, as they were seen to be disappearing into the Turkish stronghold, & others could be seen struggling with great beams & logs.

The reason for the apparent check of the first line was easily explained, for the whole of the Turkish position was made bomb proof, & even howitzer proof in places. It was a most formidable thing, & no one counted on the trenches being covered in. There were a few openings here & there where men used to crawl out of a night, & down these the boys had to drop one by one into almost certain death, for the Turks were waiting there for them, & shot & bayoneted as they jumped down. Many a V.C. was won here & never recognised. 40 mins after the first line we went over, & even then they were not all cleared out, & we helped round them up, & put the finishing touch on them.

I saw several men sacrifice themselves here; they went to certain death. One chap in particular I remember, it came about in this way: we were chasing some Turks round a little sap & they reached the bend first. Everyone knew the first man round the corner was a dead one, but this chap never hesitated. He threw himself fair at them, & the 6 fired together, & fairly riddled him with bullets. That was our chance & we were into them, & it was all over in a few minutes.

As we were getting over the parapet the man next to me was killed stone dead, & on the way across we lost a few more, for they were still playing their machine guns & shrapnel on the ground between the trenches. Some of us got tangled in the barb wire & got nasty cuts. When we jumped down into the trenches I lobbed on something soft & on looking closer found that it was a dead Turk — the trenches were absolutely packed with them. A little further on we had 47 of them imprisoned in a tunnel & Len was put guard over them. The mouth of the tunnel was sandbagged to prevent too many of them coming out at once; he had a rifle & revolver ready for them. Next morning, 7th August, they all gave themselves up.

About 9 o’clock that night, while we were all busy getting our trenches in order for the expected counter-attack, volunteers were called for to go over & bring some sandbags & shovels back, for we did not have enough, & they were shelling us pretty heavily. I & 4 others volunteered, & I can tell you it’s a funny feeling you have as you pick your way across that no man’s land among the dead, dying & wounded, & the bullets whistling all round. We lost no time as you may guess getting across. We went to Bde Hqrs, & the Bde Major said we need not take any with us, for he would see that they were sent across at once, so back we went & reached the trenches safely.

We worked hard all that night. At times we had to drop our tools, grab our guns, & fight like the devil for a while, for they were just about to start the counter-attacks. By 9 o’clock next morning the battle was in full swing; every inch of ground was being fought stubbornly for by both sides. The losses on both sides were awful but still it never slackened. Time after time they rushed us only to be beaten back at the very parapet you might say. Bomb fights were everywhere, & these accounted for most of the casualties on our side. The artillery fire was deafening, & combined with the salty acrid smell of the cordite, the rattle of machine guns & rifles, the bursting bombs, the heat & flies & dust, & the cries of the wounded men, made the blood run hot or cold in your veins, according to the way you looked at it.

The battle raged furiously for 4 days. On the 9th August the 7th Batt were in a certain trench, & the Turks were attacking it furiously, with bombs, shells & all manner of things. A lot of our Coy were sent in to reinforce them, Len & I among them. Without a word of a lie the men were lying 4 deep dead in this awful trench; it was nothing more than a charnel house & I shall never forget it. No less than 3 V.C.s were won in this trench. In places the Turks were only 5 yards away & they had a much superior bomb to us at the time, but in spite of their furious charges we held it. At one time, there were only 3 of us left alive holding about 30 yards of trench. I thought the end had come, & was quite prepared to sell my life as dearly as I could, if the Turks had only known how easily they could have taken it. The 3 of us who were left in that trench are still alive: Holmes, a great mate of Len’s & as game as you make them, young Wise in the 53rd & myself. Reinforcements came just in the nick of time & the trench was held.

I had had no sleep for 3 nights & days & was just about worn out, so that night I slept with my head on a dead Turk’s leg. You might say why did I do that when I could have found some other place but let me tell you that there was hardly a square foot in those Lone Pine trenches that wasn’t covered with dead men; however I was not troubled with any dreams, but slept as sound as ever I slept in my life.

You might have read of chaps picking up live bombs & slinging them back at the Turks. Well it is quite true, any amount of our chaps done this. It requires a bit of nerve I can tell you, but I think that is about the last thing the average Australian is lacking in.

A fellow gets some curious fancies into his head when being bombed heavily. I remember what mine was as I crouched against the parapet with the rifle protecting my side as well as it would. At one time 4 bombs fell in the trench just underneath the parapet where I was firing from, & as they lay there — as it seemed to me for an hour but in reality only a few seconds — I thought they looked like some monstrous animal with big green eyes & smoke coming out of its mouth. When they used to explode they would daze me for a minute by the concussion. My rifle saved me several times from getting a bad wound, for pieces of bomb buried into the stock more than once while protecting my ribs. I got a few nasty gashes on my hand & leg one day from small pieces of picric bomb.

On the 10th August we came out of that Hell & in Brown’s Dip I saw George Vaughan. What a few we were compared to the lot as went in. We lost just on 400 men for 4 days fighting. You can imagine what kind of a state we were in after such a rough & tumble.

Our artillery skittled a few Turks before the charge for I saw any amount of them blown absolutely to atoms, the flesh hanging in long shreds & clothes torn to ribbons. This was done by the concussion from lyddite shells. In lots of places the sides of the trenches were quite yellow from the fumes of this explosive, & one old Turk I saw was sitting down making bricks as dead as a stone.

Our captures in Lone Pine were about 250 prisoners, 8 machine guns, about 2,000,000 rounds of Mauser ammunition & various other things. There were a few German officers killed in here, & the boys cut all their buttons off as souvenirs. After the severe fighting died down over a thousand dead men were taken from these trenches & goodness knows how many more were buried in there. Some trenches were that full of dead that they could not move the bodies on account of the frightful stench arising from them, for it was summer time, & the heat was terrific, & the flies in countless millions.

These 4 days fighting were considered to be the severest hand-to-hand fighting since the Battle of Inkerman in the Crimean War, that was how the English papers looked on it. There’s no one knows or has any idea what that place was like unless they were actually in it. The Turks fought as fairly & as brave as it was possible for men to fight.

Most of the dead men were taken out of the Pine & buried in Brown’s Dip. The Turks were buried in a big long grave, & our chaps where possible were laid to rest in a decent grave. The Connaught Rangers, an English regiment, done the burying. They used to put a rope round the Turk’s head or neck & drag him out that way. One of the parsons caught them doing this to one of our chaps. He stopped it at once & made them carry our dead out on a stretcher, which was only right. Often a man’s head would pull off & then there would be a stink. Often & often I have been as sick as a dog when going into the Pine trenches, for it was nothing to see a man’s legs sticking out & flesh falling away from him in black lumps.

As we were coming out of the Pine, Len picked up a ring & he has it to this day; though he has lost it several times, it has been found again.

It seemed lonely for a while after this affair for so many of our mates were killed: McShane, Griffiths, Brown, Curtiss, Walsh, Eady, Hopkins, Bradford, Hayward, all were dead & lots more wounded.

It took us till the 12th August to get things straightened up a bit, & then on the 13th August we had a very hot time. They introduced the famous 75 — she skittled 30 out of 60 men who were holding a dangerous part of the line in a few minutes. By Jove they are an awful gun; I am very pleased we have not many of them to face. I can quite understand how the French slaughter the Germans with this deadly weapon. They travel that fast that they are half a mile past you before you hear the report of the gun, that is if you are lucky & still alive. I have seen them come through a parapet 4 bags thick & burst in the trench killing or wounding all in it. I sent the cap of one home that just grazed my head, & killed my mate who was standing alongside me.

The trenches were alive with maggots & when trying to get a few winks of a night they would crawl all over you, & the place was even worse than our own trenches for lice & fleas, so you can see what with one thing & another, it was no holiday in there. Besides nearly everyone was nearly dead with a sort of dysentery, & to eat your meals or to try & get a little quiet place was impossible on account of the cursed flies.

You ought to have seen the Turkish loopholes. They were riddled with bullets & directly behind them the timber was a mass of holes, which proved beyond the shadow of a doubt the accuracy of our rifle fire. I guess there were a few killed in those trenches before the capture of them. Lone Pine trenches were nothing more than a warren; there were trenches running everywhere, & we were constantly getting bushed in them.

The second night in there when the bombing was so bad our fellows were getting cut to pieces for want of them, the cry was “more bombs, more bombs”. I was one of a chain who were passing them as fast as ever we could & we were wondering how much faster they were using them than we could pass them; we all thought it funny that they were being used so fast, for we couldn’t send them any quicker. At last someone noticed that we were handling the same bags over & over again. It appears that we were passing them round & round in a circle all through some officious Sergeant who would not let them down a certain sap. He got into a nice row over that for it nearly lost us the position.

The wounded in Lone Pine had a very rough time. The first lot had to lie in there nearly 24 hours, while they were cutting the sap through. How they must have suffered, poor devils. We had 2 big communication saps nearly through before the charge; the engineers & our fellows had been tunnelling for weeks.

On the night of the 14th August the Turks made a bomb attack on the section of trench our platoon were holding but it speedily fell through. I think we dropped most of them with rifle fire; we saw them come out quite plainly for we always keep a very strict lookout. At this time we were using nearly all jam-tin bombs made by ourselves; they are very effective if they lob in among men, but are dangerous to handle for sometimes they don’t look to be alight, & all the time are burning. We had a good few of our men killed with these for a time, until they started to poison the fuses, which meant putting gelignite down the fuse so as you could see it burning. They were mostly 5 sec bombs. Our guncotton bomb was a snifter — the concussion from them would do the trick. If the Turks were troublesome in certain parts we would send them over a slab (like a lb of butter on a pat) & that would stop them.

On the 17th August we held a meeting in Gun Lane called by Colonel Dobbin to celebrate the first anniversary of the forming of 1st Battalion. While the speeches were on, the shells were flying about pretty heavy, but we were pretty well used to them by this time & did not take much notice. At the conclusion every one of the old hands had a tot of rum & some packets of cigarettes issued to them, & all drank success to the Battalion. The next day the father of the Battalion, as we used to call Major Davidson, was badly wounded & died a few days after. He was a very fine fellow & popular with us all. His death cast quite a gloom over the Batt for he had been right through up to then.

On the 21st August there was a very violent bombardment & heavy rifle fire on our left. Our chaps & N.Z.s captured a fine well & about 300 rifles & a few prisoners that day.

How the Colonial troops stood out on their own during that fierce month of battles (August), both in dash, resourcefulness, daring & pure bull-dog tenacity. The world knows, & it’s not overrated either.

On the 25th August there was a terrific bombardment of Achi Baba. They used to give this place some awful hammerings. We could see the shells burst quite plainly from Anzac for we were perched up on high hills. Anzac was easily the roughest & hilliest of the 3 landings; the pictures & photos give only a faint idea of the steepness of the position we held. It’s a wonder we were never pushed clean off it, but they had one good try & that satisfied them.

On the 30th August there was a pretty lively bomb attack & things were pretty hot for a while. It was a dark night so the Indian batteries sent up a few star shells. They fire them from 9 pounder guns. They are very pretty for the shells burst into 9 or 10 different balls of light & they slowly drift down showing a brilliant light. Woe betide anyone caught outside then, for he was a goner.

Early one morning as I was peering over the parapet I thought I saw something move slowly. I watched it pretty close, & I saw a shot come from a certain object. I up with my rifle, took a good aim & shot an old Turk dead. He had been out sniping & was behind a sandbag not 10 yards away.

About this time Len shot a Turk 900 yards away. Capt Woodforde spotted him, & he sent for Len, & hanged if Len didn’t floor him first shot. You could see him quite plainly through the telescope throw up his arms & sink down dead as a stone.

We had a pretty rough time in the Pine. We used to do 48 hours at a stretch, which meant no sleep — you had to rest as well as you could in the little narrow trench. Those of us who were left were as weak as cats. Our clothes were hanging off our backs, & we hardly had strength to stand up. The rumours were going about that we were to be relieved by the 2nd Division & everyone was looking forward to it you can bet.

On the 4th September the 6th Brigade arrived & I can tell you it put heart into us for now we knew we were going to be relieved at last. Everyone was as happy as could be, & the nights & days seemed a terrible length. 2 days after this the first of the 6th Bde came into Lone Pine & we broke them in, & they gradually took it over from us. How fresh & healthy they looked compared to us poor worn-out lot. They reckoned we looked awful & so we did. They lost a few men at once through being inquisitive, poking their heads over the parapet in broad daylight, but they soon took a tumble.

On the 8th September we handed over the Pine to them & we filed out of her & no one was sorry, though she was pretty safe when we left her. We worked day & night improving the parapets, building new trenches & communication saps, putting new loopholes in & building bombproof shelters. Towards the last the bombs were dealt with in a very practical way. We used to have a man at every post with a blanket & whenever a bomb lobbed in the trenches a blanket would be slung on to it at once. It’s wonderful how it will smother a bomb; they are practically harmless under the blanket. One day in the trenches a chap saved his life by his presence of mind. He was carrying a sandbag & a bomb lobbed right at his feet. He dropped the bag on it at once & just in time for off she went & never touched him. The best plan is, if there is no cover, to throw yourself flat on the ground for they all strike upwards, milk-dished shape.

That same night we left the trenches we camped in White’s Gully for about 4 hours, waiting for the ship to come in to take us away for our spell. We were a nice-looking crowd: I had no seat in my pants, half of a felt hat, no sleeves in my tunic, no socks on, old worn boots & filthy underwear rotten with vermin. Len had an old helmet that you would not pick out of the gutter in ordinary times, short pants with about 6 in. of leg in them, a tattered tunic & old boots. This was practically the same with every man of the whole Brigade, & every man from the Brigadier down would be as lousy as could be. Oh we were a nice-looking lot of heroes, but we had been through something that not every man had. Besides a lot of us had been there from the start, 25th April to 9th September, & going for our lives the whole time. It was the old 1st Division that made Australia’s name & done the severe fighting, & dug all the saps & trenches & lost the good men. The Brigade numbered about 800 in spite of the 6 lots of reinforcements we had received.

About 12 o’clock that night we set off for the beach. Old Beachy Bill was sending a few in now & again just by way of pastime. It would have been stiff luck to have stopped one just then but one fellow did get hit about a mile out to sea. We all got aboard about daylight. The 1st & 2nd Batts were on the one boat, Partridge. She had to her credit the sinking of the V.15. The morning was a bonzer, nice & sunny, & we all lounged about on deck. From Anzac to Lemnos was a distance of some 40 miles & we carved it out in about 2 hours.

We landed about 11 o’clock that morning & some of the chaps were that weak that a motor ambulance fetched them round to the camp. As we passed the hospital the Drs & nurses came out & had a look at us. I heard one nurse say, “Poor fellows, they look more fit for the hospital than anything else,” & she was right.

Arrived at Sarpi Camp thoroughly knocked up, & were detailed off to tents. How glad we were to throw our packs & rifles off & to get outside & buy some grapes & figs. The grapes were very plentiful & cheap — you could buy enough for 3d as you could eat. Everyone gorged themselves with fruit for we were fruit hungry & it was a sort of craving we had on us. Needless to say we paid pretty dearly for it the next day; didn’t our stomachs ache & roll. Eggs also were plentiful & we used to get any amount of them & cook them for our tea.

All that afternoon the boys kept straggling home one by one, for some of them had to have a dozen spells before they could get round.

We slept soundly that night, for we were away from the sound of the guns for the first time for many months, & we missed them but in the right way. Next morning we had a good breakfast & had the day to ourselves. The first thing we done as you might guess was to have a good clean up, wash & shave. Some of us washed our clothes over at the well — there was a bonzer spring there & we made full use of it. A day or two after this we were all issued with new clothes, & felt like new men. The old lousy clothes were all burnt & we were clean once more.

We had been at Lemnos about 5 days when we had a terrible heavy thunderstorm which flooded everyone out. In places the water was easily 2 ft deep running through the tents, & carrying everything with it: water bottles, equipment, blankets, loaves of bread all went the one way. It was funny to see us holding what we could out of the water. It was my third experience of being flooded out while in the military, twice at Kensington & here. The camp was pitched in a rotten place, fair on a piece of level ground. The water off the surrounding hills fairly flooded us to our knees. That night when the storm was over we set to & shifted our camp to higher ground & as you might guess our tempers & sleep were none of the best that night; however next morning broke fine & sunny & we soon forgot our discomforts.

We were well supplied with food here so as to build us up. They also started to shove the everlasting drill into us again as if we hadn’t had enough of that. It took us the best part of a week to get our camp shipshape, during which time we helped to run up a thumping big marquee for the Y.M.C.A. What a splendid institution it is, they have stuck to us through thick & thin. At Lemnos they not only supplied us with pens, ink, writing paper & etc, but run a piano along as well, besides a gramophone, & supplied us with cricket sets, boxing gloves, draughts, chess, cards, quoits, footballs & goodness only knows what else. The piano was a Godsend & it used to make the place quite merry of a night.

The New Zealand Band gave several fine concerts at which the nurses on Lemnos Island attended. What a relief & pleasure it was to see the girls of our land, after 6 months of roughing it at Anzac. They made the place look quite bright with their pretty uniforms. They were bricks to stick at Mudros like they did, for I can tell you they had some rough times there. They even had to live on bully & biscuits at times, & their tents would be blown down in a raging rainstorm, & they would turn to & help put them up again in the pouring rain. Their first thought was for the sick & wounded men, & they looked after them splendidly. One cannot praise our nurses too highly, they were bonzer girls.

We had the first proper Battalion roll call since we left Egypt, & it was sad to see the few of the old original men that were left, only a handful it seemed. A lot were in hospitals crippled, some were back in Australia, & between 200 & 300 were lying in their graves at Anzac. The majority of them were splendid fellows too.

The whole of the Batt were medically examined by 3 doctors & those who were not up to it were sent to hospital & some were sent home to Australia.

Our spell was fast coming to a close & we were not sorry for it was getting very cold & miserable. We had several false alarms about packing up, but on the 27th October we rolled up our blankets. The day we left Sarpi Camp it rained cats & dogs & we were nearly wet through by the time we got on the Osmanich. She was a very nicely fitted-out boat; the saloon was as fine as any ever I have seen. We slept on deck here, & the 2nd Batt had quarters down below. We had no blankets with us through the fault of our Q.M. & about 10 o’clock that night Dr Thompson came round. It was a bitterly cold night & drizzling rain was falling making everything miserable. He pulled up opposite me & asked me the reason why we had no blankets & I told him pretty quick the cause of it. Didn’t he perform next morning; he blew the Q.M. up properly & it done him the world of good.

When we left Lemnos we did not know properly whether we were going to Anzac or Salonika, but once we started we were not left long in doubt. We arrived off Anzac after dark — she was still in the same old place. You could see the lights burning in some of the dugouts, & see & hear the flash of the bursting shells. Though we were a good mile out to sea the bullets could be heard falling into the sea with a loud plonk, & every now & again one would hit the ship with a loud smack. Men were often wounded & killed away out to sea by stray bullets, for the Turkish trenches were up on a fairly high hill & all those which missed our parapets fell into the sea — there must be a few tons of lead in the sea off Anzac.

We worked all that night getting our stores on to the lighters, for everything had to be transhipped that went on shore at Anzac. It was pretty well daylight by the time we got them unloaded off the lighter. After this was finished we marched up to Clarke’s Gully & had our breakfast. We were dead tired for we had been working hard all night & had no sleep. About 10 o’clock we went into the trenches & relieved some of the 3rd Brigade. On the way up we lost an officer & 3 men by shrapnel fire — old Beachy Bill was responsible for them. It’s a wonder there were not more of us knocked for he shelled Shell Green pretty heavy as we came across it.

What a home these trenches were compared to the ones we had been fighting in. They ranged from 200 to 300 yards from the Turkish trenches & caught very little shell fire compared to what we had been used to: trenches that were rarely more than 70 yards distant & the majority were not more than 10 yards. Some of them were not 5 yards away as in the Pine, where only sandbags separated us, for we held half a communication trench each & terrible were the bomb fights in consequence, for you dare not put overhead cover up — if you did, the artillery would be on it like a shot, & blow it to pieces & you with it.

This portion of the line was known as Leane’s Trench after a W.A. Major. A man was very stiff to get skittled here, & needless to say we lost very few men the last 2 months we were on the peninsula. I don’t wonder at the 3rd Bde sticking to their trenches so long — they had a paradise compared to what we had battled through in.

We were not long in settling down to the old trench life again. It was noticeably colder now though the sun still continued to shine.

On the 1st November there was a heavy gale which lasted 24 hours, during which time it made a mess of Anzac beach. Cases of biscuits, bully, potatoes were piled all over the place, for the waves rushed up & knocked the stacks over like ninepins, & you should have seen the sea: it was literally smothered with onions & the beach stank for weeks after as they slowly rotted away. This was just a taste of what we had to expect in the winter months — not a very promising outlook was it.

The 7th & 8th reinforcements arrived on the 5th November. This made our work considerably lighter for we were woefully short of men for the length of line we were holding.

One of our stretcher bearers done a risky thing. There was a wounded Turk out in the open, & he hopped over the parapet & fetched him in — a plucky act & the Turks never even fired on him. What would the Germans have done I wonder. No enemy could have fought fairer than the Turks did after the first week we were there.

The weather was still holding fine & things were going nicely. We had started to put some big saps down. They were going to be our winter quarters, & also cover from the big guns the Germans were sending to be used against us — we were expecting them any day. These funk holes, as we called them, were to have 20 ft earth on top, as they reckoned it took 15 ft for protection against Germany’s 17 in. guns. I should not have cared to have been in these chambers when one of those giant shells lobbed on top; there would have been something doing I bet. We had trenches here 12 to 15 ft deep & practically proof against everything but the heaviest of shells. They were beauties & one of the Generals from Cape Helles complimented the Australians on their fine trenches.

Most of our dugouts also were very good. Some of them were got up like a room, especially those who were not being moved about, such as the artillery, A.S.C., Q.M.C. & various other units. The infantry of course did not have such elaborate dugouts for we were often on the move. One fellow even had a window in his & a pot of flowers, & at night time he would draw a curtain across his window. He was a machine gunner & his dugout was about the best there.

Looking at Anzac from the sea it resembled a huge warren, with the dugouts dotted all over it — there were tier upon tier of them.

Pretty close to our last position was Victoria Gully & I saw something in this gully that I had often read about, but always refused to believe. It was this: a running stream of water that choked with dead & dying men, running red with blood. It seems hard to believe but nevertheless it’s true. All men wounded on the ridges above it & at the head of Brown’s Dip would make for this gully, for not only was it the safest way down to the dressing stations, for on one side of it the hill was so steep that it would try a monkey to scale it, & it afforded safe cover from shrapnel fire, & it also had the fresh water which everyone when wounded longs for. Scores of wounded men reached this creek alright, but in many cases it proved their grave, for they got stuck in the sticky clay & there being no one on hand to help them out, they perished.

There was another gully something similar to this at the Bluff. In this little steep watercourse Australians & New Zealanders lay dead & wounded in scores. It was an awful sight to see the poor fellows helping one another down to the dressing station in Shrapnel Gully. It was in Shrapnel Gully that the Red Cross chap Simpson made such a name for himself, with his little donkey. Many a man’s life he & the little donkey saved. I have seen them often myself bringing down the wounded & the shrapnel fairly hailing down. It’s marvellous he lived as long as he did, for the hills around were alive with snipers, & the gully was always being shelled for the Turks knew well enough that it was the only track that we could get tucker & ammunition to the Chessboard to the left of our position. The little donkey would go backwards & forwards on its own account — he seemed to know as much as a man. He was the pet of all Anzac & had a charmed life.

I don’t know what we would have done without the mules at Anzac — I reckon we would have starved. You should have seen some of the tracks they had to climb & talk about slippery. Every bit of food, ammunition, clothing & nearly all our water had to be carried by the mule teams up to the trenches. It was a task I can tell you, & it had practically all to be done at night time for the Turks could see them in daylight. The Indians were responsible for all this work & deserve a heap of praise. There were a good few of these chaps killed at Anzac. They are proper fatalists are the Sikhs.

We had orders to write our Xmas mail, & great was the penwork for a day or so. It was sent away & nearly all of it was sunk. Wasn’t there some swearing.

On the 15th November there was a terrific bombardment of Achi Baba. Our warships fairly rained shells on the Turks for hours — how on earth they could stand it gets me for we could feel the concussion even where we were. We always had a splendid view of these bombardments for we overlooked all the country between Anzac & Achi Baba. Krithia at times could hardly be seen for smoke & dust; it must have been a perfect Hell there.

One of the prettiest sights I have seen at Anzac was when 6 cruisers bombarded the Olive Grove. They stood about a mile off the shore & if they didn’t paste the batteries there it was a caution. Sometimes they would fire the whole broadside which would envelop the ship in a black sort of smoke, & you could see each gun as it was fired shoot out a dark angry-looking sheet of flame, stabbing the black curtain of smoke like lightning darting across the sky. After a ship had fired her broadside you could turn round & watch where they were going to bob, which we could see as plain as day for some of the shells were lobbing very little more than half a mile from us. When they landed they seemed to strike fire out of the earth such is the speed they travel at; when the shell explodes it throws earth hundreds of feet high, & shakes the whole place. They were firing their guns so fast at times that you could not count the report from one ship let alone 6. They kept this up for hours but they failed to get old Beachy Bill for just before the finish I’m hanged if he didn’t have the cheek to fire back at the warships. Beachy must have been in a pretty secure place to defy those naval guns as he did. Old Beachy would have a go at anything. They reckon he was in a steel & concrete gun pit & had rails to run up on when he was going to fire, & the recoil from the charge would drive him back & he would run to some other hole & let go at them.

Our food take it all round at Anzac was not of the best. We had good long stretches without bread & fresh meat, & as for water, at times we had none. A pint a day was our allowance at the best of times, & on this meagre allowance we had to quench our thirst, shave, clean our teeth, wash & wash any clothes you might have dirty. There have been times when we have been without water for 3 days, only had enough for a pint of tea twice a day. That’s cutting it pretty fine you know. More than once we have had to carry our water nearly 2 miles & up a steep hill at that. We used to curse like troopers when Beachy Bill would sink our water barges, after coming all the way from Alexandria or Lemnos, for it always meant a lot of hard & extra work besides cutting our ration of water down. There’s no one knows what hardships the old 1st Division & New Zealanders had to go through on that remarkable place, a position as full of natural difficulties as an egg is full of meat.

We had a snifter parson on the peninsula, one of the very whitest — Mac we all used to call him (McKenzie his name was). He & General Birdwood were the 2 outstanding personalities over there. No matter how hot the day was you would see Mac among the boys cheering & cracking jokes with them, & he would go down to the beach & help the boys carry up the rations, hard work it was too, he rarely had his coat on. That man was almost worshipped by the boys. He was attached to the 4th Battalion, & many & many a time he buried our chaps under fire. He was always merry & bright & never downhearted & I don’t think he was off the peninsula the whole time; he’s a man I would take off my hat to & there’s not many I would do that to.

General Birdwood was a bonzer bloke, he suited the Australians down to the ground. He would come along & have a chat to anyone; there was no formality about him or General Walker. They were both almost idolised by the boys, & General Birdwood had a very high opinion of the Colonials. He refused a higher command while on the peninsula rather than leave the Australians; he always used to reckon they would do him. When speaking of, or about them, he would always refer to them as boys. There’s many a good joke is told about him.

Among the Australians there was a code of honour different to nearly every other Army, as ever I have read or heard of. It was like this: when any particular risky work had to be done, such as putting out barb wire, patrolling, building parapets & etc, they never detailed men off to do it, they always called for volunteers & needless to say never called in vain.

On the 25th November the most puzzling of all things happened to us & that was that we were not to fire a shot on any account, neither from rifles, bombs nor guns. No fires were to be lit & everyone had to keep under cover & not be seen on any account whatsoever. That set the rumours going properly. Nearly every man had a different idea of what we were trying to do & of all the opinions I don’t think one of them guessed at the real meaning of it, as we found out afterwards.

Most of us thought we were trying to kid the Turks to attack us — it would most certainly have been a bad day for them had they done so — but they apparently had enough of that game. Instead they sent patrols out & we could hear them at night time rattling the tins quite close to the parapet. It was very tempting for a shot, for every now & again you would see one quite plainly. In fact as many as 200 were seen in the gully one night just below us but the machine guns were not allowed to fire on them. They would have wiped the lot of them out had they done so, for we had 13 machine guns pointing up this valley, ready waiting for an attack at any time from Johnny Turk. A good few of our chaps were shot while observing at night over the parapet. Pretty rotten you know, being shot at & not being able to shoot back.

In Lone Pine the Turks threw a note over to our chaps saying, “Come out you silly — & fire away, we know you are there,” but for all that they were not too sure for they attacked the British at Cape Helles & suffered a severe setback. The same day they tried the same game on the New Zealanders, but they dished them up properly, so they done a bit of good with their silence. The main object of course was to try them & see how they would act when the time came for the evacuation. Little did we think it would come to that, after all the terrific fighting we had done there.

Another time the Turks threw a note over to the 2nd Battalion just opposite Lone Pine & in it they offered us good homes, plenty of wives & all sorts of nice things if we would only give ourselves up. For, they said, you are fighting a hopeless fight, & one day if you don’t give in we will kill the lot of you, & also England was frightened to send any more ships with food to us & we would starve to death for they, Germany, had command of the sea & all that sort of thing. The note was pinned on the bags at Headquarters for all to see, & many the laugh it caused us I can tell you.

This silence lasted until midnight on the third day, & the instant time was up talk about a rifle fire. I think nearly everyone had a go & relieved his feelings; it had been a most trying time for all concerned, & everyone was glad when they could fire again. I expect the old Turks chuckled to themselves when we started to fire again, but the silence had served its purpose, & little did they know it.

The next thing was our blizzard & she was a snifter. It started on the 28th November by a cold rain which continued all day, but as night came on it turned to a howling blizzard. Talk about cold. That night I had 2 pair of socks on & my feet in bags, underpants, trousers, singlet, flannel, tunic, overcoat & then I was nearly freezing. The blizzard raged furiously all night long & when morning broke, the hills & everything else were completely covered with snow. The snow was a novelty to a lot of our chaps, many of whom had never seen it before, & they played with it like schoolboys.

It snowed most of the day, & the temperature was well below zero, & everything was frozen as hard as steel. Even the very water in our water bottles was ice & the water cans were solid — they had to be melted before the cooks could get it into the dixies to boil. One of the worst misfortunes happened to our water supply, for all the pipes leading to the supply tanks in Victoria Gully were burst with the frost freezing so hard. That was a calamity, & we had to carry our water at times right from Williams Pier, a distance of nearly 2 miles, & uphill & under fire nearly the whole way. The men in the firing line had no water issued to them for nearly 3 days & everyone was going round gathering snow from wherever they could. Even the very water in the ground which used to feed the wells in Clarke’s Gully stopped flowing for I suppose it was also frozen.

It took some time to fix the pipes, for they were a long time thawing, & to make matters worse the storm on the beach about wrecked everything down there that was worth spoiling. Talk about a scene of desolation, well the beach was it. They had a big condensing plant nearly finished, & the waves settled that & a lot of valuable machinery besides, & Beachy Bill hit the engine that pumped all the water from the barges to the different distributing tanks on Anzac. The beach was covered with the wrecks of small barges & boats that were battered to pieces & left high & dry, while coal, bully beef, biscuits, onions, flour & etc were practically everywhere. Here & there you would see the inevitable dead mule lying on the edge of the water or else floating close. There were mules killed nearly every night on the beach, for Beachy played on it nearly all the time & rations had to be got up somehow or other.

We could see from this gale what kind of a job we were going to have when the real winter set in. I don’t know how we would have got on if we had to stop there. The storm washed up a lot of barb wire which the Turks had placed in the water to prevent us from landing. We had a good few fellows with frostbitten feet & one or two frozen to death.

The 9th Army Corps were the ones that suffered. They were on low-lying ground & in some places they were flooded out & drowned. Altogether they lost 200 men counting frozen & drowned cases. That will give you an idea of the severity of the storm.

The Turks, we had good reason to believe, suffered even worse than we did, for scores of them gave themselves up & they told some terrible tales. Of course you must take everything you hear with a grain of salt, but they must have suffered terribly for they were not near as well equipped as we were. In fact many of them had no overcoats & waterproofs were almost unknown among them.

Many a man was found standing at his post apparently keeping a good lookout, but frozen to death.

The storm also smashed Watson’s Pier about considerably & others disappeared completely. About 2 days after the storm had subsided the sun came out & shone brilliantly. There was very little warmth in it, but oh how welcome it was to us.

One night early in December I was emptying some bags out on the dump & I had a wonderful escape. I had just finished & was coming back when I heard a hissing noise coming through the air. I knew what it was — a stick bomb — but I did not know what to do, whether to run, lie down, or stand still. Before I could decide, down she came & bobbed in the heap of dirt not 6 feet from me. Luckily she failed to explode or I should not be alive today. They were a big bomb weighing about 12 lbs & very destructive.

About this time most mysterious things began to happen. First of all they stopped all mail from either coming or going, & cleared the Post Office off the peninsula. Next thing to go was all the hospital patients. Everyone was mystified, some of us even thought another great offensive was about to take place, & they were getting everything in readiness for it, but it began to gradually dawn on us that we were about to leave Anzac. I need scarcely say how sorry & downhearted everyone was for we always regarded that little bit of soil as our own.

All the graves were being done up & new crosses put up with the particulars of the fallen ones.

For a long time we kidded ourselves that Canadian troops were going to relieve us for the winter, & that we were going to either Mesopotamia or the Suez Canal. Another rumour got about that they were going to withdraw all troops & put in some big siege guns & they, with the help of the Navy, were going to hold the position.

The first to go of the fighting units were the 5th & 6th Battalions, 4th Light Horse & anything between 40 & 60 guns with artillery, & I think the 8th Field Ambulance. Luckily the night was fine & the sea smooth & they got away without a hitch. Each night after this there were big drafts of men leaving, & very soon old Anzac looked deserted. What few guns were left kept on firing bravely & to us it seemed as if the Turks must surely notice it — our daring bit of bluff seemed so very thin & poor an excuse — but they were fooled properly. I don’t know what they must have been doing for there was a constant stream of small barges & boats all day long flying between the shore & ships (they were getting all the more valuable stores & goods away). Fortune was favouring us, for the weather was holding fine, a most essential thing in this great undertaking.

We had aeroplanes in the air all day long, sometimes as many as 5 at once up scouting. The object was of course to prevent the Turks from getting over our lines & seeing too much. As soon as ever they sighted a Taube they would be after it like bull-dogs.

I went down on the beach about 2 days before the evacuation, & what a scene there was. Thousands of boxes of rifle ammunition were carried out into the sea, & dumped. The tide was out & I could see the boxes quite plainly, & equipment, bags of goods, thousands of cases of bully beef, biscuits, spades & shovels & all sorts of implements, & clothes don’t mention them. Nearly everyone had a new rigout — you could go down & get your pick from mountains of clothing. Tea, sugar, flour, raisins were broken open everywhere so as they would be of no use to the Turks. The sailors off the ships would row over & take boatloads back with them; it was a regular Godsend to them. They were piling all articles in heaps so as they could be fired or blown to pieces by the Navy, after we were all off Gallipoli. Up in the trenches for the last 2 or 3 days we lived like Kings. The one thing the military were particular in destroying was the rum. They broke hundreds of stone jars up & it was the best thing they could have done, for if the men had got among the rum there’s no one knows what might have happened.

All the tracks leading to the beach were being enlarged & little steep places cut down & making steps in them so as 3 or 4 men could go abreast. The ground was frozen hard & all along the tracks men had been chopping little chunks out of the frozen ground so as the men could get a grip with their boots & to prevent slipping. Another precaution was the placing of lights at each bend to show us the way, & rice was spread all along the track so we could follow it easily. Every little detail was worked out thoroughly, even to taking a party of men down to the beach & back again, against time — that gave them a pretty fair idea of the length of time between each party. We emptied thousands of bombs into our latrines, for it was impossible to get them away. A lot of field gun ammunition was served the same way, or else stacked in heaps along with our limbers & timber for the destroyers to smash up. We also built a lot of dummy stores to help fool the Turks.

Those last 2 nights at Anzac were trying ones. “Did the Turks know we were going” was on everyone’s tongue for it seemed like it once, for shells were falling on the beach pretty thick at times, & they kept it up for hours. At every extra crackle of rifle fire we would be on the alert, for it seemed impossible that they should not know what was going on under their very eyes, especially when nearly all the English papers had recommended it & Australian papers had been gassing about it for some considerable time.

Most of our trenches were heavily mined, especially Lone Pine, Quinn’s Post & the trenches round Walker’s Ridge. They reckon there was just about 7 tons of ammonal under the Nek close to Walker’s Ridge, & Lone Pine would be blown to smithereens & a good few Turkish trenches with it, for our chaps had mined well under their positions. There were tons upon tons of explosive destroyed so as the Turks could not get it.

Len & I were in the second-last party to leave. We volunteered to stop to the last, & looked as if we would once, but there were so many wanted to stop that they cancelled all previous arrangements & detailed men off & that settled it; it was no good kicking against it, we had to do as we were ordered.

How it hurt to leave all our mates who were lying buried there & at the mercy of the Turks you can imagine for yourselves, but the bitterest part about it was the Suvla Bay failure. They had a child’s task compared to the Australians & New Zealanders, but they missed their opportunity. While our weak Brigade was holding up & battling with a whole Division of Turks at Lone Pine, they were fooling about on the beach at Suvla instead of pushing on for all they were worth. The 1st Division & New Zealanders held practically the whole of the Turkish Army up for nearly 2 days & nights so as to allow the English troops who landed at Suvla to seize the ridges running to 971 & Anafarta. They failed miserably as we all know, & our losses were in vain.

Before we left the trenches to go to the beach everyone had to wrap bags round their feet so as to muffle the sound. We looked a comical lot of soldiers I can tell you. We had no trouble at all & the planks on Watson’s Pier were all covered with bags, so we got aboard pretty quietly. When the old barge was full they tried to get her started, but she would not budge an inch, so we all had to get on one side of her to give her a good cant & she got off that way. She took us straight out to a ship & we embarked, never no more to set our foot on Anzac. The very name seems to have a sort of charm about it, & it has been made famous by the Colonials. I can tell you most of us watched the old hills disappearing from sight, the hills among & on which thousands of brave men were killed & where good Colonial blood was simply poured out all for nothing, except a name which should make every Australian feel proud of his country, & a name which will never die, for never I should think did men fight more bravely, stubbornly & in such a self-sacrificing spirit as our boys did there, & against a stubborn enemy who fought well & fairly. We also had to fight against natural difficulties which were far worse than the Turks themselves. We felt like cowards sneaking away at dead of night with bags round our feet.

We all waited anxiously for the last men to get off. Our Battalion was practically the last of the old 1st Div. What a part the old 1st Division & New Zealanders played — the first to land & the last to leave.

As soon as the last parties were aboard, the mines were all sprung & the warships opened fire on certain points & thus ended one of the most glorious & the same time disastrous campaigns as Great Britain ever had anything to do with, & is ever likely to have. It was about 4 A.M. on the 20th December.

Lots of us left notes for the Turks telling them all sorts of things & asking them to respect our graves. In one place they had a gramophone set so as soon as they touched it it would play “The Turkish Patrol”, not bad was it, & in other places the tables were all left just as if they were going to sit down to dinner, & had been called away hurriedly, but as soon as they lifted the bottles of wine a bomb went off — what a shock they would get.

The Turks never jerried that the birds had flown till morning broke, & to make sure they gave it a terrific bombardment & rifle fire. I’ll bet in one way they were mad, especially the officers, to think they had let us get off so easily.

The Turks claim to have got booty to the value of £2,000,000. I doubt if they got £50,000 worth of stuff for everything was practically destroyed. The only thing of any value they would get would be the steel loopholes; they would be very handy.

It seemed a shame that they could not get all the horses off, there were some beauties there too, & they & all the spare mules had to be shot. One of the last things we saw was little Murphy the donkey standing on a rise overlooking the cemetery. It was a pity they could not have brought him off; he was such a pet too.

As the ships steamed away the Turks could still be heard sniping. Now the strain over, everyone was glad. I for one never thought I would come off Gallipoli alive & hundreds more never thought much of their chances. The evacuation was just as big a success in one way as the landing, for we only lost a couple of men. It was wonderful when you come to look back on it.

Arriving at Lemnos we went into tents which were pitched for us by the 3rd Brigade I think, for they had been there some time, previous to the evacuation.

We received our Xmas billies on the 22nd December & very good they were. On the outside of the billy cans they had a kangaroo with his feet on Anzac & underneath were the words “This bit of the world belongs to us”. That caused many a laugh for we had sneaked away from it.

The 24th December saw us on the Huntsgreen (otherwise Derfflinger, a captured German ship). Everyone was pleased to get off dirty Lemnos. We sailed that night for somewhere — no one knew properly where we were bound for, but Egypt was favourite. The tucker was rotten on this ship for they had made no provision for us so we had to live on biscuits & bully beef, washed down with a sort of sloppy tea.

On Xmas we had bully & biscuits for dinner, & at night time we had a sort of pudding but it was that sweet that we could hardly eat it so our Xmas was not too flash was it.

We had a very nice run coming across. We passed some islands here & there & very pretty some of them look in the setting sun. The water round this part of the world is a very pretty blue. As we sailed south we could notice the weather getting warmer & warmer. Our only danger now was the submarines & we kept a pretty strict lookout for them. We had to carry our lifebelts wherever we went & that is an infernal nuisance hanging round you.

On the 27th December we arrived at Alexandria after a campaign of 9 months in an outlandish hole. We were not supposed to go ashore but needless to say that stopped no one. Some got down ropes, some walked boldly down, & others gave crook passes to the guard. Everyone was dying for a good square meal & a walk round a town again. The place seemed full of Australians all on the same game, but you should have seen them coming home to the ship that night drunk as lords & nearly everyone had a bottle or two of the rotten Egyptian spirits in their pockets. When the order came to move off it was funny — talk about fights. The drink must have had boxing gloves in it for they were fighting all over the place but they were as harmless as kids — they could not hurt one another no matter how they tried. Coming down the gangway one fellow broke his leg & down on the wharf a Sergeant wanted to fight anyone who would step up to him & because they wouldn’t let him, he dived over the wharf. He had no sooner hit the sea than 2 or 3 were in after him.

They got all in the train at last & off we went, but they still fought in the carriages. I never laughed so much in my life as I laughed that night; it was better than a pantomime. On the way down 2 or 3 fellows fell out — I don’t know what became of them.

We did not know where they were going to take us, although we heard some talk of Tel-el-Kebir. When daylight came we could see we were not bound for Cairo, for on one side of us was nothing but the bare & sandy desert & the other side all beautiful green fields, & we knew there is no such country on the Alexandria to Cairo line.

About 6 o’clock that morning we pulled up at Tel-el-Kebir station, a dreary-looking hole. We camped practically on the old battlefield of Tel-el-Kebir; it was here that Wolseley defeated Arabi Pasha in [18]82, if I remember rightly. The old trenches still remain to this day, & you can find relics of the old battle such as buttons, bullets, cartridge cases, pieces of shell & even skeletons in places. One of our chaps unearthed some while looking for curios.

We had no tents to speak of for nearly a week after landing here & it was pretty cold sleeping outside, for it drizzled nearly every night & wet us through.

1916

Egypt

The Western Front, France and Belgium

On leave in London, England

The Somme offensive

My arm was getting pretty crook again from the effects of the cuts from the bomb in Lone Pine so I went to the Dr for the first time since enlisting — that was a good record, wasn’t it. He sent me to hospital for he said a spell would do me no harm so that night, 7th January, I went down on the train to Cairo to No. 2 Ghezireh, one of the finest Egyptian hospitals.

When they found out that I had been on the Peninsula for 7 months they were astonished, & I think I was looked on as a bit of a freak. Anyhow the Dr was Dr Wolfagen of Hobart & he knew some of my people & he had quite a long yarn with me. I was put under the X Rays & they showed pretty plainly where the pieces of steel were. They were taken out, 2 from my arm & 3 from the leg. It stung a bit getting them out.

I was in here a week, & was then sent to the convalescent home. After being at Helouan nearly 3 weeks I was sent out to the detail camp at Giza, & while there had a good time. I was in Cairo nearly every night, for I had several mates at Giza & we used to knock about together.

On the 5th March we were all told to pack up & most of the boys were pleased. The next day we moved off, & marched to Cairo railway station where, after an hour or two’s delay, we got into open trucks & away we went.

We arrived at our destination, Serapeum, about dinner time, & it was a scorching hot day. There was a rush for the canal & soon most of us were splashing & swimming away in the lovely cool water.

After we had a swim we were marched off up the canal a bit to where our engineers had constructed a pontoon bridge across the water. The bridge was worked by ropes from either side & it would carry a good big load — it had to be strong for practically all our food & stores had to come across this slender thread & it was the only way of getting troops backwards & forwards. Once across this bridge we had a walk of nearly 2 miles to where our Battalion was camped & very glad we were when we reached it.

The Colonel gave us a lecture here one day as to how we should behave when we got to France, & everyone was as pleased as Punch, for this was a pretty good hint as to where we were bound for. We were about fed up with Egypt & everything connected with it, & all were longing to get to France & have a go at the sausage eaters, our real enemy. We done our work with a much lighter heart after this, for all were looking forward to getting away.

Just before we left Serapeum the Prince of Wales paid us a surprise visit. You ought to have seen the boys rushing out to have a look at him, some with no boots on, some without tunics or hats, & others with just their trousers on. I warrant he thought we were a pretty rough-looking crowd but the boys gave him a good welcome. They crowded all round him trying to get snapshots with their cameras. General Birdwood was with him & he was smiling like anything. We could all pick the Prince out easily by the plume in his hat. He only looks a boy & has rosy cheeks like a girl.

We had a frightful dust storm here just a day or so before we left. Blew most of the tents down & darkened the sun. Oh she was a beauty. Everyone was nearly blinded with the rotten stuff. After it had all finished we had a shower of rain, which was a Godsend as it cooled the air & laid the dust.

We were expecting orders to move any day now & were waiting anxiously for the word to come for us to pack up, so as we could get out of this hole. This made the fourth continent I had been on; we only want to see the States now & we would be quite the globe trotters.

On the morning of the 21st March we received our orders to strike tents & pack up & never did men do it more willingly than we did. We marched off about 4 o’clock with the band leading & the 2nd Batt followed us out shortly afterwards. We had a pretty stiff march to the platform where we had to entrain — it was not so very far but the sand was terrible heavy walking, especially with the heavy pack up as we had, for we carried practically everything with us including blankets.

Arriving at the platform we formed up & were then dismissed for an hour or so, for the train did not leave till 12 o’clock that night. We lit a big fire, & soon a concert was in full swing. The band also helped to keep things going. About 10 o’clock that night a big passenger ship came through the canal bound for Australia. As soon as she was spotted the whole mob rushed over & cheered her like anything & they cheered back. We could see the people quite plainly on the deck. We cooeed to her till she was out of sight.

That night we shook the dust of Egypt off our feet & I hope for good, for I am sure we all swallowed more than our peck of dirt since we have been in Egypt. The ride to Alexandria in open trucks was a fairly long & cold one but what cared we. The train ran us right down to the ship. We were not long in embarking & soon we were detailed off to our respective portion of the ship. As we went aboard a chap handed each man a meal ticket, for we had to have 2 sittings, as there was not enough room for them all at once. She had been an immigrant ship & had bunks fitted out in her & we had these & very good they were. I know I slept sound in them.

About 4 o’clock that afternoon we set sail from Alexandria & we passed a few of the old Gallipoli hospital ships on the way out. We were soon out of sight of land & so were in the danger area of the Kaiser’s tinfish. We were steering a zigzag course so as to baffle any submarines that may have been in the vicinity.

The coast of France was sighted on the 27th March & all the mountains we could see far away in the distance were snow capped & very pretty they looked for the sun was shining brightly on them. The coast of France from a distance looks a most uninviting place, but as we got closer & closer to it how the scenery changed. We could see lovely parks of trees stretching far up the hillside & green fields everywhere. Spring was fast coming in on the south of France, & she was beginning to look bonzer.

We skirted the coast till at last Toulon was sighted. As we approached the harbour, a French torpedo boat came out & met us & showed the way in. As we entered the port we flew the French & Australian flags from our mast. It is one of the prettiest little harbours I have ever seen; it is something like Sydney. The banks of the harbour are just one huge park with lovely trees growing all over it & nice houses & roads everywhere. It looked so green & beautiful after Egypt with its hot & burning sands; it done our eyes good to look upon it. As we entered Toulon the band played & the sun shone brilliantly & all took it as a happy omen, for our first introduction to France.

That night we anchored in the harbour, & a good concert was held on board. Next morning we set sail for Marseilles, & during this run some dirty sneaking thief stole my tunic & contents out of my cabins. He got a fair haul altogether: £2.10 in money, a splendid fountain pen, pocketbook, pen knife & various other things, but the thing I valued most were my photos & I had a good collection of these from various people & relations. The dirty dog got away with all these, & also a lot of receipts & papers I had in my pocketbook.

The sea got pretty choppy & rough, for a good swell was running. I was very nearly sick on this run, & a good few more were the same way. This little trip convinced me that I am not cut out for a sailor.

The run to Marseilles took us about 4 hours, & I was not sorry when we reached there. Marseilles is a fine big city & has a splendid breakwater which almost shuts the sea out. It is nothing near as good a harbour as either Sydney or Hobart, for those 2 are natural harbours whereas Marseilles is not.

We were not allowed ashore here either, much as we would have liked to get off. We were told to get our things ready to move off that night as we had a journey of 3 days in the train before us.

10th May. This will be my third attempt to keep a daily record of our doings, & I hope it will be more successful than my previous attempts.

The weather the last 5 days has been very windy & cold with occasional showers of sleet & hail, which needless to say made us shiver & pass uncomplimentary remarks about Flanders & the war in particular.

At present we are billeted at a farm, & I & a few others are sleeping outside in an old shed without sides & the roof is like a sieve thanks to German shrapnel. We have been doing “fatigues” (or as they call them over here “working parties”) every night. We go up to the firing line or somewhere close to it, & help build saps, dugouts, build parapets & so on. It is dangerous work sometimes for they generally put the machine guns over where they think the work is going on, & the bullets come very low. Last night one of our chaps was hit in the head & he died this morning.

We leave our billets about 6 o’clock & march anything from 2 to 5 miles according to where our work has to be done. Work starts about 8 o’clock & we knock off about 1 A.M. Arriving home it is no uncommon thing to find an old pig in your bed, & straight away there is a scrap, accompanied by much shouting from the owner of the doss & squeals from the pig. Boot & hair fly rapidly for a few minutes, & then all is quiet once more.

12th May. Our platoon has to do a week’s punishment, on account of the many crimes we have to our credit — no less than 22 during the week. The boys have been having a right royal time alright, nearly all drunks & stopping away from roll calls. There’s not much trouble about getting drink for nearly every other house is an estaminet or drinking place.

This afternoon we built up a stairway with sandbags, so as the chaps who were camping up in the lofts can get out more quickly in case of an alarm. Last week 2nd Division had 400 casualties during a gas attack which was accompanied by a violent bombardment.

Saw an extract from a German paper this morning — not very flattering for they describe us as the refuse of humanity, & they reckon we are a band of murderers, robbers in fact, everything that is bad, & they conclude by saying that it is a crying shame that good & precious German blood should be shed fighting the like of us. Old Fritz had better keep his eye on the refuse for they have a score or two to settle with him between now & the grand finale.

13th May. Last night we were on fatigue, had to go up to the engineer’s dump, & push loaded trucks of barb wire for entanglements, sandbags for parapets, & saps, duckboards, hurdles & etc on the way up to the firing line. Our trucks ran off several times but we had no difficulty getting them on again. We had to run the gauntlet of machine gun & rifle fire more than once. Several bullets hit one of our trucks, & they just missed our heads — if the elevation were a little lower there would have been a few casualties I’ll bet. We had no sooner arrived at the dump than a fight sprang up but it did not last long. On the way up with the trucks one of our chaps got his heel crushed by the wheel, & on lobbing back at the dump one of the boys found that he had lost his equipment, so we had quite an eventful night.

Last night the Germans hung a board out on their barb wire: “Advance Australia Fair” & in brackets “if you can”. They will see us all in good time. When General Townshend surrendered at Kut-el-Emara, the Germans put a big notice board out: “The famous Turk captures 13,000 English”. I suppose they thought it would dishearten us, but they were very much mistaken.

14th May. Last night we were shifted from our billets to one nearer the firing line & this morning we were on fatigue carrying sandbags from the old Weathercock house to our present billets. About 11 o’clock we knocked off & went to church. The church in question consists of an old wooden frame with hessian stretched over it; she is built behind the ruins of an old house so as to be out of sight of the German observers. Small as it is, there is an organ in it, & it seems funny to hear the guns roaring & blazing away while the service is going on.

15th May. Out again last night driving stakes into the ground & running a wire along them so as we could find our way quickly to the firing line in case of an attack. We had a narrow escape: there were 3 or 4 of us lying on the ground having a bit of a spell. We were yarning & laughing away when all of a sudden 3 bullets lobbed right in among us & scattered the dirt over us. You should have seen us scatter — it’s the fun of the world at times to see the boys spring to it. No matter how tired & sleepy you may be, when bullets or shrapnel are coming close you will do a get alright, no matter how much you would like a “Blighty”. The meaning of “Blighty” is a nice little pet wound which will give you a trip to England. It is a great word among the Tommies.

The weather is still wet & windy — whenever will it clear up? This weather is so miserable I can’t say as how I care much about these Imperial rations we are now being issued with. Our rations this morning were a tin of jam (marmalade of course) between 5 & a small loaf of bread for 3 of us. This with stew does us for 24 hours.

The Germans have scarcely fired a shot for 2 days now. I expect they are up to something or other. Last night flares were very plentiful & the Huns had a big searchlight sweeping all around.

I hear there were 3 of B Coy’s men hit last night while on fatigue in the 3rd Battalion’s line & one of D Company’s too. We had a few reinforcements added to our strength this morning, but we are still understrength.

The mobile gun is quite close to us again this morning & tearing into old Fritz.

16th May. At last the weather has taken up. This morning is a beauty, not a cloud in the sky. It is an almost perfect morning: the sun is shining brightly, birds are singing gaily, while the whole countryside is nothing but a mass of green & leafy trees, sweet flowering hedges, blossoming fruit trees, & the paddocks are a riot of wild & garden flowers & the incense arising from all this mass of beautiful colouring is something lovely. You know it is spring time here & we have all heard & read about this part of the world & the beauty of it for 6 months or so, & it quite deserves its reputation, but the other 6 months has a different side to it, what oh.

As I sit here writing the lovely green grass tangled with pretty flowers & clover is well over my knees & nearly reaches to my head. I am behind a hedge & right in front of me is a nice little road, & about 600 yards away are the German trenches where men are waiting to kill one another. What a farce Christianity seems when we have come to this.

The aeroplanes are flying all over the place this morning, & the air is full of the purring sound of their engines as they rush about, sometimes climbing, sometimes doing a spiral descent as the gunners get their range, & now & again they vary this with a steeply banked turn which almost throws them on their side. I have seen more than one of them loop the loop — they have indeed brought aviation to a fine art.

Our guns are blazing away like old Harry. It seems like a 4.7 battery from the sound of their shells as they pass overhead, & from the report of their shells as they burst in the German lines. Old Fritz is also sending a few back, & you can hear the shell as it proceeds lazily on its death-dealing errand; the bigger the shell the slower it seems to travel. The birds here are not in the least frightened by gun fire — they sing away as if it were just an ordinary thing. I suppose they are quite used to it by now & take no notice of it.

Last night we shifted our billets again so as to be nearer the firing line & also closer to our work. We finished the stake driving last night, & some of it under machine gun fire — it’s marvellous how we all escaped scot free. I would far rather be in the firing line than out on these working parties for they are far more dangerous.

17th May. Yesterday afternoon the Germans opened a furious bombardment on our support & communication trenches. The extreme right of the 3rd Battalion & the Welsh Fusiliers were the ones mostly concerned in it. I have not heard what damage they done, but I don’t think there were many casualties. Old Fritz made the pace a cracker from the jump. The bursting shells made one continuous roar, & it lasted for nearly 2 hours. Our batteries never replied for nearly an hour then they opened a gradual return fire which kept on increasing till it reached a pretty solid pace & shut old Fritz up, but I suppose he had done all the damage he had wanted to do & was satisfied to stop.

At “stand to” this morning we were taken away up to Iron Post to build dugouts for the 3rd Battalion. Wasn’t there some growling & strafing — it was about 3 o’clock in the morning & nearly daylight. We finished at 7 o’clock & came back through V.C. Avenue. Arriving at our billets we found an Australian mail waiting for us. How pleased we are when a mail comes in. All hunger & weariness are at once forgotten, & we read our letters over & over so as to be sure we have missed nothing.

This morning an order came through for us to roll all our spare blankets up in bundles of 10, that means a blanket from each man, so I expect we will be moving in a day or so at most. It is nice & warm & I hope it continues like it.

18th May. Some of the 11th Battalion were here yesterday having a look round the trenches they are taking over from us. I think the 10th & 11th are coming up from the 3rd Brigade to relieve our Brigade. We were the first of our Division to take over the trenches from the Tommies & what a difference there is now. The English left this part of the line in a most disgraceful state: nearly all the duckboards were under water & slush, the parapets & dugouts were in a shocking state, & as for communications & reserve trenches, well they simply didn’t exist for all the use they would have been if ever the Germans made an attack. Things are a bit different now — it’s wonderful the improvements that have been effected even in so short a time. We have built 2 more new communication trenches, numerous saps, besides improving all other things out of sight. The Tommies would scarcely know this part of the line now if they were to return.

We had a sing song last night in our billet. This war so far as we are concerned is nothing but a huge picnic compared to Gallipoli.

This morning we cleaned up our billet for we are expecting to leave for Sailly tonight. As I write our gunners are blazing away at a Taube which has crossed our lines & is making for Sailly. This is the first one I have seen come so far over since I have been here.

Last night the mail closed for Australia & there was a fair swag.

19th May. Today is the first anniversary of the great Turkish attack on us at Anzac. This day last year we were getting a bit of our own back, by nightfall we had slaughtered no less than 7000 Turks & taught them a very severe lesson. I wonder where I shall be this time next year; daisy pushing perhaps, or if my luck still sticks to me, home in Australia, for I don’t think the war will last another year at any rate.

Last night we were relieved by the 10th Battalion who came into our billets. We left Weathercock about dusk & marched nearly 4 miles with a heavy pack up before we had a blow. My pack never felt so heavy before, for I was carrying it Gallipoli fashion & the narrow straps cut into my shoulders like wire. I can tell you we were all very glad when we reached our billets about 11 o’clock, & it was not very long before we were all sound asleep.

20th May. Last night while going into the firing line the 9th Battalion lost 60 men. Bad management somewhere for this is the second occasion that they have been hardly dealt with.

Had a bit of fun last night with a couple of old bats playing tip & run. Kelleway the cricketer was there & offered to get us a good set of cricketing material for £1 so we are going to have a set as soon as possible.

We were on fatigue all the morning building a bombing trench for practice. The platoon never worked so hard before I’ll bet, for the sweat fairly poured off us. After coming back from fatigue I went & had a good bath in a pond quite close to our billet, for the day was very hot & the sun bonzer.

3 of us got into a row over the saluting yesterday. I don’t mind saluting a soldier, but hang these flash cold-footed crowd that hang well behind the firing line & have all the skite. We have some wasters among us.

Early this morning an old pig came into our billets & everyone being asleep she grabbed a bloke by the ear. Talk about a row, you ought to have seen the dust & straw flying.

21st May. Yesterday evening there was a cricket match between No. 11 & 10 platoons & after a most exciting match No. 11 won by a run. The scores were 28 & 29 on the first innings.

22nd May. This morning on parade they called for volunteers for a raiding party, & nearly half the platoon stepped out, but strange to say they would not take old Anzac men. We were disappointed but nothing could be done, for it was a Brigade order. Perhaps we are too valuable to lose, but I suppose they have a reason. The only thing we can think of is that they want to give the new men a show, & give them a bit of confidence.

23rd May. This morning on parade we had a gas alarm. Talk about fun, you should have seen the buttons flying off the cover. It took us 25 secs to get them on. Not so bad I reckon but there is no time to lose once the alarm is sounded, for a mouthful of the stuff is about enough to settle a man for life.

25th May. When we fell in last night to go on fatigue, the weather looked very threatening, so they phoned down from Headquarters for it to be postponed, & we were to hold ourselves in readiness. At 2 o’clock this morning we were pulled out of our beds, the whole Company, & marched off to the joint where we were to do our job. The work in question turned out to be trench digging & parapet building. They are building a place to train bombers & raiding parties for their work. The place selected for this is fair in the middle of a nice crop of wheat. It does seem a shame to spoil a good crop like we are but of course the farmer will get compensation, & another thing: practically all of the ground here is under cultivation & it is nearly impossible to do any work without spoiling something or other, but such is the fortune of war.

They are getting our band together again so we will be alright for route marches. The 3rd Battalion have theirs going already. I heard it early this morning & very nice it sounded in the crisp air.

This evening Jock Mackie & I went down to Hqrs to see Len & while there had a game of cricket. Our match had to be put off this afternoon for we had no ball fit to play with.

As I write this we are having a sort of sing song. We have got a cornet or two going & an E flat bass. We started off with the old familiar songs which never seem to grow old, & we are now on some of our favourite hymns. The boys are singing “The Hymns of the Old Church Choir” — I think this is a very pretty thing.

26th May. This morning we had bayonet fighting with our gas helmets on. They are a horrible thing to wear — it nearly makes you sick for the first time or two, your throat gets real dry & your eyes start to water & smart like anything — but still they are a very necessary thing for without them a man would be dead in a few minutes so we take it as a matter of course & put up with it as best we can.

This afternoon we finished our cricket match in fine weather. It was an easy win for us for they only scored 63 in 2 innings.

There has been a very heavy bombardment going on for the last day or so. It sounds towards Ypres.

27th May. The whole Company was on fatigue last night from 5.30 till 9 o’clock. We were working on the raiding trenches again. They are being built on the same lines as the German trenches of which our aeroplanes have taken photos.

This morning there are a number of Tommies from the Labour Battalion working on the road opposite our billets. They are nearly all oldish chaps.

There was a foot race between 2 of our chaps yesterday afternoon over a distance of 50 yards. The stake was 20 francs. It was a runaway affair, for Hyde won easily.

General Walker & Birdwood were here today. They looked very pleased as they rode through, smiles all over their faces.

28th May. In the billet where we are resting there are hundreds of bird nests, mostly sparrows. You should hear them twittering in the early morning & see them up by the firing line. They are nesting all over the old ruins of the buildings, regardless of the noise of the guns all round them. They have come to regard it I think as an unusually long thunderstorm. They are another example of the prophesying experts connected with this war, for I read on several occasions where these know-alls predicted that all the birds would clear out of France. How they are mistaken for that part of France swarms with birds, especially larks. It’s lovely of an early morning to hear them singing & they are that plentiful that you can hear them above the noise of the guns. They console us by not caring about us, they show us the happy continuance of Nature as they nest in man-made ruins & go on with their eternal labour, & are the same now, poor things, as they were in the days of prehistoric man.

A wire has just come through from Headquarters to say that the Germans have a board out all along their line. It is hanging on their barb wire & reads: “War will be over by June 15th”. They don’t say how it will end, whether they will chuck it in, which don’t sound very likely, or force a decision. Either way would be very welcome to us, but we take it for what it is worth, for on active service one hears such wonderful tales.

4 of our raiders had a narrow squeak the other night. They were reconnoitring the section of the trenches they are going to raid, & they were right close to the German lines when they spotted a bunch of Huns coming out of their trenches with fixed bayonets. The next thing they knew was that they were surrounded by Germans so the officer gave the order for them all to sling their bombs & rush through them, so they let go, & hanged if they didn’t get through, though one of our chaps got a splinter of a bomb in his leg. It was a lucky escape.

30th May. Yesterday afternoon 8 of our chaps were wounded by the premature explosion of a bomb, but luckily no one was killed. They were practising at the bombing school.

They are feeding us fairly well here. A sample of the rations would be 1 loaf of bread between 3 men, 1 tin jam for 5 men every other morning, 1 lb butter between 12 men, a fair slice of cheese & sometimes a few tins of bully, while 3 times a week we have porridge & bacon, for breakfast one of these every other morning. For dinner we normally have a pretty good stew with plenty of vegetables in it, or rice & raisins or prunes. We have plenty of tea twice daily, that is for breakfast & tea, & now & again sauce & pickles.

31st May. About 10 o’clock last night we were ordered to “stand to” & be ready to move off in 5 minutes. I think our fellows started it, for last night the batteries changed over & that generally means a fair bit of strafing. From our billet we could see the German shrapnel bursting all over the place. It was a very heavy bombardment & lasted for nearly 3 hours. I think the 3rd Bde got the brunt of it. I have not heard how many casualties there were.

1st June. Last night a raiding party of Germans broke into the 11th Battalion trenches but never a one got back again. They bayoneted 32 of them including a Prussian Guard officer — they had no fewer than 28 bayonet holes in him.

3rd June. Back again at the old game, more bayonet fighting & etc. We are pretty well trained by this time.

Pay-day is around once more, & the boys are as happy as larks. I guess they will all be drunk as lords tonight.

About 4 days ago I mended & washed a pair of shorts I had, & hung them on an old apple tree to dry, but when I went to get them they were missing, so I kept my eyes open, & hanged if one of our chaps didn’t have the cheek to wear them this morning. I frightened the life out of him. He made all sorts of excuses to try & clear himself.

This evening our cricket material turned up, & the boys are bashing away as I write. We will have a bit of fun now for a while. It is money well spent, for you can’t beat a bit of sport in your spare time.

4th June. Church parade again this morning. General Birdwood & Staff were there, & he made a little speech in reference to the naval defeat our ships have just had in the North Sea. He warned us to be careful & not let the Germans get their tails up, but to give them fits whenever we have the chance. He then told us about the 2 parties of Germans that have raided our trenches & the reception they got. The first one attacked the 20th Battalion & broke into their trenches & captured a few of our men. The next time they smashed the 11th Battalion’s trenches to pieces & then they charged, but they were facing a different Battalion this time & one with a Gallipoli name behind it. Our chaps of the old 1st Division simply smashed the Huns to pieces & drove them back in double quick time. They got their first proper taste of good Australian steel & let’s hope the forerunner of many more.

Just as the parson finished the lessons he asked General Birdwood if he would mind us sitting down on the grass. For answer he just sat fair down on it himself like the rest of us, although there were chairs there if he had liked to have sat in them. These are the sorts of things which make him so popular among us.

After the review was over we marched past him & away home to our billets. A big swag of our Company has gone away on fatigue. I am mess-orderly today, a job I don’t care much about. I am going to wash my pants this afternoon for my leave is getting very close, & a chap must have a clean pair of pants to have a look at England in.

I hear that Lieut Davidson was shot dead accidentally yesterday by some of our chaps at the musketry school. I feel sorry for his mother for she has lost both husband & son now in this war. Major Davidson was a bonzer chap & he was killed at Lone Pine on the 18th August last year. We were all very sorry he went under.

The days are very long here now it’s light at 9 o’clock in the evening & again at 3 o’clock in the morning so we don’t have much darkness to sleep in. I have seen a good few partridges & hares about here at times but of course they are out of season for shooting.

6th June. Went on a fatigue to Sailly this morning & it rained cats & dogs all the way. When I had been there about an hour or so, a chap came up from Headquarters with a note to say that I had to go back to my billet, as I was to go on my leave tonight. You should have seen me drop the pick which I was using. When I got back I reported to our Captain. He told me to pack up & be ready to move off at 6 o’clock. I was also informed that I had a stripe to put up, so the day wasn’t a bad one for me. I am taking no less than 38 letters with me & about a dozen parcels of all sizes & sorts.

7th June. Arrived at Steenwerck last night per medium of a motor bus, slept all night in the Y.M.C.A. hut there, & caught the leave train at 4.30 in the morning. The journey from Steenwerck to Boulogne took us about 6 hours. The country all along the line looks lovely, for the recent rain has done it the world of good, & crops are forward.

On arrival at Boulogne, we were marched around to a big building, where we had to wait for an hour or so for the boat to come in. They have fine big hot baths in this building & needless to say I was not long in getting under one & washing some of the sticky Flanders mud off me. That done I bought some cherries, they looked so tempting, & I had not tasted any since leaving Australia. There are also some fine canteens in the old house, one for every floor.

About 2 o’clock a great rush set in, for the boat was about to leave, so we were all formed up once more & marched down to the ship. We went straight on, & collared the inevitable lifebelt — wherever we go they seem to follow us like bad pennies. Just before we embarked we heard the news of Lord Kitchener’s death but scarcely anyone believed it. We all reckoned it was another “roughie” but unfortunately it turned out to be only too true.

Our trip across took us nearly 2 hours. Nothing of any importance happened except perhaps it was quite rough enough for me, & the great swag of officers on leave compared to the men was very noticeable, & they in their usual selfish style took up about half the accommodation of the ship. We were escorted nearly all the way over by a destroyer. The first sight I had of old England’s shores were the white chalk cliffs which we have all read & heard about so often. Who would have thought a short 2 years ago that I would be crossing the English Channel on my way for a well-earned holiday.

Folkestone where we got off at is a pretty big place, & very neat & clean. All the houses seem to be built the same way, & you can easily see that it is a very ancient place. After getting off the boat, we slipped straight along to the train which was waiting for us. The carriage I got into I thought I had made a mistake at first. I could hardly believe that they were third-class carriages, they were got up so well: the seats & backs are nicely padded & they have bonzer springs. In fact the whole get up of the compartment is nearly as good as the first class on the Australian Railways. This might seem exaggerated but it’s true all the same, & although they travel very fast you can talk in the natural tone of voice & be heard quite distinctly.

It took us 2 hours to travel from Folkestone to London. The whole journey you pass through country very much like the south of France, & when you get into Kent there is nothing but hop fields & orchards all the way. It is a lovely trip, & I thoroughly enjoyed it.

We ran into Victoria Station about 7 o’clock. Talk about a crowd. They formed us up again & marched us out through the people. How they clapped & cheered us. There’s no doubt about the popularity of the Colonials.

My first impression of London was nothing out of the ordinary. The streets don’t seem to be as busy as George, King or Pitt streets in Sydney, & the buildings are all of a dark grey colour. At the same time any fool can see that she is a mighty city.

They took us down to the Australian Hqrs first, & there I handed my rifle in. I then struck out for Peel House, & on my way down saw Bert Miller & Alex Howarth. I took a room, had a good wash, posted 40 letters, had my tea & here I am scribbling away in the fine reading & writing room attached to the house.

I was not long in striking a girl, although I had my old clothes on. I was looking about this evening for the South Western Post Office when a girl overheard me asking a chap for the direction of it. She straight away took me in hand & took the trouble to take me around personally. It was not bad of her; she seemed a decent sort too.

9th June. Yesterday I roamed all about London & saw the Tower Bridge, Bank of England Mansion House, Westminster, St Paul’s Cathedral. By Jove she’s a magnificent building, easily the finest as ever I have seen. It took just on 314 years to build it. Anyone reading this would scarcely believe it, but wait till you see the place then I’ll guarantee you would wonder how it was built even in that time. I am not going to try & describe it for it is impossible. Just imagine my feeling when strolling in this old place, almost the heart & soul of the British Empire.

I spent nearly 3 hours in St Paul’s & then never saw half of it. From there I wandered about the busy part of London. I dodged the heavy traffic alright but got bushed about a dozen times during the day. I had my photo taken yesterday also — don’t know how it will come out, I am going to have a look at the proof today.

After wandering about till I was tired, I came back to Peel House, had my tea, & then went down to Victoria Station to see the Leave train in & to meet a mate of mine who I expected was coming in. A great crowd had collected there, all waiting for the train. I saw something here that satisfied me about the popularity of the Australians. The first to come through the barriers & pass through the crowd was the British Tommy & then followed the Canadians. When the latter appeared the people raised a feeble cheer. I thought they were the last & no Australians had come but still the people stayed there. I was just about to turn away when for some unexplained reason the people began to surge towards the middle, then all of a sudden a mighty cheer went up & the girls waved their handkerchiefs & clapped the boys as they came swinging along all dirty & mud stained from the trenches, swinging along in the free & easy style which belongs to the Australians only. “Bravo, boys”, “Welcome to London”, “Well done, Australia” & so on. Yes, if ever men were popular well the Australians are in England. The people followed us along the street & the boys carried the rifles of the men down to the Australian Hqrs. They think the same of the N.Z.s too. This is no silly idle vapouring but it’s true absolutely. It does not seem fair in one way, for the Canadians have done a lot of heavy fighting & have fought well for England, & so far as I have found them fine fellows, but the Australians & N.Z.s have captured the English people’s fancy & from what I can see of it they are going to keep it — they have held it for well over a year now. You would scarcely believe how jealous the other troops are of the Australians.

Had supper last night at the Anzac Buffet. They are a fine lot of people there, nearly all Australian girls, & where I am stopping the work is all done free by the English ladies, & they are splendid the women of England, like France. There are plenty of women ticket collectors on the bus & trams here. One thing is very noticeable & that is the almost entire absence of horses on the streets of London.

The more I see of London the better I am pleased with it. She is a magnificent place & as easy to lose your way in as falling off a log.

12th June. The streets in London are quite dark of a night for all lights are shaded on account of the Zeppelins. I have not seen a single bit of damage so far that they have caused. I expected to find London in a more or less patchy state but all the damage they have done is trifling compared to what is claimed by them.

14th June. Last night I saw the searchlights for the first time sweeping the sky all around on the lookout for Zeppelins. They look very pretty with their great white beams of light searching the dark.

16th June. Last night I went & saw “The Show Shop” at the Globe — it was very good. I got home pretty late & had a good hot bath for it was my last night in glorious London, surely one of the finest cities of the world. I shall never, never forget the time I had there: the kindness of the people, the pretty girls, the taxis, the plays & the roar of old London. It will sound in my ears for years to come & I shall always look back on it with pleasure.

At 10 minutes to 8 this morning we left her for good, for our leave was up & we are returning to: what? I am writing this on the boat that is taking us away from good old England. I shall never hear England run down in the future. I have had my eyes opened; the way they look on & treat the Colonials is enough for me.

The run across the Channel was fairly smooth, thank Heaven. We had a full cargo of troops, & didn’t they all look downhearted, but we are beginning to cheer up again.

Now we are in Boulogne. They marched all the Canadians & New Zealanders & Australians round to the same big old building as we were in when we came down from the trenches. We stopped in this building until nearly 6 o’clock, then marched up to the railway station where trams were waiting for us. As we marched along we were sorted out, for the Canadians, English & Australians had different trains to catch. We were hanging about nearly 2 hours before we started but of course this is the same old military style — they generally keep us hanging on for a few hours, as if it didn’t matter at all.

At last we got away. The sun was going down & the sea & Boulogne looked very pretty in the fading light. We reached Steenwerck about 12 o’clock & the motor buses were waiting for us. We were soon away & now I come to the exciting part: we had travelled about 2 miles when a strange smell came our way. I knew at once what was the matter — a gas attack — for I knew too well what gas smelt like for I had been at the School of Instruction & we had a practical demonstration of it there. I at once shouted out for everyone to put their helmets on but the majority of them laughed at the idea of it — they reckoned it was only petrol, or lime — but you should have seen them about 10 secs later. Some were sick, some were gasping for breath & others were choking. The car was at once stopped but we had run nearly 200 yards into the gas cloud. You could see it quite plainly: it looked like a bluish white cloud of smoke that kept on coming in billows, something like waves rolling in on a beach. I just got my helmet on in time for I was beginning to stagger, my lungs seemed fit to burst & they were beginning to burn like anything, while my throat had a choking sensation in it, just as if someone were throttling me. I reckon a couple more mouthfuls & I would have been a stiff one.

2 chaps went out to it. I helped one chap to put his helmet on for he was nearly done. I think one chap will die alright from the effects of the rotten stuff. We were extraordinarily lucky to get out alive. Only presence of mind saved us, for all concerned took it very cool indeed.

That was a nice reception to get, just as we were coming back from leave, wasn’t it. You should have heard the noise when the alarm was given: all the bells were set ringing, whistles blown from the barges & engines, cans were beaten like mad so as everyone would be prepared for it. All civilians have their helmets, you know, within the gas zone. It seems funny to see the little children running about with gas bags round their shoulders, but it is the only way to protect yourself, for the helmets are absolutely safe when properly put on. Everything depends on the speed of getting them on correctly — all gas casualties are caused in the first 2 or 3 minutes of an attack. When these attacks are on they have to gallop all the horses within the danger zone as hard as they can lay their heels to the ground, to save them. They seem to know something is the matter for they go like wildfire. All stock within a certain radius are killed. This was the first gas attack on this part of the line for nearly a year.

We were in our helmets for about an hour & a half. We then took them off & started to walk on up to our units. We had to walk about 9 miles to reach them so you can bet we were not half tired by the time we got into the trenches where the 1st & 2nd Batts were. I was immediately pounced on by the boys for all wanted to know what kind of a time you had in England.

After I had my breakfast — spare the mark for it consisted of a piece of fat bacon & a small piece of bread washed down with a mug of tea — I went down to our Dr for my chest was pretty tight & I was feeling none to rosy on it. He gave me some capsules, & said I would have to remain down with him for the rest of the day so as I would be under observation, so here I am stretched out on a stretcher in the warm sun, scribbling away as per usual.

When I came back I had a few letters waiting for me, which were very welcome.

This afternoon there was a wonderful sight in the sky: no less than 8 aeroplanes were fighting, 5 German & 3 British. One big British battleplane fought no less than 3 Taubes at once & fell 2 of them to the ground, while 2 more Fokkers were smashed over towards Sailly — our airmen did put it on to them. It was a magnificent spectacle away up in the clouds. The Taubes would dive almost nose down & try to ram the battleplane but to no purpose, for she would dodge them by a miracle & all the time she was pouring the bullets into them. When the Taubes would dive at her she would turn straight on her side & dodge them beautifully. Bombs fell like hailstones, & the old battleplane would every now & again drop some smoke bombs & coloured lights. Truly a grand sight.

There has also been a very heavy artillery duel in progress most of the afternoon. The heavy guns have been very active & I daresay damaging. We had a few casualties today from snipers.

18th June. About 11 o’clock this morning our chaps slung some of them 60 lb bombs over to old Fritz. They are an awful thing for they have the same effect as a 9 inch shell. They are round like a pudding with a piece of bright steel sticking out of them. When the bombs are fired they describe a semicircular curve, & lob in the trenches tail upwards. They dig a hole 6 ft deep & 21 ft across. We call them tadpoles & they are about the worst thing used on this front. When we start firing these the Germans turn all their available guns on to the portion of trench where they think they are coming from & give it particular Hell.

Here I am again in a dugout. There are 3 others & myself crouched in it for shelter, for there is a big bombardment going on. Our chaps are belting away with their guns & the big bombs are sailing through the air like small balloons. They burst with a terrific bang in the enemy’s trenches, & we can feel the ground shake like an earthquake when they explode. They strike terror into the Germans’ hearts. I saw one of the bombs myself lift a big German sky high — he came down with his arms & legs spread out. They blow their trenches to pieces. The Germans are shooting their small mortars & Minenwerfers at us in dozens. There are a few chaps getting hit.

The artillery have stopped firing now but we still have the bombs coming. We now have watchers for the bombs, & they sing out when they see them coming — in this way we dodge a lot of them. Nice, isn’t it, & me just back from England.

We had no less than 8 casualties in our platoon today, nearly a sixth of our strength. They were all wounded from the pieces of bomb, of which old Fritz seems to have a plentiful supply.

19th June. At 1 o’clock last night our chaps started to paste old Fritz properly with the guns. He quickly took the challenge up & wasn’t there a noise. We were all “stood to” in case of an attack. The duel lasted nearly an hour & our chaps had the last say. I think the squareheads are having a few more sleepless nights than they used to before the Australians came to France. We had some very big guns at work; when they were fired the whole sky would light up with a dull red glare, & you should have heard the heavy explosions behind their lines.

Shortly after dinner today our chaps opened up again on old Fritz with the tadpole bombs. When they explode it is like a mine going up: pieces of men, timber, duckboards & all go up in the air. You can see these bombs quite plainly as they are shot from the mortar. With each one of these murderous things the catapults shoot 2 or 3 hand grenades over. They must have inflicted heavy damage on Fritz, but we cop it when the bombs have had their say for they turn all their artillery on to us & give us something to dodge. Parapets fly in all directions, & everyone holds their breath with suppressed excitement, for you never know the instant you might be called to your maker.

At last we have caught up to their supply of shells & for every one they send over they get easily 3 in return & not only that, our fellows shell them just whenever they please & always have the last say. We have no fear of their artillery now for they get more than they bargain for. Plenty of ammunition just suits our wild Colonial gunners — they tear it into them night & day.

20th June. I was on the 12.30 to 4 relief but nothing of any importance happened except the murder of a large rat by me. The place fairly swarms with them. You can see them all over the place at night time, such big fellows too.

Right close to where I am writing there is the ruins of a large convent. The building itself is absolutely smashed to pieces, but it must have been a pretty place before the war for a moat surrounded it, & from what I can see of it the Germans almost made a little fort of it. Only the walls which enclosed this convent are left & they are, as you might guess, full of shell holes & falling down everywhere.

21st June. Our chaps pasted the Germans like Hell last night with all the classes of shells. The bursting shells quite lit the sky up & made one continuous roar. They levelled their parapets for them; oh they are getting it hot now alright.

I was very near shot myself last night. A sniper was about 30 yards in front of our trench, & I was peering about looking for a shot at him, when he shot at me twice but missed me by a hairsbreadth each time. I’m hanged if we could see him, although we knew where he was so we concentrated our fire on to the spot & that shut him up. You haven’t much chance of seeing them for no man’s land is full of oats & grass about 4 ft high, & trees, shell holes & old trenches & ditches are everywhere & they can so easily hide in them.

22nd June. We have only 3 N.C.O.s in our platoon at present & I can tell you we don’t get much sleep. We haven’t had 6 hours sleep for the last 3 days & nights & we are pretty well worn out; however we shall be out in a day or so, & will make up for it then.

23rd June. Not far from here there are a couple of English graveyards, & you ought to see how the French people look after them. They have lovely flowers planted all over the graves, & everything is kept spick & span in memory of these English soldiers who gave their lives for France. It’s a pretty sure thing that England & France will never fight again. I am pretty well certain that I should not fight against her, & that is the opinion of practically all the Australians & N.Z.s, for we all have the greatest admiration of France & her people; the more we see & know of them the better we like them.

By Jove we have just had a most terrific thunderstorm, the heaviest I have seen since leaving Australia. The trenches are like small rivers, & the clayey mud is nearly to your knees. We shall develop fins I can see that if we are here for the winter, which I don’t think very likely.

Our artillery accompanied the storm of rain with one of shells. They vied with the Heavens in the violence of their cannonade, & between the 2 of them they made a very good showing. Ours was the heaviest bombardment I have seen our guns do — they fairly cut loose & went mad. Old Fritz never even replied — I think he was dumbfounded with the violence of it. There are great breaches in his parapet everywhere you look, & he got a very hot time behind the lines, for our heavies were in action & firing as fast as they could. He is beginning to find the Australian gunners pretty hard nuts to crack & very constant, & they are not afraid to reply to their batteries no matter how solid they are, shoving it in.

The storm is all over & the larks & other birds are singing gaily & everything smells nice & fresh after the rain.

24th June. As we were leaving the trenches last night the Germans started to shell a part of the line pretty heavily, but fortunately kept off the communication trenches & Convent Avenue. Our chaps took up the challenge instantly, & they soon shut up.

One of our chaps broke his leg — he slipped on the clay & did the trick. You have no idea how slippery this Flanders mud is, it bangs all; I have never seen anything like it before in my life.

We are now in a billet in Fleurbaix. We have 2 Coys camped in an old school house, & from the look of things about the walls there must have been some hand-to-hand fighting in & around it.

The march down from the trenches was a solid one. We had about 2 miles of slippery duckboards to negotiate & you should have heard the language of the boys as they kept slipping off these boards into the mud & water, sometimes over their knees. As you might guess the rifles were in a nice state, & to make things worse it rained fairly heavy & this with our heavy packs made it anything but pleasant. We were about done when we reached our billets; we just simply threw ourselves down wet through & tired completely out, for we have had a strenuous time in the firing line & everyone is showing the effects of it. We never stirred till nearly 9 o’clock this morning when we woke up for breakfast. I think we are going to have the morning off; anyhow we will want an hour or so to clean our rifles.

The weather is still showery & shows no sign of clearing up. The rain will do the crops the world of good for they wanted it bad enough.

There is a big fatigue party on tonight & I have been busy getting all the particulars of it. There is a rumour about here to the effect that we are to be stopped from sending any letters to England for 6 weeks. They reckoned some of the English officials opened some of our mail & found all sorts of information in it. What a terrible thing. Pity we could not get some of these cold-footed officials in the front line trenches, & give them a taste of the discomforts, shells & bombs that we have to put up with — they would not be so busy then opening letters & so on.

All around here there are shrines & it’s wonderful how they have escaped the shells. You will see the shrine standing up among the ruins of houses & etc & scarcely touched. They seem to bear a charmed life somehow.

26th June. Last night we had a fatigue party up in the firing line earthing up Convent Avenue. It is nearly finished, & a good job has been made of it.

Before we went we were warned to take cover in the firing line as soon as our guns opened out, for we were going to give them a taste of our guns. After about 2 hours work with pick & shovel, over come the first shot. Almost instantly, the whole place was lit up by the flash of our guns, & the roar was like a terrific windstorm magnified 100 times. The whole earth shook & trembled from the concussion of our hundreds of guns. It was a magnificent but awful spectacle. The whole horizon was lit with purple, red, yellow & dark green flashes as our shells burst in the German lines, & to make the scene more weird the Germans were shooting hundreds of large bright flares which lit the ground up between the trenches & made them bright as day.

Looking over the parapet (for you were quite safe for nothing was coming back) you could scarcely see the German trenches for smoke, dust & flying rubbish, but every now & again 2 or 3 of our big shells would land all in a heap & the combined flash from these shells showed us the havoc wrought in the sausage eaters’ trenches. Everywhere there were huge gaps torn in the barricades & in places they were levelled to the ground. If they didn’t lose a few hundred men last night I will eat my hat willingly.

The smoke & fumes that came back from our shells was nearly suffocating — it smelt like phosphorus or sulphur. Our gunners had the range splendidly; the shells were just clearing our parapets. One could not help thinking what would happen if one of these shells were to fall short — they seemed that low that if you were to put your hand up you could catch the monstrous things.

When you are in a bombardment, it makes you realise how small & puny a man’s strength is when he is face to face with these powerful & terrible weapons of man’s brain. It would make the strongest man quail, for you are so helpless against it you can only crouch down & wait for the worst. Every minute you are expecting to get blown to pieces & you have a feeling of surprise that you are still alive, for you can feel the trenches & sandbags rocking & swaying & the air is all of a tremble. Heavens only knows what Verdun is like, for it must be 10 times worse than last night’s affair.

After our chaps had been at it Hell for leather for about 10 minutes the German batteries opened up on our trenches, & soon we were in a hail of steel & high explosive, but our batteries never slackened but shot it back the faster if anything. This was the first proper bombardment that I have seen in France & I can honestly say that I was surprised at the poor shooting of the German artillery, especially when we have all read & heard so much about their wonderful marksmanship. 9/10th of their shells shot harmlessly over our parapets & landed between the firing line & reserves, where they never done a bit of damage. If they can’t put up a better show than that we won’t have such a hard time when the word comes to advance, & another thing: our artillery shot 2 to 1 in the matter of shells & of the marksmanship there was no comparison, & our fellows had the last say. This bombardment was right along the line. I fancy it was a feeler to see what the Germans had in front of us.

The country round here is very pretty now. There are wild roses & tame ones blooming everywhere & plenty of scarlet poppies, daisies, pansies, blue bells & all sorts of pretty flowers, for you know it was once a peaceful quiet place before the squareheads got here, & where all these flowers are running wild there were once nice flower gardens & quaint old farmhouses, now nothing but gaunt & roofless ruins, all eloquent testimony of the ravages of war & of the Kaiser’s mad dream of world domination & power. By this time I guess his dream has been completely shattered once & for all.

As you walk along the pretty roads you can hear the partridges & quail cluttering & calling one another in the tall grass & self-sown crops of wheat & oats. Makes a chap long for a shotgun sometimes, & then again you think that you would not interfere with them for anything for it sounds so nice to hear them calling one another in the twilight. They don’t seem to take much notice of the guns for there are batteries all around them & still they stop there.

27th June. During the heavy bombardment the night before last we had 2 raiding parties out, one from the 5th & the other from the 20th Batt, & they were the most successful raids that we have had for some time on this front, either British or others. The 5th Batt killed 40 Germans & captured 11 Germans & 2 machine guns. We lost 2 killed & 7 wounded; a very smart piece of work. The raiding party say that the German trenches were full of dead & dying men, & they killed all the survivors they found.

The 20th Batt got 9 prisoners & I don’t know the exact number they killed, but they got some valuable information from papers they got over there, & also captured a trench mortar, so you can see our boys are keeping their reputation up. The German prisoners say they don’t know what to make of the Australians for they can never tell where they are going to appear next or what they are going to do.

This morning we got a small parcel of Gift Stuff from the 1st Battalion Comforts Fund. I got a tin of milk out of it.

I have just been reading in the Sunday Times a couple of articles referring to the cold-footed crowd of wasters that hang on at Liverpool Camp & elsewhere, & also the mob of curs that have malingered & schemed to get away from Egypt. By Jove I would like to have the dealings of the wasters & curs. I would see that the public knew more about them, & stop them from posing as returned heroes & such like. They are a blot on the men that really have toiled & fought for Australia & are still facing the enemy. How I would like to have the dealings of them in the firing line; they would do their bit I’ll guarantee, yes & a bit more.

Just behind us the place fairly swarms with cavalry. They reckon there is easily 60,000 behind us, & they also say the Light Horse are coming over shortly. The hour has nearly struck & I think it will be goodbye Germany this time.

28th June. Had the most miserable & aggravating night last night as ever I have had in my life. To begin with, just before we left, an order came round that no one was to be on the roads between the hours of 11 to 2 on account of artillery fire, for our chaps were going to open on the German batteries, & we expected retaliation from them. That meant of course that when we finished our job, which would be about 1 o’clock, we would have to stop at the Dead Dog Dump till after 2 in the morning. So far so good, but when we reached the rail head, we had to wait for nearly an hour before the timber waggons came up. We unloaded them pretty quick, & then had to load the timber on to the little trucks that run the stuff to the firing line. All this is done, mind you, in pitch-black darkness & drizzling rain. We only had one small truck & on this was stacked over half a ton of timber & iron & off we started. We had not gone more than 200 yards when off the cursed thing came. We took stock of our damage & discussed our chance of getting the truck on the line again & the verdict was very unfavourable for us. Just then along came 3 empty trucks from the firing line & I grabbed 2 of them (I had the power for I was in charge of our party of 22 men while we were on the trucks). We unloaded the run-off truck & made 2 loads of it. When one was loaded I sent a party of men off with it & when we loaded the other one off we went. Talk about a rotten job, pushing these cursed trucks. Just imagine if you can a narrow wooden line running straight towards the enemy’s trenches, built up on clay the like of which for slipperiness you have no idea, & on this clay lay water & mud to a depth of easily 8 inches. Along this imagine sweating & swearing, slipping, sliding, & getting wet through with perspiration & water trying to push those heavy running trucks, & always the chance of getting knocked out with shrapnel or machine gun fire.

At last we reached the Convent Wall where we had to unload. The first truck that had gone ahead was nearly finished, thank Heaven, when we got there. Unloading these trucks was an awful job for it was as black as ink & to make matters worse the Germans were putting over lots of flares. While these were up it was as light as day but when they went out we were nearly blind, for you know what it is like yourself when you come out of a lighted room into the darkness. Magnify this several times & you have an idea of the difficulty we were working under, to say nothing of the rain which was falling.

After we had unloaded we had to tip our trucks off the line to let some more pass. We got away at last, & we were racing to get back before our fellows opened the bombardment but luck was against us for we had to take our trucks off the line twice to allow loaded ones to pass us, & another thing: the cursed things kept on running off the line. We got about halfway when, like a clap of thunder, our batteries opened up & almost lit the Heavens with the flash of the guns. Now, I thought, we are in for it, for Fritz is bound to shell all the lines & roads, & we had not the slightest cover whatsoever. We hurried on, every minute expecting a hail of shrapnel, but for some unexplained reason the Germans took it all lying down & never fired a single shot. After about 15 minutes our guns knocked off & tried to coax old Fritz into retaliating but no good. Strikes me he got a lively towelling up the last time he replied to the fire of our batteries at night time, & thought he would hold off this time.

We reached the end of the line safely & weren’t we glad. I was never so full of anything in my life before, & never wish to have the same job again.

29th June. This morning most of the Coy went to Bac St Maur for a hot bath & very nice it was though we had a fair walk. I saw several Frenchmen working on the roads with only one arm; I suppose they had lost it somewhere in this war.

There are splendid crops all along the road now: oats, wheat, peas, beans, clover, mangels, corn & etc. The recent rains have done them the world of good & the country looks beautiful.

On our way back from the baths we dropped in at a little estaminet & had our dinner. Chips & eggs are the most popular here, washed down with beer, milk or coffee. What a difference to Gallipoli or Egypt. You can drop in at these estaminets, & order your meal, & you know that it will be clean & nicely cooked by the French girls & a very reasonable price paid for it.

30th June. It was very pretty last night, you should have seen the bright flares. The Germans were throwing them over in scores, & the flash of the guns quite lit the dark sky up & the Germans had 4 big searchlights throwing their sword-like beams against the dark clouds. They evidently thought they could see something, for they were shooting shrapnel way up in the clouds & it was bursting with a pretty red flash that stood out so distinctly against the night. They were as jumpy & as nervous as could be & were evidently expecting a raid or an attack. Besides our guns were giving them particular Hell, nor did they cease as the night wore on, instead the fire of our guns increased in volume & intensity, & about 4 o’clock it reached what is known as a “drum” bombardment — that is one perpetual roll. A bombardment from a distance is a magnificent sight, but it’s a different thing when you are under one.

I believe last night the Welsh took 750 yards of trench off the Huns & the Maoris had a success while there was still another successful raid. I wonder how many more times we can raid their trenches without a setback. It seems unnatural, the ease with which our chaps can break into their lines, & practically do what they please with them.

Today old Fritz has been shelling Fleurbaix pretty constant. He is after the big naval gun that they know is here & doing heaps of damage to the squareheads, but they were landing the shells nowhere near the gun. Every now & again, just as if to aggravate Fritz, the big gun would let 3 or 4 shells go. I’ll bet it made Fritz mad.

1st July. Another month started & we are going downhill to Xmas, but I firmly believe the end of the year will see the finish of this gigantic war. Everything to me seems to point to it & I only hope I am right, for I am full up of it. It’s not so bad if we were on the move all the while, but it’s the sitting back in the trenches that kills, the constant drudge day after day, for there is very little difference between one day’s work & another, except perhaps we might work 20 hours one day & 24 hours the next. People have an idea I think that a soldier lives a life of comparative idleness; what a shock they would get if they tried it on.

We are now supposed to be resting & I will give you our daily routine. Our Coy is cut into 2 parties, one a day fatigue & the other night. I will take the night fatigue, for that is the one I am on. We leave our billets at 9.30 each night & walk about 3 miles to our job, which might be anything from pushing & loading trucks to putting up barb wire. We arrive home from these jobs about 4 in the morning, then have what sleep we can snatch till breakfast, about 8 o’clock. After breakfast, we have to fill 250 sandbags, then there is a gas helmet parade or lecture. After dinner we fall in for musketry, which generally lasts about an hour. The rest of the afternoon, if nothing else turns up, we have for ourselves, so you can see we don’t have much time for ourselves, then of course we are always supposed to be ready to move off at a minute’s notice in case of an attack.

Yesterday evening there was a magnificent sight, for the sky was just black with aeroplanes. I counted no less than 47 of them as they flew past. I expect they were bound for a raid somewhere. How old Fritz fired at them but he never done any good for they just kept on going as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening.

2nd July. Last night I was on a different working party. 3 of us had 40 men earthing up one of the avenues leading to the 4th Battalion. It was a fairly dangerous job, for every now & again a couple of German machine guns would sweep the ground we were working on from end to end. At the first crack of the bullets you should see the boys duck, & I can tell you I was never far behind. We would all lay flat on our stomachs & as quiet as a mouse. You can’t help laughing when you look up & see all the silent forms, like a lot of Moslems at prayer.

One chap dug a little shallow hole in the earth, enough to protect his head & body, & when the machine guns started to play he would lie in this, & cock his legs in the air, & sing out to Fritz to do his worst. He was looking for a Blighty but whenever the bullets started to come close, down would come his legs.

While we were on this work a gas alarm came down the lines. Some of the boys put their helmets on & some didn’t. It turned out that we were using gas against the Germans.

About 3 o’clock as we were coming home our chaps opened a tremendous bombardment on our left & right. Didn’t they stick it in the whole German line, for as far as I could see, when the German flares lit up the scene, was a mass of smoke & flame from the bursting shells — a bonzer sight when the Germans are catching it. What a time they are having.

There was a great bit of excitement here tonight. Some of our aeroplanes were being shelled directly over our heads & most of the boys were scattered about outside yarning & lousing themselves when all of a sudden pieces of shell & nose caps started to come down fairly fast. You should have seen the scatter — they all made a break for the cover of the billet quick & lively. You can hear them coming hundreds of feet up but you have no idea where they are going to lodge, & if one hits you well it is goodbye.

Last night we could hear the whistles in the German lines quite plainly. They say they use them for “stand to’s”. They were evidently in great fear of being attacked for the whistles travelled as far as we could hear on both sides of us. I’ll bet they are beginning to wish they had never started the war.

From where I am writing this there is a very pretty scene. On my right the road stretches for nearly a mile in a straight line, & on one side it is bordered by pretty trees, all of an even size. The other side is nothing but beautiful growing crops of all sorts of things, & bonzer hedges, & every here & there an old & picturesque farmhouse nestles among the trees, & growing all over the old houses are fine old grape vines, & they flourish amazingly well & are loaded with beautiful grapes. France is famed & rightly so for her grapes, for she has the goods alright. On my left, the trees are also bordering the road & they run right into the now almost ruined Fleurbaix, once a most beautiful village but now she is a mass of ruined houses & shell-torn streets. Scores of the houses are loopholed & barricaded while not a few of them are mined. In spite of all the shelling & fighting the place has seen, there are plenty of people still in it. I suppose they don’t like leaving their old homes, & would rather run the risk than leave them. What wonderful people the French are.

3rd July. Had a night off last night but it was not much good to me for about 1 o’clock our fellows started the heaviest bombardment that I have ever heard. It is impossible to picture the roar of our guns — everything for miles around was all of a tremble & in our billet the plaster on the ceiling started to crack & fall, so you can guess it was pretty severe.

The Germans retaliated & shelled Fleurbaix & the billets for all they were worth. They got that close to ours that we had to get up & take refuge in some trenches that are always built close to the billets in case of shell fire. They burst the shrapnel all over us but luckily no one was hit.

The shelling lasted for about 2 hours & then our batteries slackened off. After it was over a patrol of ours went across to the German trenches & there was not a living soul left, nothing but a mass of dead & mutilated men. I believe it was something awful in the trenches. The patrol penetrated to their second line & it was nearly the same there. They brought one prisoner back with them & strange to say he had a pass on him made out for Berlin. How stiff was he, though I suppose he can count himself one of the lucky ones.

The power & fierceness of our bombardment was indescribable — Lone Pine was only a flea bite compared to it. If we only had the same artillery support at Anzac we would have chopped our way through in no time. In our area I should think our artillery fired anything from 8 to 12,000 shells in the 2 hours. The firing was that rapid that you could not hear single reports, just one continual roar, a drum bombardment they call it. The shooting of the artillery was magnificent; they take a bit of beating do our gunners. The most remarkable thing about this turnout was that while the Germans were annihilated in their trenches there was scarcely any casualties in ours. This seems unnatural but it’s true.

4th July. At 8 o’clock last night we held a full muster parade, & were ready to move off, but we had to wait for the 45th to come in. They kept us waiting there till 12.30, real old military style.

We reached our old billets behind Sailly after a march of about 8 miles. Most of us were nearly knocked out when we got here, which was about 4 A.M.

5th July. Am in charge of the billet guard today. The boys have the football going again tonight, the first time for a month.

By Jove there are some magnificent crops around this part. Australia has no idea the way France is cultivated. There’s not an inch of ground hardly that is not under cultivation & talk about crops, well they are beautiful & one can’t help remarking on it, especially anyone like me, whose sole thought is for the land, & all it grows. You can look for miles & miles over lovely crops of wheat & oats up to your head & over & as level as a table. How I would like to have a binder working in them, what work one could make; it would be a pleasure to be slashing it down. The beans & peas here are a wonderful height on account of the great fertility of the soil, which is a splendid sort of dark brown clay, as strong as you like.

Just compare France to Gallipoli & the difference you can’t explain, they are so far apart. Imagine us here bogging into the cherries & plenty of them everywhere (I have had some splendid feeds of them). The trees are never pruned by the look of them, for they are a terrible size & bear well, but of course how could they do otherwise in such a beautiful & magnificent country. I am never tired of praising France, for the country part of her is almost a paradise. It seems funny when you come to think of it, us being here, & shedding our blood over practically the same ground as a branch of our ancestors came from, notably the Normans.

9th July. Reveille at 4.30 this morning. We had to pack up & clean our billets out by 5.30. At 7 o’clock we formed up & moved off. We had our band with us & they played some fine tunes on the march. Just before we reached Outtersteene, our band, which was marching in the middle, left us & went in front. They took up a stand in the town & played us through. There were a lot of the 12th Battalion there & a good few French people.

About a mile outside Outtersteene we marched into a small grassy paddock where we are now resting for a couple of hours, while the Battalion who are now in our old billets pack up & clear out. Everyone has taken their boots & socks off & we are stretched out on the lovely green grass, having a nice sun bath among clover a good foot high & in full flower.

10th July. This morning all the N.C.O.s were issued with a pair of wire cutters, & a lot of the men with bags to carry bombs in. Sounds nice, doesn’t it, but the sooner it’s over the better.

Marched to Bailleul, where we entrained. We got away about 6 P.M., & I think the country we travelled through for the next 4 hours was if possible the finest I have ever seen & that is saying something. As far as you could see on either side of you there was nothing but magnificent crops of wheat & oats. The wheat would run easily from 20 to 60 bushels per acre, it was about 5 or 6 feet high & as level as a billiard table.

When we reached Hazebrouck we were shunted on to another line & off we went, no one knew where, but as we all guessed towards the Somme. We arrived at Fienvillers, Candas, after a trip of 7 hours.

We started off on our journey about 1 o’clock in the morning, little thinking the distance we would have to march before reaching our billets. Just imagine us if you can with everything we possess up including waterproof & blankets, & nothing to eat worth talking about since 1 o’clock the previous day, & we were all as sleepy & tired as could be. Under these conditions we had to march 9 miles — lucky we did not know it when we started off or I am thinking there would not have been many see it through. We kept on plugging away, expecting every turn to bring the long-wished-for billets in sight, but we looked in vain for we walked on & on until nearly everyone was dead beat. At every spell most of us would drop off to sleep through sheer exhaustion, but when the whistle blew, up we would get & plod along till the next stop. It speaks well for the endurance of the men for there were only 2 fell out during this long & trying march, one of the hardest I have ever been on.

At last the long-looked-for finish was in sight, a little village & our billets were in it. We had to wait a little while in the streets, & then everything being satisfactorily settled we were detailed off to our respective billets. Once inside the men never troubled about taking their boots off or undressing but threw themselves down on the straw & went to sleep in a few minutes.

11th July. Breakfast at 9.30 this morning & quite early enough after the stiff time of the last 24 hours. We are not so very far from Amiens here, according to the map. The country we are now in is mostly chalk & very picturesque. It is fairly hilly & well wooded, while the roads are the best I have seen in France.

This evening after tea I went for a walk through a small forest here that joins the town. It is a most beautiful little place: the leaves are that thick that you cannot see the sun shining through & the trees are very tall & scarce a limb on them for 50 or 60 ft up the trunk. There are roads running all through this pretty little reserve.

12th July. Got orders to pack up last night & be ready to move off at 7 in the morning so we had an early breakfast & off we went. Just before we moved off a few more reinforcements joined us. We passed through several villages on the way — they were all packed with our boys of all Battalions up to the 8th. After we had gone about 2 miles we ran into much more hillier country, & the little hills & rises were all covered with lovely wild flowers, which made the countryside a riot of colour. We finished up in Vignacourt.

13th July. I am writing this up in a little loft among some straw on which I have my bed for the night, probably the last soft bed I shall sleep on for some time, for I expect we shall soon be among the thick of it now.

When we arrived at Candas 3 days ago we left some of our platoon there to do fatigues & when they went to the estaminets, they refused to serve them — they said they would not serve Allemand prisoners. They made sure the boys were German prisoners, & when they told them they were Australians that was worse, for they thought they meant Austrians. It took them some time to explain the difference, & when they understood, they gave them a royal time. We are now, you might say, in the backblocks of France.

14th July. Got half a loaf of bread this morning & was very lucky to get it. There is not a bit of butter or jam to be bought in the town.

The Captain reckons we are going to a pretty warm shop; he told us all about it this morning.

We are on very short rations while on the march — it’s wonderful what a small amount a man can live on when he is pushed.

16th July. Got orders last night to pack up & be ready to move off at 9 next morning. I was Orderly Corporal so I had my work cut out to get my work finished & pack up in time.

At 9.30 off we went, our Coy leading & all as merry as crickets. We marched at a good steady pace with 10 minutes breathing space every hour till 1.30 & I can tell you no one was sorry when we reached our destination, Warloy Baillon. Our pack straps cut into our backs like pieces of string & the sweat nearly blinds one; it’s not the distance that counts, it’s the load we have to carry.

When we got on top of a fairly high hill we could hear quite plainly the guns booming in the distance, the old familiar sound again. We had been out of earshot of them for nearly a week, & no one was sorry to miss them.

The billeting part of this town is sadly overcrowded — half of us are sleeping outside under the green & leafy trees. This is bonzer while the fine weather lasts, but no good when it rains & it looks very threatening tonight.

17th July. Physical jerks this morning & a short route march afterwards. The Captain told us about his visit to the trenches, & all about the big push. We will be in it in a few days time & from all accounts it is going to be a sort of Hell but everyone is very confident.

Got a letter from Len today — I have been waiting anxiously for news of him. He is in 18th General Hospital at Camiers, & pretty crook; however he is much better off there than here for we are in for a stoushing up for a certainty, for we are going to try & do what English troops have so far failed to do & that is take a wood near High Wood. They have taken it twice, but each time were driven out. I believe the artillery fire is something hellish, & I don’t expect many of us will come out alive. Our Brigade are the first to go over & I think our Batt are leading the charge. It is bound to be a most terrific fight whether we take or fail in the charge.

Most of the Battalions are new & untried practically & they little know, which is just as well for them, what they have to face. I am speaking of course of our reinforcements, for nearly 90% of the men are reinforcements. There is of course no harm in being that — in many ways they are better than old hands, for they don’t realise the danger like one who has been through the mill does, & I believe the old saying is pretty true: that a soldier fights best in his first battle. I’ll bet the boys will go like tigers & take a lot of stopping, however the future is in the lap of the Gods.

Hundreds of motor loads of shells & etc go through here every day; you might say the traffic never ceases, for if anything it is busier at night. As I write this I can hear the guns real plain belting away for all they are worth.

18th July. Received orders at 6 o’clock this morning to pack up & be ready to move at a minute’s notice, so perhaps this may be my last entry in the diary. It is still drizzling rain.

There was a most terrific bombardment all last night; it was just one continuous roll of thunder. There were a few monstrous guns that you could hear above the roar of all the others every time they were fired — I expect they were our 15 inch naval guns of which we have a few in action on this sector.

A couple of hundred or so of our Light Horse passed through here this morning. We want them all over here when we break through the German lines.

19th July. Everything is bustle & hurry this morning, for we are getting fitted up for our charge. Helmets have been inspected to see that there are no flaws in them, extra ammunition has been served out making in all 250 rounds per man, all of us have our pink patches sewn on to the tunic at the shoulder blades (they are about 6 in. square & are there so as our artillery can distinguish us from the enemy — some of the boys look like jockeys with the different colours up). The Dr gave us a lecture on how to adjust the field dressing properly & how to stop bleeding. We are leaving our packs at the dump. All letters & diaries have to be left behind. I am going to give this to our parson, he is a good sort of a chap.

Mr Graham gave us a lecture this morning & he practically told us to give no quarter & take none. That will suit the boys down to the ground I’ll bet.

We are going to have a church service here sometime this afternoon, the last one a lot of the boys will attend, worse luck.

It is a lovely & glorious day today. The sun is shining brilliantly & everything looks nice & fresh. I reckon it is a good omen, for it to be a fine & sunny day for us to move off on after all the miserable weather there has been lately. We go over the parapets I believe tomorrow morning, & then there will be something doing.

The streets of this little town are almost as busy as Sussex Street in Sydney, for there is an increasing string of vehicles passing both ways — a lot of empties returning from the firing line, while those going up are loaded with ammunition to blow the Huns sky high out of the pure air. You will see all sorts & manners of carts go rambling by: Red Cross waggons & motors galore, water carts, telephone repairers, Army Service waggons, transports of all descriptions & size from the one-horse chaise of the Battalion to the great motor waggons belonging to the different Army Corps engaged on this front. Some traffic I can tell you, while motor cars, bicycles & the ordinary push bicycle are as common as the soldiers who throng the little narrow cobble streets of this French village.

20th July. Well after all I did not give my diary to the parson, as I was too late, so I decided to chance it & carry it myself. We left our billets in a hurry — we got 10 minutes notice to pack up & fall in. We carried our waterproof & overcoat rolled in bandolier fashion. Had a pretty long & tiresome march & just outside Albert we pulled up & had tea on the roadside. We were now getting close to the scene of conflict for all around us great guns were firing.

After we had our tea we fell in again & marched through Albert. Lots of Tommies were coming back from the trenches & any amount of them were carrying German helmets & there were some beauties among them too. One thing struck me very forcibly here & that was the utter disregard they had for the German artillery — hardly anything was under cover. Bodies of men were camped about everywhere & horses, waggons & stores the same. You would think old Fritz would blow them to pieces, but the reason is pretty well understood for he is practically blind we have such an absolute mastery over him in the air. He sends neither observation balloons nor aeroplanes up now, that is to say worth speaking of, for as soon as he does our chaps swoop down on them like a hawk on a chicken.

When it got sufficiently dark enough we moved off for the trenches. When we topped a little rise from where the British front line trench was before the advance started, we could see nothing but a maze of trenches, a regular network — they were one time the German first line, but now all smashed to pieces. We have a lot of field guns in them now, & they were firing like one thing as we approached them. Wherever you looked on the ground you would see shell holes, some of them big enough without a word of a lie to cover 10 horses up. You can hardly walk for these shell holes, the ground is pockmarked with them. All over the place are little white crosses which tell their own tale. They are the graves, just hastily covered over, of the brave fellows who broke the German lines, & who were killed in the charge.

The German trenches are much superior to ours: they are deeper, better drained, & have all the conveniences possible, even down to electric lights & feather beds. Their dugouts are from 18 to 30 ft deep & any amount of them have rugs, pianos & all sorts of things inside, & beer was to be found by the thousands of bottles. They, like the Austrians, never had any idea of being shifted from these positions for they thought they were impregnable. According to the amount of digging & barb wire there is to be seen, they should have been too.

We passed trench after trench & at last we topped a rise almost overlooking the battlefield. Here we had to double across for there are no communication saps for cover. I think we all got across safely until we reached an old road that we had to pass down & the Germans were shelling it like mad. We had a few casualties in here but when we left the old road & went down one of the Germans’ old trenches, we should have by all of the rules of warfare lost half our Company but as luck would have it about 70% of their shells were duds. They were shooting like mad at this trench for they knew well enough that all reinforcements had to come down that way. Once we all got crowded up together, now, I thought, we’ll cop it, but fortune still favoured us & we got out of it.

Leaving the trench we had to rush over some more open ground & pass through a curtain fire that the Huns had on it. Once over this we were soon into a shallow trench, & here we had to stop & act as reserves. A & B Coys went into the firing line the same night, & I think tonight we will be having a charge. Last night we had to dig rough possies in the trenches & today we have to lie as quiet as mice, for if the German artillery spot us they will blow the trench to pieces. They are very suspicious as it is & have kept 3 big guns trained on to it ever since we came in & they keep up a steady fire on us.

They buried 3 chaps this morning: 1 of them was killed, & we have had a few casualties from splinters. I had a narrow shave for a fair-sized piece of shell struck me on the wrist but it only caused a big bruise.

As I write this there is a most terrific artillery duel in progress & you can hardly see anything for dust & smoke. We are right facing Contalmaison. She was a pretty little village no doubt one time but now there is hardly a wall left standing.

I can count no less than 21 of our balloons up & 17 aeroplanes are scouting about. About 2 hours ago the Germans fetched one of our planes down. She was completely smashed up & dived head first to the ground in flames. I think machine gun fire caught her.

A 3rd Battalion chap has just done a brave deed. He rushed over to within 50 yards of the German trenches & rescued a wounded Tommy who had been there for 5 days. Both got back safe.

Just close to where I am there is a German gun & thousands of rounds of ammunition. By Jove there is some stuff lying about: rifles, ammunition, wire of all descriptions, clothing, gas helmets & etc, thousands of picks & shovels, & plenty of German helmets. The ground about here for miles is just one vast mass of shell holes. There must have been millions & millions of shells shot away by both sides, & there is any amount of dead men lying about.

This afternoon a shell buried no less than 8 of our machine gunners but they got them out safely, though all were suffering more or less from shock. It is Hell here alright & would try the nerves of the strongest man. I am absolutely certain we are going over tonight, won’t it be a charge.

21st July. Was down with a fatigue party this morning to get our rations, such as they are; the food here is very poor & scarce.

A lot of our Australian artillery is in action today. They are firing like mad & have got the range to a nicety. The way they shell the wood in front of us is something terrific. All day long there are shells bursting in it from 3 in. to 12. I can tell you the latter send the earth & stuff easily 300 ft high & go off with an earsplitting roar. I have seen them uproot big trees, such is their power. Our chaps have never stopped bombarding since we came into the trenches. I don’t know whether you believe it or not but it is nearly impossible to sleep on account of the vibration & concussion, for it is one perpetual & constant roar which never ceases. I reckon for every shell the Germans send over we send 20.

22nd July. Last night every man was issued with 2 bombs & 2 sandbags, & he has got to take these with him in the charge tonight.

Coming back from the firing line we had to run the gauntlet of the German guns. They were pouring it in properly — evidently they think we are massing men in a little gully just close to Contalmaison, but they are sadly out of it. The ground around here is simply turned upside down with shells — it must have been something awful, the fire. There are also some German guns destroyed quite close to here. I’ll bet there is about 30 acres of ground that you couldn’t ride a horse over for shell holes & some of them are 15 or 20 ft deep. It is a sight that has to be seen before you can form any idea of what it is like.

23rd July. Well thank God I have been spared to come through another fierce charge safely & with scarcely a scratch. I think Providence must watch over me, for my luck seems unnatural.

After I passed my diary in last night, we sent all our overcoats & blankets into a big dugout. At 10.30 we moved out, & all the way we had to run the gauntlet of a pretty heavy shell fire, for the Germans were very suspicious & evidently were expecting an attack. They were slinging their rockets about all over the place, lighting the country almost like day.

We reached the firing line at 11 o’clock, & took up our positions & waited for the time to come for us to hop over. While in the trenches every man was either given sandbags or picks & shovels, for they are just as necessary as your rifle & bayonet in a charge when you have to dig yourselves in as we had to do.

At last the fateful hour came & A Coy sneaked quietly out & we followed them. When we were about 100 yards out our guns opened up the bombardment. It lasted exactly 2 minutes on the first trench & we all advanced under cover of it. So good was the timing that when we were about 40 yards off their barb wire the guns lifted & A Coy rushed the trench supported by C. The instant our guns lifted the German batteries & machine guns which had been waiting opened up on us & a torrent of high-explosive shrapnel & bullets were let loose. Men fell in all directions, but nothing could stop the boys now their blood was up. Into the trench they dashed & bayoneted & shot like fury. The squareheads were thunderstruck at the violence of the assault, & hopped out of their trench & ran for their life, with the boys after them hot foot. They dropped everything they had; their one thought seemed to be to get away from the despised Colonials.

Our Battalion got about 60 prisoners in this trench, & it’s hard to say how many were killed for they were lying all over the place. A & B Coys were supposed to stay in this trench but no fear, on they went like a pack of hungry dogs, now they had tasted blood. This first trench was about 300 yards distant, & on we all swept line after line, but soon all were mixed up together & bunched dangerously close. The shell fire was now hellish & the noise deafening, but just to show you how cool the boys were, why some of them were walking up with rifles at the slope & singing “I Want to Go Home”. What do you think of that.

At last we reached the railway line, & lay down while our boys pasted the second line with shells. We had not long to wait, but it seemed hours to us lying out in the open waiting for the fire to lift. At last the fuses were lengthened, & like a pack of hounds the boys rushed the trench, our objective, but there was very little in it & it was ours in a few minutes.

At this period over came the 3rd Batt closely followed by the 9th, 11th, 12th. Scores of our Battalion went on with them to the wood which was just in front. We started straight away to consolidate our position so as to be ready for the counter-attack which usually follows the charge. By daylight, we had a fairly good line dug out & organised & were ready for them to try their luck against the scum, as they had sneeringly referred to us in their papers.

When day broke we could see what position we were in & our line was adjusted accordingly. We worked till about 9 o’clock, then we had a look around to see what damage had been done. Dead men were lying all over the place, both ours & Germany’s, & the boys were hunting the Huns, like terriers do rats, from the ruins of the village (they were hiding in the old walls & cellars). They quickly accounted for all those above ground & I need scarcely say that very few of them were taken prisoners — the bayonet was the weapon chiefly used.

You have no idea how fierce & ferocious the boys are once they taste blood — I believe they would charge into Hell itself once they got going. Quite a number of them were killed with our own guns through being too impetuous, for they even tried to rush through our own curtain fire to get at the Germans on the other side of it, & as true as I value my life the Germans were absolutely terrified by the fierceness of the boys’ charge — all the prisoners that we get say the same thing. They have a very healthy respect for us & from what I have seen of them 1 Turk is worth 2 of them as far as hand-to-hand fighting goes. You want to take your boots off if you want to catch them once they are driven from their trenches, for they run like athletes from what I have seen of them. They are a miserable ragged-looking lot with a few fine men here & there among them.

By nightfall we had nearly 200 prisoners & our booty consisted of 8 guns (5 big howitzers & 3 field guns) & thousands of shells. I don’t know how many machine guns we captured, but we are using one or two of the best against them & we have I might say thousands of their rifles.

A party from our Battalion marched nearly 100 of them into Albert. The Tommies nearly went frantic with delight when they heard of the success of the Australians. They regard us as marvels: they had failed twice in their attacks on the wood & village & we took it first time. We had a good reputation before but Australia’s name stands higher today than ever it did.

24th July. Things were fairly quiet last night, but at 6 o’clock exactly this morning the expected storm broke, not as we expect with whizz bangs & 6 in. but 9.2 & 12 inchers. The first hour or two was mostly spent in getting the range. Once they got it they made the pace a welter. They would frighten the bravest man on earth I’ll bet, these enormous great shells. They sound just like an express train rushing through the air, & when they explode it is more like a ton of dynamite exploding. You can see them real plain sailing through the air on their frightful mission & everyone holds their breath & grips themselves for the frightful concussion that arises from the explosion of these monsters. They throw earth & stone, & men too, or rather what is left of them, to a height of easily 300 feet. Words fail to make anyone understand the terrible power possessed by these engines of destruction.

About 3 o’clock in the afternoon the bombardment reached the climax. The air sounded with one continuous whistle & roar from the big shells that were streaming through it, yes, in thousands. I stood with my watch in hand & counted in 5 minutes no less than 75 shells lob on an area no bigger than 4 acres, & not one of them was under a 9.2 & some were up to 15 in. All day long the ground rocked & swayed backwards & forwards from the concussion of this frightful bombardment. It put me in mind of being on top of a well-built haystack & swaying it about, that’s how the ground behaved. Men were driven stark staring mad & more than one of them rushed out of the trench, over towards the Germans. Any amount of them could be seen crying & sobbing like children, their nerves completely gone. How on earth we stood it God alone knows. We were nearly all in a state of silliness & half dazed but still the Australians refused to give ground.

Men were being buried by the dozen, but were frantically dug out again, some dead & some alive. One big shell killed & buried no less than 15 men. They were afterwards pulled out in pieces, torn to ribbons, & another 15 incher accounted for no less than 40 men. You might think I am exaggerating it, but as I said before you have no idea what it is like. I am certain they tried to break the Australians’ hearts completely. They say it was one of the fiercest bombardments that has ever taken place on the Western Front. By nightfall the trenches had practically ceased to exist. Pozières Wood & village was an onion bed, for the earth was that torn & shattered. Still they kept an unceasing fire up.

About 7 o’clock they evidently thought every man was killed & they were not very far out, but still when the Prussian Guards charged they got the shock of their lives, for they got cut to ribbons & the few remaining Australians actually hopped out after them with the bayonet. We took a few of them prisoners.

We were relieved this evening by the 2nd Bde & if ever men were glad to get out of such a death trap well we were, but we had to run the gauntlet of fire all the way down the communication trench, for the Germans were shelling it like mad — their object of course was to prevent any help reaching us & so we would be cut off. Here & there the trenches were very shallow & we had to make short rushes over them. Even then we lost a few men coming down. As each man left the firing line he took a German rifle with him.

That night we lay in supports but sleep was impossible for the unceasing roar of the guns. We were constantly digging one another out for they were shelling everything that they thought would hold or be sheltering men. Even the gullies were searched with shrapnel & they killed hundreds in them, for supplies had to be kept up by hook or by crook. While all this was going on an aeroplane flew pretty low down over us & blew the cock-a-doodle-do on her horn & this sort of cheered us up.

We had a fine tea tonight just before we left the firing line, the cooks brought it up: as much steak & bacon as you could eat & to spare, tea, boiled potatoes & onions mashed together. This was the first square meal we had for some days & we enjoyed it. It’s wonderful how they kept the supply of food up to us during this fearful bombardment.

25th July. The bombardment continued all night & never let up. I think the shelling is even worse today than yesterday.

26th July. Last night about 11 o’clock we filed out & I think everyone breathed a silent prayer when they got clear of it — I know I did for I never expected to come out alive. The 17th Battalion relieved us. When we got out to the Gordon Dump our cooks had hot stew & tea waiting for us, how we enjoyed it. God alone knows what a relief it was to us to be out in the clear ground again & among the light & men.

We were about an hour here & then we moved on again. We marched about 3 miles & nearly into Albert & bivouacked out on an open piece of ground for the night. We just simply threw ourselves down & slept as we were, & to many of us it was the first time we had closed our eyes for 6 nights so you can imagine how we looked.

27th July. The Colonel lined us all up & for the first time in his life he reckoned we had done a marvellous thing — how he praised us up. He said we had now, by taking this Pozières Wood after the English had twice failed to take it, covered ourselves & Australia with glory, & we had upheld the old Gallipoli reputation in the grandest of possible ways & have quite settled the old favourite argument of a lot of critics that we could not stand heavy shell fire.

This famed Pozières Wood was a stumbling block in the way of our advance & had to be taken somehow so that’s how they decided to give us a chance to prove ourselves. To look at it, it is nothing more than a straggling line of trees all stripped of every leaf & branch they might have once possessed by the torrent of shells that had been poured into it. There was an odd orchard scattered about it & a small village or two in it. The German line ran round the edge of it, & inside it was all trenches & guns, a most formidable thing to tackle. The night of the charge the whole horizon was lit with the flame from the bursting shells & the air was charged with the sweet-smelling lachrymatory or tear gas, & also heavy with a sort of chloroform. A most uncanny state of affairs but it made no impression on us Kangaroos.

The roll was called out here & we had 350 left out of 1100 men who went into action. Myself & another Corporal were the only 2 N.C.O.s left in our platoon, while some of them had only a Lance Jack in charge. 6 officers were left, so we had lost our share, but the 5th Batt suffered even worse than we did for only 7 officers & 128 men turned up at the muster. Some going eh. We had lost the second heaviest then the 3rd Batt next. The others had all lost heavily too.

28th July. It was a very hot day, one of the hottest I have felt in France. We had a good long march but it is more of a pleasure than anything else in France for the country is so beautiful. All the crops are scarlet & blue with poppies & a pretty little flower about the same size as a carnation, & here & there we march through an archway of beautiful beech trees that completely shut the sun out.

It was about 9 o’clock when we arrived here, & shortly afterwards we had tea & went to bed. Soon all were asleep, thoroughly tired out.

29th July. What do you think of this for gameness. A poor chap was being carried out on a motor, his leg was smashed, both arms broken, & he had a nasty cut on his head, yet when he passed a lot of us he said, “What do you think of this. Walk in & get carried out in motor cars.” A lot of men would have turned it in right away, but our chaps are fighters in every sense of the word.

The march this morning was a very fierce one. We were unlucky for we had to march with full pack up & the other Battalions were in marching order & some in battle order. The distance was a little over 9 miles & the boys were as near done as it is possible for men to be. They just simply threw themselves down, thoroughly exhausted.

From where I am writing this it is a lovely little spot. I am sitting under a plum tree in a grassy orchard & the shade is bonzer. The name of this little village is Bonneville.

This afternoon I & a few more went looking for a little creek about a mile from here, so as we could have a wash. We found it & by Jove it was bonzer, nearly ice cold. There were a lot of Tommies there, & they reckoned the water was icy cold, & wouldn’t strip off & go in, but we lost no time about diving into it. They were surprised for they thought us being Australians we could not stand cold water.

31st July. Last night a most wonderful thing happened to me. A messenger came down & said that Capt McKenzie wanted to see me. I thought at the time that it was something about my second stripe, but when I got to him he told me the Colonel wanted to see me at Headquarters at once. What on earth is the matter now, I thought. I reported at once & the Colonel told me to wait a little & he would see me. There was another chap waiting there also & he had been sent round for the same as I had.

After a little time the Adjutant came outside & called me in. I entered & saluted the Colonel. He started to question me, & I was wondering what on earth he was driving at. When he had finished, he asked me if I would care to enter an Officers’ Training School. I nearly fell through the floor, as you may imagine. I thanked him for the offer & accepted it. What do you think of that for luck. When he had finished he said to the Major put him down for 3 months training. I was then dismissed. Just imagine my feelings if you can at the prospect of a rise like this: I seemed to be walking on air. I never dreamed of getting so high, & I made up my mind there & then that if I was accepted I would leave no stone unturned to make it a success, & all going well I will carry it out properly.

A small mail came in this afternoon. I got a couple of letters out of it & very welcome they were too.

Saw Ferguson again tonight & had a good long yarn to him. He is a fine fellow & a mate of mine. He is one of the old originals.

1st August. Another beautiful & glorious morning, not a cloud to be seen in the sky, & the birds are singing sweetly in the shady trees all around me. The world is not a bad old place after all.

2nd August. I think today the Brigade starts Divisional training, which will mean plenty of route marches & bayonet fighting.

Another beautiful morning, & everything is so quiet & restful after the trying ordeal we have come through. I am sitting on lovely green grass & clover fully a foot high under the shade of a fine old apple tree. In front of me the old & grassy orchard runs for about 200 yards & finishes up at the end of a reserve of beech trees & at the foot of the orchard runs a little clear river with plenty of fine trout in her. Every here & there little columns of smoke are rising up towards the bright blue sky showing where the boys are camped & are cooking their breakfast. I can see them sitting round about in the shade, & doubtless a good few like myself are silently contrasting the difference between Egypt & this lovely land. On either side of me are lovely crops stretching right away to the horizon & broken here & there by little clumps of trees & great long avenues showing where the roads are running. Above, all the birds are singing for all they are worth, & the sun shines brightly over all.

I can see the French women & girls at work in the fields, some reaping, mowing, hoeing, some at work with the teams helping cart the hay & clover in, others leading their cows home to be milked. It’s wonderful how quiet the stock are here. I suppose they have kept the same breed of cattle for so many years that quietness is bred in them. I would like to see the Australian cattle here where there are no fences. How long would you have them — not 5 minutes I’ll wager. They would be at the other end of France in no time from what I have seen of them. But the stock here are that quiet that they will hardly get out of your way & so contented & fat. Grass goes to waste here by the tons.

3rd August. There has been a bit of fun down in the south of France with our chaps in the lead. It started this way: the Tommies have charge of the camp, & they crucified 2 of our boys, that is to say they were stretched out both hands & feet & kept off the ground (that is a part of 1st field punishment). When our chaps saw this they got together, & gave the officer in charge of the camp 10 minutes to cut them down or take the consequences. They refused to do it, so the Australians about 300 strong rushed the joint, cut their mates free, & smashed the things to pieces. They then started to muck up, & smashed everything they came in contact with. They nearly killed the 2 Tommy Sgt Majors who were responsible for it, & the officers came in for a rough handling — one General had one of his eyes knocked out. All the Tommies cleared for their lives. They reckon our boys are demons but I reckon they were quite right. I’ll guarantee they will crucify no one while the Australians are about.

If you are in a big camp & ask a Tommy where the Australians are camped, he will tell you to go down the lines till you come to some fellows wearing big slouch hats & wristlet watches, & calling one another B—B—. They are the Australians, or Orstralians as they call us.

I believe it is very funny at the big concentration camp of Etaps. They are all Tommies in charge & our fellows lead them a dog’s life — they simply can’t stand their instructors. The Tommies say they will break our boys’ hearts but they have a pretty stiff job on. One or two of the instructors have learnt a pretty severe lesson already, & won’t come back to Etaps again. They are not drilling poor inoffensive little English lads when they have got our boys — just imagine some of the burly & rough boys from outback taking lip from some of them Imperial men. Why it’s like a lamb fighting a dingo. Of course all the instructors are not the same, & finer fellows you could not meet than a lot of them, but they have a few bullies there who have been at it all their lives & they think they can play the same game on the Australians. The English lads are amazed at the way our boys treat these bullies, & I am sure they regard the boys as wonders. It’s very seldom you will hear a Tommy say anything bad of an Australian, or our boys of the Tommies, with the exception of a few who are being taught a much needed lesson. They’ll not forget the Australians in a hurry I’ll wager.

4th August. This day 2 years ago England declared war on Germany. How it has dragged along since then. I wonder when it will all end, but there is no doubt about who has the upper hand now. Germany won the first 18 months of the dust-up, but what does it matter if we lose 49 battles & win the 50th & last, that is the one that counts, & the one which England always wins, & so it will be this time again. Germany is undoubtedly getting weaker & weaker, while we are, there is no doubt about it, getting stronger & stronger.

5th August. Got my second stripe today & am now a full Corporal. That’s not bad, considering it’s only 7 weeks ago since I got the first one.

It’s all over the place about me being recommended for a commission — the Headquarters Signallers let the cat out of the bag. Got orders to pack up & be ready to move off at any time, probably tomorrow, for we generally move of a Sunday.

6th August. Today is the anniversary of Lone Pine, the fiercest battle that was fought on blood-stained Gallipoli, & by far the most frightful of the 3 great dust-ups I have been in. There were trenches in the Pine where our own boys & Turks lay 3 & 4 deep, & on top of these we had to fight for our lives. When the fighting died down there was over a thousand dead men moved from this Hell, & it was no more than 2 acres in size, but a valuable position to have.

Church parade this morning, & it was held in a very pretty little place. Just imagine if you can a brilliant sunny morning, & us marching smartly down a fine road lined on either side by beautiful shady trees & a nice little river running alongside one row of trees, & every here & there you would pass quaint old French farmhouses with their tiled roofs, & pretty flower gardens around them. After a mile or so of this we come to the enclosure, where the service is to be held. It is no more than an acre in extent & like all the rest of France is beautifully grassed & clean. On 3 sides of this square we are walled in by bonzer green trees, & the other is bounded by the road & railway. As we march in our markers are ready, & we have formed up in 2 shakes. In a few minutes the other Battalions make their appearance, shortly followed by the Brigadier & the padre.

While the service was being held we could hear our boys practising with the machine guns — their sharp & snappy bark can be heard for miles — & aeroplanes were humming & droning over us, like a well-oiled sewing machine, while the church bells were mingling their mellow tones with the rest. Over all a great peace & beautiful sun was shining. The padre’s sermon was chiefly on the new phase the war has entered upon & the great name & fighting qualities of the Australians & especially our old 1st Division. He urged us to keep it going.

This afternoon we had a lot of Tommy clothing come in, but the boys practically refused to wear it. We all prefer our own Australian clothing, even though it may be all dirty, torn & ragged.

9th August. This morning we packed up & moved off from Halloy-les-Pernois towards the firing line. It was a scorching hot morning, & the dust was something awful — far worse than the marching, which was quite stiff enough for anyone.

We passed a lot of our artillery, & the 5th Brigade on the way back. They did not get the cutting up we did. We had a good long spell on the grass while the artillery passed us.

We are now in billets about 6 miles from Halloy.

10th August. This morning we left our billets in La Vicogne. It was just starting to drizzle, so the order was given for everyone to put their waterproofs on. I had none for I dumped it at our last billet on account of the weight, so I had to fall back on the old chaff bag, & she kept me as dry as a bone. It was a very stiff march & the roads were greasy & slippery, which made the walking anything but easy. We passed on our way through Herissart, a fair-sized village. Reached our destination, Louvencourt, & everyone was about knocked out.

Before we were dismissed, our officers gave us a lecture on how to behave & etc. It was of not much use for no sooner had they got their packs off than up the apple trees they went like monkeys & soon the apples were coming down in showers. This was forbidden fruit to the Tommies & they were afraid to touch them. They stood with their mouths open when they saw the boys rocking the apples, hardly able to believe their eyes. There was a garden close handy with peas & etc in her, they were not long in finding it; the same with the town, she was full of our boys. In less time than it takes to tell the Tommy police tried to stop us. I can see trouble ahead for them if they are not very careful, for the boys are not to be trifled with & are liable to do nasty things when once started.

11th August. I can see a row or two here if the Tommy police are not careful how they order us about. They, or I should say some of them, are very officious, & seem to take a delight in their rotten crawling cold-footed job. How the infantry hate these police for as the old saying has it: “They neither spin nor do they reap”. I reckon they make the boys play up & you can’t blame them.

16th August. This morning General Walker told us where we were going to: Etaps, the great Australian training camp, is to be our first stop & there we are to have platoons & companies to drill before going into the Training School. We are to have a 6 week course in the Old Country somewhere, & then if suitable will be given a commission. I am going to do my damndest to win mine for it is a chance of a lifetime.

18th August. Arrived at Etaps at 5 o’clock & had to walk 1½ miles to our camp & we were all very glad when we reached our destination. We were 36 hours doing 90 or 100 miles, what do you think of that. It seems funny to hear the bugles calling again after being away for so long from them.

Everyone down here knew that I had been recommended for the commission long before I got here. Len tells me Capt McKenzie told all the boys that I was getting a “star” & that he had seen that I had the interview with the Colonel before he left for hospital. I know for a certainty now that it was him that recommended me, & once he was my greatest enemy, but this old world is full of surprises, but this was the greatest shock of my life, for you don’t know how bitter we were to one another. Even now it has got me beat, for it seemed an impossible thing one time that he & I could be friends, or even on speaking terms, & now he appears to be my best friend this side of Australia. He admits now that he was led astray as regards to me & I am thankful to know that he was in a position at Pozières to see how thoroughly he was mistaken, for there I did what is known among the boys as a few of the “mad acts”, & was right among the thickest & fiercest of the fighting that was waged mercilessly & without quarter to either side by Teutonic & Colonial soldiers.

I shall never forget the mad intoxication one seems to be in at such a time. You see absolutely no danger & will do almost anything, for the roar of the guns is ringing in your ears, & you can smell the salty fumes from the powder stinging your nostrils, & this combined with the shouts of the boys & the peculiar & ghostly lights of the many coloured flares among which the green, white, red & blue stand out prominently, & under this tangle of coloured lights you can see Boches getting for their life. These are moments when I reckon a man lives 10 minutes of this & it seems to be at the time worth a year of ordinary life, but the reaction sets in afterwards & nearly all men feel a faintness come over them once the scrap is over & they realise what they have been through. This don’t last long either & you are soon itching for another smack at the rotten Hun.

19th August. Was at a concert last night given in the Y.M.C.A. & I could not help feeling wild at the injustice of things, for here were hundreds of men in the pink of condition loafing round about the camp & huts, while up in the trenches their mates were being killed & wounded in hundreds. Many & many a poor devil up there in the trenches was only fit to be in hospital but their indomitable spirit kept them where they were wanted, & you hear very few complaints from them as regards tucker & hardships, while down here they live like Kings compared to the men, & grumble & growl all day long (not all of them, you know, but the majority). How I would like to grab some of these malingering cows & shoot them fair into Pozières. They would have something to talk about then I’ll guarantee.

You should hear some of them talking about the terrible battles they have fought in & the men they have killed & rescued under fire. I dropped across one of these last night; he was holding forth to a mob about his doings on the Peninsula & Pozières. He did not notice me, for I knew all about him & his wonderful doings & so on. At last I could not stand it any longer, & I hops in & exposes him properly to the boys. He nearly fell through the ground & turned all the colours imaginable, what a shock he got. He was one of the biggest squibs imaginable. I’ll bet he is more careful next time he starts skiting.

21st August. All tents are struck this morning & everything packed up neatly. There is a big medical examination in the camp today. A lot of Australian troops have been coming through from Boulogne way. I think they must either be the 3rd Division or some of our new formations, & New Zealanders are also pouring in. We have been practising all the morning, & again this afternoon we were out drilling one another & detailing by turn. This evening I came out on my own to do a bit of studying. I had a couple of hours at it, & then the pretty scene in front of me claimed my attention.

I am sitting on a little grassy bank overlooking the sea for miles, & it flows right at my feet at the present time for the tide is coming in. Away to the west & towards old England the summer sun was setting in a bed of purple & golden clouds & the reflections it threw on the water were lovely. The fishing boats were all out with full sails up & they looked like huge white birds sitting on the water. To my left is the pretty little town of Paris Plage with 2 great lighthouses standing boldly out like sentinels of the deep, their snowy white appearance showing splendidly against the hills of green trees at their back. On my right is nothing but the coast of France (very sandy at this part) & the wide wide ocean. Behind me are the hills with the railway running at the foot, & the great military camps & hospitals of Etaps, also the town of the same name. It is principally a fishing place & many curious sights are to be seen when walking through it. On the flats below me a lot of our chaps & some Scotties are playing football, & about 100 yards from where I am sitting an elderly Y.M.C.A. man is giving the boys his weekly lecture on the French language.

It has been a lovely day today, something like an Australian day in early spring, just cold enough for us to keep our coats on & plenty of sunshine.

I have just counted an engine going past here with no less than 73 trucks & all big ones, & a troop train is passing her filled with khaki & guns, all bound I suppose for the Somme.

22nd August. All last night trains were passing in one constant stream, about half a mile between, & such trains they were, some of them half a mile in length. One train had nothing but enormous great howitzers & caterpillars on board, & thousands & thousands of troops went through & ammunition, aeroplanes, waggons & field guns, & small howitzers by the hundred. They must be going to make a mighty drive or something like that, for supplies of all sorts are simply pouring in. I heard some heavy firing early this morning up the coast towards Belgium, so I expect there must have been either a naval action, or they were bombarding the coastal defences of Belgium.

This morning we went up to the Q.M. to get our shortages. He was very snappy at first but when he found out we were going to an Officers’ Training School, what a change came over him, he could scarcely do enough for us. We got the best of everything he had, so tonight I have a clean change of clothing, the first for a long time, & how nice it feels to be clean once more.

There is plenty of nice cool clean water here, for a little creek runs quite close to us & I can tell you it is well patronised. There was sports here again today & the band was playing. The trains are still pouring through, all loaded with troops, guns & the various articles connected with the Army.

24th August. Today is the anniversary of my second year in the Army. I never thought it would last this long when I enlisted, but you can never tell how long it is going to last.

25th August. This morning we all had 5 minutes each with the squad & drilled them as we liked for that time. That took up over 2 hours so we had a fair length of time at drill. After we finished we went & had a swim in the mouth of the Somme. There is a pretty stiff current running in her, but the water was lovely & we enjoyed ourselves.

They are a fine lot of chaps with the exception of one or two who are inclined to be conceited & know all. They will learn a severe lesson I’ll bet before it is over; they will come what the boys call a “gutser”.

27th August. Sunday round once more & we are still here & kicking our heels with impatience at being kept so long at the Base.

This morning a few of us went for a walk round the beach, & got caught lovely in a sharp squall which sprang up suddenly from the south-west. We took refuge in the sand dunes but got pretty well wet to the skin. The sandy beach is a favourite walk with us, for it is very pretty & the salt air is bonzer & there are always plenty of “white horses” breaking round about the entrance.

Last night the M.P.s made a raid & caught everyone crossing the railway line without a pass. They caught 2 of our chaps among them.

We got the shock of our lives today. An order came along that we were wanted at the orderly room at 1.30. Of course we were all there to time, & many were the guesses made as to the reason of it. Some of us reckoned marching orders for England, others reckoned duties, but we were all a long way out as we were soon to find out. At last out came the orderly room Sergeant, & we were all lined up in expectation. He reads out the message form he is holding. Well of all the shocks as ever I got this was the heaviest but it was over in a minute & I looked at the boys’ faces. You would have killed yourself laughing if you could only have seen them, they looked so blank & idiotic. Well the result was that we all burst out laughing together. The message was that we were to return to Divisional Hqrs & so that ended our long-looked-for trip to England. I can’t imagine what we are being recalled for. It will be rotten if we have to re-join our Batts after going away with the expectation of getting a commission & putting in 10 days hard grind down here. I can tell you I don’t feel too cheerful tonight by any means. We are leaving here I believe on Tuesday morning.

This evening some of us went over & had a game of cricket, & got ordered off the ground by one of those cold-footed M.P.s who have never even seen a shot fired; however we went & saw the officer & he towelled the M.P. Sergeant up properly & so we had our game. The Canadians were having a game of baseball just close to us. It seems a funny game altogether to me.

28th August. We went for a stroll round the beach this morning & picked up a couple of dogs. We then struck out across the heath & went hunting for rabbits. The dogs put a few up & we had a bit of fun. We then went down to the beach & the tide was just coming in. It travels across the open sand very fast; we watched it come in breaker after breaker. We then stripped off & had a fine bit of fun in the surf with a big piece of pine that we found lying on the beach. We used it to shoot the breakers with & there were some nice busters to be had.

29th August. Got our marching orders last night & this morning we were up at 2 o’clock for we had to catch the early train from Etaps. A big draft went away with us & the camp band played us down to the railway station — it is one of the worst bands as ever I heard.

Left Etaps in big trucks about 5 o’clock & we soon reached Boulogne, where big batches of Tommies & a few Australians got out to go over to England. How we envied them, for we should have been with them by rights.

Our train ran at a pretty fair pace & we were soon in Calais, where we got some cakes & tea (we were very hungry for we had no breakfast). Once on our way we were soon in Hazebrouck, where we had to report to the R.T.O. He had orders to put us on another train, & so off we went to Poperinge, the renowned Belgian town. She is a good big place & shows a few signs of being knocked about by shell fire. Here we heard the guns again after an absence of a fortnight from them. I need scarcely say they were not particularly cheerful, especially in our present state of mind, for you can guess how we felt — didn’t give a cuss what happened.

We saw some of our chaps about here & learnt that the Brigade was about 4 miles out of the town. We had to report from here to Divisional Hqrs so off we started & had to march 4 miles before we reached her, & it just started to rain as we got there. We reported & after a little while we were taken to some quarters where we are to put the night in. After we had got our gear off we went into the little Belgian café where we had a good tea of bread, butter & coffee & eggs. The Belgian girls are very funny with their broken English.

30th August. It rained like cats & dogs all night, fully 2 inches must have fallen. We got up at 8.30, shaved, cleaned up & had our breakfast in the café. This morning we are to have an interview with the Colonel & we will know what’s doing but you can bet that we will return to our units.

It was about 2 miles to Hqrs, & after a few explanations we got orders to return to our units so off we went after saying goodbye to one another. The road leading to our Batt was absolutely horrible — mud 3 feet deep & water everywhere, for it had been raining pretty heavily for the last 2 days & nights & Belgium has a nice name for mud at any time but under the present conditions it seemed about the limit.

I was very glad I had not written home telling them of what I was up to but I believe Len did. All I hope is that that letter never reaches them for it will make them so disappointed, but no more than our little party. I suppose it’s no good getting down in the mouth over it, & I for one am looking on the bright side of things, but I can tell you I did not like the idea of returning to the boys for I am woefully thin skinned & sensitive, but you have to put up with a lot of disappointment in the Army.

However I reached the Batt & it was not so bad as I thought it would be, for the boys welcomed me back heartily. I am not skiting when I say that they think a fair bit of me, for I have always acted as fairly & squarely to all sides as it was possible for me to do & I am sure I have very few enemies. I reported at once to our orderly room & here I saw the Colonel & Major. They were surprised to see me, they knew nothing whatever of us being recalled, however the Colonel said he would make a note of it. I then reported to the Company & was put on the strength. Was handed out a fine batch of letters which I was very pleased to get.

31st August. This morning is a beauty after the rain & the sun is shining brightly & mud is drying as fast as ever it can. I saw the officer & got off parade this morning, & am now writing this in a fine Y.M.C.A. within 100 yards of our camp. You can buy apple tarts & etc in here, not bad is it.

All the Brigade men, such as trench mortar & machine gunners, have gone into the trenches & we follow them tomorrow so we will soon be in the thick of it again.

1st September. Cool & cloudy this morning & the country is drying fast — you can’t beat a fair wind to dry the mud. A lot of Tommies came into our camp last night. They are taking the huts over from us & we are going into the firing line sometime today.

Got off parade again this morning. I had a few stitches that wanted mending in one of my boots, so the officer let me off to go & have it done. Things are very dear in Poperinge; they know how to charge for things alright. There is some nice lace in there that I would have liked to have got but I was not quite financial enough.

This afternoon the Colonel had us all formed up on the parade ground & he gave us a good lecture against the gas which we are bound to get in the Ypres Salient, where we are going for a while. It is a very dangerous thing alright & we can’t be too careful about it for it has lifelong effects on a man if he gets a bad gassing.

2nd September. Just before we left our camp last night, a lot of Details arrived & Len among them — he schemed to get away with the draft. I wish he had stopped down below for he is far safer there.

We had to walk about 2 miles to the station or siding where we entrained for Ypres. Some style us, flying about in trains. The engine was behind the carriages & was an armoured one. The country we passed through showed the ravages of war, for practically every building about was razed to the ground by shell fire. The engine ran us slowly along & almost into Ypres. We got off, & a few shells were already flying round (they were bursting them in the town). At last off we started 2 deep & when we got into the town we found single file, for they are always dropping a few shells into her.

By Jove it seems a shame that such a bonzer city should have been destroyed. There is not a sound building left in her & the biggest part of it is level with the ground. The beautiful Cloth Hall of which we have all read & heard about is absolutely in ruins; only a few tall spires are left standing of what was once a magnificent pile. There is one thing that is very noticeable, & that is the streets — they are hardly touched & are just as good in many places as they were before the war.

We have men all over Ypres living in cellars & the majority have electric lights — it seems strange but true. Ypres is like a dead city for there is not a sound as you march through her, only your own echoing footsteps. Who would have thought a few years back that this Belgian town would resound to the steps of Australian soldiers marching through her streets.

Just outside Ypres runs the Yser & the bridge over her for a wonder still stands. We crossed this & made for the firing line. Everything about here shows the signs of hard usage & there are great shell holes everywhere in the roads, fields, the railway line torn up & such like — gentle reminders that shells hurt.

As we went along the German flares lit the whole country up & from these strings of flares we could see we were in a huge horseshoe, otherwise the Ypres Salient. It was round about the part that the Germans made their first gas attack on the Canadians & French on the 23rd April 1915. Although it was a great success in one way & killed thousands of men, it really was about the greatest blunder they have made so far in this war, for had they realised the effect the stuff would have on the men they would have concentrated a large Army behind them when they let it go, instead of the few reserves they really were able to throw against us. The result was that they gained a little ground, where if they had enough men they could have marched on Paris & nothing could have stopped them, for the gas practically wiped out all the men in front, for at that time we had no helmets of any description for gas was never counted on. Then Providence seemed to step in & for the next 4 months the wind blew towards them & gave the English & French time to perfect their helmets.

About an hour’s march brought us to the line we were to occupy, & there were great big dugouts ready for us, some of them lit with electric light but mostly officers’.

This morning I had a party at work building a place for our cooks to use — they are coming tonight. Bread & treacle is our tucker today, not too flash.

The Germans are throwing a fair bit of high explosive about on the roads this morning. Most of it is that yellowish stuff, “woolly bears” we call them.

Had a good cold bath this afternoon in a little creek that runs quite close to us. I saw some teal there this morning.

There are some large cemeteries around this part & they appear to be well looked after by the Belgians or our authorities, I don’t know which.

As I write this the Germans are shelling 2 of our aeroplanes for all they are worth but they don’t appear to take much notice of the shells that are bursting like white woolly fleeces all round them.

3rd September. We had no less than 3 gas alarms last night. You could hear the horns for miles & miles, they kick up an awful row, but each one turned out to be a blank.

There is great aerial activity this morning. Our chaps are busy shooting their anti-aircrafts at them & chasing them back over their own lines, & old Fritz is spouting up into the clouds hundreds of shells at our battleplanes.

Tucker is still pretty crook: a slice of bread & jam for breakfast only & no tea so far.

This is the place for rats & such wallopers; the place simply swarms with them. There was a mixed crowd out last night hunting them: 1 Staff Captain, 1 Medical Officer with a wooden leg the result of Gallipoli & a shell, some N.C.O.s & a swag of privates. They got quite a number — dug some out of their holes & got a lot more under old heaps of timber & duckboards. Each one was armed with a stick & pity help the rat once discovered.

They buried the first Australian in their little cemetery today. He was a 2nd Batt, Sergeant Archibald by name & he was also an original. By Jove they are getting scarce now. There’s very few will go home of the original 1st Div, that is those who have any length of service to their credit.

4th September. Had charge of a party of 15 men last night. An officer in B Coy brought 20 men up & took charge of the lot. We went up to the firing line & just as we reached it we had to “about turn” & go back about 300 yards & lie down on the side of what had once been a road, now a succession of waterholes which was, as you may guess, the result of German bombardments at different times. Into these holes we were constantly stepping, & to make matters worse the machine guns were playing all around & over us, for the Germans well know that we use the road of a night, however luckily no one was hit. We lay low for nearly an hour till the officer found his job. At last the Colonel came along as unconcernedly as you please & put us on the right track.

Our job turned out to be deepening an old communication trench running out towards no man’s land. It was in a terrible state for it had not been used for some time & was wet & boggy. During the night we dug up a dead man & he gave off a pretty high smell. We worked on this job till 3.30 with machine guns playing over us all the time, but they were harmless for they were shooting too high to catch any of us, though some of the trench mortars lobbed fairly close. There was fairly heavy fighting with the mortars during most of the night — the boys are never satisfied unless they are kicking up a stink. After coming home we slipped into bed & never got up till dinner time for we were all very tired.

Today is nasty & wet & we are going out again tonight. Len is on Battalion Hqrs. He has the guard & a good job it is, especially these wet nights.

5th September. The whole of C & B Coys were out last night & didn’t we have a time of it. It rained more or less heavily the whole time, & it was the fun of the world to see us all slipping all over the place into the shell holes nearly full of water, & sometimes on to the broad of your back in the slippy sloppy clay. We could not stop ourselves from laughing in spite of the rotten time we were having, & the night was pitch dark & the hundreds of flares that were going up only made matters worse, for when they do go out it is almost impossible to see, & the machine guns were playing all over the place.

Well we reached our job at last, & a nice one it was rebuilding an old trench that the Germans smashed to pieces on the Canadians in June. I took an outpost out in no man’s land, a pretty risky job. We were there to protect our men from surprise attacks by the Germans, for you know the trenches are not continuous & both sides have patrols out constantly. Already our boys have some scraps with them & rushed them out of some shell holes & craters. It seems impossible to hold Australians back; they will have a smack at anything.

About 11 o’clock we got a shock, for the Germans opened a terrific mortar bombardment on our trenches & they gave us particular Hell. You could count as many as 10 in the air at once & you can see them quite plainly for they leave a trail of sparks behind them & when they turn in the air they glow like red hot bulbs (the pace they travel at generates the heat). You can hear them coming down quite plainly & if the timing of the fuse is a little slow you can hear them hit the soft ground with a thud & dig right in. They are fairly harmless then for you have time to get away from them but I don’t like those that burst in the air or percussion, for they are very dangerous. Would you believe it, these bombs weigh no less than 180 lbs so you can imagine what kind of a row was on, especially when you add aerial torpedoes (a very dangerous weapon), hand bombs & rifle grenades & on top of this a few howitzers. It’s wonderful how men escape from being exterminated; it seems impossible that human beings can live in it. I’m afraid my nerves are beginning to give a little, but can you wonder for I have been through something that would make 99% of men go under & I can’t complain about them.

This bombardment continued for an hour & I was very lucky, for I had just got an order to join the Coy & bring my men in when one of these enormous “oil drum” bombs landed right where our outpost was stationed. Providence again I reckon, for had we been there it would have been goodbye the lot & we should never have seen Australia again, but there you are, luck again. The trench we were building came in very handy, for that practically saved us & I can tell you we hugged it closely. I don’t know what their object could have been for there was no method in their shelling. They shot their bombs anywhere & most of them fell — where from our point of view, where they all ought to go — out in an open grass paddock. That’s the place for them.

After it had all died down we resumed our work & knocked off at 2.30. We reached home thoroughly tired out & wet to the skin & soon all were fast asleep after a most adventurous night.

There is a rumour going round this morning to the effect that all those who took part in the Landing, Lone Pine & Evacuation are to have a distinctive mark on their colours, some say the letter A let into the colours. Both Len & I would be among the few to be honoured.

Our artillery has been going hammer & tongs most of the day, tearing it into old Fritz’s trenches & positions.

We have a small Y.M.C.A. canteen in our line of dugouts but the principal things they seem to have are candles & cigarettes. Now & again they get a supply in but it does not last long for they are soon sold out.

We lay in bed till just on dinner time for it was raining heavily all the morning & it still continues to pour down. A nice time we will have of it tonight, what oh.

6th September. Fell in last night in pouring rain, & just before we moved off we got an order to get into our dugouts for a while, but about half an hour after we were called out & went up to the work. We had to carry a lot of duckboards & hurdles with us for we were going to put down a floor in the portion of trenches we had completed. A nice job it was for there was easily a foot of water & slush in the bottom & the men had to work in this. We finished at 2 o’clock.

The 2nd Battalion got a nasty dishing up last night. Had 18 men killed including 2 Capt & 4 Lieut’s. Aerial torpedoes got them I believe.

The following is a parody on “Sing Me to Sleep” & is a great favourite among the boys.

Sing me to sleep, the bullets fall

Let me forget the war & all

Damp is my dugout, cold is my feet

Nothing but biscuits & bully to eat

Far far from Pozières I want to be

Where German snipers can’t pot at me

Think of me crouching where the worms creep

Waiting for shrapnel to sing me to sleep

Sing me to sleep where bombs explode

And shrapnel shells are à la mode

Or the sandbags behind me you’ll find

Corpses in front of you, corpses behind

This evening we moved from our dugouts to let the 2nd Batt in. We shifted round towards our Hqrs. The dugouts here are built under the railway line & are not much good for they are so crowded.

7th September. There was another great air raid last night. You could hear the engines whirring for hours as they passed overhead, & the Germans were searching the sky with their searchlights but they could not find them. What a time they are having over Germany way. They are beaten absolutely now but they won’t admit it as yet & again this morning another fleet of 27 went over. Didn’t the Huns tear it into them but the planes took absolutely no notice of it, no more than if it were a storm of eggshells they were shooting at them. They are cool alright are our airmen.

We are going into the trenches tonight, “supports” I think. Len took 3 men up last night to act as guides.

There are some water hens on a small lake quite close to us & now & again the boys pot one with the rifle.

Last night they caught a German sniper out between the trenches & a couple of Germans gave themselves up, full to the neck of it.

The Huns have been searching all day long for one of our batteries which is quite close to us, but they have done no damage.

Today has been a bonzer, nice & sunny. I hope it holds fine for our stay in the trenches.

8th September. Here we are again, back in the trenches & among the bombs & bullets. As soon as we got settled down & the 3rd Batt had filed out we started work. First I had a party cleaning out an old dugout for our cooks, for unlike the Tommies or Canadians our chaps are going to cook in the trenches & take their chance so as we can have hot meals. The others have always done without them while in these trenches for they reckon we will get blown to pieces if they catch sight of the smoke.

There are a few Canadians left here. They belong to the Mining Batt & are tunnelling under the German lines. They reckon the whole line is mined, Ypres to Armentières, & is almost ready to blow up. There will be something doing then I’ll bet.

Great big dugouts are being built along the line. They are about 20 feet deep & are big enough some of them to hold a hundred men nicely.

The trenches here are in a most disgraceful state. The Canadians don’t seem to have made any attempt to keep them up to the scratch. You can wade through mud & slush a foot deep & if you dig down you will come to duckboards & galvanised iron that they have let be swamped & in some places you can dig them up on top of one another. They never bothered about draining the trenches, so it is falling to our lot to put them in working order. This morning I had 20 men from 4.30 till 11.30 taking up these duckboards & cleaning the muck out & then digging a small drain to carry the water underneath the boards. This makes a good job of it.

The trenches are that close together that they sent a man back to the supports because he coughed too much & would give the position away.

9th September. Had a few big bombs over last night & at “stand to” 5 o’clock this morning, 3 of them lobbed quite close to my dugout. I have a pretty severe headache this morning from the concussion of the “strafers”.

I killed an enormous rat last night with a stone while waiting for the limbers. The place fairly swarms with the pest.

10th September. On fatigue with a party of men last night from 8.30 till 5 o’clock in the morning. We were deepening & sandbagging a trench running round an old mine crater. We were about 12 yards from the German trenches & had to keep fairly quiet or else we would have had a shower of bombs over.

Tucker is still pretty crook & just a bare existence. It takes a lot of hardships to kill a man. Since we have been in here we have not averaged 2 hours sleep per night & only 2 meals a day, & the men have worked fairly hard.

11th September. Went into the firing line last night & relieved D Coy. Things are very, very quiet about here so far, such a difference to the Somme. The only thing we have to contend with seems to be bombs & a few shells & snipers.

The Germans are about 75 yards away & we can hear them working away of a night, driving stakes, mixing mortar & etc. We are on the defensive here for the present, so as to allow us to get on with our work & get things shipshape for the winter, & the Huns seem quite satisfied to let things remain as they are, so it has developed into almost a neutral war, both sides saying the same: “If you don’t shoot, no more will I.”

12th September. Last night was very miserable for it rained off & on & we had neither cover nor dugouts to take shelter in but had to stand out in the mud & slush all the time.

Our artillery aided by some Belgian batteries have been pounding old Fritzie unmercifully nearly all day. There has been an almost constant stream of big shells howling & wailing overhead all bound for the same place: old Fritz’s lines. He made 2 attempts to retaliate but was forced to play second fiddle both times.

As I sit here on the damp & muddy firing step I can plainly see one of our planes hanging well to the rear of the German lines, observing all that is going on.

13th September. We were relieved last night by the 9th Batt & moved off from the firing line about 12.30. Had a long & tiresome walk of 4 miles or so to the railway. We passed through Ypres again & one could not help noticing the swarms of rats that infest the ruined city. Save for the echoing footsteps she is as silent as the grave & reminds one of a city that has been overrun by a big fire. Nearly all the buildings have the interior burnt completely out & only the walls are left standing & they all show great gaping holes where the shells have ploughed through.

Our train was waiting for us. We were about done & our feet were as sore as could be, for we had not had them boots off since going into supports & you might know that would not improve one’s feet any. This coupled with the loss of sleep & insufficient food made us feel anything but gay; however we were not long in reaching our jumping-off place, & from here we had to walk another 2 miles to our present billets (Devonshire billets). As soon as we reached them our cooks had a hot meal ready for us, fried bacon & tea, & I can tell you it went down well at 3.30 in the morning. After this we got our packs & blankets & soon were fast asleep. We did not rise till 11 o’clock this morning.

15th September. There is a rumour flying round tonight that this is the last mail we will be allowed to send away for 6 weeks so if that is true there must be something doing.

This time last year we were on Lemnos Island having our spell after our hard times on the Peninsula, & if I am not back in Australia by the time September comes round again I will eat my hat.

The 1st Battalion were specially recommended in Army Orders for the fine engineering work done by us in Ypres. I should think so for we worked day & night & we have some good men that know their work thoroughly.

16th September. I believe our aeroplanes are reporting that the Germans are withdrawing all their big guns from the Ypres Salient, & the night before last our guns waited on them & rocked it in hot & heavy where they knew they were. I hope they don’t evacuate their position before we get our mines off. When they do go up they will account for thousands of the squareheads.

They have got a very pretty little regulation in force now in the Batt. Whenever a man goes sick, & gets marked “medicine & duty”, he will have to do 1 hour’s extra drill per day. The object of it is of course to find the malingerers out & give them something to talk about but I’ll bet they won’t go near the Dr while this little regulation is in force. I have been terribly lucky so far as regards sickness for I have reported sick twice only since I have been in the Army: once at Tel-el-Kebir & I was sent to hospital, & again at Serapeum when I had those cracked lips & I was marked “exempt”. That’s not a bad record is it.

18th September. Last night I was down at the Y.M.C.A. where old Mac was holding a short service & sing song — the hall was crowded. The first time we were in Pozières they had to send him back several times from the front line for he almost insisted on stopping there with the boys, but they persuaded him to remain behind & then he used to run all sorts of risks getting wounded men in, & burying the poor chaps who had been killed. Nothing is a trouble to Mac & he will share his last penny with you. One of the finest men in the whole of the Australian Forces.

19th September. The big armoured cars, or tanks as we know them by, are all the talk at the present time. I believe they are fearful & wonderful things & are going to play an important part in this present war.

20th September. Another miserable rainy morning. The ground around is swimming with water & is that slippery that you hardly dare trust yourself on it. You have no idea what it is like.

This morning 1 N.C.O. was detailed from each Coy to go to the trenches, & have a look round. I was sent from our Coy & a nice job it was for it was raining heavily. We had to ride bicycles as far as Lille Gate, which is at the other end of Ypres, right on the edge of the moat. We went over to a little coffee stall which the Australian Comforts Fund has established. Many & many a man has had reason to bless this same little coffee stall, for everyone who passes through Lille Gate can have a drink of hot coffee or cocoa at any time of day or night for it is kept going all the while. I can tell you there are some deadbeat men call there at times, on their way to & from the trenches, cold, wet & hungry & hardly able to stand they are so tired, & a cup of hot coffee & a few biscuits works wonders in a man as I myself can testify. A Major Dexter started it & kept it going at his own expense till the A.C.F. took it over from him. One of the finest pieces of work they have done.

We picked up our guides & they led us to the 6th Batt Hqrs. We had to wade through slush & mud almost to one’s knees & the duckboards having no netting on them were as slippery as could be, & it was with difficulty that we kept our feet.

The Hqrs are in a big tunnel & here we got some runners. They took us to the respective portions of trenches which each Coy N.C.O. had to look over & a nice state they are in. Without a word of a lie you have got to plough through sticky clay a foot deep & in lots of places the duckboards are floating on top & when you tread on them down you go. Talk about a time. When we finished inspecting, we were wet to the skin & quite satisfied to make back to our bikes.

21st September. I saw today in a French paper that when we took Pozières the French cheered along the whole of their lines from one end to the other. That’s something for Australia.

22nd September. We are holding our sports this afternoon, & for a wonder the sun is shining brightly & things are drying fast. There was a free issue of beer down there today. You should have seen the rush when the beer was ready — some of them must have been nearly killed in the crush.

24th September. Sunday today & we held a Brigade church parade. We had to march about a mile along a very pretty little road, lined on either side by green hop fields & young growing crops. We formed up in a square in a nice little grass paddock where we held our sports the other day.

After the service was over General Birdwood told us of a great victory that had just been won by the Roumanians & Russians. He also said that he hoped the next time we went over the parapet we would be accompanied by some of these wonderful tanks. What a sensation they have caused, they must be a marvellous invention.

From where I am writing this I can see one of our aeroplanes thousands of feet high. Now & again she presents a beautiful sight for she strikes the rays of the setting sun & shines & dazzles like a piece of mirror away up in the clouds, & how gracefully she flits about, with a soft droning sound from her throttled-down engines.

26th September. At Ypres the different parties were sorted out, & off we went. My party was bound for the firing line, & of all the stiff & trying marches as ever I have taken part in well this was the fiercest we had. Everything we possessed including blankets, waterproof, plenty of clothing, food & 100 rounds of extra ammunition, I reckon the weight of everything to be nearly 80 lbs, & we had to hump this load over all sorts of roads, bogs, creeks, muck & everything imaginable for about 8 miles. During the march we halted only twice & they were very short. Oh we had a fine time & you could have washed yourself in each man’s sweat; our clothes were absolutely soaked through. This made us easily 16 miles for the day so you may guess how we felt. I did not care myself if a shell came & knocked me out I was that near done & there were scores more the same way, but the worst part was yet to come. We were going up the communication trench to the firing line. The trench was that narrow & at intervals of a yard there were wooden uprights to hold the sides in place & on these uprights our packs used to catch. Talk about pull, struggle & swear, well you should have heard us. I think this sort of thing is about the most aggravating thing we have to put up with & no one likes the idea of shifting about with packs up in the trenches. Well at last we arrived at our posts, & proceeded to take over from the 6th. We struck one snappy & know-all Sgt but I promptly shut him up & in front of his officer too.

As soon as we got our posts told off the men got their packs off, & what a relief it was for the straps had cut into our shoulders & stopped the circulation of the blood. They were quite numbed & had no feeling in them, however it soon came back, but it left our shoulders very sore. We took 4 posts over of 6 men & an N.C.O. to each.

Bright & early this morning our aeroplanes were up & over old Fritz’s lines. You could not see them for quite a long time for it was almost dark so they were losing no time.

Things were fairly quiet till near 2 o’clock then old Fritzie took it into his head to send some of his pet bombs over — the Minenwerfers — & soon got busy. Although they have a very bad name I would far rather have them than shells for you can dodge the Minnies. You can see them as plain as day for they are just like one of those great big oil drums that you will see anywhere, & you can both hear the report when they are discharged & see them coming over. They turn over & over in the air & go up hundreds of feet high & then fall anywhere for happily they can’t range them too accurately. I think they are more for moral effect than anything else, for they go off with an ear-splitting crash which makes the earth tremble for a long way round & will put the fear of God in a nervous man. They are just an iron case & the end which the detonator fits in is made of wood. They are very roughly made but of course they are good enough for their work.

27th September. From where I am writing this I can see Messines hill quite plain. It is a fine position for it overlooks the country for miles around, & about 200 yards behind me is the famous International trench, so called on account of its being taken & lost so many times by the British & Germans. Each side has taken it 7 times, but we hold it for good now I think. It fairly stinks with dead men; you can’t dig anywhere without digging them up. The ground, once disturbed, stinks like anything for it is rotten, a regular graveyard, & you can see feet sticking out almost anywhere, & of a hot day you have to hurry round the worst parts of it. There are a few thousand buried about here I’ll bet. The ground is like as if someone had dug it up about 6 ft deep & kept it stirred. You can’t dig a solid trench in it, you have to use sandbags for the lot, & it is nothing but a mass of shell holes & craters, but not as bad as the Somme.

I can hear the heavy firing quite distinctly down on the Somme & the vibration in the air is easily felt. Everything seems quivering.

Have had quite a busy day what with booking & inspecting all the firing bays & arranging for the supply of bombs & etc, getting the fatigue parties together, making a dump for the “crater snatching” party’s tools, cutting the barb wire into proper lengths for tonight’s wiring party & overseeing a lot of the little jobs & inspecting all gas helmets. I have had scarce a minute for myself.

28th September. D Coy had 1 man killed & 2 wounded last night on their wiring party. Dave Mason & I put ours out, & got in safely. These wiring parties look alright on paper but they are in reality dangerous jobs for you are well out in no man’s land & the trenches just here are very close — where Dave & I were working they are only 25 yards distant, so you have to work silently & quickly. That of course comes natural to a man after he has had a bit of experience at the game but I need scarcely add that you breathe far more easily when you are in again & the work finished.

There was a fair bit of sniping going on all last night from both sides. Put me in mind of Gallipoli for rifle fire is a rarity here compared to there.

The portion of trench we are holding is mined. The Germans have one under her ready to go off they reckon so we have only a few scattered posts along it. Hope it don’t go up while we are in here, goodbye if it does.

This morning Capt McKenzie called me down to his dugout as he wanted to see me, so down I went. He asked me about my commission, & I told him what happened. He said it would be alright, it would come later on, he would see to that, & he also said he would do his best for Len. What do you think of that. He’s some Capt, isn’t he.

Received our first instalment of dry socks this morning. From now on while the Batt is in the firing line every man is to have a clean & dry pair of socks issued to him each day. At the same time 1 pair will be collected from him. We are supposed to have 1 dry pair on, 1 pair in our pack & another pair getting washed & dried. This will enable us to always have dry socks, & we also have an issue of whale oil. The feet are supposed to be smeared over with this for it prevents frost bite to a large extent & anything that will do that is well worth using.

Things have been fast & furious this afternoon — talk about mortar bombardments, well we have had them — but for every bomb & shell the Germans shot over they got 6 in return quite easily.

Just at tea time the Captain came rushing in & ordered us all to get out of the line as soon as possible for there was going to be a very heavy bombardment at 5 o’clock, so out we all trooped to the second line & waited for it. She came alright & our guns & mortars crashed & roared & raged for full 30 minutes but the enemy, contrary to expectations, never replied so after the storm was past back we went.

29th September. Nothing much doing last night except now & again our artillery would cut loose & give old Fritz a couple of bad minutes. The shells would come like a thunderclap; one minute everything would be nice & quiet, the next nothing but a roaring crashing sound of bursting shells. This sort of thing naturally keeps old Fritz on the jump & gives him what is known among us as nerves, for he never knows when it is coming or where it will fall.

Just after “stand down” this morning I was on my way down to the International trench, on the lookout for some dugouts for my men, when I met Len on his way up to see me. Capt McKenzie had just told him that he & I had to report at Batt Hqrs at 8.30. So after breakfast we went down & after a little delay were interviewed by the Colonel. It was about the commissions & Capt McKenzie had recommended both of us for one. I previously had been interviewed by the Colonel & besides he knows me fairly well for he generally pulls up & has a bit of a yarn when he runs across me in the trench, so my interview was soon over. He asked me practically the same questions as before.

What a fine thing it would be if both of us could get our commission. I don’t care so much for myself but I know how all at home would like it to come about — wouldn’t they feel proud & it would be a very good record — however I am not banking on it as yet after my last experience of going away to a School of Instruction.

Today Len has been gazetted full Corporal & he should have had it long ago but for pure accident.

I have withdrawn my platoon from the firing line & am now in supports. We are still dropping bombs & shells on old Fritz & rolling his barb wire up lovely. They are making a good job of it.

As I sit here writing in my dugout our fellows have started a very heavy bombardment & things are very lively. The old dugout is rocking & swaying like a ship in a storm while our shells are sizzling past over my head & pretty low like lightning. All our men have been withdrawn from the firing line in case a shell or bomb might drop short, for they are cutting things very fine & just skimming our parapets. The Germans are pretty busy with their Minenwerfers but the majority of them are going over our heads, thank goodness. They are powerful brutes alright & make enormous craters & fling earth & timber hundreds of feet high.

30th September. Had my platoon out digging & repairing trenches which had been damaged by the bombardment of yesterday. We were supposed to work from 8 to 11 but about 10.30 we ran out of sandbags & had to chuck it so we had a fair night’s sleep for once in a while.

After breakfast this morning I took my men up to the firing line to work on a job of trench building & I’ll bet we done more work in this one morning than has been done on this same job for the last 3 days. The Capt reckoned we had done splendidly. When we are filling the bags we often get the bones & clothes of men that have been buried about here, & the earth positively stinks.

We have given them 2 more solid hammerings this afternoon & old Fritz hardly replied. The raid is coming off tonight so I expect we will have some fun.

1st October. Well last night the raid came off but an hour or so before they went over, we opened a heavy shell fire on the trenches to our left. It was very pretty to watch the flash of the bursting shells as they landed in the enemy’s trenches, some dull red, yellow, dark green & different sorts of colour as they flashed for an instant against the dark sky. There must have been a demonstration, for heavy rifle & machine gun fire broke out & continued for the best part of an hour & then gradually died down.

About half past 9 they sent down for me & I had to bring 4 men with me for “prisoners guard” so up I went & they gave me some more from D Coy. The raiding party looked very funny: they all had their faces blackened & no hats on, nearly all wore steel waistcoats strong enough to stop a bayonet & they carried short “waddies” to break their heads in with. They are a nasty-looking thing — there is a handle about 18 in. long & on the end of the “nulla” they have a steel head shaped like a cog-wheel something. One crack from that will settle any man.

Exactly to the second on 10 o’clock our guns opened & the raiders crawled out to the German wire & lay there & waited for the fire to lift — they were in the trenches while our guns were pounding them. We all waited anxiously to hear how they were getting on. At last came a wounded man, & shortly after the whole lot came in as cool as you like. They raided the trenches for a distance of a couple of hundred yards long, killed about 20 men, bayoneted 7 of them, & got one prisoner as that was all they wanted. They were bringing 2 back but one of them was so terrified that when they got him on the parapet he refused to budge so they shot him, for they could not afford to waste time over him. They reckoned the German trenches are a mass of craters inside, the result of our bonzer 60 lb bombs.

The most remarkable thing about the whole concern was the way old Fritz took it lying down. We all expected to get the tripe knocked out of us but to the surprise of all he only fired a few feeble old whizz bangs over & a dozen or so “pip squeaks”. It’s very puzzling to all of us how quiet he is keeping & all sorts of opinions are hazarded regarding him & movements, but my opinion is that he has had such a towelling up lately that he is satisfied to remain quiet rather than run the risk of an artillery duel with us.

Today is Sunday & this morning I heard the church bells ringing away beyond the German lines in some little Belgian town, waiting for deliverance from the German yoke.

2nd October. 8 hour day in Australia & I can picture the crowds going to the races & etc in our “Sunny land of the South” while here we are cooped up in our muddy & cold trenches & rain is falling falling as if it means to flood us out. But never mind, it’s not going to last for ever & there’s a “silver lining to every cloud”.

We got 32 reinforcements for the Coy last night, & 3 of them were hit on the way to the trenches, for they were unlucky that a machine gun fight was in progress. It’s a wonder more of them were not killed for they rake the tracks they have to come up pretty dangerously & you are shot at from all sides for we are in a big salient. Of a night time flares appear to be going up all around you, & you would think you were surrounded.

3rd October. Big top boots are all the rage today for the trenches are swimming in water & there is a foot of sloppy mud everywhere, especially in our communication trench & Hedgerow. It has been drizzling all the morning & things as you may guess are in an awful state, but the big rubber boots which reach to our thighs are waterproof so we can paddle away to our hearts’ content. To tell the truth I rather enjoy wading through the water — it puts me in mind of when we were kids & used to splash & play about in the water & thoroughly enjoy ourselves. But it is only autumn as yet & the weather, with the exception of the nights now & again, is fairly warm & mild.

I have been on the go all day long & tonight I am fairly tired for walking about makes one leg weary, for today I have been doing practically the Sgt Major’s work & my own besides. I have not had a minute scarcely to myself except at tea time tonight. 16 hours solid going, but tonight I am stopping in.

You should have seen our tea tonight. There were 4 of us at it: Jack Price (our present Sgt Major), Dave Murray (Company Clerk & a very nice & decent fellow), Len & myself. This is what we had: tinned rabbit (I suppose you will laugh when you read of us eating rabbit but I can tell you it is fine & very popular among the boys — a large tin costs 2½ francs), tinned butter, strawberry jam, cheese, tomato sauce, about 4 lbs of good cake & as much bread as we needed. This is one of the great differences between here & Gallipoli, for here we can get anything within reason at a reasonable price, while at Gallipoli you could get scarcely anything & if you were one of the lucky ones to snap anything you had to pay outrageous prices.

I forgot to mention we also had canned peaches & as much tea as we liked, so you can see we are not living too bad & we very often have the same amount. Everyone lives fairly well over here, for unlike the poor Tommies we are paid pretty well & most of the money goes into food.

You wouldn’t believe what a difficulty we have in keeping anything here for the rats. The place simply swarms with them, & they are so bold that they will scarcely get out of your way. They tear great holes in your blankets & eat your clothes & equipment, even while you are lying down in them of a night, & when you are sleeping they simply run all over you.

6 of my platoon had a pretty narrow shave this morning. They were camped in a little trench just behind the firing line (the Bean) & right close to them on the parapet was a big unexploded bomb so the officers thought they would try, if they could, to explode it with a rifle. The very first shot struck the detonator & off she went. The concussion from her knocked the 6 men flat on their backs & some of them had their clothing all torn by it, but the funny part was to come. Our artillery, hearing the bomb go off & not knowing the strength of it, thought it was one of Fritzie’s, so they at once turned their guns loose & gave him a bad 5 minutes & all the while Fritz was innocent & hadn’t even fired a “pip squeak”.

I fancy the weather will be finer tomorrow for the sun came out just before sunset tonight & I could see the blue sky. There is also a fair bit of a moon showing tonight, & the night working parties can easily do with it for it is rotten working in the pitch dark.

4th October. Weather still showery but shows signs of clearing up. Usual fatigue & working parties out on the various jobs that we have in hand, & I can tell you I have my work cut out of a morning getting them together for they are so scattered & the new hands are not used to the game yet. It takes them a terrible long time to get ready, & as for water they are always wanting it, they have not learnt to control their thirst yet. All the old hands never touch water unless they absolutely need it & a man is much better for it, for you never know when the time may come when water is unprocurable & you have to go without for 2 or 3 days (I have done it before today). That’s when it hurts the heavy drinkers.

This afternoon the Germans gave us a lively 20 minutes. It being a dull day they took advantage of it & run an armoured train along & gave us some of her 5.9 “bucksheesh”. They knocked about 20 yards of our trench right in & filled it to the top. Otherwise no damage was done.

5th October. Last night I had a party of 20 men repairing the blown-in portion of trench, & we had just nicely started when old Fritz opens a pretty heavy bombardment with every class of gun & explosive he has. I can tell you things were pretty willing for the next couple of hours; you could hardly hear yourself speak for the roaring, crashing shells & bombs. Most of the fire seemed to be on A & B Coys but we got the backwash of it. Pieces of red-hot steel & iron were constantly digging in all around us & the steel helmets saved many a man from a nasty crack, for these small pieces hit with some force. Our guns, especially the Belgian battery of 75s, retaliated hot & strong & we had the last say, blazing away a good 15 mins after he had ceased fire. I don’t know what his object could have been but I think it was on account of our mortars — they have been punishing him pretty severely of late.

It was the newer reinforcements’ first baptism of fire & it frightened the life out of some of them while others seemed to enjoy it like a huge joke; however we got it finished about 11 o’clock & just as we were knocking off the Major & Capt came around to have a look at how things were getting on. They reckoned I had made a good job of it & were well pleased. The Capt said we need not “stand to” this morning so we had an extra hour in bed.

This morning I hear that the reason of the heavy German bombardment last night was that they were withdrawing a Division & were sending them to the Somme. I pity them, but if they thought this ruse would succeed they evidently were greatly mistaken for our guns were shelling away beyond the lines & on to their lines of communication, & in spite of the violence of Fritz’s shelling he only succeeded in wounding 2 men in our Batt. But it is no good saying one thing & meaning another. The Germans are not as good marksmen as the British. They may have been better perhaps at the beginning of the war, but no, not now.

This afternoon the Germans fired a mine under a portion of the 15th Battalion’s trenches & wiped about 20 of them out. We distinctly felt the concussion down here where we are, but we heard no report, only felt the ground tremble like an earthquake & rock for an instant or so.

They also raided the 16th & broke in & captured about 7 but they paid very dearly for it, for the ground was littered with their dead as they were returning so they got nothing out of it.

6th October. Last night I noticed a big circle round the moon, a pretty sure sign of coming rain & miserable weather. I hope it holds fine for a few more days so as to allow us time to get out. So far the weather is nice & mild bar for the rain, but we have struck no cold as yet & I don’t think we will before November. After that I’ll bet she’s a freezer.

Since we have been in here we have received a fair lot of reinforcements, so that now the Coy is fairly strong again which is much better, for it lightens the work all round.

At present there is a lot of talk among the boys of the coming Referendum & Conscription in Australia, & from what I can make out, it seems to me that Conscription won’t have such an easy win in the Army as a lot of people think, for there is a mighty big opposition to it over here. Most of us seem to think that Australia has contributed quite enough men for a young & growing country; it does not do to take all the men away. Of course we would all like to see the shirkers & etc roped in & made to face the music — no one has any time for them — but half of them would be useless & would be a nuisance to everyone.

Just behind my dugout we have 4 × 240 lb mortars built in ready for action, but they don’t care about firing them — they reckon they made too big a crater, when we attacked at Pozières. They put 7 over all at equal distances between our trenches & the Germans’ (they were for the men to take cover in between the rushes on the way across). The men got in them alright but they had great difficulty in climbing out for the next rush, & no wonder for the average crater from these monsters measures something like 30 ft across & is easily 12 or 15 ft in depth.

7th October. Yesterday evening Captain McKenzie, Jack Price & I reconnoitred a piece of open ground at the rear of our firing line, over which we were going to cut a communication trench to reach the International by a quick cut in case of attack. We were quite exposed to old Fritz, especially in one place & here he had 3 shots at us, but he must have been a poor marksman for he never hit any of us & we were not more than 300 yards away from his trenches. After having a look at what had to be done this evening back we went, & reached our lines safely. The ground is just a mass of great shell holes so we are going to join them together & when completed it makes a good trench. There is grass out there up to your knees, for no animals except rats have grazed on it for the last 2 years I’ll bet.

Received my pay book back from England this morning (it was being audited).

Some letters arrived for me last night. Some of them make reference to my photos — they reckon I look pretty crook & show traces of the hardships I have undergone. Hanged if I know, they seemed alright to me when I sent them, however they have caused Len & I a good bit of amusement.

The 3rd Battalion are taking over from us & we are shifting into reserves this evening as soon as it gets dark enough, having completed our 10 days in the trenches.

I am writing this sitting in my dugout, having just come off duty & I have a few minutes to myself before tea. Len & Dave Murray are playing draughts on a cloth handkerchief sent me by Mrs Mitchell. It was a very handy little thing & not a few get a bit of amusement out of it, & while away some slow hours. I don’t get much time for it myself, though I can’t say that I am fond of the game — Bridge is the game I like to play. Len & I as partners take some beating at it too.

The guns on the Somme can be heard very distinctly today, so I expect we are making another big attack down there on that once beautiful but now shell-torn & ravaged part of lovely France. One can never forget it, La Belle France.

8th October. I had a lovely experience last night. I had charge of the last party that moved off from our old positions at 8.30, something like 60 men — not a bad swag for a Corporal to look after. Well on the way down we had to follow a tramline a part of the way, & down both sides of the line there are great holes 3 parts full of water made by old Fritzie’s shells. This little line is our means of bringing nearly everything to the firing line & all night long it is crowded with trucks going both ways.

Well as luck would have it just as I was passing one of these big waterholes a truck, or something, hit me & knocked me head first in. I fairly dived into it with everything I possessed, full marching order, rifle & all. I went under right out of sight & I had some difficulty in rising for I was heavily weighted, & when I came to the surface I found that my rifle was at the bottom so down I had to go after that & scoop it out of the soft mud. What a nice weapon it looked — the Germans need not have been afraid of me if they had attacked me with a rifle like that. To my surprise the water was not the least bit cold (I thought it would have been freezing). I was in a beautiful state, green slimy weeds hanging all over me & water running off like a wet rag. I thought my watch & fountain pen were spoilt but neither of them were hurt, though nearly all my papers & letters were spoilt.

I felt that disgusted & wild with myself that I never uttered a single word, never swore once, not that I don’t swear, oh no, but I felt that full up, too full in fact for words; however the night was fine & by the time we reached our dugouts nearly 4 miles away I was beginning to get dry, & as soon as I got the men sorted out & fixed up I turned in & changed my clothes. Dave Murray lent me a clean flannel & I had underpants & socks so I was pretty right for the night.

Pay-day this evening & the boys are all buzzing around.

About 200 yards to the rear of us there is a Belgian battery & this morning I heard the battery commander giving the ranges. They kick up a nice row.

9th October. I have been busy writing letters all day today, for one of my mates is going to England on leave in a day or so & I am getting some ready for him.

Where we are camped now is right among the guns & tonight they had a bombardment & they were roaring all round us, 75s, 18 pounders, 6 inchers & all the rest of them. One of our aeroplanes was directing the fire, & Fritz was firing at him like mad with his machine guns, but the plane took no notice & kept on flying close in & signalling the effects of the hits & etc.

Tonight we tapped a German wire & got a message to the effect that they were going to blow a mine up at 6.15 but they did not state the date, so all the men this evening have been withdrawn so if he sends it up it won’t do much damage.

I hear tonight that General Birdwood has gone to Salonika. Does it mean that we are going there or has he left us? I hope not the latter, & besides none of us has any desire to leave France to fight — she will do us.

10th October. Early rising again this morning & we were away by 5 o’clock, on our way to Chester Farm & from there to the crater that we hold. A mine was the cause of it & you should see the gaping hole it made in the ground & the earth is thrown up all around like a small mountain. The whole concern is shaped like a basin & is easily 70 feet deep, & from one place on it we have a bonzer observation post. Yesterday they could see hundreds of Germans at work behind the lines — of course they never got shelled.

As we were coming across some open ground this morning, taking a short cut for it was not light enough for the Germans to see us, we saw hundreds of partridges & some beautiful pheasants, fine big birds. This war is giving the wildlife around the war-affected area a good chance to breed, for the place is rapidly growing wild & young trees are springing up all over the place & scrub & long grass are taking possession of the paddocks.

Just down close to our Hqrs there is a peculiar sight: a big German shell sticking in a tree & a good half of it is hanging out. It must have been nearly spent otherwise it would have gone right through the wood.

We were caught nicely this afternoon in the trenches for the Germans started to shell heavily the very exact place we were working in & things were far from pleasant for some considerable time. A couple of men were killed & a few wounded & some big dugouts were blown right in. Our guns replied to their fire & things were what you would call mixed for a while.

There were some Staff officers through here at the time having a look round & our Colonel (now Acting Brigadier) was among them. My word he is a fearless man. How he has not been killed long & long ago beats me, for he would not dream of sending a man where he would not go himself. We have never had a Colonel like him before & he has made the Battalion what it is today: one of the finest in the whole of the Australian Forces, if not the best, for believe me the 1st Battalion has a fine name & record & we are taught to live up to it, first in name & first in everything else.

In many ways it does not pay to have a good name, for so many hard & difficult jobs are given to you simply because of your record, & we are then honour bound to make a success of it or perish in the attempt. This sort of spirit is beginning to make its appearance in the Battalions of the 1st Division & they are struggling one against the other to show the finest performances. This is what all Armies should be like & have plenty of the regimental spirit which makes one think his own particular regiment is the very best & he for one would never disgrace its name.

All the English, Irish & Scotch troops have these sort of things to look up to but Australia, being a new country, had none previous to this war. Now she, or rather the 1st Division, can look up to such battles & fights as the Landing at Gallipoli, the Cape Helles Charge, the 19th of May, the terrible Lone Pine battle & the struggles on Sari Bair. Then we come to France & the greatest battle of all, the charge on Pozières, which belongs to the 1st Division entirely, & our Battalion was one of the Batts to lead the charge & my humble self was one of the first over the parapet & into no man’s land. After us came the other Divisions & they all done very fine work but the honour of the charge belongs to the good old 1st Division, & they have never failed yet in anything they had to do, nor lost an inch of ground once gained.

What made the capture of Pozières all the more creditable to the Australians was the fact that the English had 3 times before assaulted this stronghold & the longest they held it was 2 hours & they were then driven out. When we went over there were any amount of English dead lying everywhere, showing the slaughter there was for the place, but in spite of their thousand guns & their attack they never shifted the Australians.

I’ll never forget how pleased the English & French were when they knew for certain that we were holding Pozières firmly & were actually advancing. English officers bought beer & cake & etc for the boys — in fact they would do almost anything for us — & the French, although we could not understand them, showed their delight at the Anzacs’ success. They used to say, “Anzac bon, plenty Anzac finish Allemand,” which meant that if we only had enough Australians we would wipe the Germans out, & it is a fact that when we captured Pozières the whole French line cheered right from the Somme to Switzerland. Australia’s name was made that day with both French & English soldiers, for they had proved themselves even better than their Gallipoli reputation led them to believe.

11th October. Had all the men cleaning up around the dugouts this morning for there is to be an inspection this afternoon by the Colonel, & he is very particular. Also took all shortages this morning for the very latest is that we are going down to the Somme but before we go we are to have some training in street fighting & etc. I thought we would not be along without something like this turning up for we are nearly full strength again.

We are living pretty well just at present, plum puddings, cake & etc being the order of the day, for we have a bonzer canteen & they supply us with plenty of money.

This evening we had a nice game of football, officers & all had a go. Funny you know, football about 3 miles behind the lines. It was in a nice little grass paddock all among the guns & howitzers.

The Belgians are bombarding heavily tonight, & the air is all quivering with the vibration from their guns.

12th October. Up again at 4 A.M. It is surprising how warm the mornings are just at present — why I never have my tunic on until it is time to fall the men in. I thought by this time it would have been freezing & to all of us it has been a most agreeable shock.

At the present time “two up” is very popular among the boys — they play it every opportunity they get. Some of them win large sums of money & many others go broke, but it is no use trying to put gambling down in the Army for they will always find some way or other to gamble & two up is I think about the fairest.

We were relieved tonight & just as we moved off all the guns around us opened fire on the Huns’ trenches for we were sending over raiding parties. The noise from the hundred or so guns nearly deafened us for it was one continual roar, & the ground shook & trembled from the continual concussion. Vivid red stabs of flame were darting out from the most innocent-looking places you could imagine — it’s perfectly wonderful how they can hide a gun, why I have almost walked on top of them without knowing one was there. We walked right through the middle of them & in some places we were that close that you could feel the hot air of the gun on your cheek & the report would almost seem to lift you off your feet. We could hear the shell quite plainly as it whistled over our heads, on its way to the German trenches. It was a fine sight, to look up there, where the shells were bursting in one continual blaze, which combined with the many coloured flares made the scene quite a brilliant one — that is of course from our point of view, it must not have been too nice for those in the trenches.

This fierce bombardment lasted exactly 10 minutes, but during that time many & many a German met his death, for the boys had been over, & they reported that the German trenches were half full of dead men, & they accounted for what was not killed by the shells.

14th October. Up early this morning for we are moving on again. We marched out punctually to time & skirted Poperinge with its tall towers & spires showing up nicely against the clouds. We walked steadily on, spelling for 10 minutes after each hour of walking. The roads were in fine condition & the weather cool & I think it was one of the best marches we have done, for practically never a man fell out during the 12 miles & that is pretty good considering we were carrying everything we possessed.

We finished up in Steenvoorde. After we were billeted we bought some coffee off the old dame at the farmhouse. Len came up & we went into the town with 2 or 3 more for we were all longing for a good dinner. We went into a butcher’s shop to buy some sausages, & we took a turn for the French girl on the sausage machine, for it was pretty heavy to turn & a soldier always likes to help a girl. We took our sausages to a shop & here we had them cooked. Our dinner when served up consisted of 3 big sausages per man, the other 3 had 4 eggs each for I never touch them, about a pint & a half of tender green peas, potatoes, bread & butter, coffee & custard & fruit (peaches). The bill was very reasonable, 13 francs for the lot.

It was funny down in the town tonight to see all the boys ducking in & out of the butcher shops buying meat for a good feed, for we were all more or less meat hungry & practically the whole Battalion was in, & against orders too.

15th October. Sunday is round once more & when we rose this morning at 5.30 it was raining heavily, but it turned out to be a shower only.

We started off in high spirits, & everything went well for a long time. We went through some of the loveliest country as ever I have seen, it lay between Steenvoorde & Cassel. We gradually climbed a fairly steep hill with very sharp turns, & lined on both sides by beautiful rows of trees, some of them a great height. We looked down on the lovely valley which sloped away to the north-west almost as far as the eye could see & gradually opening out into a vast alluvial plain of whose richness one could have no doubt once he looked & saw the rows & rows of newly harvested stacks & other young crops already beginning to get green. As we got further round there was an even more beautiful sight, for in the distance less than a mile away built on the slopes of a hill was a fine little town (Cassel) & an old square-towered church was plainly seen. We could hear the chimes of the old church bells as we slowly plodded on, for it was church time & the French people were all on their way, dressed in their Sunday best. I’ll bet the old bells recalled many & many an old-time memory, of other days when we didn’t always carry rifles & dress by “the right”.

As we slowly followed the winding road around this pretty hill, we gradually climbed on to a ridge which led up to the town, & you could look down on both sides on some of the most beautiful scenery as ever a man could wish to lay his eyes on — nothing but little clumps of pretty trees & green crops & beautiful grass, & talk about flowers, they were there of every possible hue & variety: chrysanthemums, dahlias, roses, pansies, daisies. I never saw the like of some of them, they were simply beautiful.

All along the roads the hedges were smothered with blackberries & they were hanging dead ripe within reach of us as we marched along. Needless to say we made the most of our opportunities, & the blackberries suffered.

The Germans had been for a short while round this part, for I saw the marks of their shrapnel in several places, notably on the gasometer.

We were bound for Noordpeene & quite naturally lost our way & marched nearly 4 miles out of our track. Didn’t we swear when we had to “about turn”, for we were foot weary & tired for we had already marched 12 miles, however we reached our billets in time. The space they had allotted for the Coy was not half enough so there was more trouble, but this was fixed up eventually. We then had a feet inspection, & after that all the platoon commanders with the exception of mine shouted beer for their men.

16th October. Len & I slept in an old waggon last night for the barn was crowded, & we both prefer when possible the fresh open air. The night was lovely & starry till nearly 3 o’clock when we had a sharp shower, but we never shifted, only drew the blankets over our heads & let her rip.

Had a bonzer game of football before moving off, for everyone was in fine spirits & the morning was absolutely grand with just a tinge of winter feeling in it.

We moved off sharply at 8 & had a little shower of hail, the first I have seen in France. We marched through beautiful country for hours & hours, & 2 places in particular I will never forget. One of them was when we climbed a long ridge & saw through the great gap between the clad hills one of the loveliest panoramic views of the country as ever one could wish to see. As far as ever the eye could follow right away to the horizon, which must have reached nearly to the coast, there stretched endless miles of lovely green country covered with trees & big towns & villages all over it. They showed up splendidly for the sun was shining brightly which set their white stone walls & red tiled roofs off to perfection, but the “masterpiece” was to follow for we were gradually climbing a rise.

At last we reached the top & nearly everyone was startled into an exclamation, for the scene that lay in front of us beggared description. Right at our feet a fine wide river was flowing & houses were built all along the banks, & canals & lakes were to be seen everywhere. The town of Watten is situated here, & the surrounding country could be followed plainly with the naked eye until it lost itself in the distance. Everything looked to have a lovely colouring over it & so green & restful, & cattle, sheep & horses were grazing peacefully all around us. Behind us & on the top of the hill set in a clump of nice trees there was a fine old castle. I could have looked on the beautiful landscape for hours, & I was so wrapped up in France; however I was brought back to earth by a basket of French cake & biscuits being thrust under my nose by a little French girl, & these were very welcome for I was very hungry.

The Major let us rest here for nearly half an hour. He recognised the beauty of the place, & gave us the full benefit of it. From here the road led down a pretty steep hill into the town itself, where the French or should I say the Flemish people were all out to see us march through their pretty little town.

One thing is very noticeable in most parts of France & that is the lovely lace curtains that are in the majority of their windows — they do look nice & homelike. Oh she is a lovely country, the more I see of it the better I like it, for it forces the beauty of itself upon you. I can quite imagine why it is that the French are so patriotic a people & well they need to be, for they have surely one of the loveliest countries on earth for their birthplace.

Well we finished up our march just on 2 o’clock, during which time we covered 16 miles in full marching order — pretty good going. As soon as we got our packs off the football was produced & we had a rare rough & tumble game for nearly 3 hours. Now what do you think of that. Yes, it is true & I was about the first one out. We played in a lovely paddock of green grass where if you fell you couldn’t hurt yourself. 2 of our officers came out & had a scramble with us.

There are some magnificent walnut trees where we are billeted. Some of them must measure 60 feet across from one side to the other. They are loaded with nuts & the boys have been knocking them down all the afternoon.

17th October. This morning we rose fairly late for all were very tired after our trying 3 days march, & I was stiff & sore all over, from the effects of the football after the heavy march. The morning was a beauty: sun shining brightly, birds singing, & ducks, fowls, cows & pigs all kicking up a noise outside. It reminded me of the old farming days. What a country of contrasts: the firing line & then the lovely country behind. Oh how I would like some of my people to see this country. I am sure they would love it as much as I do for it is so beautiful, & I believe every man is better in his heart for seeing & living in it.

We got a lot of lollies this morning from the Comforts Fund.

We are all filled with hope, for this afternoon Mr Yates told me that we would be moving on again in a few days. I asked him if we were going to Blighty but he only laughed & said he could not tell, but everyone seems to have it in their heads that we are going to England or Salonika.

We are camped at present in an old barn & are sleeping on straw. It is bonzer & warm, quite a change to the cold & muddy trenches.

The boys are in great spirits tonight & Len is one of the ringleaders in the rough & tumble that has been going on: “no man standing”, cockfighting & etc. This rough play has been taking place in a good lump of an empty bag well covered with plenty of straw. It is too thick for anyone to get hurt very much on it.

Rain has set in tonight, but we can’t complain for we have had quite a stretch of fine weather. We all had cocoa for tea tonight & it was bonzer.

18th October. This day 2 years ago we sailed out of Sydney Harbour on the old Afric, & of all those hundreds of fine men who left the Sunny South on that day there remains but a mere handful. It looks very much as if one of our chaps’ words will come true. He said when we left that we would be able to bring all the men who were leaving with the 1st Div back to Australia in a rowing boat. How we all laughed at the idea but unfortunately it is fast coming true. There are but 4 left now in my old original Coy H. I wonder what a fellow would have said if he were told when we left Mena that he would be one of the 4 lucky ones who were to be spared.

19th October. Went for a fairly long route march this afternoon & they made the pace a cracker. After coming in off the march I issued out the clothing & etc I had requisitioned for a few days back. The trousers & tunics were what the boys call “Tommy Stuff” & you have no idea how we hate to have their clothing issued out to us. It is only natural that we should like our own distinctive uniform best, & all like to look like Australians. You should hear the boys performing & swearing. Some of them refuse to have anything at all to do with it; they prefer to wear their old Australian uniform, till it almost falls off their backs, rather than wear the English uniform & quite right.

Tonight is the night for rumours. Each one that comes in has a different tale to tell. Some say we are going to the Somme, some Salonika, some Blighty. Others think Arras, which looks to me the most likely for I see by the papers that there have been very heavy bombardments down there lately & that’s a pretty healthy sign of coming battle in that quarter, but it don’t matter much I suppose for wherever we go there is bound to be plenty of strafing.

21st October. Well here I am sitting up in my bed which is in an old house. My platoon are occupying one of the top floors & we have straw & our blankets, & by the Holy Moses we want them for we have been, & are yet, nearly frozen to death.

We left St Omer last night about 5.30, & in a few minutes after leaving both doors were shut tight for the sun had set, & the gentle breeze which was blowing cut like a knife. Soon all overcoats were out & the boys all lay closely together to keep the warmth in. During the night we passed through Calais, Boulogne & Etaples. At the latter place we heard the bugles sounding the “Last Post” as we went through. A lot of the boys thought we were off to Blighty once we got down in this part but I was not deceived for I guessed they were taking us the roundabout way, for what reason I don’t know but I suppose they have it all worked out.

This was one of the coldest nights I ever experienced — it was on a par with my first night under the pyramids in Egypt. I nearly froze to death, my feet I could not feel, & try as we would we could not get warm. You should have heard the language, but all the swearing never stopped the frost or cold so we had just to grin & bear it. We are now beginning to get the cold weather — how we are going to stand it when the snow & hail come along I don’t know. I’m thinking it will put half of us out of the running. We shivered & our teeth chattered all night long.

We arrived at Longprenz just as day was breaking. Here all got out of the trucks & fell in. I was that cold that I could hardly give my orders; my voice sounded like a drunken man’s, thick & unsteady. Soon we were on the move & our footsteps sounded like a rapid tattoo on the hard frost road. We all had our packs on over our overcoats & in this way we walked miles & miles before we got our feelings back again, & if we stopped for more than 10 minutes at a time we nearly froze. About 7 o’clock the sun rose, but even though the sun shone brilliantly there was no warmth in it. Oh how we all longed for the good old Australian sun. They said when we started out that we had 7 miles to walk but it turned out to be nearer 10, & I can tell you we were nearly done when at last we sighted our billets. We had to go down a fairly steep hill into it & a couple of the boys got nasty cracks from slipping on the glassy surface.

Some of the country looked lovely as we came through, with its mantle of white lying all over & the sun shining on it all. That is of course if you cared to look on the beautiful as it appeared, but the majority had no time for anything like that, they only thought of the cold.

23rd October. This morning turned out a little warmer than most of them, & a good job it was for we were moving at 6.45 & all was hustle & bustle to get things cleaned up & packs ready by that time. The sun was just rising as we marched out of Brucamps. They reckoned we had to march a mile to the place where we were going to catch the buses, but the military miles are notorious, & this mile turned out to be nearly 3. At last we struck them, all lined up along the road, there must have been hundreds. These buses shifted the whole Brigade at one stroke, something like 4 or 5000 men a distance of 30 miles.

We passed hundreds of German prisoners working on the roads & railways. Some of them were fine-looking men but the majority were miserable-looking specimens who seemed only too pleased to be safe. I saw several of them driving traction & oil engines.

We reached our destination about 5 miles from Albert about 2 o’clock. From here we had to pick up our packs to walk, & by Jove it was a snorter. We were bound for Fricourt 9 miles away & to me it seemed one of the hardest marches as ever I have done. We had had no tucker since breakfast so you can guess how we felt, & we were a very straggling tired lot that eventually pulled up at some long low huts where we are spending the night, 75 men to a hut. We can hear the guns booming away & the horizon is lit up with the flash of the guns.

24th October. We moved off this morning at 10 o’clock on an empty stomach for the rations did not turn up till after breakfast. The roads were in an awful state. Imagine if you can water, slush & mud over your ankles & in places to your knees, & us pushing our way through it, dodging motor cars, motor waggons, caterpillars, guns of all descriptions & size from the giant 16 inch down to the 18 pounders, & talk about horse transport, well there were thousands of them, carrying ammunition, hay, biscuits & bully, clothing, timber & etc, all going for their lives, & every now & then a lorry load of wounded would pass by us on their way to the hospitals, most of them looking rather pleased with themselves for they would stand a good chance of going to Blighty. It was one of the most wearisome marches as ever I have been on, for we were held up every few hundred yards by the heavy traffic.

At last we got on to the Bazentin Road which carried us nearly to Delville Wood, the place which cost so many men, & of all the sloppy dirty walks as ever I have been on well this one takes the bun. It was neither mud nor water but it was about the same thickness as cream, & as we went along we got covered with white mud from head to foot. Talk about a mess we were in, you would scarcely have known us, especially some of the boys who came gutsers & fell in the rotten stuff. Well we reached our destination at last, just back of Mametz Wood, which is still full of German & British dead. The ground round here is just a labyrinth of trenches everywhere you look. The Tommies had a pretty tough job to drive them out of here I’ll bet.

You should see the joint where I am writing this in. 3 hours ago there was mud 8 inches deep where my bed is, but having no dugout I set to work & scraped the rotten mud off, drove some stakes in & stretched my waterproof over it. I then collected what bags I could find & put them down. There are hundreds of us sleeping in the same sort of joints, for they have some room only for a few hundred men of each Batt & they are crowded in little canvas lean-tos. We are in reserve here about 5 miles behind the firing line, & there are great guns all round us.

Just opposite us the metalled road ends, & if ever I saw a bog in my life well it is here. All carts are double banked when they reach here, & you should see the struggling it takes to get through it. There is no water among this mud, just pure sticky clay 3 feet deep, & horses get stuck in it let alone waggons. Our boys were helping fallen-down horses up tonight. I saw one of our little machine gun carts which is drawn by 3 men stuck, & 2 horses & about 20 men had to drag it out. The traffic never ceases, there is one perpetual string of vehicles day & night.

About 200 yards from us there are great watering troughs, & of an evening it is the sight of a lifetime to see the never-ending strings of horses & mules going to & from the water. They reckon there are 12,000 horses or mules in this valley & I believe it. I pity the poor horses for they are bogged nearly half their time & they are covered with mud from head to foot. In this rotten rainy weather they look very miserable & they have to work very hard, toiling & struggling all the day long dragging shells, water, tucker & etc for the needs of the thousands of men who are engaged in this gigantic battle.

The guns never stop firing, & just at the rear of us there are some enormous guns & when they fire they fairly shake the hills. Trains are running everywhere up here; they are building the line as they advance.

25th October. Oh what a night. We had never a wink of sleep & nearly froze to death & it rained like blue blazes, so when we crawled out this morning we were wet to the skin & aching all over. A more miserable-looking lot of men you never saw, for the rain beat in on us all the night & the roofs of our waterproofs leaked & our overcoats sucked up the cold moisture from the ground. It’s a wonder to me how on earth men stand it, for the conditions are awful at present & show no signs of bettering, for the rain is still pouring down & we are like blocks of ice. Some of the chaps are lucky, Len among them, for they have decent dugouts. I have about 18 in. square of dry place where I am writing this, my blanket is sopping wet, my overcoat ditto, my feet & hands are almost beyond feeling & I have to do a bit of manoeuvring to keep the water off this book. Oh I can tell you I am writing under difficulties.

I have seen quite a number of the 53rd round here including a few of the old hands who joined it when the Batts were broken up at Tel-el-Kebir. Nearly the whole of the Australian Force is here & there is going to be something doing next time we hop over.

Saw no less than 46 aeroplanes up.

Although we are but 5½ miles from the firing line, the place at night time looks more like some big town with its thousands of lights & fires. It beats me as how the Germans don’t shell the place to pieces, for there is nothing to stop them from running a balloon up at night & they can see our lights & fires for miles.

26th October. Still alive & kicking. Had a little better rest last night for it ceased raining about 6. Our chaps bombarded something terrific all night; it was one constant roar & rattle. Old Fritz poked a few over among us, & one 9.2 lobbed about 15 yards to the left of our little shanty, throwing dirt & mud all over us. It was wonderful no one was hurt for it did not lob more than 3 yards from where the 2nd Batt Bombers were sleeping with only waterproofs over their heads. Talk about narrow shaves.

Yesterday evening everyone was issued with their steel helmets & gas bags for we are supposed to be ready to move off at an hour’s notice for the firing line.

The weather looks as if it has taken up at last. The blue sky can be seen & the sun is shining. Once the ground hardens there will be something doing for the country simply swarms with troops. The 5th Div have had their charge cancelled twice now through the weather.

300 Germans gave themselves up last night. They were starving & had had no food for 3 days — they can’t get through our shell fire, it is too severe.

About 200 tons of coal have gone past here towards the firing line today. The railways are very busy getting munitions & etc to the guns & men.

I notice we are using a lot of old Fritz’s little wicker baskets to pack our shells to the guns in. They go by mule pack, each mule carrying 8 × 18 lb shells. It is the only way they have a chance of getting it to some of the guns during the wet weather — even then the mules have a struggle to get through the vile sticky stuff.

Len handed Capt McKenzie the money we have on hand today, to keep until after the scrap is over. If neither of us live to claim it he is going to send it home.

27th October. The whole Coy was out on fatigue last night. We had to march for 2 miles through sticky clay in which you sank to your boot tops at every step, & if you did not have good laces in them you would leave them to rot in the clay. The whole country for miles around is just one great quagmire of glue-pot clay.

Arrived at our destination, which was a great dump on the railway line where everything is unloaded for the Army’s need. Here is to be seen a narrow gauge German line & dozens of ruined trucks which our artillery have destroyed. How on earth the Germans don’t shell this dump gets me, for at night time it resembles a busy town with its hundreds of bright lights, trains whistling, motors too-tooing, men shouting, the creaking of the heavily laden transports & the rumble of the slow & ponderous caterpillar as it hauls some gun along the crowded road or pulls a motor out of the bog. They are splendid, are these great caterpillars. They will go almost anywhere & very rarely get bogged.

When we pulled up we found we had to wait from 6 to 9 before the trucks containing the sleepers which we were to unload would arrive, so the boys started singing, one Coy against the other, & in this way we passed the time away, but we had a terrible job to keep ourselves from freezing, for it was frightfully cold & the wind cut like a knife.

We got to work about 9. Each Coy had 2 trucks to unload, & the sleepers had to be carried 600 yards up a rotten mucky road, 2 men to a sleeper. It took us till 1 o’clock to move these sleepers — this was real bullocking work, but officers & all took a hand in it.

When we finished we came home by the railway line which has just been newly built & I got a lovely buster — slipped on one of the slippery sleepers & down I come fair & square. I got a nasty bruise or two out of it, but of course I did not say anything, oh no. We reached our miserable home about 2 o’clock & the cooks had hot tea waiting & an issue of rum, & we badly needed a hot drink for we were nearly all dead beat for we had had a strenuous night.

Woke up this morning chilled to the bone & shivering like a leaf. One of the coldest & raw winds imaginable was blowing straight in on us, & I for one did not give a hang what happened I felt that miserable. It is nearly impossible for us Australians to keep warm in this weather & we sleep with all our clothes on; in fact we dress to go to bed & then we nearly perish. I don’t think we have much of a chance of standing the winter here & I have no wish to sample it. All the boys look very miserable & drawn up, & all we talk about is the good old sunny days of Australia, the finest place in the world. Oh how we all look forward to our returning to her, never more to roam I’ll bet.

Old Fritz dropped 10 big shells just about where we are billeted last night & 9 of them were duds. The soft ground is responsible for this I reckon. One of them knocked a dugout in but luckily no one was hurt.

Through all this bad weather the charges have been put off, & they may not take place now till next spring. Yesterday morning the Germans attempted to take a position off us. They got halfway across & then they got stuck in the mud, & the boys killed every one of them, so that ought to be a lesson to us.

Tonight I get my third promotion. I am a Sergeant tonight, pretty rapid you know.

28th October. Was flooded completely out last night by a heavy rainstorm just as darkness was setting in, what bon, so some of the boys made room for me, crowded as they were, in their miserable dugout, & lit a fire at which I dried myself & clothes, for everything I possessed was sopping wet. Oh a soldier’s life is a beauty in such weather but as soon as we get back into dry billets we forget all the hardships. It’s wonderful in what good spirits the boys keep. They laugh & joke over it all, as if it was the fun of the world.

There are a few going to hospital, the extreme cold & exposure affecting the weaker ones. My feet is what gives me the most trouble. I simply cannot keep them warm, & we all know if your feet are cold the rest of your body is likewise.

There is a little sunshine this morning. It looks as if it has a mind to clear up, but the wind don’t mention it — it chills us to the bone. If it would only drop, things would not be so bad.

Old Fritz made another attack last night but it was squashed like a rotten tomato. All our Brigade are being issued with yellow patches for their backs today or tomorrow, sure sign of a hop over.

29th October. About midnight I was woken up by one of our Sgts to come down to the officers dugout & get instructions for tomorrow morning’s move. All the platoon Sgts were there. The orders were that we were to move off at 8 in the morning, taking our overcoat, waterproof & blanket with us & leaving our pack behind.

After getting our orders we went back to bed & reveille was at 6. I had no time to lose for I had to slip round to wake up the boys for they were sleeping far apart, draw the rations, bombs, sandbags & etc to see that they were issued, & then I had to get my breakfast & pack up as soon as I could. The morning was very threatening & cold as blazes, so things were not too pleasant. After breakfast we fell in & each platoon detailed some men off to clean up the possies. I left some letters & my diaries with Jack Hayes & instructions what to do with them in case the worst happens.

The march up to here where I am writing this in Delville Wood was a most miserable affair, for it rained heavily the whole time — other roads don’t mention them. We passed scores of big guns on the way up, all covered with tarpaulins, ready for action whenever wanted, & piles of great shells lying all around them.

We reached Delville Wood after a couple of hours marching & here we are camping out in the open among the great shell holes & fallen timber. We have got a lot of fires going, & at the present it has ceased raining, but we are all wet to the skin. This is the place where the S. African Brigade fought so well & were pretty well wiped out. She is nothing but a vast cemetery & has been turned over & over by the German & British bombardments. Broken gun emplacements are everywhere to be seen & the remains of trenches & dugouts that have been wrecked, & timber is lying all over the joint.

(I had to knock off at this point for the Germans started to drop heavy shells all round us, & we had to move our men further down the wood.)

On the way down we passed some enormous guns. They were firing away & when we passed in front of them the report nearly lifted us off the ground. One of them was named “Busty”; it was chalked up in big letters on his barrel.

The country simply swarms with guns. Wherever you look you will see them, standing out in the open, no attempt whatever being made for concealment. I watched them firing some 380 lb shells. They have a small lift attached to the gun, & they roll the shell on to this then hoist it up & swing it in close to the gun’s barrel. It is then pushed home, the charge of cordite rammed in, the great breech block closes, & then they fix the lanyard on. By this time the gun has been sighted & laid. The gunner takes a final squint & pulls his sight apparatus off the barrel, for the tremendous shock of the discharge would break the delicate instrument. At a signal all the gun crew put their fingers in their ears & off she goes. She jumps back like a two-year-old & you can watch the shell as it tears along through the air quite plainly — looks as big as a cricket ball at close quarters, they fairly roar as they shoot along. Almost before the gun has hit the ground, the Tommy gunners have got hold of her, thrown open the breech, & the smoke is blown out & the same performance is repeated. It takes about 4 mins roughly to fire a round from these big guns.

About 4 o’clock we moved off for the firing line, & had to squeeze our way up with the 6th Batt (they were on the move at the same time). We reached our destination after wading through acres of mud & rivers of water. We had to go into an old trench half full of water & these are our quarters for the present.

30th October. This morning the Capt & I went to the firing line & on the way up we passed 3 big tanks that had been put out of action by shells. I was very anxious to see one of these famous machines, after all I had heard & read about them. They are ponderous affairs & nothing but a direct hit from a shell would stop them for they are all steel, a proper land dreadnought. From a distance a tank looks somewhat like a threshing machine with the wheels off.

We passed any amount of dead men on the way up, both ours & German. These were all killed in the last charge when Flers was taken.

We had to run the gauntlet in one place for about 200 yds, for we were quite exposed to the Germans but they never shot at us. We then went through a shallow trench to the firing line, & here we had a look at a job we had to do this afternoon.

I can’t make old Fritz out. Although he can see hundreds of our men quite close to him, he never shoots at them — they work all day long right under his nose & real close to him. I think he is frightened of giving himself away, for at the present time he is hiding anywhere & never discloses his presence from fear of our guns, which never stop night or day.

The Colonel was up there also & we had a short yarn with him, then came back & had dinner, such as it was: a piece of dry bread & water. Yes & I thought I was lucky to have it — one can’t be too particular these times. If ever I get back I’ll be able to sleep out in the yard anywhere & in all weathers & live on the smell of an oily rag.

Well we went up this afternoon. I took 24 men with me, & we got sopping soaking wet. We only worked about an hour & down she come. We reached our dugouts — & by the way we felt so disgusted & miserable that we walked over the top & in full view of the Hun guns for nearly a mile, did not care if we stopped one or not — expecting to find them fairly dry, but no, we found about 2 ft of water in it & half the dugouts fallen in & us wet to the skin & nothing dry to change into, all our blankets & overcoats sopping, a pretty state of affairs. You may not believe it, judging by the writing & the book, but I am at this present moment as cold as ice, wet to the skin, with no dry clothes, & as hungry as a hawk — enough to kill any man. Nearly every Australian is in the same mess tonight on this famous Somme.

You can see quite plainly the tall spires of Bapaume from here. It is England’s objective & it does not look very far away, but it means the same to Germany as Verdun to France & they will fight to the last to retain it. On either side & to the rear of her there looks to be fairly heavy patches of wood & one fairly long ridge to climb. This I expect is where they will offer a desperate resistance. The ground for miles around is nothing but a mass of shell holes. It looks from a distance like a well-fallowed paddock, the result of the thousands, yes & millions, of shells that have been poured on to it.

31st October. Never had a wink of sleep all last night, just lay there & nearly froze to death in my wet & sopping clothes. Oh what a night.

This morning I took another party of 28 men up to Flare Alley to work on the trench there. I know you won’t believe me when I say that the mud there is up to your hips & men have to go backwards & forwards all day long through this awful stuff. A couple of trips through it & you are nearly knocked out, for it is terrible hard work pulling yourself through the sticky clay. The 6th Batt are in an awful place, nearly up to your armpits, & still men stick it. But if it is bad for us what must it be like for Fritz, for he has 10 times the amount of shell fire to contend with than us. 6 of them gave themselves up last night, they could not stand it any longer.

It has turned out rather a nice day, & this evening the sky is thick with shells, aeroplanes & balloons. They brought one of ours down by shell fire & we shot one of theirs down so honours are even but we have 20 times as many up as Fritz. We are moving into the firing line tonight & just at present they are shelling our Hqrs like blazes & they have hit a few I know.

1st November. Early this morning Dave Murray & I went fossicking about round towards the old wrecked tanks. From there we went over to Gueudecourt, & I think I saw the most dead men, both British & German, that I have seen in France. The ground is just littered with dead men & horses, arms, legs, heads & etc lying all over the place. The worst place is just on the edge of the village — they must have had some machine guns hidden there & they caught the men as they rushed out of the trench & over the road. The place is a shambles & stinks something awful, so we beat a hasty retreat, which was just as well for us for a few minutes after we had got away from it they started to shell it heavily with 5.9s.

We have given them a terrific bombardment this afternoon. Nearly every gun must have been in action & the vibration was very pronounced. Fritz showed his good sense & kept fairly quiet while it was on.

It is cruel to see the state some of the men are in. They have to wade through mud right up to their armpits, & in this awful state they have to stop, for it will be several days yet before we are relieved. It’s enough to kill any man. It would not be so bad if we had dry dugouts to go to or had a change of clothing, but no, neither of these are to be had.

Have been bad all day & night with diarrhoea & pretty crook too. I fancy it must have been the water that I got from the shell holes, for we have had no other for several days now.

You have no idea of the difficulty of transport here. Horses & mules struggle along up to their withers in mud. It is something awful & it never seems to stop raining.

2nd November. Last night we were withdrawn from the firing line, the 3rd & 4th Batts relieving us & the 2nd. Talk about a weary march to our present dugouts — mud 3 ft deep & water water everywhere, as tired as could possibly be & a pretty heavy load to carry. Besides our guide got lost & walked us round in a circle, & when at last we struck our trench we were about finished for the men were dead beat. The next thing was to get my men into shelter for there was the same tale of insufficient shelter; however after a lot of arguing, swearing, persuading & bounce I got them all under shelter of some sort or other. That is one thing a Sgt has to do: look after his men before himself, he is judged a lot by that.

Had a fairly liberal issue of rations this morning & we want them badly too. We also had 14 pair of clean socks per platoon; not enough but better than none at all I suppose.

This morning Len & I received a fair batch of letters — they cheer one up considerably when things are miserable. Aunt Carrie especially is a very cheerful writer & I must say all Aunties have acted tip-top to Len & I, for they all write regularly & send lots of parcels, while I am afraid they do not hear too often from us. Of course we have not the inclination nor time for letter writing & I’m sure they understand that part of the business.

Had a shave this evening, first one for 10 days & I wanted it bad enough as you may guess, but everything has been against a man lately & we have been so miserable & wet. I borrowed an article here & there & scraped my face clean again, for a man might just as well be killed clean as dirty.

3rd November. Well we did not go to the trenches after all last night, but I think we shall be after the Huns early tomorrow morning. It did not rain last night, only a very heavy dew, & by Jove it was cold. None of us got hardly a wink of sleep our feet trouble us so. Where I have been sleeping since we came into these trenches is a little nook cut out of the wet ground & it is about 3 ft wide & 4 long. On this ledge 3 of us doss, with our legs hanging out in the cold wet trench, so you can imagine what a rosy time we are having, but still there is no grumbling, all take it in good spirit, although it is a soldier’s privilege to growl, & at times some of them exercise their right to the utmost.

We have had a good fire going all the morning. We go over into Flers village whenever we want wood — there is plenty of it there, the remains of the houses & etc.

4th November. One of our chaps made a great fire opposite my dugout. We then got a can of petrol water & put it on the fire, & soon she was boiling merrily & didn’t we enjoy the tea. You have no idea how we miss our tea; it means a lot to us I can tell you.

During the afternoon all the N.C.O.s & officers talked over tonight’s attack. We moved off at 7 o’clock sharp in single file. The pace was very slow for all were heavily loaded & the ground was as sticky & muddy as could be. We took our time for we only had about 3 miles to go, & we had to be in position by 11 o’clock. We took the long way to White Alley trench. It was not bad going till we branched off into Grass Lane. It is called Grass Lane out of pure sarcasm for it is a sunken road & is covered with 3 to 4 ft of slimy sticky white mud. Oh it is something awful. One experience of this Somme is enough for a lifetime, for we have all, like Napoleon, discovered another element: mud. It is so bad that often & often without a word of a lie a man gets bogged & the clay is so tenacious that it takes 3 men to pull him out, & then again you will come to another place where do what you will it is impossible to stand on your feet, & over you go fair on your side or the broad of your back in the frightful stuff. These sort of busters are so common now among us that we don’t even swear, just take it as a matter of course. We are constantly wet through to the skin & our clothes absolutely covered with mud. These are the conditions under which the great Somme offensive is being carried out — cruelty to human beings I reckon. They feed us as well as they can but we are always tired, for a mile in this mud is worse than 5 on a hard road, but still the game proceeds & the men toil on unceasingly.

The position we are taking up for our attack was well out in no man’s land & we had to go over the open to it. Now this is pretty ticklish work with a mob, especially when you are trying to get the men there without the enemy knowing it, for they are constantly sending up flares. When these go up the men have to stand perfectly still, for the slightest movement gives the whole show away & over comes the machine guns & shells, & then finish. Well after a lot of manoeuvring we got them into position. 9 & 10 platoons were in the trench while 11 or 12 were lying out at the back of it about 2 yards away, for both sets of platoons moved practically together.

We were in position about 9 o’clock & shortly after Capt Jackson brought some of B Coy along & put them at the rear of us again. They were our supports, for this attack was being carried out by C & D Coys. So far so good, but the men began to get restless & some of B Coy started to sit up & just then the Huns put a big bright flare up & evidently spotted the steel hats. He immediately sent 2 or 3 more big flares in rapid succession, & satisfied himself that troops were there. It was not many minutes before the shells started to fly around but happily for us he mistook the wrong trench we were hiding in & all the 5.9s lobbed harmlessly over our heads, which was just as well for us, for we would have been murdered in cold blood.

Slowly the hours dragged by, for we were cold & miserable lying on the wet ground, but the knock out was to come about an hour before the hop over, in the shape of a blinding storm of rain which soaked us through & through & nearly washed us away. Oh what bon. We all felt as happy as the boy that killed his father, but we had to lay there & take it like Britons. The sheepskin vests came in very handy here for they kept our bodies fairly dry & warm but the rest of us was as cold as ice. The Heads made a great mistake at this point for they should have postponed the attack for the ground wouldn’t carry a cat let alone a man with a load up, however we were to find this out afterwards to our sorrow.

About 11.30 Fritz became very suspicious & kept on sending flares over towards us. At last he was satisfied that there was something dirty doing, & up went his artillery & S.O.S. flares. When I saw these go up I said to a mate who was lying alongside me that the game was up & that we might just as well go over at once or go back to our trench, for we were discovered & once the element of surprise is lost in a case like ours well things are bound to be very warm & willing. He kept on sending up his artillery flares. They are something like a Catherine wheel, only much larger & more powerful & are of a dark red to pink colour.

We still had half an hour to go before our guns put the barrage on his trench. At about 15 mins to go over came his shells & they fell all round us, & he opened fire on us with machine guns & rifles all along the line. About 10 mins to go we got the order to fix bayonets & get ready. I had no officer with my platoon so I was in charge of it. The fire at this point was getting very hot & all knew that we would have our work cut out, for Fritz was waiting for us as we were soon to find out to our bitter cost.

5th November. A couple of minutes to go & all were straining at the leash. The moon had almost gone down & there was a faint ghostly light over all save when the flares lit everything up in a white shimmering light & the ground could be seen to be all watery & shiny.

All of a sudden the strain was over, & so were we. I was the first one of my platoon (as I should be) to hop over & I gave a few more a helping hand, for the sides of the trench were steep & slippery. As soon as we showed up the flares were sent up in batches which lit everything up like day, & showed us men falling everywhere & the boys struggling through the mud bogged nearly to the knees, for the ground was as soft as a well-fallowed paddock after a storm of rain. I was forcing my way through as fast as I could & calling for my men to keep up & box on.

Just before we reached the German wire (which was not smashed at all for the artillery fire which was supporting us was shocking — about 20 shells & it was over, a “barrage” they had the heck to call it) I got a terrible buster, fell fair into a big shell hole full of mud. A nice state I was in to be sure but I scrambled out as soon as I could & made a rush for the wire. Having no wire cutters I had to force my way through as best I could & the consequence was that I got badly cut all over & ended up getting hung in the stuff for all the world like a sack of wood chucked on to a heap of barb wire, but I felt nothing at the time for my blood was running hot & we only thought of getting in their trench.

The fighting by this time was very fierce. Shells, bombs, mortars & worse than all liquid fire bombs were falling among us like hail. They used to go off with a terrific bang, nearly stunning one with the concussion & splashing one all over with this burning scorching liquid — it was awful. One poor chap I saw struggling on the ground with his clothes & equipment alight; he was rolling over & over in his agony. I ran over & threw wet mud all over him. That put it out.

Shortly after this I had one of the most thrilling minutes of my life. I was rushing as fast as the wet & slippery ground would allow me down a shallow trench towards the German parapet, where I could see their trench mortars & bombers in action. When I was about 7 yards off them or so a Hun rushed out at me & made a desperate lunge at my body. I must have parried as quick as lightning, & more by luck than anything else I was in time & his bayonet slid down my rifle & stuck in the fleshy part of my leg — went straight through my puttee & thick trousers. My didn’t it sting. I thought it was right through my leg, for a sharp pain went through my body & it was with difficulty that I kept from yelling out, but kept my block. Before he could draw his rifle back for another attempt I shot him dead & he fell at my feet. Quick as I could I let fly 2 more bullets at the bombers & I’m certain that I got another one, for I saw him fall down among his mates & they at once scattered. I don’t know how my third shot got on for he was on the move.

All this happened in a few minutes or I should say seconds. I could hardly define the feelings that ran through me when I butted like this into them. First of all the blood ran to my head & I saw nothing, all seemed blank, then like a flash of lightning my senses returned, & I was cool, calm & collected, or I should not be alive tonight. The next feeling was one of cold anger & I felt fit for anything & regained my normal feelings. At this point I never felt the pain in my leg at all.

I saw at a glance that I had no chance of getting through for the bombs were falling pretty thickly so I retreated a few yards & took stock of things. What a sight met one’s eyes, for practically all the boys were killed or wounded with their faces towards the Huns, poor devils, & the wounded who could walk were making their way painfully towards our own trench. Good God, our first attack had failed & when I realised this I felt quite faint & sick. The Huns were still firing & bombing like mad. The incessant chatter of the machine guns was making a fine row & over all the heavy howitzers were falling fast, scattering death & destruction everywhere. I crawled out towards their barb wire & slipped into a shell hole & tried to bandage my wound. I was covered with mud from head to foot & a fair bit of blood was coming away from me.

In a few minutes time the remnants had rallied & Capt Jackson was leading them out. He walked as calmly & as coolly among the bullets as if he were on parade & called on the men to follow him for the honour of the Battalion. They responded nobly but what could men do in such boggy ground & against such overwhelming numbers. It is a fact that wounded men have been trying to get out from the firing line & have been found with just their head & shoulders out & a ticket round their necks, dead as a door nail, too weak to struggle out & there they have perished miserably. But I am rambling & must get back to where I left off.

The remnants of the Batt charged gamely but we had not the ghost of a chance for the machine guns mowed us down in rows. I could have cried with disappointment & rage when we got the order to get back to our own trenches. It was the first time we ever had to acknowledge defeat & I can tell you it hurt some. The worst of it all was that in spite of the bravery displayed by the boys all our losses were in vain. The truth of the matter was that they underrated the strength of the position & they sent a couple of Coys to do what it would have taken a Bde & the result was that we got cut to pieces. Our casualties were about 75% of the men engaged. It was the hottest engagement as ever I have been in & how I escaped is a mystery for the air was stiff with bullets — they were singing past like a swarm of bees. My only dread in those charges is the fear of getting hit in the stomach, for that is the worst place of all & there is very little hope for one & you die a lingering death. Apart from that once I am over I don’t care so much.

We got all the wounded in & the remainder of the Battalion rallied together in an old trench half full of mud. I had a great weight lifted off my mind when I heard that Len was safe. It is simply marvellous how we live through it. I saw him once right down on the German parapet rallying his men, & bombs & bullets were like hailstones.

From here we made off back to our own trenches nearly 3 miles away & we were a sorry-looking lot as we slowly ploughed our way through the mud, now knee deep again after the heavy downpour. I was about the last man of the C Coy home, for my leg was very painful & I was absolutely done, scarce move one leg after the other so done up was I, & cold & miserable don’t mention it.

I threw myself down in the cold dugout, miserable & wet, & soon I was fast asleep. Woke up about 10 & I had to make out a list of all those of the platoon who were killed, wounded & missing. They amounted to a little more than half my strength.

After this I went over to Flers where our Medical Hqrs were to see the Dr about my leg. He put the needle into me in case of lockjaw & bandaged it up properly.

The same afternoon our guns opened a terrible bombardment & a couple of Brigades of Australians made a most successful attack, advancing nearly 1000 yds & capturing 3 lines of German trenches, so they made up for our bit of bad luck.

6th November. We left our quarters this evening & are going out to reorganise for in our present state we are useless. What a weary walk we had — nothing but mud, mud & still more mud. We arrived at the camping ground thoroughly knocked out, & to make matters worse most of the boys’ boots are ruined. I know the nails stuck into my feet until they bled, but still I plodded on. We will be re-equipped in a few days or so, for our clothes are absolutely ruined & only half the boys have rifles.

7th November. Last night as we moved from our wet camping ground we had to pass through Delville Wood & this place is alive with big guns — there are acres & acres of big gun ammunition stacked here. Just as we were passing one of these big guns, she let fly. We were about 10 yards to the rear of her, & I just noticed the gunner in time as he reached for his lanyard & I sort of held my breath. The next thing I remember was that I was lifted completely off my feet & blinded for a second by the fiery flame which shot upwards from the monster’s mouth. They leap like a young & bucking horse when they are spitting these great shells out.

8th November. Still raining dismally & the joint looks like a sea of mud. Last night we slept in long low huts made of anything they could lay their hands on, such as old tarpaulins, bags, waterproof blankets & etc. It was floored with old duckboards, 2 ft wide, & on these we slept one to a man so you can guess we had a pretty rough bed, but it was a palace compared to what we had been having lately so all were satisfied.

This morning we all marched away on fatigue. The road we went down was swimming with soft slushy mud & thousands of Tommies were sweeping it as well as they could with big yard brooms & shovels. This is the only way they can keep these roads fit for the enormous amount of traffic. There are miles & miles of motors going each way & horse vehicles & waggons by the thousand. Sandwiched in between all the other traffic are constantly moving bodies of troops also travelling both ways. It is almost impossible to crowd another cart or man on to it.

17th November. This morning we packed up again & moved off in motor cars. As we were passing down the road we saw a lot of Germans working on the road & one of them stood to attention & saluted one of our officers gravely. The officer of course returned the compliment.

The day was nice & sunny & we thoroughly enjoyed the ride. We passed down the high road leading to Bapaume. It is one of the national roads of France & is a beauty, nice & wide & well made, & it is as straight as a die for miles & miles. Both sides of the road are lined with trees, now all stripped of their beautiful green leaves for the cold autumn winds have done their work & they look very gaunt & bare, but what a beautiful sight they are in the summer.

We passed right through the outskirts of Amiens & pulled up at a small railway station. From here we marched a mile or two to Friemont. We were supposed to be billeted here for some time but the Colonel was not satisfied with the place so he decided to move on tomorrow.

18th November. My it was cold last night & only for the abundance of straw we would have nearly perished, for during the night it snowed & heavily too. For a lot of the boys it was the first snow they had ever seen & just after daybreak we were out snowballing. The Dr was one of the first out & we had a fine set to before breakfast but by Jove it was cold on our hands.

After breakfast the fun commenced. We started off (C Coy) by attacking D & there was a terrible bloodthirsty fight led by our officers who were up to their neck in it. D Coy rushed out led by Capt Price & there was a fearful fight in the street. The French people seemed astonished & dumbfounded at the antics of the mad Australians. It ended up by C defeating D & chasing them back to their billets, where they surrendered after being pounded by snowballs till they were white all over.

I think the majority of us were pretty well wet through by the time it finished. I know I had enough snow down my neck to boil a billy of tea, but for all that it was the best bit of fun I have had for some considerable time.

This afternoon we saddled up again & off we trudged. The road was very wet for the snow was beginning to melt. We started to climb a pretty steep hill. This opened our lungs & you should have heard the boys coughing & spluttering; it was a regular pipe opener for it is a good test with full pack up. We had not far to walk however & soon reached St Sauveur sur Somme, a fair-sized French village & much better than the one we had left. This village is built on both sides of the Somme & a small bridge connects the 2. The Somme runs very fast here & they have a fine canal built on one side & on the other the railway runs. The town of Amiens is only 9 kilometres from here — you can see her spires quite easily.

Before letting us into our billets the Capt gave the boys a small lecture & told them that if they did not behave themselves, they would be marched straight back to Friemont & nobody liked the idea of that.

24th November. Got my pass for Amiens this morning. We followed the Somme for some distance — she is not a bad stream & pretty regular in its width where I saw it. I bet it is a pretty place in the summer time, for it is lined with trees & good roads run alongside the stream & wind in & out among the trees.

After walking about an hour we reached the Amiens barrier & here we had our passes examined by the military police. A little further on we caught a train & travelled right into the heart of Amiens. We visited all the principal streets & buildings & bought a fair number of things.

The tea rooms took my eye. They are done up beautifully & prices are very reasonable. Everything is of the very best in them, including the china, & things are spotlessly clean. The women dress very fine, in fact as good as I have seen anywhere, only there is never a single piece of colour catches the eye. The whole of France is mourning & the ladies dress entirely in black with a little white here & there. It brought back old memories I can tell you, walking of your own sweet will up the brilliantly lighted streets of an evening, & really one wonders sometimes if the war will ever end. It seems no closer the finish than it did in 1914.

We caught the train at 7 o’clock. We were soon home & fast asleep for we were tired.

27th November. There is a lot of English artillery billeted in the village tonight (they have just come from the Somme). A couple of them came into our billet enquiring where they could buy a little bread. We gave them quite a stock of eatables: bread, sardines, spare jam & a little butter which we had left over from tea. We also gave them some cigarettes & matches, & the poor fellows were grateful for these few things for they were tired & hungry & we all know they have very little money to spare. And another thing: they have been very good to us on more than one occasion & we always try when possible to treat them well, for we all know what it is like to be hungry & cold & there is a certain unwritten law among soldiers that to share out among your more unfortunate mates any tucker you may have. You have no idea how soldiers stick to one another, while perhaps if the same men were together in civil life, they would not agree 5 minutes, but while they are together in khaki they stick solid. This is how it should be for it makes an Army all the more formidable.

1st December. Today we enter upon the last month of the year & still the war seems no nearer finishing. Surely by the time next December comes round it will all be over & we will be back in sunny Australia.

3rd December. We all got our second blanket again & by Heavens it was wanted for you can’t sleep with one blanket, the cold at night time is so intense.

4th December. The other day one of our chaps asked his officer if he could fall out for a while & the officer said yes. About half an hour afterwards they went to look for him & found him dead. Frozen to death they reckon. The Dr reckons he must have been pretty low in health & had not sufficient vitality to fight it off, so he just lay down & died stiff. I’ll bet before the winter is over there will be many a familiar case, for I know myself once you get to a certain state you don’t give a curse what comes or goes & you feel quite comfortable but you have not the energy to stir.

This evening the Dr lectured all N.C.O.s on trench feet & how to prevent it among your men. Trench feet is a very serious thing: your feet swell up to an enormous size & you can’t walk. This is caused by several things, such as boots too tight, poor circulation of the blood caused by overfatigue, no hot meals, wet feet & on top of all this the freezing cold. It also affects your hands in the same way. How to combat this is every officer’s & N.C.O.’s duty & the platoon Sergeant has to see that every man in his charge changes his socks as often as possible, takes off his boots at every opportunity, & rubs his feet briskly. We also have to see that every man uses the whale oil which is supplied to us & rubs it well into their feet. This whale oil is a very fine thing, though it is inclined to make your feet soft for marching. By this you can see the Sergeants have no easy time while in the trenches for this is only one of the things we have to look to.

5th December. This afternoon we went for a short route march & after this we had a kit inspection for we are leaving tomorrow I think.

There is a strong rumour running round here that the Divisional Medical Major resigned because the authorities would not take no notice of his report on the health condition of the Division. He reckoned the 1st Div want a long spell for they are worn out & I think he is right.

6th December. Reveille at 6 o’clock this morning for we were moving & consequently things are very busy, especially for me, for the Sergeant of a platoon is responsible for everything & there is quite a lot to do. The first thing is to get the men out of bed & these cold mornings they naturally don’t like stirring. After they are up I have to see that all blankets are rolled in bundles of 10 & that they are properly labelled then carried round to the place where the transport picks them up. This has to be done by a certain time then the rations have to be drawn & I have to distribute them to the section commanders, who in turn dish it out to their men equally. After breakfast the billets have to be cleaned spick & span & all rubbish carried away to the incinerator. This last thing is a most important duty & the 1st Battalion has made it a point of honour to leave all billets cleaner than they found them so you can guess they are pretty clean when we finish with them. Just before moving off the officers & Dr inspect the billets & if they are not up to standard well the Sergeant gets a row.

We fall the men in & inspect them, see that all packs are packed properly & are uniform & that they are short of nothing. After this we call the roll, number off & we are ready for marching off.

9th December. They had the neck this morning to bring us out to drill & it was drizzling rain & everything sopping wet. We marched out about a mile & then took shelter in an old German truck. We stopped here for half an hour or so then our officers decided to march us back to camp. The rest of the morning was spent carrying stone & bricks, building up the paths round the huts. Needless to say they were a willing lot of workers; I don’t think.

What do you think of this for stiff luck. Last night when all the men for leave were waiting to catch the train for Blighty in Albert, I’m hanged if the squareheads didn’t drop a big shell right into the mob of them, killing 8 & wounding 24 more & all Australians. Though Albert is fast getting rebuilt & the people are flocking back, she is still within range of the Germans’ big guns & they keep on dropping shells round her in an aimless sort of way on the off chance of catching someone or something.

11th December. What a cunning old dodger is Fritz. He has a new sort of bomb which he drops sometimes & it doesn’t explode for 12 hours or so after. They have some sort of mechanism which delays the explosion & sometimes hours after a raid has taken place & everything is nice & quiet these bombs start to go off. I believe some of them went off in Albert the other day & caused quite a sensation.

Sickness is very plentiful just now among the Australians & no wonder, for the majority are completely run down & want a spell badly, including myself.

14th December. What do you think of this. Brigade issued an order this morning to the effect that there were too many going to the hospital & that sick parade would have to be cut down for it caused a lot of uneasiness as to the health of the troops. That’s about as good as ever I heard — as if men could help it. Anyhow it is not a very likely thing that this order will be taken to heart.

There is a lot of talk about the latest German peace proposals but everyone seems to think that they won’t be accepted by the Allies.

15th December. Pretty heavy gun fire tonight; our heavies & howitzers are engaged. The weather is very miserable — dull gloomy skies with a few scattered showers during the day & at night it rains fairly constant — but thank goodness we have a dry bed & a good fire when the day’s work is finished. I pity the poor devils in the firing line, where we will be shortly I expect.

16th December. Out on the road job again this morning & it was real rotten for the sleepers were covered with mud & the men naturally did not like handling them. They were dodging away at every opportunity & it was over this that I had a few words with one of D Coy’s officers. I was standing down at the end of the road, supervising the laying of the timber, when he came up to me & asked what my particular job was (he thought I was a private for I had an oil sheet over my shoulders). I told him I was in charge of C Coy’s men who were working on the job. He seemed a little taken aback at this; at any rate he said, “Where are your men?” I flared up at this for he said it in such an insulting tone, however I tried to keep my rising temper down & told him that all my men were on the job which was more than his were, for most of D Coy had sneaked off to their huts to get out of the cold drizzling rain which was falling with a little extra snow chucked in to keep it company. This left the bulk of the work on my men’s hands & it was not going on fast enough for him. “Well,” he said, “I seem to be the only one who is keeping an eye on the men.” This made me wild & we had a pretty heated argument I can tell you; however at “knock off” time he was as friendly as anything with me. I had a row over a fatigue party one night at Ypres with this same joker.

Old Fritz sent over 2 big shells today (12 inch). One lobbed right on the edge of the road, just missing a traction engine & a motor lorry. It dug a hole in the ground easily 10 ft deep & 18 across & as round as a cup; she was a love. The other was rather more exciting for I’ll swear it did not miss our hut by more than a foot. It landed right in the drain in front of our joint & by good luck it never exploded — if it had it would have blown our hut to pieces. It’s just as well Fritz can’t see where he is landing his shells, or we would have a lively time. He lets these big shells go at random, chancing where they will fall.

18th December. All the talk these last couple of days has been about the French victory at Verdun & the German peace proposals. There is a pretty strong opinion that peace will come within a month or two but I am hanged if I can see how it is possible, for we are out to beat them & they are a long way from that as yet, though I’m sure they are feeling the pinch badly, & we have the upper hand. There’s no one would be more pleased than I if it finished shortly but now we have fought this long I would like to see them beaten properly & for good.

20th December. Very hard frost this morning & the ground was quite white with the snow that had fallen yesterday.

Spent the greater part of my time today helping the Tommies out with their bogged teams. They are absolutely no class for the Australians as far as horses go. As soon as ever a Tommy gets stuck, the first thing he does is to lay into his horses for all he is worth & in 9 cases out of 10 it is over the horse’s head that he brings his whip. I don’t like skiting but I think I opened a few of their eyes today as far as handling horses & bogged teams go.

I saw a fine piece of horsemanship this afternoon on the part of a few Australians. They had a couple of G.S. waggons heavily laden with corn & chaff for some of the horses just here & they had to come through some of the awfullest ground imaginable — up to the mules’ shoulders & the body of the waggon was dragging on the mud. They hitched 22 mules up & dragged the waggons out one at a time. Even then they could only move a few feet at a time. If they had been Tommies I’ll guarantee they would have been there till the end of the war.

21st December. A fairly warm night & the land thawed & once again we are among the mud & slush. Had all my men digging a road through the huts & just about 11 o’clock it started to rain fairly heavy, but they would not knock us off but made the mob go & get their waterproofs. How they swore.

Trench feet is getting very serious among some of our Divs. Today 12 men from the 5th Div were admitted to the clearing station & their feet were amputated at once.

22nd December. Actually saw some brilliant sunshine this afternoon. We all were remarking on it for it is so rare at this time of the year & it reminded us of our own sunny land so far away.

25th December. Xmas Day & my third away from Australia: one in Cairo, one on the sea coming back to Egypt after the evacuation of Gallipoli & this time the scene is laid in France. For me at any rate it has not been a very pleasant one, though tonight I am feeling very much better, but last night I felt absolutely rotten. I went to bed early, but could get very little rest, for the boys were celebrating Xmas Eve in our hut, & were keeping their spirits up with cocoa & rum — more rum than cocoa I should judge by the row they were kicking up.

27th December. A fellow has had many opportunities now of seeing the ravages caused by war. The throwing back of the German line enables one to visit the ground which once was no man’s land & German territory, & which remains in many instances littered with the debris of a series of long & terrible fights. Rifles, bombs, broken machine guns are scattered all over the place, while thousands of corpses strew the ground, some buried in shallow graves, so shallow that in many instances their arms & legs are sticking out as if still defying the Hun & all his frightfulness, others you will see again grinning horribly. The ground over which both sides are fighting is one vast cemetery, & as new trenches are cut bodies come out or form part of the walls. It is a gruesome place this Somme & yet it has a certain attraction for one. Thousands & thousands of exploded & unexploded shells lie all over the place, & you can see by the piles of green & mildewed shell cases the places where the German gunners made their last desperate stand. We are still fighting over this vast cemetery where every shell throws up to the surface what remains of an old victim of an Emperor’s ambition & perhaps buries a fresh one in an open tomb.

28th December. Was up at daybreak this morning to call the early working parties, & after I had finished I was standing at the cooker yarning with one of the cooks when an aeroplane humming drew our attention — she was low down & right over our heads. We took no notice of her for we thought she was one of ours, but all of a sudden there was a rattle of machine gun fire from the sky. This made us look up & hang me if it wasn’t a Taube — never saw such a bit of cheek in my life before. She emptied her belts into something or other & then started to make off. We could easily see her for she glided like a great black bird & made straight for her own lines, thinking to get back safely, but her luck was out for our chaps, who must have been asleep to let her come over, suddenly opened with their anti-aircraft guns & they soon got the range. We watched the shots getting closer & closer & at last down she come a beautiful buster. Our gunners made good shooting alright.

I was talking to an old Tommy, & my feet were as cold as ice. I was telling him what a job I have to keep them warm, & he advised me to rub them with rum so I decided to try it & I was astonished at the result. The feet kept as warm as toast all night & so far today they are warm, so now I intend to use the rum issue on my feet instead of giving it away. Just imagine what some of the boys will say when they see the good rum going to waste like that. Wonders will never cease!

29th December. We had a few anxious moments last night. Old Fritz dropped heavy shells all round us & the clods fell like rain on our slender little humpy. We were expecting every shell to land right on us, but they knocked off in time. A man would be dead stiff to stop a shell right back here, but you never know when one will blot you out for he drops them at random day & night & they are likely to catch someone.

It rained a fair bit last night & melted all the frozen ground. The consequence is that today everything is soft & muck once more, & King Mud reigns supreme.

30th December. No one is allowed to wear their puttees this trip, for they reckon they help to stop the circulation of the blood & so bring on trench feet. The 2nd Battalion have suffered very badly from all accounts — over 80 cases of trench feet to about 30 other casualties, so you can see trench feet is far worse than all the German shells & bullets.

31st December. Fell in last night at 3 o’clock & as per usual stood about like camels for a good half hour, then they suddenly found out that it would be 15 minutes yet before we were moving off, so the order for all men to return to their huts was given. We had hardly got our packs off when they started to sing out “fall in”. How the men swore & I don’t blame them either, for it is an aggravating thing to get messed about like this, & it happens nearly every time we are shifting.

We got away at last & got on the duckboard tracks which led us through Delville Wood & nearly up to Flers. Since we were here last they have a small train line right up to Bde Hqrs & they have also started a lot of tunnels. Some of them are over a mile long & run nearly to the firing line. They will be a Godsend when completed & the stretcher bearers will find the good of it for it will be very much easier walking than over the muddy ground.

Once we got off the duckboards our trouble started, for we had to “light off” across the open country & mud to your knees in places. Oh what a picnic we had, & dodging shells in between, for old Fritz knows we have to come across this country. At last we reached our trench, & like all other trenches the dugouts were half full of water, but all the men got dry quarters somehow or other. When I had got all my men in I had to go & find a dugout for myself but there was never a one to be found, so Bellchambers & I set to & built one ourselves. We finished about 10 o’clock, then I had to go & hustle my men up, for a fatigue party was wanted to take hot tea to the firing line. After these had got away we turned in, but could get scarcely any sleep for our possy was too narrow & water was oozing out from the sides. At 12 o’clock I had to hop out & find some more of my men for another party & then again at 5 o’clock I was out, so you can see very little sleep came my way.

This morning the old Hun is shelling us fairly consistent but nothing like what we are giving him — our guns never seem to cease. Had nothing up my sleeve this afternoon for some big shells dropped uncomfortably close. One man was killed & another wounded. It’s a wonder more were not skittled.

New Year’s Eve & it is being ushered in to the sound of guns. Not a very good lookout for the New Year, which will shortly be on us, but I am confident that 1917 will see the last of this gigantic struggle & the complete defeat of Germany, & so we enter the New Year full of hope & more confident than ever of our victory, for it is certain now, come what will.

1917

The Western Front, France and Belgium

England

On leave in Paris, France

1st January. We gave the Huns a heavy bombardment last night, & he retaliated but not so fierce as ours. He dropped shells all round our trench but hit no one luckily.

This morning the Sgt Major, Goldsmith & myself went up to the firing line to have a look round before we go up tonight. It is a rotten trip, & by the time you get there you are knocked out for the mud is very heavy walking. To get to the firing line you have to walk over open ground to within a couple of hundred yards of the German trench; there are no communication trenches whatever & you simply drop into a ditch which represents our front line trench. It’s most unnatural the way you can walk about in full view of the Huns’ trenches, & only get shot at by an occasional sniper & they seem to be very poor for nearly all their bullets go high. One shot at me 3 times this morning as I was going along the top, having a look at the portion of trench I am taking over. I have the worst part of the Coy’s line, & I have to patrol every few hours for there is a gap of 200 yards or so between us & the next Coy. The Germans could easily sneak between this gap, so to prevent it we send patrols out from dusk till dawn.

2nd January. Had a fairly liberal supply of dry rations this morning, but our hot meal came a gutser for some unknown reason. We are supposed to get 2 hot meals a day in the trenches. The food is cooked away back nearly a mile & a half behind the firing line & just before daylight fatigue parties carry it up to us in patent cans which are strapped on their back — something after the thermos style are these dixies & will keep food warm for 24 hours so you can see they are a good thing. What a struggle it is for the men who have to carry this food to the firing line. I pity the poor devils for they have to force their way through a regular glue pot & it drags the life out of them. Besides they keep on falling into big shell holes for it is almost impossible to dodge them in the dark. The land is just honeycombed with them & 9 out of 10 are half full of water so the state this particular party generally arrives home in is more easily imagined than described.

The portion of the trench I am holding is very dangerous for the Huns have a gun which enfilades us beautifully so we have to keep very quiet during the day for the least movement draws the fire of this whizz bang. If he only knew how completely we are at his mercy we would not live long I bet. Last night he made our hair stand on end more than once I can tell you, for he was just grazing our heads & the shell used to burst on the parados. We could hear her fire quite plainly, & then you should see us duck, what oh.

3rd January. Last night we changed over & relieved a portion of the 17th Battalion who were on our right. This made our frontage a fairly long one but it also gave us a little better trench, though in places it was dreadful, especially our bombing posts, which were out in front of us in an old shell hole, over the boys’ knees in mud & water.

It is difficult to imagine more dreadful weather than that in which we have settled down for the winter campaign. Often we are knee deep in water with howling winds & gusts of rain. When the wind drops a whitish fog creeps out of the ground, forming a horrible coverlet of moisture upon everything; rifles are too clammy to touch. The enemy is invisible as a rule through the clouds of vapour, but he is unlikely to attack while the battlefield is a quagmire — a bayonet charge would be clogged after the first jump to the parapets, it would be almost an impossibility to bring up artillery — so you may guess it will be stick-in-the-mud warfare for some time yet but it is far from restful for shrapnel is mixed plentifully with the raindrops.

We put in another very cold night. In fact we nearly perished, for everything we had on was wet through & I can tell you no one was more glad than myself when daylight came & with it some hot tea.

4th January. Rained heavily last night & made things rotten again.

How lucky am I; the post I was occupying the other night got blown in & 1 man was killed & 6 wounded — that enfilading gun got them. I knew she was dangerous that portion of the trench & I was glad to get out of it.

This afternoon Len had as close a shave as any man wants. He & a few more were lying in their dugout with just an old waterproof for cover from rain, shrapnel & etc when a piece of shell crashed right through, just grazing his head & shoulders, & stuck into the side of his dugout. A few more inches & it would have knocked his head & shoulders right off. The old hands of the Battalion reckon that Len & I both have charmed lives, & I am beginning to think so myself. It’s just wonderful the narrow shaves we have had & not been touched so far, but I had better touch wood for it does not do to skite.

There is an air raid on tonight. I can hear the hum of the planes quite distinctly & the Germans are shooting away at them like mad, for it has taken up tonight & the moon is shining brilliantly & there is not a cloud to be seen.

5th January. Gee whiz but we got some shells last night. They shelled our sunken road all night long, & it is crammed full of shallow dugouts. The fun started about 8 o’clock & from then on till daybreak he rocked them in a treat. We could get no sleep at all for the noise of the bursting shells was terrific & the concussion kept on knocking the earth down on us. Besides you never knew which minute would be your last.

Things got that bad at one stage of the game that Bellchambers & I were preparing to evacuate our sweet little home, for old Fritz evidently thought we were persons of note & was paying us particular attention. Not that we object to being flattered, oh no, but when it comes from German shells well we simply won’t have it.

Bell & I kept on saying: “If he lands another one as close as that out we go.” Bang, down would come another one, & I would reach for my boots. “Hold on,” Bell would say, “this might be his last,” & we would both lie down again but not forgetting to keep our ears open, as if that would save us. In a few secs we would hear a faraway report or perhaps half a dozen, then the next thing would be the ominous screeching & wailing of the flying shell. We would hold our breaths, for the next sec or so is a very critical one for you don’t know where it is going to land. At last a terrific & nerve-shattering bang, or perhaps a succession of them, & a blinding flash of bright & fiery red, a hot sulphurous smell & the suspense is over. Sometimes you are surprised to find you are still alive, when all the clods, muck & etc have finished falling.

Bell & I both sit up, & curse the whole German Army & everything connected with the war & especially the Kaiser & the gunners who are shooting at us. Of course everyone thinks that he himself is the man all the guns are trained on. When we have used all the words we can think of, Bell says to me, “I’m off, this is getting too warm, he will land the next one on us,” then it is my turn to throw cold water on his proposal. “What’s the good of us getting out, we are just as safe in here, let’s wait a while, he might ease down,” I say. “Right oh,” Bell says, “but I don’t like our chance,” & so it went on all the night, but we never shifted from our little dugout, which by the by started to leak like old Harry from the concussion. Every now & again we would be refreshed by a few drops of dirty water falling in our eye or on our face, & then the chats would get going, & we daren’t light a candle & start strafing them for the Huns would see our light & then we would draw the fire properly. Oh yes, we had a nice night.

Last night an order came through Hqrs for one of our chaps named Ross to pack up & proceed to Australia. It appears that he has had 2 brothers killed in this war & since he has been away his father has died, & now he is the sole support of his mother. Ross himself has been wounded 3 times already so he has done his bit (he came away with the original 1st Div). His mother was the means of getting him out of it. When we heard he was going to Australia we all said “lucky dog”.

6th January. Last night we moved from the support trenches at Pilgrim’s Way & made for the firing line to do our 2 days in misery. We were lucky again for we got through the barrage which Fritz puts down the little valley opposite Gueudecourt of a night time, for he knows that all relieving troops go up this gully. We kept well up towards Gueudecourt & so missed nearly all the shelling. There is one very dangerous place, the Chalk Pits, & round here there have been a lot of casualties. The fatigue party following us ran into a big shell or two & got smashed about; however we reached the firing line safely, & the first thing that met our eyes were a couple of dead men on stretchers & a portion of the trench smashed to pieces.

By Jove I was glad when morning came. I was that cold that I could scarcely talk, everything I had on was sopping wet, & my dugout, which was occupied by 4 of us, was more like a pond than anything else I could compare it to, & my feet were as cold as cold could be. Heavens how we suffer with our feet. About 6.30 our rations & breakfast came up: hot stew & tea & best of all a pair of dry socks for each man.

7th January. What a night we had — one of the most miserable as ever I put in in my life & I shall never forget it as long as I live. To make matters worse for me I had to take a patrol out & find out what I could of the Germans’ movements. I went out at 9 o’clock & took 2 of my best men with me; we carried 2 bombs each & nothing else. We sneaked out for nearly 200 yards & threaded our way among the German dead of which there were hundreds. After getting sufficiently close to the Huns’ trenches, I left the 2 men in a shell hole with instructions to be ready to assist me in case I was attacked & should have to fall back on them. I then crawled forward on my stomach, lying very quiet & low when the flares went up — if I was discovered at this stage it would be all up, for the machine guns would riddle one with lead.

I was crawling forward slowly, keeping both ears & eyes well open, when suddenly I stops dead for there, not more than 40 yards away, were 2 German sentries, their heads just showing over the edge of a shell hole, but by good luck they did not notice me. I sneaked away to the right & from a nice little point got a fine view of the German lines. There were about 30 of them baling out one of their trenches, & I lay there for a fair time watching their movements. At last I was rewarded for I saw 2 patrols sneak out from their trench & make over to the 19th Batt. One of these had 5 men & the other 8, & I also located one of their machine guns & on the way back I discovered a new trench which the Germans were digging. This was a nice little discovery & I was quite pleased with myself.

Shortly after this I picked up my 2 men & we made our way back. Old Fritz saw us & turned his machine guns on us. You should have seen the way we threw ourselves down, mud or no mud, & his bullets whizzed over us harmlessly. When things quietened down a little off we started again but he was waiting for us & down we had to go again. This is no good to us, I thought, so I said to the chaps we will have to sneak back one at a time & I will start out first, so off I went. Just before I reached our trench I watched for the others to come up, & just as each man dropped into the trench a sniper had a shot at each of us. You would have laughed if you could have seen the dive that the last man made — he fairly flew into the ditch.

10th January. Another inspection parade this morning & all overcoats had to be cleaned. It took me, would you believe, 3 hours to clean mine & even then it was in a dreadful state, but good enough for me. Yes, we have some mud alright up here on the Somme. In fact I have been practically all day long cleaning up my belongings & even now they look dirty. Such is a soldier’s life anyhow.

14th January. Sunday once more, & we held a church parade in a heavy snowstorm. Right alongside there is a small wood, all leafless of course, & on the trees snow lay thick. It looked very pretty with the branches bending over with their white load & the flakes falling fast while in the distance could be heard the rumble of traffic on the roads, & further off still the muffled roar of heavy artillery.

16th January. Had the platoon this morning on parade, & Heavens was it cold & the ground as hard as bricks with the sharp frost. Ice has not melted all day, & there is a small breeze blowing & it cuts like a knife.

This afternoon it was all football. A team went from our Coy to play B. It was a draw, neither side scoring. The rest of the Coy marched up on to a vacant piece of ground & had a rough & tumble. About 100 men on the ball at once, talk about fun. They nearly kicked the legs off one another but it kept us as warm as toast.

Tonight Hqrs asked for a description of Bluey Whittaker. He went away on leave at the end of last September & has not turned up so far, but I believe they have tracked him down at Etaples.

17th January. Heavy fall of snow this morning, a good 9 in. I should think. Owing to my boots being so bad I am not on parade & how glad I am, for the rest of them are skirmishing in the snow. By Heavens I’ll bet it is freezing out there & I can see some fun when they come in — won’t they swear, for it is still snowing. As if they could not give them a day off. They might just as well, for the men will learn nothing & it will do them a lot of harm perhaps. Just imagine yourself carrying about 30 lbs on your back & careering over the snow, with hands like ice & the snow falling thick. Then when they come home, they have only cold & crowded tents to go into — it’s enough to make a man jump up & never come down again. So much for the military life. No wonder a big % of the men are crook, & then they wonder why the men don’t turn out smartly. To make sure I would not go on parade this morning I fixed my boot up with the aid of a friendly bayonet, for they are quite beyond repair.

I believe we are moving from here about Sunday, & thus after promising us 32 days rest out of the line. I reckon they treat us rotten — other Divs have 5 & 6 weeks rest but apparently they can’t afford to spell us long.

Today I read an account of the glowing way in which the Australians are being treated in their billets. One article describes us as sitting around huge roaring fires of wood with our clothes pegged on the walls & the men enjoying themselves with jokes, cards & etc. Shows what he knows about it & the other average billets we camp in, but I suppose that the public fondly believe it, & reckon we are having a fine time in spite of the winter in France.

21st January. This evening the church bells were ringing down at the little church at Beauveaux, & they sounded beautifully; so clear & ringing were the tones that came softly over the snow-white fields, but I suppose that the rarity of the cold air had a lot to do with the mellowness. The sound of church bells always sets me thinking of old times.

22nd January. Went for a march this morning & it was a rotten one. They made the pace too hot with the result that the end of the Coy was strung out like a mob of flukey sheep, & the whole had to be halted every now & again to allow the rear to block up. After coming back we fell out & put our gear away & fell in again with our overcoats & rifles & marched away to the baths. While waiting our turn we had to drill our platoons out on the road. This was mainly to keep them warm, but the men could not see this & groused like anything, but it was no good of them growling, they had to drill. The water accommodation was not the best, but what there was of it was good, nice & warm. Best of all we got a bonzer change of clean clothes, & got rid of our chats, hurrah.

24th January. Went for a route march this morning & the road was crowded with troops marching both ways. It was a bonzer morning, clear, sunny & sharp stinging air. The road was in splendid condition, for like all the rest of the country it is frozen as hard as steel. Frost has settled on the land properly & if this is the sort of winters they have in France, well it will do us. The boys are standing it splendidly, even better than a lot of the Tommies I think. Why I have felt it far colder many & many a time in Tasmania than I have done over here so far. One naturally expected a frightful time after all the gassing yarns we used to hear concerning the awful winter in this part of the world. I thought we would have been frizzled up by this time, but on the contrary we all look in good health with the exception of the majority of the men’s feet. They are very soft & sore, through using so much whale oil & doing a lot of marching.

25th January. Had a short lecture this afternoon on danger of frost bite for the temperature at present is very low, something like 10° below zero, & if you don’t keep moving something is likely to happen.

26th January. Kaiser’s birthday. Wonder what he will be up to.

28th January. Last night after tea I had to do a bit of scouting for picks. After a lot of trouble I managed to get 15 & marched off 28 men in all. Mr Page reckoned we had about 2 miles to walk — I like his idea of distance, it was near 5. On the way up we passed along the edge of High Wood, now merely a bunch of ragged & smashed timber with all the ground pockmarked with shell holes.

Didn’t we get a shock coming back. Going up we kidded ourselves we could walk the frozen ground nicely but I think the dew had settled on the steel-like ground which made it absolutely dangerous to walk on. I was getting on nicely & laughing to myself at the falls the others were getting, when all of a sudden like a flash of lightning up went my heels & down I come a frightful gutser. The pain was so intense I nearly cried with it; all I could do was gasp & roll about. One of my mates helped me up. The boards caught me fair on the muscly part of my leg & raised a big black bruise & wasn’t it sore to hop home on.

I don’t think there was a single man who escaped under a dozen falls. Imagine if you can (but I know you can’t form any true idea) a long track & all the ground covered with snow to the depth of a foot or so. On both sides of this track the ground had been walked on to such an extent that all the snow had vanished, leaving only an uneven glass-like surface frozen as hard as steel. You might say to yourself why did we not go further out & walk on the snow. Well we dare not for everywhere there are treacherous great shell holes & old battered-in trenches hidden by the drifts of snow which had blown into them. The snow over here is not like we usually see in Australia. It is like sand or white powder & the wind blows it about like dust & conceals these holes. Some of the boys had an experience of walking into these & talk about a buster, for down you go until the solid ice pulls you up, which might mean anything from 2 to 6 ft, so you can just imagine a man crawling out of this sort of thing.

Heavens talk about cold & to make it worse an icy wind was blowing — I would not like to write what the boys said about the Hun, France & things in general unprintable. I know my own language was not of the best. Big Bill Buckley, who by the way stands 6 ft 7, simply couldn’t stand on his feet & over certain sections he had to crawl on his hands & knees. A pretty state of affairs, however we reached our camp after 3 hours struggling on the ice, & every man breathed a silent prayer & took various oaths what he wouldn’t do before he would go up that track again. The biggest wonder to me is how someone didn’t break some bones for really it was dangerous to walk on.

29th January. Had no sleep last night for it was too cold, so I got up early & issued the rations, which were short. To give you an idea how cold it is, everything you buy with liquid in it in any shape or form is ice inside & the contents frozen as hard as wood. If you pour water on the ground ice will form under your eyes. Some cold, isn’t it.

31st January. What do you think of this. Our sentries & the Germans’ exchange greetings any time of the day. We are both in full view of one another & it seems to be a mutual agreement for neither side to shoot. We are only 60 or 70 yds away, & you can go out & give a whistle & a couple of Germans will jump up & wave to you.

This morning Jock & I were signalling away to one of them when Jock collars a rifle & holds it up in full view of the Fritz & made a motion of pitching it over his shoulder as if he was tired of war. Fritz was watching the performance closely then he collars his rifle & goes through the same movements.

2nd February. The Coy rose early this morning & went for a bath. They had to walk to Fricourt, a distance of 4 miles or so. I did not go for I was too crook. I am getting much weaker in the chest I think & I know for certain that I am not as strong as I used to be, however this is only to be expected after the exposure I have been through since joining the military. I am expecting a breakdown in a couple of months or so.

It was just as well I did not go to the baths for they could not get a bath on account of the water all being frozen so they got a clean change of clothes & back they came, swearing like troopers.

4th February. This morning the Coy was “fell in” & volunteers called for a raiding party. They got 28 from the Coy, including my humble self, but they turned nearly everyone down & only took 2 from us (they generally take those men who have not seen much service).

A furious bombardment broke out early last night & lasted fully a couple of hours. I cannot describe the terrific thunderous roar of our terrible artillery. The night seemed full of roaring rushing shells as they sped overhead on their destructive career. Just close to our huts there is a battery of 9.2s & every time these monsters fired, something or other would be knocked off a shelf we had at one end of the hut by concussion.

It is estimated that 500 batteries (2000 guns) were in action last night. What it was all over I am not certain of yet, for one hears so many yarns.

5th February. Funny joint we are in this time. We have to lie in our dugout all day & can’t knock about for fear of giving our position away. If the Huns knew we were here they would blow us to pieces, so we take it easy. We have good dugouts. In ours there are 3 of us — Jock, Starkey & myself — & about all we have to do is lie & sleep & I think we make a pretty good fist of it. Last night went to bed at 11 o’clock & did not get up till tea time next day.

Tonight at 10 o’clock our guns put a heavy barrage over the Maze & right up to Gueudecourt. At the latter place our 4th Div were making an attack on a German strongpost. I could not see too well from where I was standing so I ran across to the next ridge & a wonderful scene was laid before me. The whole horizon was lit up by bursting shells which gave the night a weird look as the shells flashed fiery red, scarlet, light yellow & sometimes a pretty bluish green would catch your eye. Among all this medley & all the confusion of colours the Huns added their flares, plainly showing their fear of being attacked. The light from the numerous flares showed to me the great rolling clouds of dust smoke coming from the German lines in ever increasing volumes till at last the bombarded section looked more like a great bushfire, while the heavy shells which kept on falling into the smoke & fumes resembled big trees falling, raising great clouds of bright red sparks. Above all was the roar of artillery. While this was going on the boys attacked & captured the position & 130 men & 2 officers with it. Our casualties amounted to 140, nearly all light wounds.

A message came over the telephone tonight saying that America had declared war on Germany. Hope it’s true for it ought to shorten the war.

I was round at the cookhouse this evening, having a yarn to Digby & McGrath, & while I was there they were cutting up the meat. It was frozen as hard as steel & ice all through — not much fear of getting it flyblown or flabby in this weather. We are getting chestnuts issued to us now instead of potatoes.

10th February. Early this morning I was aroused by Bellchambers’s musical voice calling me. Had an order for No. 12 to pack up & move at once to York Dump to take over from the party in charge there. The pace was very slow for everything is slippery & hard & to hurry is to court disaster.

It took me nearly all the afternoon to take over the dump & get into the way of working. We fell in the soup properly for there were more ammunitions requisitioned for tonight’s work than there is in a fortnight of the usual working. I had no less than 32 trucks to fill with various explosives & I was responsible for the whole concern. The gang started about 7.30 & did not finish till 12 o’clock & by the time I had finished balancing my books & getting the requisition for tomorrow it was 2 o’clock. To give you an idea of the stuff we sent out: 52,000 rounds of S.A.A., 9000 Stokes bombs, 10,000 Mills No. 5, 5000 rifle grenades & the same number of cartridges for them, 24 boxes of Very lights & flares & numerous other small items.

11th February. Last night the raids came off & neither of them were successful. The 5th Batt had a most disastrous night — 60 out of the 100 killed or wounded. The Huns evidently knew of their raid & were waiting on them; they opened up with rifle & machine gun 5 mins before they went over. In spite of all this, they entered his trenches & from all accounts they were in a dreadful state, full of dead men. The opinion seems to be that Fritz put his barrage in mistake over his own trench with disastrous results for themselves. On account of the heavy casualties they had to send a party of the 12th Batt to give them a hand.

12th February. Outside the snow is falling thick & fast, but at the present time I can laugh at it for I am quartered in a big warm dugout with a coal fire & plenty of tucker. They feed us well on this job; we draw our rations from Div, which is always best, for you get far more liberal rations from them.

14th February. Went for a short route march this morning as far as Péronne Avenue & came back & started rifle drill. I never saw the men so dopey before — they were more like a lot of old women — & worst of it I could not shake them up for I can hardly speak I’m that hoarse. It makes me mad to look at a lot of men with no life or snap in their work.

Well having a fair bit of time on my hands tonight I am going to try & describe an ordinary 24 hours in a garrison trench. You can start your day any time you like for there is no beginning or end to any day in the trenches. Let us start say at half an hour or so before dawn, the hour of stand to. This on the whole is the most dangerous of the 24 — the enemy may be planning an attack on your defences. If so he will have made use of the hours of darkness to complete his arrangements to push troops across no man’s land, ready to dash forward at the break of day. Therefore at this hour every available man “stands to arms”. We line the parapet, peering out into the darkness, watching the grass in front of us turn from black to grey & from grey to green. When it becomes quite light & there is nothing unusual to be seen, we “stand down”, leaving sentries every here & there along our trench.

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 have 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.

7th April. Put the day in cramped up in an old dugout. Mr Champion, Starkey & myself never got a wink of sleep the whole day for Fritz shelled heavily, some of them lobbing uncomfortably close to us. Towards evening rain & hail set in & we were faced with a bonzer night & so it turned out, for it was Hell — sleet & hail the long night through, & no chance of getting any hot stuff to eat or drink. In fact all the water we could get was out of the little puddle holes in the ground, for we dare not drink shell hole water as all that had been poisoned by the Boches.

There are a fair number of German dead lying about; our boys must have got to close grips with them.

You should see the way the hounds have destroyed things: blew great craters in the roads every mile or so, & especially at all cross roads; chopped all telegraph poles down, cut the wires & smashed the insulators to pieces; all the lovely avenues of trees have also been felled. They even went so far as to pull all the mangolds & turnips to let them rot so as the English could not get them. As for the villages they have been thoroughly destroyed before they abandoned them; they are nothing more than a mass of stone, plaster, brick & scattered over all is the timber & etc. They are a dreary & desolate sight & I can quite understand the silent & deadly rage of the French. God help the Germans if the French, or for that matter the British, ever get within touch of Germany.

I have tried to fathom the reason why the Huns should destroy all the fruit trees, pull the lovely flowers up, destroy all pot plants & do everything in their power to make the country desolate. Surely they don’t think that such actions as these will have any effect on the war.

8th April. We were supposed to go over the top tonight, but for some reason or other it was postponed.

I had been working all night getting my men water & one thing & another, & about 3 o’clock I went over to see if our cooks had our hot meal ready. They were cooking in an old cellar which they had discovered full of china ornaments & etc, but they could only cook at night hence my visit to them. I was informed that it would be ready in half an hour so I started to go back. I had scarce got out in the road when all of a sudden every machine gun & rifle within miles seemed to burst out firing, & bullets flew thick as hailstones. I could see I was not in one of the pleasantest places so I just started to make a dash for our trench when “whack” a thrill shot through my shoulder like a thrust from a red-hot needle & I stopped in my track. I scarcely knew what had happened for a minute then I felt warm blood trickling down my arm. I realised then that I was hit & I about-turned & made for the safety of the cookhouse & there got my wound dressed. I was fairly cool as I took my clothes off, for to tell the truth I was rather glad & when I saw I would get away for a little while I shook hands with the boys & was as pleased as Punch. The cooks put some iodine on the wound & bandaged her up. I then had to wait till the shelling ceased a little & when it did I made a dash for Coy Hqrs.

Just as I got there old Fritz put a most terrific barrage over the very road where Hqrs were. How we escaped being blown to pieces is another mystery to me, for 5.9s were flying & bursting all around us & we could scarcely breathe for the dust & foul fumes from these deadly shells. What makes our escape all the more marvellous is that we had no cover, only a little sunken road. We crept out of her by degrees & once more I breathed a sigh of relief.

Just as day was breaking I went out through the back of Doiques. The shelling was still very heavy, though not quite so concentrated. I made my way slowly down to Batt Hqrs & here the Dr dressed the wound. An A.M.C. man took me down the road a little way & showed me the way to the next dressing station. Reaching this they directed me to a place where the wounded caught ambulances. Had to wait here a fair while & saw some horrible wounds. Got away at last in a horse ambulance & so ended Easter Sunday for me.

9th April. Continuing our journey the ambulance dropped us at a field station & here they examined us, & worst of all inoculated us again, this time for lockjaw. Heavens how it stung; the needle was as blunt as it could possibly be & they drove it right home. It made me contract every muscle in my body, so painful was it; however after it was over we had a good feed of bread & butter & hot tea. This was a Godsend for we were famishing.

In the morning we were carried out on stretchers — couldn’t walk for they took our boots away last night. We were put into motors & these ran us down to the hospital train. How splendidly they are fitted up, bonzer beds & all, & they put me snug into one of them, & there I stopped until the train reached Rouen. Hanged if it was just snowing again when we were taken out & driven to the hospital in motors again.

I finally landed in No. 6, an English hospital & I never wish to get in one again. They are absolutely rotten & the tucker is worse. I nearly starved during my few days there & if they hadn’t let me out when they did I would have bolted & taken the consequences. That night when they took us in we were put into bed & our wounds dressed, but hang me if they would give us any tea. We were nearly all Australians in there & I can tell you that we kicked up a row.

12th April. Fed right up to the neck & had a small row with the Dr & nurses. I wanted to get out of it & after a lot of argument the Dr consented.

From the hospital we went into one of the worst, disgraceful & bullying camps as ever I wish to see. It was run almost by Tommies entirely. I wouldn’t be in the English Army for anything. I would be in the clink the whole time I am sure of that, & the tucker we got at this gaol was about enough to keep you alive.

15th April. Woke up this morning to find it raining like blazes. Don’t know what’s come over the country at all. In the last 2 days we have had 2 snowstorms, 3 heavy frosts, 2 fine days & 1 wet one. Rather a funny mixture.

We are all going to Etaples this afternoon.

18th April. Got issued with clothing & equipment, so am a soldier once more.

19th April. Ran across Stan last night, what do you think of that, & he had been living within a stone’s throw. One of the chaps in the orderly room said to me, “One of your brothers was here tonight looking for you.” I guessed who it was straight away, & I started off down to the 12th Batt lines to see him. I had only just got out of the tent when I spotted him coming up the line. I recognised him immediately, & he knew me. I don’t think Stan has changed at all. I was delighted to see him, & it was very late that night when we went to bed.

20th April. Went up for examination this morning & was passed so will be going away tomorrow.

21st April. Left Etaples this morning & marched down to the train & soon we were bowling merrily along. We went through Amiens & Corbie this time & called at Albert about 2 o’clock, then marched to the reinforcement camp just outside Albert. Here we all got our respirators & tested them. After this I came into Albert & here I am in an old Y.M.C.A. with plenty of shell holes in her, scribbling away as if my life depended on it.

22nd April. Left camp about 10 o’clock & after a fair march pulled up at Bazentin Le Petit, a place I have been in before. On the way up we passed fairly close to Pozières — what a difference there is now to when I first knew Pozzy. She is all cleaned up & motors are running through her, huts are all over the place, & not a gun or a shell to be seen, but the ground still shows traces of the terrible battle that was fought for possession of this little village, & it will live in memory, for it was one of the places that made Australia’s name famous throughout the world.

I thought that I would stroll round & have a look at some of the places I was familiar with. What a desolate place the station was compared to when I had known it last. Gone were the hustle & bustle of thousands of men & hundreds of trams that used to crowd round the dump, all the buildings have been pulled down, tents taken away, dugouts everywhere empty, while even the road was deserted. The place looks very desolate & lonely now. Of course the reason for this is very simple: it is too far behind the lines to be of any use now the Hun has been pushed back. They have started to clean the mess up in places; every here & there you will see great craters being filled with barb wire & such rubbish, while the big German dugouts are being stripped of their timber & then blown in & levelled off. We won’t know the place soon, for the grass is springing rapidly & will hide all the ugly great shell holes of this battered country.

Away in the distance I can hear our guns rolling & grumbling like thunder, but slowly & surely battering the Hun to pieces. There is no doubt now as to who is going to win, the fingers point very plainly, but it has been a hard & costly struggle. I think we have entered on the last phase of the war. Soon she will be over, & what’s left of us sailing for all we are worth away to the Sunny South, the place which has been so long the land of our dreams.

It is a bonzer afternoon & I am sitting by an old deserted dugout full in the glorious sunshine which is pouring golden beams down, making everything beautiful. Above me the larks are singing sweetly & the other birds are keeping company, while everything has a tinge of green telling of fast-coming spring. Away up in the Heavens the aeroplanes are droning as they pass backwards & forwards, going to or from the line.

29th April. Packed up & left Le Transloy this morning at 9.30 & marched to the same trenches we were in a few days ago. It was a glorious morning & as we slowly marched along it seemed more like a huge picnic than anything else. All over the place horses were quietly grazing on the new spring grass & they were enjoying it properly while the chaps who were looking after them were lying on the grass sunning themselves. Wherever you looked you could see rows & rows of snow-white tents & hundreds of men moving busily about, & in the air the planes were practising, looping the loop, corkscrewing & tumbling about as if they were born in it (it is marvellous the way they can handle these things). But there was one thing that we could not help hearing & that was the slow & steady rumbling of the guns away in the distance. They held no terrors for us, only now & again brought us back to earth from our dreams by an extra heavy roll of thunderous reports.

30th April. Hot & sultry today & feels like rain.

Today we have been doing Coy drill & etc & yet in the morning & evening we have to “stand to”. It does seem ridiculous — we are easily 5 miles behind the firing line.

Got a bit of a shock. The Capt told me that I would be going to England in a few days, but I am not counting on it. I will have to be right in England before I believe it.

Got a bonzer parcel from Mrs Mitchell today & there was a fine cake in excellent condition, which was very welcome to us.

3rd May. The guns opened up last night with a terrific bang. Just a few minutes before “zero time” there had been an ominous silence, then our guns let fly & before you could look round the whole crowd let fly for all they were worth. The Heavens were lit up by the flames from the gun muzzles; they stabbed the night with vivid bright red stabs of fiery flame. There seemed to be guns everywhere you looked & the night was filled with an awe-inspiring carronade which made the very earth rock & tremble & the air to vibrate so much that a candle would scarcely burn.

We were going to have a bath at 9 o’clock this morning & started off merry & bright but we did not get far before a runner came hurrying over with the news that we were to return at once & get ready for the firing line as the 2nd Div had been badly mauled. This was a shock to us, but we hurried back & set to & threw our things together, & Sgts drew their bombs, ammunition & etc & issued them out to their men. All was hurry & bustle for a while, but everything was ready in no time & we were ready to march off, which we soon did, my platoon leading. The day was very hot & the roads dry & dusty, & soon we were all covered in sweat & were quite white with dust. We marched rapidly for it seemed we were urgently needed but when we reached Vraucourt we found we had to wait till dusk before we could go any further.

German prisoners & wounded were passing through all day & so were our boys. The Red Cross cars were very busy & we could see that the casualties had been very heavy, but what could one expect, for breaking into the famous Hindenburg Line was a very great feat.

All day long there has been a most terrific artillery battle going & the roar of the guns is deafening, especially the 60 pounders of which there are quite a lot close to us. There is one remarkable thing I have noticed since this battle started & that is the almost total absence of the German planes. It just shows that we have the mastery of the air. Whenever a battle is raging our planes go right over the German lines & engage the Hun over there & prevent him from having a squizz, & that is what is happening now. As I sit here at the door of our old ruined farmhouse I can see dozens of our planes scouting & wheeling about.

4th May. Just about dusk last night we “fell” our platoons in & Capt McKenzie sent up for me as he wanted to speak to me before moving off, so down I went. “Look here, Barwick,” he said. “Tonight you are going up to the line with a new officer. Stick to him all you can & teach him what you know & you will be practically in charge of the men for I can trust you.” He told us we were going into a Hell & he wanted to give me a good stiff drink of spirits, but I never go in for that sort of thing & it does not appeal to me.

I landed in the trenches. The portion I was in was mostly 5th Bde & they had the wind up properly as they had lost heavily, as the numerous dead lying about showed all too plainly. When we were taking over, old Fritz made a counter-attack but he was beaten off. I’m hanged if I knew where we were until day broke, for shells seemed to be coming from all sides & flares were going up practically all round us.

5th May. When we were taking over the trenches, we asked them if any of our men were in front & they said no, so a little while after some of us saw some men stealing slowly over towards us. Jock Mackie ordered his men to line the parapet & wait for him to give the order to fire for he wanted to make certain, so he let them come fairly close, thinking of course they were Huns going to make an attack. When he thought they were close enough he gave the order to open fire, & the boys let fly into them but to their horror they found that they were firing on their own men. The fools in the trench did not know where their own men were to have told us such a thing. Luckily however none of the lads were killed. They belonged to the 21st Batt & they had just been relieved from a trench in front of us by the 3rd Batt & were on their way out.

Up to about 11 o’clock the morning was fairly quiet & all the Sgts were busy organising their men & fixing the trench up a little, for we all expected to have to fight for it like tigers. We got a good number of the wounded out, collected all bombs, fixed posts & reliefs up & etc & soon we were ready for the Hun. We did not have long to wait for he started a bombing attack & things were pretty lively for a time but eventually he was beaten off with considerable loss. Then we thought that we would take a hand & A Coy attacked him & after a fierce fight succeeded in forcing him out of nearly 300 yds of trench. During this smart little action they captured between 30 & 40 prisoners, all big & young men, picked troops they were, which made our boys’ success all the more creditable. Some of these Germans must have stood nearly 7 ft high & were broad in proportion; they were the best stamp of men that I have ever seen in the German Army.

It always seems to be the Australians’ fate to bump into these picked troops but the reason is very obvious, for there is no doubt about it the Germans look upon the Australians as very formidable troops & therefore they take no chances & put all picked troops against us. Consequently wherever the Australians are there is bound to be fierce fighting with heavy losses to both sides concerned. You have no idea how his crack troops, guards & etc have suffered from the Australians, & for this very reason I am sure that the bulk of the German Army have a lot of time for the Australians as fighters, although they hate & dread us for they know we will never yield an inch of ground till they are absolutely blown out of it & will fight to the death.

The trench we are holding is the main one of the Hindenburg Line & in a few places, where it has not been battered down by shell fire, a good 10 feet deep & fairly wide. The traverses are especially strongly built & look like great buttresses of stone. This trench is also provided with big deep dugouts & there are any amount of dead Germans in them. These dugouts are more than welcome to us once we get into their trench, for there all our wounded are taken & they are as safe as can be. The majority of them are 30 or 40 ft in depth & the whole concern is strong & well timbered. In these dugouts we find all sorts of things, such as bacon, butter, black bread & etc while all their water bottles are full of coffee. I don’t mind drinking their coffee but I could not come at the eatables.

On both sides of this powerful trench they have barb wire fully 40 yards in width. It is a wonderful affair how our chaps got through it, but they did.

We have had some terrific bombardments & the one today is very severe. As the day wore on it got worse & at 7 o’clock it reached a climax. I’m hanged if you could see 10 yds in front for the dust & earth raised by the bursting shells & this combined with the fumes, smoke & stinking irritating tear gas, of which they put over huge quantities, made life almost unbearable & almost certainly very precious. Men were being killed all along the trench & we were all “standing to” for we were expecting a counter-attack at any minute. The cry for stretcher bearers was very insistent & these brave chaps were kept very busy bandaging & getting the wounded under cover. Of all the things I hate to hear in a trench is “stretcher bearers” for it always means that some poor devil got a knock, perhaps killed & we are never satisfied until we know who it is.

Jock & I had a lucky escape while this Hell was raging. We were trying to talk in the trench when a great shell, probably an 8 in., burst fair on the parados behind us, certainly not more than 3 yards above our heads. Hanged if I knew what had happened for a second or two, for I did not know whether my head was on or not & how my whole body tingled — it is a wonder the concussion never killed us stone dead I can tell you. Jock & I lost no time in buzzing round to the next traverse, where we overhauled one another & luckily found nothing the matter.

This bombardment continued with unabated fury till about 10 o’clock, when they launched their counter-attack. They only added to the dreadful layer of dead in no man’s land. I am not overestimating things when I say that there are 3 Germans killed to every Australian in this fiercely contested sector. A trip up the trench we have just captured is an eye-opener, but a terrible sight to even one so hardened to horrible sights as myself, for it is nothing more than a shambles. It is absolutely packed with dead Germans & there they are, lying in all attitudes, as many as 3 deep in places & heads & arms all over the place, showing the effect of our bombs. It is an awful sight & I jolly soon got out of it, for I felt quite sick.

The bombardment continued all night long & the air was full of screaming, whistling, roaring shells for our guns were tearing it in properly. When morning broke we could see great spouts of dark-coloured earth shooting into the air & shrapnel lashing all over the ground in front of us. It was fairly hailing down, & so it was on us. It seemed as if both sides were revenging themselves on the unfortunate infantry but of course that is always the way, we have to suffer. Things quietened down a little before dinner & we were very thankful for it. Now & again they put a burst of whizz bangs over & these generally catch a few men off their guard.

About 10 o’clock a most wonderful thing happened. A runner came hurrying up to Coy Hqrs with a note to say that Sgt Mackie & myself were to pack up at once for England & we had to report as soon as possible at our transport. Just imagine our feelings when we heard this; I was too dumbfounded to believe it for a long while. Jock & I packed up in a few secs, but we could not leave the dugout for old Fritz was shelling like old Harry — it was dangerous to poke your head out. One shell caught a bunch of chaps just as they were opposite the dugout & wounded every one of them. One chap had his leg hanging off as he hobbled down the stairs. It was an awful sight but he was as cool as a cucumber. There were no stretcher bearers handy so we set to & bandaged them up ourselves.

Just before we left the Huns done a dirty trick on 2 of our stretcher bearers. They went out with a white flag to pick up a wounded man who was lying in front. Just as they bent over him one of them got shot in the body & he collapsed. His mate then picked him up & started to carry him back to the trenches. He got nearly there when a German shot him stone dead. It was one of the most bare-faced cowardly things as ever I have seen close, & if they don’t pay up for it a hundred times over I’ll eat my hat.

This order was, as you may guess, one of the most pleasant surprises I have had, & to think that Jock & I should get away together. It suited us down to the ground for we have been mates so long now, but we were no ways safe yet for we knew we had to pass through a most intense barrage which the Huns were putting over our communication trench.

Just before we left Jock saw the Major & the Major said, “Well, Mackie, I suppose you & Barwick are pleased you are getting out of it. You know it is up to you to have a spell for you have stuck it so long & I hope you will have a good time.” A couple of hours after this he [the Major] was mortally wounded & died the same night. His dying wish was that all men in the clink should be released if they would go to the firing line to help their comrades & that all fines were to be cancelled.

I will never forget as long as ever I live the time we had coming through that awful barrage & I firmly believe that there must be a kind Providence watching over Jock & me. 3 times did we stop for a spell going down that lane of death & each time, not 3 secs after we stopped, a monstrous shell lobbed fair in the trench & not more than 10 or 15 yds from us. Right at the end of the trench I’ll swear that a 4.2 did not miss my head by more than a few inches; I felt the backwash of the air as it shot by my face. However we reached a place of safety at last, utterly exhausted with the sweat pouring out of us. We rested a good quarter of an hour & then pushed on slowly by easy stages till we reached Noreuil.

It was fairly late in the afternoon when we pulled up at the transport, utterly knocked out. We threw ourselves down on the grass until we recovered then had a wash & the cooks gave us a good dinner. After this we drew our packs & got some clean clothes & went to bed early, for we had had practically no sleep for the last 3 nights.

6th May. This morning we pushed off for Bde Hqrs. General Walker saw us & told us we had all been selected as long-service & reliable men to send to England to do Instructor’s work. He also said when you get over there don’t be frightened to tell them what the Australians have done at Bullecourt, for the Australians seem to be the only troops who are capable of breaking & holding the line in this particular sector, & he was very sorry he had to lend these 2 Brigades to the 2nd Div.

8th May. Left Albert about 3.30 this afternoon & I hope I never see it again.

12th May. You have no idea of the relief it is to us to be among such beautiful & lovely sights — such a contrast to the torn & battered fields of France — & to be among people who speak your own language. Well it was more like paradise & I can honestly say that my heart felt lighter than it has for many a long day. I lay down in the cool green grass & blessed old England for being such a glorious place. Whatever her faults may be there is nothing that can rob her of her lovely & beautiful places of interest, all hallowed with age & memories of long ago. I can quite understand people calling England “home” for she is worthy of it.

20th May. Yesterday & today 2 years ago we were having the time of our lives on Gallipoli, for it is the second anniversary of the great attack on the Australians.

28th May. Packed up & walked down to the station at Amesbury, where we caught the train. The country looks magnificent after yesterday’s heavy rainstorms. All the hedges are snowy white & the fields present a great contrast of colour with the daisies & buttercups in full bloom & horses & cattle feeding contentedly. The weather has cleared & the sun is trying to shine, but somehow or other it has not got that same clear bright light that we have in Australia; it’s more yellowish, pale & moist.

Arrived at Tidworth fairly late & got a car to run a few of us up to Candahar. She is a fine big place & has every convenience.

29th May. We have been pooled into an Officers’ Instruction School, at least that is what the Colonel told us this morning. He said there was no certainty of a commission out of it; however if nothing comes of it, it will do us the world of good. We shall have very little time for ourselves I can see.

6th July. The examination results came out this afternoon & to my surprise I got 69, just 1 off “Very good or first class”. I never expected it, for this is the first school you might say I have ever been to, & besides it is a very hard one to pass — you have no idea of the amount of new stuff we had to learn, especially in theory. I am well satisfied, even if it is only to know that a chap is not quite so stupid as he thought he was.

This evening before we left Candahar the Colonel gave us a farewell speech & plenty of good sound advice.

13th July. Had to go through the gas test this morning. It seems the height of nonsense, don’t it, putting the N.C.O.s from overseas through the gas chamber, after us living among the stuff so long, but there you are, red tape again.

23rd July. Anniversary of Pozières today. Seems a long year to me & one full of changes. About 10 days ago there was a great memorial service held on the actual battlefield of Pozières. Each unit of the 1st Division sent about 30 men who actually fought there to represent the unit. It was a great gathering & very impressive I believe. General Birdwood & his Staff were there.

What beats me as how they don’t erect some permanent memorial at Pozières, for there’s no getting away from the fact that the taking & holding of Pozières was a wonderful feat, especially after the previous unsuccessful attacks by the British troops; however I shan’t forget Pozières for I was one of the very first over the parapet on that fateful morn. Even now I can see the awful flashes of thousands of shells as we swept forward, & our objective seemed to be miles away, but we reached it alright & hung on through the awful bombardment that followed shortly afterwards. I never thought I would come out of that Hell for it seemed impossible, however it was a great victory & one which we can always look back upon with pride, & a certain amount of regret, when one thinks of the many fine mates he lost in that inferno.

Been a nasty muggy close heat today. I can’t say as how I care much for English weather so far from what I have seen of it.

31st July. By tonight’s paper I see that the long-expected smash in Flanders has started. She will be some go I’ll bet.

3rd August. Had a letter I wrote to Stan when I first came across from France returned to me: “Where-abouts uncertain.”

4th August. Anniversary of our declaration of war against Germany & still she drags on.

27th August. I have just thought of it: have been soldiering now for 3 years & 3 days. What a time it seems since I first rushed down to Sydney to join up, frightened they would have enough before I got there, & when I passed the Dr & got into khaki, I was one of the proudest chaps in Sydney. Even now, in spite of the long time we have been away & the trials & hardships I have had to put up with, I’m glad I was one of the first away, & never regret joining up.

6th September. When we formed up this morning 20 N.C.O.s’ names were called out & mine was among them. They must want their old N.C.O.s back badly; some of the 20 have not been here 2 out of their 6 months yet. I can’t growl for I have had just on 4 months. Could have got out of this if I liked — the Dentist marked me unfit — but I absolutely declined treatment. France will do me.

25th September. This morning at 9.30 we moved off for France. Took us nearly an hour to get away with all the lads shaking hands & wishing us good luck & goodbye.

30th September. It is a glorious day like October in Australia, only you can see it is autumn instead of spring, for all the leaves are turning golden & they are slowly fading & falling. There is not a cloud in the sky, & the only thing you can hear is the steady roll & thunder of Britain’s terrible artillery, which is fast winning this war. Everyone over here is more confident than ever about our victory, which is fast coming.

2nd October. Another glorious morning. It’s quite remarkable such a stretch of fine weather at this time of the year — Providence seems to be trying to make up for all the past disappointments as regards the weather.

Everything is quiet & peaceful this morning. All the tents have been struck & lines cleaned up. The men are lying about in the sun resting. The only places where there is any activity is round the cooks line & Q.M. stores, here a few men are on fatigue. Above all this scene of quietness the bands are playing. You can hear tunes from all directions, the gentle breeze floats them to us, so taking it all round it is a perfect morning, such as only France & Australia can show us, such has been my experience.

All the farmers are hard at work round here getting their potatoes in, ploughing, sowing, harrowing & etc. The war has not touched this part of France & work goes on as usual. There is very little land left untilled & they get splendid crops for the ground is very rich & flat. A lot of it is almost chocolate while the remainder is a fine deep friable loam, easily worked.

6th October. Saw a few of the old boys including Freddie Turner, Bill Bradley, Major McKenzie & many others. I got a shock I can tell you when they told me young Holmes, Billy Bellchambers, old Bob Creasy, Dick Sharp & lots of others had been killed; we all had been mates for so long. I don’t know how Holmes’s mother will take it. If ever there was a game kid he was & he had a name for courage second to none in the Battalion; he was a fine little kid & very popular. I can hardly realise it as yet. Bob Creasy, the last that was seen of him, was battling single handed with 7 Germans. He killed 6 with the bayonet & the last one they killed each other.

According to the boys they had a very easy win as far as the Hun infantry went. They even met them coming over in mass formation with full packs up, & from papers captured their objective was Dickebusch, nearly 6 miles away. Their time for launching the attack was 10 mins too late, for the boys were on them, & our wonderful & deadly barrage caught them & fairly butchered them. As the barrage swept over them they went to turn back but could not get near our wall of fire, so they were caught in a nice trap, a deadly barrage behind, & a more deadly foe in front, for by this time the Batts had hopped over & were making for them. When the Huns saw them coming they were terrified, threw down their rifles & ran towards our chaps, hands up & begging for mercy. Some of them even grovelled at their feet, so terror struck were they. Only here & there did they make a stand but nothing will stop our lads.

Their first objective was taken in a few bounds & some of them even ran into our own barrage so impatient were they. Over the ridge & through the “pill boxes” they swept, & established a line 400 yards down the other side of the slope & thus completed the capture of the famous ridges. It was a great & clean victory & adds another bright spot on the Australians’ record of successes, so once again the Kaiser’s picked troops had been met & soundly beaten by amateurs, or at least that is what they used to call us at one time, but how things have changed.

8th October. Raining heavily for the last 12 hours but this morning broke fine & clear with a strong westerly wind which is fast drying the mud & slush up.

Started out on our burying job early this morning, but we had a walk for nothing — never buried a man, couldn’t find any, other parties had done it.

If you could only see the guns we have on this front. They are easily 6 miles deep & if put in a row would be more than wheel to wheel. Wherever you look there is nothing but guns, guns from the monstrous 15 incher right back to the snappy & vicious little field gun in front. The whole countryside is simply smothered with shells, stacked all over the place, & in places the 9.2s are chucked about like logs. To look at these shells lying in the mud & water you would think they were ruined, but they drag them out, wipe the mud off & shove them in the breech of the gun, shove what looks for all the world like a roll of red & white blanket in behind them, close the breech & see what happens: a tremendous roar, a flash of fire, & a black object flies out of the gun which you can follow with the eye until it loses itself in the clouds & that’s the last of the muddy shell which you saw a few minutes ago — the rest of it concerns old Fritz. It’s not the slightest exaggeration to say that there are millions of shells lying about in this awful Flanders mud, waiting to be used up.

One of the saddest sights on this great battlefield is the great number of fine horses that have been killed. There are hundreds of them along the corduroy roads. I don’t know how we would get on if it was not for our horses in spite of the motors, trains & etc. The latter can only bring things a certain distance & it then falls on the horse to plough through the mud, water, shell holes & etc, & they have the shells to face for theirs is a dangerous road, but they never seem to flinch, not even when they see each other getting blown out. They are much more courageous than a mule.

9th October. The 2nd Div & our 3rd Bde hopped over this morning. About 11 o’clock the prisoners started to trickle down; they reckon they got a fair number. The French & English also went across on our left, & gained all their objectives. Funny thing: no one seems to have much trouble now in pushing Fritz out of his strongholds. If it wasn’t for his artillery the war would be over in a week.

11th October. Early this morning we marched out & entrained at Ypres. Saw a lot more of the boys who had come across from Blighty; some of them had not done more than 3 months. Passed about 2000 prisoners on our way down (they were taken last night). Got out of the train just outside Poperinge & had to march about 2 kilos, to where we are now camped in tents. They are pretty cold too.

14th October. You should have seen the tiny parade at church this morning. Easy to see the Battalion has been severely handled. It was the smallest parade I have ever seen.

16th October. I am sitting writing all this tonight in a noisy crowded little estaminet. I have 20 men on picquet & have split them into 4 parties, & as things are very quiet on the whole I have told them all to take up their Hqrs in some little estaminet till just on closing time, when we will all meet at a certain place & proceed to clear the estaminets, which have to be emptied at 8 o’clock. This of course just suits all hands & they are enjoying themselves.

At present you can scarce hear yourself talking. The little “boozer” is chock full of Tommies & Australians, & beer, wine, mullager & grenadine are circulating freely & opening all their mouths. As for smoke, why you can scarce see to the end of the little room, & every now & again someone strikes up some old tunes on the piano & there is a violin to help. At present they are playing & everyone is singing “If You Were the Only Girl in the World”. They have already sung “They Wouldn’t Believe Me”, that beautiful song that I first heard sung 18 months ago at the Gaiety in London, & the lovely strains always bring back old memories & days that have been & perhaps will come again.

Soldiers, take them all round, are very sentimental & anything in this nature appeals to them far more than any classical music ever would. This might seem strange to anyone outside khaki, but if they were only among us for a while they would understand. Perhaps the very fact of ours being so uncertain a life & the distance we are from home has a lot to do with it, & nowhere have I seen the power that music has to sway people so pronounced as among soldiers. Many & many a time have I seen tears brought to the eyes of some of the hardest men it would be possible to dig up anywhere & they have become as easily led as kids, so great a charm has sentimental music got.

It is just on 8 o’clock & I will now have to close up & proceed to clear the boozers. This job always calls for a little tact, & that’s a thing that I think I have learnt since being in the Army. It gives one a rare insight into the handling of men, & this is always handy to have. It all depends how you go about handling the average Australian; if you start to put the bounce in you are a goner, for they simply will not be driven.

18th October. Rained steadily during the night but the morning broke nice & sunny & it remained good all day.

This morning General Birdwood & Staff inspected the Battalion & the usual “polish” was thrown at us. Old Birdie said that we all knew what terrible sufferings & hardships the Australians had gone through & all this sort of thing & how nobly & gloriously they had fought, never failing in anything they had been asked to do. He finished up by saying, “And now, boys, I know what you have done before you can do again. There’s only one more ‘ridge’ to take & we must have a hand in that.”

This one more ridge is getting a trifle monotonous. There has been this one “ridge” ever since we started fighting & it still seems to be there, but still the lads are in as good a spirit as ever.

25th October. We are now camped just outside Ypres in Nissen huts, better than our tents.

26th October. News has just come down of another push. Canadians & Australians took all their objectives as usual, & the 5th Army on their right have been held up. There has been very heavy artillery firing the last couple of days. Also we have heard of the successful punch the French have put over on the Huns.

27th October. Very cold last night & we nearly froze. One blanket isn’t enough for this time of year.

Last night the artillery fire was very severe, just one continual roar. Our huts trembled & shivered all the night, while outside the Heavens were lit up by the flash of the guns, mixed with the German S.O.S., which plainly told of their distress & fear of being attacked.

Great aerial activity this morning, scores of planes both British & German being out. A squadron of Hun planes surrounded one of our scouts. He looked a goner but he done a marvellous nose dive & got right clear of them.

We have all been out drilling this morning for the ground has dried fast. I reckon it is the maddest thing I know of, just asking for trouble with the German machines watching every movement. If we don’t get bombed tonight I’ll eat my hat.

28th October. Just what I expected happened last night. Old Fritz bombed the camp & caught the 2nd Batt properly, killed 11 & wounded 30 more. One bomb wiped a whole tent out. There were stretchers & Red Cross cars all over the place. We had 4 casualties in our Battalion. One bomb dropped almost on the dump & about 40 yards from our huts, caught the chaps who were at the latrines, & also killed 2 Tommies. So much for drilling in sight of the planes & in the “forward area”. This might teach those in authority a lesson but I doubt it. They are holding a voluntary R.C. & C. of E. parade this morning.

This afternoon I found out where the 12th Battalion were camped, over in Ypres in the Belgian Barracks, so I went over to see Stan. Strange to say I had a dread of enquiring for him; something seemed to tell me that I would hear bad news, & I was not very far out. You can imagine what kind of a shock I got when they told me he had been killed. The world seemed to stand still for a few secs, & I nearly fell, but I recovered my balance & forced myself to keep quiet.

George Vaughan must have heard someone enquiring for a Barwick so he came out of the dugout. George was surprised when I told him; he had no idea it was Stan who had been killed. At any rate he & another officer gave me all the information they could & the map reference.

Heavens only knows how they will take it all at home; they will be cut up properly. Poor Stan could be ill spared. Of the 3 of us I reckon he was the best, & to think that he is the first to go, though now he has gone Len & I might follow quickly, for the luck’s been broken. I’m out for revenge for the future, & God help the German that comes into my hands. It’s he & I for it.

Stan was killed on October the 8th just close to Remus Wood, between Zonnebeke & Passchendaele.

30th October. There was a regular raid on last night. Fritz must have dropped some hundreds of bombs, big ones at that, for they shook the ground for miles around & he kept it up nearly all night long. Put me in mind of a hop over with these great bombs bursting & scores of machine guns rattling away. We could get scarce any sleep the whole night, & it was just the night for raids — a brilliant moonlight, bright as day, we could see the great Gothas quite plainly. I don’t know if they brought any down or what damage they done — must have done some for they just emptied them out like cartloads of bricks & back they went for more. By the way they carted their eggs over, I should think they had a contract on & were getting so much per dozen. I can tell you these bombs are not the nicest things to have falling around you, for you are so helpless against them.

Taking a line from what is going on now, Heavens only knows what next spring is going to bring forth in the matter of fighting in the air. I should not be surprised to see it finished there. Both sides seem to have given up the idea of going for one another like they used to; they seem to think that planes can be more usefully employed in bombing & they are both pretty right. There were constant streams of our planes passing back & forth last night on the same game as old Fritz, & I’ll bet many an old Fritz had the “wind up” as he anxiously listened for the hum of our planes & wondered what the night would bring forth.

At the present time the Hun is dropping 2 different sorts of bombs. One of them acts more like a big shell, & blows great craters in the ground that you could easily put a house in. This bomb is used more for destroying dumps, guns, roads, railways & etc. The other bomb has an instantaneous fuse which bursts the instant it touches anything. It is a very heavy & terrible powerful bomb. It only makes a hole big enough to put a bucket in, but as for doing damage to troops & horses it is second to none, for it bursts into thousands of small pieces & these all keep very low, about 3 ft high, so that one is far safer standing up than lying down. To counteract this nearly all huts, tents & horse lines have a sandbag, sod & in many cases a dirt barricade built up round them so as to stop the flying particles of steel. These are generally built from 3 ft to 4 ft high & about 2 ft in thickness, & seem to be pretty effective.

We are moving this morning into safer diggings under the rampart in Ypres. There we shall be safe from bombs & shells, at least for a few days before moving up.

5th November. Today is the first anniversary of our disastrous stunt at Flers, when C & D Coys were almost annihilated. I never saw the like of that night neither before nor since & as for mud & rain, well don’t mention it.

6th November. I am sitting in my little dugout & it is exactly 6 o’clock. I have been up early, getting some parties away, & I had just sat down to write & the instant I took the pen in my hand thousands of guns lashed out as one. Words cannot describe what is going on as I write this; the air is simply chock full of screaming & howling shells & everything around is vibrating & quivering like a leaf while the noise is indescribable, just one perpetual boom. The only thing you can pick out is the sharp bark of the 18 pounders, for a lot of them are quite close to us.

The view from my dugout is a splendid yet terrible one. We seem to be between 2 walls of fire, the flashes of our guns behind & the burst of the shells in front, where the line can easily be followed by the orange, blue, yellow, pink, green & many varieties of red & golden flashes from the various explosives used. Mingling among this medley of lights are the German flares & S.O.S. & onion strings which he is madly throwing in the air, for well he knows what is following our barrage. There are no Russians behind but men 10 times more deadly to meet & who give little quarter. These are the Canadians & they are after the village of Passchendaele this morning.

It is wonderful what men can face. Why our guns alone are enough to frighten the life out of anyone, let alone where the shells are falling; it must be perfect Hell then, especially now we hold all the high ridges. It’s a bit strange for old Fritz to be on the low land & with very little observation, but that is where the Flanders offensive has put him & he is being punished severely by our artillery.

Last night I saw an awful sight. We were having our tea & watching Fritzie shelling a road that strings of mules were passing up & down, laden with ammunition. The shells were bursting right among the animals, raising frightful clouds of dust & smoke & knocking the men & mules like ninepins. Just pure murder I reckon but the traffic never stopped, on they went to the guns. We could see the mules & men going sky high, & now & again some maddened beast would break loose & gallop for his life down the lane of death. Those drivers must have had fine nerves to carry on like they did. This transport work is nothing near the cop it was at one time.

Our rations came up late this morning. They had some difficulty getting past the cross roads on Westhoek Ridge — the Germans were shelling it heavily — so consequently all our fatigue parties were late getting away.

Our guns are still hammering away at Fritz & waves of drumfire burst out every now & again, like as if you lifted the lid off Hell.

7th November. I had as narrow an escape this morning as ever I have had, & for that matter wish to. I was walking over to see Dimock when my well-trained ear heard a big shell coming my way. I knew it was no use running so I just stood still, held my breath & waited for the fearful crash. These are moments one never forgets, waiting for what seems almost certain death, for you are so powerless. What was probably a second seemed an eternity to me & down she come. There was a blinding flash, a sickening thud & the earth seemed to rush up & meet me. The next thing I knew that I had been flung in the air & had landed in the mud & great lumps of dirt were falling all round me. I was half dazed & my head was full of trains rushing through tunnels & I was tingling all over from the concussion. The big shell 9.2 had not landed more than 3 yards from me & marvellous to say I was not touched — all the metal seemed to fly forward for everything in front was absolutely riddled & torn to pieces. If it had acted as high explosive generally does I would have been torn to ribbons. As it was at any rate I got quite a big enough shock to last me for a while. He threw these great shells among our Coy all the morning & wonderful to say never got a man, though he put the wind up a lot.

One of our fatigue parties had a terrible experience this morning. They got caught in a salvo of “heavies”, & poor old Snowy Hills got blown to pieces & Charlie Crane & Costello were also killed (Costello had his head blown off). We buried the 3 of them this afternoon: 1 Sgt, 1 Cpl & 1 Pvt. Neville & Chalinbers were wounded.

They are giving us Hell again this afternoon. They seem to have got us set to some order.

8th November. We moved away from Anzac Ridge at 1.30 this afternoon & made off up the duckboard track that leads to the remains of the village of Zonnebeke. We passed through the top of Remus Wood where poor Stan was killed; the wood is practically torn to pieces in places. We had to wade through mud nearly a foot deep, the most mud I have seen since the good old Somme days when we practically swam in it. Just before we reached our dugouts over came a couple of 12 inchers, but luckily they shot harmlessly over our heads & burst with a terrific crash & roar, throwing bricks & mud sky high & shaking the whole joint, putting the fear of God into some of the chaps.

We are now camped under an old cordial factory. Nothing but a pile of bricks remains on top to let you know that a building once stood there, but the cellars underneath are still sound, though very uncomfortable for these sort of places are always crowded.

Of all the torn & shattered battlefields as ever I have seen the one round here takes first place. I have never seen such frightful holes shattered out of land & there are so many of these craters; the whole place has been turned over & over many times. It would be hard to picture a more dreary & desolate scene, everything blasted & shattered to ribbons, & as for the railway station & line, well they are both blown out of existence. Nothing but a few shattered & broken rails are there, silent witnesses of what was once a prosperous & smiling countryside.

9th November. What a picnic we have just had. C Coy had to carry the whole of the Battalion’s rations from where our transport dumped them to our Hqrs & B.O.R. They were to have brought them as far as the remains of Zonnebeke Church, but they were dropping a few “crunchers” round about her & apparently they got the wind right up for they shot the rations off more than half a mile off where they should have. For once in my life I was genuinely out of temper & I told the Quarter Master pretty straight what I thought of the whole concern, himself included & the transport in particular. Rather than risk 4 or 5 horses & 10 or so men for about 15 minutes, it meant that the whole Company would be exposed for at least 2 hours, to say nothing of the extra work involved, for where they had to come across was just a sea of mud & a couple of little creeks chucked in to cross — one of the worst tracks imaginable & very subject to shell fire.

At any rate we started off & all went well for the first hour, only an occasional shell dropping, but just as the last load was leaving a regular torrent of 9.2 & 5.9s burst right among the lads — I thought the whole lot were skittled. They got the fright of their life for they dropped their loads & for some unexplained reason they all came running back to me. What for I don’t know, for there was no cover where I was superintending the loading & despatch of the rations. I shouted to them to get what cover they could, for it was murderous standing outside. (It is in a time like this that a chap has to keep cool for men always look to a Sgt for a lead & if they see you are cool they will take notice otherwise obey you, but if you are “windy” well that’s the end of things.)

A couple of wounded men came hobbling up to me & I showed them to an old dugout, & when all the men were under cover & fairly safe, I went up & dressed them. One had a piece of shell as big as a pigeon’s egg graze across his backside & cut 3 nasty gashes in it & bruised him terribly. I put iodine all over the wound & fixed him up. We had 1 man killed & 3 wounded; wonderful how there were no more.

Coming back I managed to tread up to my waist in water & slush. A pretty pickle I was in & wet for the rest of the day. This was one of the worst little barrages of heavy stuff as ever I have seen & the casualties we had can be laid at the transport’s door.

A funny thing happened at this dressing station a few days ago. They brought a wounded man down & when they cut his clothes off to dress the wound, the Dr nearly fainted, for the supposed man was a girl. She had been in one of the Berkshire regiments for nearly a year & no one dropped to it. What price her for a game kid. I believe she was sent straight on to Blighty & she deserved it & more besides.

10th November. We have been living like lords of late, more tucker than we know what to do with.

The platoons are handing in all their spare ammunition & bombs; that will lighten the loads some.

Imperial troops are taking over all the line from the Australians. 5th Lancs are relieving us.

11th November. Well I think I laughed the most last night as I have done for a long long time. The way these Tommies go about things is a screaming farce after the way we carry out our reliefs. First of all they were late in making their appearance; they kept on turning up in little mobs all hopelessly lost & out of touch with everyone. Why not even their N.C.O.s nor officers knew for a start where they were going or who they were going to relieve. If you asked them anything all they could say was “we are 2nd/7” (second sevenths) & they were going to relieve the Australians. What Batt they had no idea.

Capt Whitby & I questioned them & from what they told us I think we were able to put them on the right track, but to make things worse it had been raining heavily all day & the ground was in an awful state & they came the worst possible way. The poor little Tommies were wet to the skin, covered with mud & tired out. They had given up all hope of ever getting to their positions & were content to wander aimlessly round through the mud & water. If ever I felt sorry for men, it was for these chaps. You have no idea how different they are from Colonials: they never question their leaders even if they are on the wrong track but will blindly follow him — bit different to our chaps. A Tommy once he gets in the Army seems to lose all individuality & initiative, & their so-called discipline exists only when the eye of authority is over them. They have to be told to do every little thing just like a mob of kids, & they live in dread of their officers & N.C.O.s. Of all the incompetent & useless officers as ever I saw in my life these Tommy leaders were just them. I wouldn’t follow them as far as I could throw a ton. To watch this batch coming in was a pretty sight. There they were circling round & round like a mob of sheep. We could see them quite plainly by the flash of the guns & wherever you looked you saw small parties & long strings of men coming from all directions of the compass, the most hopeless “box up” as ever I have seen.

When our Coy were going out they come across a poor little Tommy who was stuck in the mud nearly up to his armpits, & his mates were standing open mouthed, gaping at him, didn’t know what to do. Lew & a few more dug him nearly out with their hands & they had to stand up to their knees in mud & water to do it. Even then they had to take their equipment to pieces & pass the straps round his body & pull him out by sheer force. When they hauled him out he was a sorry-looking object covered with mud from head to foot & nearly dead with fright & cold. He lost his respirator & when he saw it was gone he burst into tears & said that he would be crimed & punished if he went back to his Batt without his respirator, so Lew took pity on him & gave him his own. That’s how the Imperial Army treat their men.

There were Tommies bogged all along this track & our lads were pulling them out from time to time. The heavy rain had swollen all the little creeks & washed the duckboards away & they had to wade through as best they could. Nearly all got wet to the shoulders, & they were in a lovely state when they lobbed back to Ypres nearly 1 o’clock in the morning.

Poor old Blue Whittaker done the Capt Webb act & swam the little torrent. I believe the language from Blue was very sulphurous & he passed in common with the others many disparaging & sarcastic remarks about the war & Belgium in one particular & what he wouldn’t do before coming to another war & etc etc.

Old Blue had another nice experience when on fatigue yesterday. He was carrying 2 cans of water over his neck by the aid of a strap. The ground was in an awful state, & by the time he came to the little creek he was in a mood fit for anything. As luck would have it in crossing the creek he made a bad guess & stepped right off the board, with the result that he nearly disappeared in the awful mud. The water cans weighed him down & Blue showed himself a master of well-chosen language — I never heard such an eloquent flow before & I nearly died laughing. This made old Blue go right off his head & when he clambered out leaving nearly all his trousers behind I nearly collapsed. I believe I should have laughed had he been drowned, he looked so comical & he is such a hard case. November is not exactly the nicest month for bathing either, especially when you have no dry clothes.

Just as we were going to bed tonight the mob rushes into our little hut & declared a rough house. There was Con Conellaw, Frank Ford, Pudding Pickering, Jack Hayes & a few more & what a lively time there was for a few minutes, everything upside down, lights out & men sprawling all over the joint. We often raid one another & this causes a bit of fun I can tell you.

14th November. This morning we moved off at 8.15 for what proved to be the longest march this Battalion has ever done. We marched till 4.15 with only the usual 10 mins per hour spell, & an hour & a half for dinner which we had on the road, covering just on 19 miles. Not bad going that, but we carried no packs. Scarce a man fell out, which was pretty good.

We are now camped for the night in an enormous great barn. We are back almost in the same place as we were first billeted on our arrival from Egypt, Wallon Cappel.

17th November. This afternoon I went for a short walk down the little valley. Everything showed the signs of autumn: the trees slowly shedding their golden & russet leaves, gently floating down in the cold still air, covering the grass, which is fast turning yellowish, with a brown layer of leaves. The old trees looked very bare with the pale sunlight flooding the countryside & only here & there could be seen a few hardy flowers which still hung out in spite of the cold winds & frosts. Nevertheless the old valley had a certain kind of beauty which was unmistakable. It must be a very beautiful little spot in spring & summer & a delightful place to spend a little holiday in, so quiet & peaceful & far removed from any big town. Salvecques is one of those quiet little French villages that still lie buried far from the roar & rattle of the busy towns & railways, & kinder people it would be hard to find. Once we get away from the war zone the difference in the people we meet is remarkable.

18th November. Sunday & on the move again. We marched out at a quarter to 9 & after nearly 3 miles picked up the rest of the Batt. Nearly the whole of the little population were there to see us off; they were bonzer people & we all were sorry to leave them.

We did not have a very long march today, about 9 miles, & we are now quartered in a small little village, Bécourt. The old chap who owns the billet we are in was greatly against the boys going upstairs to sleep — reckoned the floor wouldn’t stand them. He was right, for tonight as we were playing cards there was a terrific crash & down came boards, plaster & etc & with it a man’s leg. Old Case had gone through it & the whole concern seemed to be cracking; the floor must have been a hundred or so years old by the look of the timber. When the Captain came in, we showed him the hole & he laughed like anything.

19th November. Toddled off again this morning at 9 o’clock, & we had a fairly long march but most of it was very interesting & at times hilly. We had several splendid panoramic views of the surrounding country. Once, just as we got abreast of Desvres, the scene was very fine. As far as you could see towards the west, the land rolled away like gigantic billows, the sides all covered with green growing crops & grass. Scattered all over the place were clumps of trees, while at your feet lay the busy town with its tall factory chimneys, smoke curling slowly upwards. From here the road led gradually along a pretty ridge but ever climbing, climbing & at last we reached the summit & a splendid view was unfolded. We were on a high hill, the highest anywhere about, & away below us lay a beautiful fertile valley & on the opposite slope lay a fair-sized town & a white road stretching for miles. The boys all gasped when they saw this — these never-ending roads are not the nicest things to have in front of you.

23rd November. Splendid news came over the phone last night, telling us of the 5 mile advance of the British down towards the old Somme way again. What a splendid performance the tanks put up, & they have quite justified the high opinion formed of them when first they were introduced last year.

25th November. News came through tonight of the capture of Cambrai. Some victory this latest one of ours. There is great jubilation in France over it.

Got a small batch of welcome letters this afternoon.

1st December. 10 & 12 platoons got into a row over their billets this morning. They were dirty & the Capt went crook.

This afternoon they kidded me to have a match with the Coy against D. It was a wet & dreary afternoon but nevertheless the match took place. I was playing centre-forward, that is one of the places in Rugby where 3 men on each side rush in with their heads down like mad bulls & try to shove each other off the ground. The scores were 5 to 3, D Coy winning. It was a fine game & very even, & I think I more than held my own — they reckon I did at any rate — but what a mess we were in, you should have seen us. Our jerseys & knickers were covered with mud from head to foot, & when we got home we turned to & heated some water up & had a hot bath.

I stood it well, the running & bustling, for at the present I am in the pink of condition, never felt better in my life. Speaks well for the Army, don’t it, but I have been taking care of myself & I always have had a fine constitution or I should never have got away with the “originals”. I was a good inch under the required standard at that time but the Dr said I was so sound & solid that he would let me through. I was lucky, for at that time they were turning hundreds of big strong chaps down for miserable & paltry little defects, & it was a constant source of wonder to a lot of the lads how it was that I had passed & it is also a wonder to me even to this day.

2nd December. A bitterly cold wind blowing this morning cuts like a knife, a regular east wind. The old sun is shining but you can’t feel no heat. We had turkey & fowl for dinner today, the results of a raid by some of the lads on a miserable old swine round here. It don’t pay to be that way for the boys will get even.

4th December. The whole Coy went to Etaples today in motor buses for a bath. Took us a good hour to get there & we went straight in & got our wash. They told us we were going to get a clean change of clothing, so we were not prepared for the surprise they sprang on us. In marches a little Tommy & slings on the middle of the floor a bundle of the filthiest & dirtiest clothing I have ever seen. We were all speechless for a few secs then you should have heard the roar that went up. Len jumped up on a bench & advised the mob not to touch the stuff until an officer was brought round to have a look, so away they went to find an officer & make a complaint.

The Tommies were dumbfounded, for they never expected this sort of thing to happen; they must have thought we were like themselves, take anything that’s given them & ask no questions as the majority of them undoubtedly do, but not so our chaps. They demanded their own clothes back, for they were 10 times better than those they wanted to give us, & when the officer came round they insisted on it. They had to carry it out & return all our clothes, & would you believe it they were in a far worse state than when we handed them in. They had put them through the disinfecting machine & they were in a pretty state — you should have seen the tunics after coming out, they ruined them absolutely.

The Coy were split into 2 parties & they went to different baths & exactly the same thing happened at both places. Surely this is not how they always manage things, or perhaps they were trying to pile some rubbish on to us. If that was their intention they used bad judgement in their choice. At any rate we are a sorry-looking push now; the Coy went down looking smart & businesslike but they came back like a lot of swaggies & sundowners, & all concerned are mad about it.

7th December. My Paris leave came through last night, so this morning I have been getting ready & etc. Left Somer in a cattle truck on the first stage of my journey to Paris, & I got out quite close to Boulogne. Just before the train moved off I saw Tom Flattley. He also was going to Paris, so we hopped in the same carriage, but on the way down at Amiens I lost Tom while changing carriages in the crush but expect to pick him up on arrival.

A funny little thing happened to me while waiting at Amiens. I was holding the door of a corridor carriage open, looking out for Tom, & I noticed a French officer walking up & down. At last he said something to me in French. I could not understand what it was so I says, “What’s the matter, digger?” The old boy says, “Me no speak.” An English officer was standing just close & he said to me with a laugh, “That’s a French General you were calling digger, Aussie.” Not bad was it.

8th December. After travelling all night I arrived in Paris at 6.30. It was raining steadily & quite dark so I could see very little. A guide met us at the station & collected all the new arrivals & took us round to the Club, which is in an immense & beautiful hotel (Hotel Moderne). Here we booked our beds, had a wash & trooped down to breakfast, which we had outside in a big café.

This evening, after cutting about all day, we went & saw the Alhambra — they put on a good show there. One thing in particular got me & that was the way they used the coloured lights, easily the finest I seen anywhere.

9th December. Did not get up till 9 o’clock this morning — had a lovely bed & I was very tired last night. Another chap & I went for a stroll round some of the little side streets, & in one café we struck we had a bit of fun with some girls. There were all sorts: French, Belgian, Spaniard, Italian & etc, & they were hard cases you can bet. We stopped there drinking coffee & sweet wine till dinner time then we came back to our hotel & had a good dinner. Here we picked Frank Forder up.

We all went to see if we could get a seat at the Comique Opera, a magnificent theatre where they were playing “Carmen”. We were too late so we booked seats for “La Traviata” 4 days ahead. From here we taxied down to the Rue de Sebastopol, & as it was getting late we decided to have our tea so we went into a big restaurant & set to work. I ate something tonight which I never thought I would be game to tackle in the “creation of eats”, nothing less than a plate of “escargots” (snails). Fancy sitting up to a plateful of them. The snails were dished up in a little tray, boiled in their shells with a little bit of green chopped very fine over their mouth. A special fork is provided to eat them with, & would you believe it they do not taste too bad. We ate them quite easily, what do you think of that. They have a sweet taste, something like liver.

Before leaving Paris I must taste some frogs. They reckon they are pretty good & I should not be surprised after the snails.

10th December. Frank & I have been out in the city all day long & have just arrived home 12 o’clock A.M. Paris is a lovely place & no mistake easily the finest I have ever seen — knocks London into a cocked hat. The streets are so wide & beautiful with the trees growing along both sides & the magnificent buildings all so regular.

11th December. Have been roaming all over the city & the more I see of Paris the more beautiful & stately it appears to get. The Tuileries Gardens are magnificent & what they are like in summer when all the leaves are on the lovely trees is better imagined than anything else. The Invalides, where all the German trophies are shown, is well worth a visit; they have Captain Guynemer’s plane on show in which he brought down 19 German planes. She is only a little thing & the French keep it covered with flowers in honour of one of the greatest aviators who ever lived.

I love strolling about in the Boulevards for they are full of life, pretty girls & dresses, & if they don’t open your eyes well I’ll eat my hat. I wouldn’t have missed seeing Paris for something.

The old Australian & Canadian are easily the most popular of all the troops in Paris — you can get a kindly glance & smile from almost every Parisian. The Yanks think a lot of the Colonials too; they say that if they can do as well as our chaps have done they will be satisfied & I don’t think they can pay us a bigger compliment than that, & they are sincere.

It seems to be a great fashion among the girls over here to powder up their face until it is as white as snow & then for some unearthly reason darken all round their eyes — I reckon this spoils their otherwise good looks. They are all so neat like a new pin, & talk about dress & fashion well here is the place to see it alright, but when all is said & done the English & Australian girls stand out on their own & are incomparable. From what I have seen of this old world, girls in Australia are treated with more courtesy & respect than anywhere else, & the average Australian girl thinks most men rude & rough. Well she just ought to take a trip over to this part of the world & she will go back with changed opinions.

I went through 2 of the most modern shops in Paris, the Rue Lafayette Galeries & Au Printemps — they are simply wonderful inside. It is one of the prettiest sights imaginable to stand on the 6th or 7th gallery & look down on the thousands of people & many coloured lights below. The shops are all being decorated for Xmas; from what I saw this afternoon I shall have to change my opinion for I fail to see how they can very well be improved, they are absolutely splendid.

Another remarkable thing about Paris is the almost entire absence of children. I have scarce seen one in the city, though there are plenty on the outskirts. They reckon that nearly all people come to Paris for amusement so leave what children they may have behind & I think this correct, for almost everything here caters for amusement & a good time. Oh she’s some city, this gay Paree, & you want rolls of notes to keep going.

Got introduced to a decent but fast young lady & I got her to show me round some of the places I had not seen. We kicked off with a taxi & went to the highest part of Paris, Montmartre. From here there is a splendid view of the city & surroundings. Back again to the city & to a café after dinner, which cost a pretty penny. We went to the fashionable theatre Casino de Paris, & I shall never forget this performance. The dresses were magnificent & there were over 300 of the prettiest girls in Paris & London performing there. The theatre itself was a revelation; I’m satisfied we don’t know much about such things neither in England nor Australia compared to Paris. In fact I’m just beginning to realise I’m alive & kicking.

I had only one difficulty with the girl in the theatre. Like all French girls she was passionate & wanted to put her arm round my neck & kiss me in front of all the people. She could not understand why it was that I would not let her, for all around the French people were doing it & nobody takes any notice, but we English have never been used to that sort of thing & it was abhorrent to me so I would have none of it. She was a beautiful girl & no mistake, as most of these Parisians are, but when all is said & done give me our own girls. They may not be so chic & smart, but there is something about them which puts our girls in a class on their own, & to me they will always be incomparable; they have a certain proud manner & carry themselves so well, as if they realise they are the finest women in the world.

The performance, scenery, dresses, singing, dancing & so on was splendid, & the enthusiasm was boundless when 20-odd English girls came on the stage dressed as English officers & sang the telephone song “Hullo My Dear”. It even made my cold blood run hot, for it is then that we realise what a nation England is & what they & the nations think of us, & we realise how practically the whole world is leaning on old England & looking to her for lead. At any rate I shall never forget the applause with which this little item was greeted; it practically brought the house down.

Some of the French people nearly went frantic on several occasions when English items were on, especially when in one scene on a great latticework the girls formed a beautiful Union Jack. There was a great outburst & the whole theatre rose like one man & sang “Rule Britannia” & “God Save the King”. The curtain went down amidst an almost indescribable scene of enthusiasm & cheering. I can tell you my chest swelled out for I felt proud of being English or British, for it is all the same.

After this we had supper & by a streak of good luck we got a taxi, for they are very scarce at night time, & so I run her home & then back to my lodgings. She was a costly girl but the experience was invaluable. Whoever reads this at home will think I am a funny sort of fellow I suppose & I guess they are right. There is a big difference in the Archie of old, who in 1914 was almost too shy to kiss his sister, & the same ruffian of today. Knocking about the world has worked wonders, whither for the best or not I should not like to say, that will be for other people to judge, but this is certain: I look upon life in an entirely different manner to what I used to at one time long long ago.

Unlike London, Paris at night time is a blaze of light & splendour. They don’t seem to trouble about the Zepps & planes one little bit, & it makes the city seem ever so much better. It looks beautiful at night with its many coloured lights & crowded streets, for Paris does not wake up till about 10 o’clock. She is some city from then on till 12 or 1 in the morning.

The last day I was there Len came & saw me. I was in bed — never used to get up till 11 o’clock. Oh I can tell you we make the most of our opportunities when we get them & what a change it is to lie back & ring the bell & wait for the maid to bring your breakfast up or early in the morning a cup of coffee, tea or chocolate & a roll of bread & butter, nice & hot. The rooms themselves are lovely. I had a golden room, everything in it was of that colour, & all modern conveniences such as hot & cold water, baths, steam-heated room, life-sized mirrors, side tables, flowers, 3 different-coloured mantles for the electric light — blue, golden & rose — electric buttons at your head & many other little things. Everything here is built for beauty & comfort.

When I left Paris it was snowing heavily & quite 4 inches were lying on the ground. I would have liked to have stopped that night, for it would have been very pretty next day, but my leave was up & I had had a splendid time so I thought it best to get back & not spoil things. At 7.20 that night I said goodbye to gay Paree & the finest holiday I have ever had & the biggest eye-opener of my life. I will never regret as long as I live the money I spent here, for I had the full worth of it many times over.

17th December. Travelled all night long in freezing carriages & crowded. I slept on the rack as one could get a stretch there. It was still snowing when we reached Boulogne & we hopped off here & went across. Tom Flattley & I had some breakfast & then we walked down to another station & caught the northbound train for soldiers. She was a cold ride in cattle trucks to Hazebrouck, where we got off again & caught a train going to Bailleul, where they reckoned we would find our units. Tom & I pooled our cash & had some tea before setting out on our hunt. Oh it’s nice coming home from your leave. You don’t give a cuss how things go & you are fed up with everything.

18th December. After a long hunt I found the Batt last night, they having moved from down below, & I can tell you I was pleased to catch them up. Soon I was sitting beside a roaring fire, having a good feed & relating some of my Paris experiences to the boys. It was quite late when we went to bed.

21st December. The old frost still holds with iron hands on the land. Ice is 12 inches thick & the whole countryside has the appearance of being under a heavy fall of snow. A thick haze hangs over all & the cold is intense, chills right to the marrow bones.

Food is not too plentiful but we just about get enough for breakfast: we have a bowl of tea, porridge, 2 small slices of bread & a little slice of bacon or ham. For dinner we have a bowl of tea, a plate of stew or currie, & a couple of slices of bread. Tea consists of the usual bowl of tea, 2 slices of bread, sometimes meat, & a little jam & cheese, & for supper we have biscuits & cocoa. Rice is served every other night for tea, so you can see we don’t live like fighting cocks, but the food is plain & well cooked.

I am trying to do a little writing but the cold is not favourable for much of this sort of thing. My feet are my main trouble, trying to keep them warm.

24th December. Big guns have been going through pretty constantly last night drawn by monstrous “caterpillars”, & they were travelling very fast. We are preparing all along the line for possible German attacks which are bound to come, for they will do their utmost to crush either Britain or France before America is ready, which won’t be before the spring for a cert. As far as we are concerned, let them come & we will welcome them & they will have a little of what we have been going through for the last year or so.

Great rumours have been flying round about the Conscription voting. The latest is that the No’s are 200,000 in the lead in Australia. If this is true it is not much encouragement to us who are soldiering over here, for it practically means that the people of Australia are not behind us & this is not very nice to know. Heavens how miserable & rotten & ashamed I feel of my country & I was always so proud of Australia & all she has done in this war. Now our name is mud, & we all feel as how we can scarce look any one of the other Colonies in the face. Australia can’t be much of a place to live in at the present time; it’s pretty evident that all the best have gone from our one-time beautiful land. Seems like a bad dream to me for we can’t accept the facts of the Australian people turning us down so badly. It is as much as to say, “Serve you right for going away & good enough for you if you get killed.” You have no idea how it hurts us, hits in a tender place. At least, we used to think, if nothing else Australia will appreciate our services, but no, just the opposite it seems. Unless things alter considerably, Australia will be no place for me after this war, if I am spared to live through it all. I can see myself hitting out for some other land, for I would never live among such mongrels as there seems to be at the present time in Australia.

Thank God I am single & have no encumbrances & there is only one person outside my own family that draws me like a magnet. It is for her sake, & strange to say whom I have never seen, that I still continue to box on, hoping against hope that one day I will have the good fortune to meet her, & thank her for the splendid letters so cheery & bright that she has written to me. Many & many a time when I have felt lonely & miserable I have pulled her letters out & read & reread them, & I have always felt better for it. We have been corresponding regularly for over 2 years & we seem to know one another so well. I daresay we are both wondering what will be the end of it all, but not a word has passed between either of us that you could take a line from, but underlying it all there is a certain strain & I fancy we can both read between the lines. At any rate if it wasn’t for her & my people, Australia wouldn’t trouble me any more under the present conditions prevailing there. Her name I won’t mention, as I don’t want people to know of it.

25th December. Xmas Day & true to its traditions it has been snowing, but only slightly. We expected to be called out last night (had orders to be ready to move off at half an hour’s notice) as they were expecting the Germans to attack but happily nothing came of it. C Coy had to find 2 working parties to move off early this morning — bit stiff but the war can’t stop just for Xmas.

Our little bunch (Sgts) have started the penalty list for swearing again. Costs a penny for each word, & we all have quite a number up already. Seeing as how we are all broke or badly bent, we have suspended the penalty for today & of all days too, so we can give vent to our feelings & carry on as we like for once in a while.

26th December. What a Xmas we have had. I enjoyed it the best of any ever since I can remember. We had fowls, roast potatoes & green peas, & for sweets stewed figs & custard & plenty of canned fruit & a few other little trifles; altogether a very nice little dinner. Most of the lads had sobered down by dinner time for most of the day had been spent in paying visits to old cobbers & etc, & of course this meant the production of the whisky or rum bottle to drink one another’s health. It took most of the afternoon to sleep it off, so by the time 7 o’clock came round most of them had suffered a recovery & for the rest of the night we sat round a brazier with a nice fire burning, quite a merry little crowd. The officers left us about 11 o’clock, having spent more time with us than in their own mess. To finish the evening up we turned out & had a good old snow fight at midnight, & so ended our Xmas fun & a bonzer time we had.

Plenty of snow on the ground this morning & nothing but snow fights wherever you went. Some of our lads pelted the life out of a Tommy officer & he came over & made a complaint about it — reckoned even if they were Australians they should show more respect to an officer & not pelt him. How we all laughed over it; they don’t understand our lads. You should see our officers — they bog in with any of the boys & have a bit of fun.

This afternoon 4 officers & 4 N.C.O.s had to go to the firing line to have a look at what we will be taking over. It was a long walk up & everything is frozen hard & white as snow. A few shells fell unpleasantly close on the way up but we reached Rose Wood safely about sundown. We then had a drink of tea & afterwards inspected our dugouts & strong points. Just before we left the Germans started to sling gas shells over in dozens & we had to put our helmets on & walk in them for a full mile, during which time I managed to get a nasty whiff of gas & fell in a new shell hole which they had dropped on the train line.

27th December. Have been feeling very restless & miserable lately & don’t seem to care a hang what happens. The war is getting on our nerves I suppose. I can’t settle down to read or even write like I used to be able at one time. Just at present I have a severe attack of homesickness, but what’s the use of that in the military; all the longing you might have in the world is of no avail, so you just have to grin & bear it. If I were only free I should pack up & get for my life back once again to the Sunny South if only for a few days. I’m certain that would be a rapid cure for our restlessness, & all the boys are feeling the same way. We almost have to force ourselves to write now, & everything military is getting hateful to us all. People in Australia or England don’t long for this war to finish any more than we do I’ll bet, & as the days go past we hate it more & more.

30th December. Had to go to the Medical room this morning to get my arms dressed, for they are very sore & breaking out all over — a sure sign I am getting run down in health & want a change.

31st December. Moved out from Rossignol Camp this afternoon for the firing line, & wandered about for nearly 4 hours, during which time I in common with many others “looped the loop” times out of number. What language was used, you should have heard it.

We are now camped in Rose Wood. My platoon are in a strong little “strong point” quite close to Hqrs.

1918

The Western Front, France and Belgium

England

Returning home

1st January. New Year’s Day came in very quiet, scarce a shot being exchanged on either side. This front seems to be very quiet at present, hope it remains so.

New Year’s night I spent with a party of men digging & building a strongpost. We are putting a lot of these up in case the old Hun makes an attack. He will get a warm reception I’ll bet.

Fatty Gill & I were nearly grabbing a Tommy officer while on this job. I noticed this chap strolling about asking questions & etc, & my curiosity & suspicions were aroused, so I followed him about. He had a funny accent & on his shoulder he had only one star. I asked one of the 21st Machine Gun Coy if he knew anything about him & he said he had been around for the last 2 or 3 days & he thought he was an O.P. officer, so I thought this good enough, but afterwards I felt sorry I had not grabbed him for now I feel sure he was a German. It is a very easy thing to get through the outpost & picquet line as they are at present.

2nd January. Started to thaw a little today & a shower of rain fell, making things very unpleasant. Fritzie has been putting a lot of gas shells & 5.9s over this morning but he has hurt nothing so far.

4th January. The stretcher bearers & I had a narrow escape this afternoon. Old Fritz shelled our possies heavily for half an hour or so & he dropped a 5.9 not more than 3 yards from our dugout. Gave us all a proper headache from the concussion.

6th January. Last night Howard, Jimmy Lynch & I had to go to the front line to have a look at things before taking over. What we are holding is simply a string of outposts connected by visiting patrols. We have 4 of these outposts on our front, which is roughly 800 yds in length. Our left flank rests on the ruins of Hollebeke & here we join the Tommies (Bedfordshires). The surrounding country is very flat but what high ground there is we hold.

By the time we got home we had done enough physical jerks to do us for a week or so, especially on the hands down, & I might say it was not done to the count of 3 when old Fritz sends his bullets whistling past your ears, cracking like a horsewhip. One second we would all be walking along as bold as brass. There would be a crack & you wouldn’t see a single soul; every man would be hugging the snow as close as he could with the bullets sizzling over your heads or cutting the ground up in front or all round you. Puts a nasty taste in your mouth but when all is said & done you have to laugh when you think of it.

We had a good look at our front & got home at 5 in the morning.

8th January. The whole of the front is wired but only thinly. They are getting a good belt out by degrees — you can see from this how thinly our front is held — & the Hun is something the same.

I had the nice little job of working the fighting patrol. This consisted of 9 men & myself & we had to patrol no man’s land, looking for stoush. Luckily we found nothing tonight, though if we had followed the plans that Capt Edgley planned out at first there would have been some fun & bullets flying. He had the crazy idea of going out with Hales rifle grenades & a Lewis Gun. He intended to shoot the grenades into their strongposts & then turn the gun on them — the maddest thing I ever heard of. What gutsers we would have come; he would have chopped the legs from under us for the place simply stinks with machine guns.

He & Kelleway were going out at first. I nearly died laughing to see the look on poor Kelleway’s face when Edgley was planning his scheme. Charlie is no hero, & makes no bones about it either. He regards Edgley as a madman & I fancy the majority of the Coy have the same opinion — he’s what you would call a military maniac therefore he’s a nuisance to the troops. At any rate I pointed out the utter madness of the whole concern & he ended up by calling it off & squibbing it himself.

We found nothing after being out for a couple of hours & getting nearly frozen to death, for the ground was snow white & frozen hard.

10th January. We were relieved last night by D Coy & luckily we got out without a casualty & there was plenty of bucksheesh flying about.

Great rumours of peace are flying about. Wish they would settle it quick & lively, but I can’t see how it will end before Xmas.

Just close to here the Germans had a steel tree which they used to use for observation before they were driven back. It is cleverly built & you would take it for an ordinary tree, it is copied so true.

13th January. We put another little barrage into no man’s land with the idea of clearing a few machine guns out of her; there are one or two nasty ones which play over us at times. One of them the lads reckon plays “The Watch on the Rhine”. It’s funny but gunners seem to get a tune out of them. Often you would swear they are signalling in Morse Code.

14th January. Had to go & take over 5.0.11 after finishing my patrol & I put in a very cold night waiting for the Boches. Just before we were relieved it started to snow & soon the ground was as white as a sheet & all tracks were covered. I had to take my party out & use my judgement for direction. I got out alright but you wouldn’t believe how easy it is to get lost when the snow is on the ground & you are on flat country. Some of our chaps are always getting bushed, & have almost walked into Fritz’s hands.

The Dr has condemned C & D Coys for working purposes. He reckons the men are too weak & their feet are giving & he is quite right, they are not treating us right. We have to do an extra 8 days now. This will mean 24 days in the line — too much altogether for the winter & we are holding such a big stretch of the line & a most important part at that.

16th January. Rained heavily all day yesterday & most of the night, & things are in a pretty state — rivers of water wherever you look, & everything as miserable as can possibly be — but still everybody seems to be fairly cheerful.

The ground between us & Fritz is in a dreadful state, just a mass of water & mud, & it looks to be the same as far as I can see. It’s bad enough on our side & we are on the high land; Heavens only knows what his part is like for he is in a morass & has all the low-lying ground, a bit of a change for him. He is now going through what we have been putting up with ever since the war started, & good luck to him.

What a prize this diary would be for old Fritz. I am breaking all rules by bringing it near the line; we are supposed to always leave all these sorts of things behind, for fear of them falling into his hands, but like all rules they are only made to be broken. I have always carried mine with me wherever I have gone & most of our officers know of it but they never say anything.

20th January. We got a clean change of clothes this morning, the first change we have had since the 22nd December. We wanted it, for the chats were eating us alive & how we used to curse them. You never saw such things to keep men awake; we had few opportunities to sleep & when they did come along, well the chats wouldn’t let you, no, they would march up & down your body in Battalions & you had to scratch scratch, & the more you scratched the more you might. Heavens only knows what a relief it will be when we are free of these cursed insects.

22nd January. Saw a monster Zeppelin tearing through the clouds. He was travelling at a great height & speed. Looked more like a cigar than anything else.

Our artillery is very active this morning; they are shelling his lines like one thing. Aeroplanes are plentiful also, so you can see things are livening up.

23rd January. Have been jolly crook all day, & no wonder. We were relieved by the 3rd Batt last night, & I might mention nearly caught in machine gun fire coming out. We marched out to Wytschaete & went into fairly good dugouts. We were tired & thirsty so we decided to boil a dixie of water on a Tommy cooker & make some tea. I went out across the road & dipped into what appeared to be a clean shell hole of water (being dark I could not be sure but a soldier takes all sorts of risks). We boiled it & made our tea & went to bed. During the night we were seized with rotten pains in our stomach; we could not make out what was the cause of it at all. When we got up I went across to the same hole to get some water to have a wash in, & I nearly had a fit. No wonder we were crook — lucky we were not dead. It was about the dirtiest water imaginable, nearly green & slimy, & it looked to be full of arsenic. I’ll bet if the truth was known there’s a dead man or two in her.

25th January. A rather peculiar thing happened 2 nights ago to an outpost of the 8th Battalion. They saw an old Fritzie & they waved & beckoned to him to come across, & hanged if he didn’t. When he got over he asked them what they were & they said Australians. He said, “No, you’re not, you’re the same as I am, a Saxon.” They had quite a yarn with him, & just as he was going back an officer spotted him but it was too late, he was gone. He then put the whole post under open arrest for allowing old “Heine” to get away. Of course the proper thing would have been to collar him, but it would be a rotten thing to do for they called him over & if he was game enough to trust coming across no man’s land in daylight, it was up to them to let him go again.

This is a case where your military duty clashes with one’s code of honour & conscience, & I might say situations similar are constantly cropping up, when an officer has to make decisions in favour of the military machine, no matter how it may go against his nature to do it. I expect the officer who put them under arrest hated doing it, but he had to do it & so the chain goes on. It’s not all beer & skittles being in charge of men.

If ever a chap felt homesick well I did today. Makes a chap think of Australia when the sun is shining nicely & even the birds were singing as they were here today. Put me in mind of happy days I had spent in Tasmania & New South Wales, when I had not a care in the world, & my ambition was to own land & see the world. In fancy I could see the old Coal River, with its weeping willows trailing over the clear old river & the trout rising in the quiet pools, which were half hidden by tea tree, wattle & clematis, & oh the scent of it all, it sticks in my nostrils yet. Then I was in New South Wales & on my pony out on the “runs”, looking round the fences, stock & etc. The sun was nice & hot, & in the evening as I rode home the old gum trees sent forth a beautiful perfume, which is famous the world over. The sun went down in a ball of fire, heralding the approach of another hot day, & the old “laughing Jacks” packed together & roared & sang & chuckled to their hearts’ content. Then as the twilight deepened the rabbits, hares, wallabies, kangaroos & etc made their appearance, & bush life of the night commenced. When you got home, unsaddled & fed your pony & went up to dinner, with the thought of another day’s work well done, you thought Australia a bonzer place to live in, & wondered what the other side of the world was like. We know now.

28th January. Lovely morning & the sun is shining brilliantly. This is a marvellous winter & take it all round so far it is very little worse than the average Tasmanian winter, with only half the quantity of rain.

30th January. While Len was down on the Court Martial case this morning an order came round saying that he had to report at Batt Hqrs “full marching order” at 2 o’clock for the purpose of proceeding to England to go on the Instructional Staff. You may guess how glad I was, for he will be practically safe for the duration — surely the war will be over by the time his 6 months are up, so one of us will be sure to return. Besides he has earned his spell. He is taking a German rifle & a lot of souvenirs of mine with him, & I gave him a few of my surplus francs to carry on with (we have always shared our money since being in the Army). Len & I are the best of pals & I shall miss him greatly.

For a while Mr Traill did not like Len going in one way for he is a jolly good N.C.O., a thing not so easily procured these days, & besides he is as good a soldier as we have as anyone can tell you.

How pleased they will all be at home. There should be no need to worry any more for it matters so little about myself; I have been so long away from home now that it must seem as if they never knew me, & besides Len is the younger. What luck he has had — been fighting practically ever since war broke out & has never had a scratch; there’s very few as can say that, worse luck. There’s only one thing I hope & that is that he never returns to France while this war is on, & I don’t think anyone could wish better than that.

5th February. Got a bit of a pleasant surprise last night about 9.30. Jock & I were in bed when Jimmy Lord came up & wanted to know if I was in bed or not — if I was not, Mr Parkinson wanted to see me at once. The bed was too warm so I said, “Oh I’ll be down in the morning,” & away Jim went. In a few minutes he was back & said Mr Parkinson told him to tell me that I had been awarded the Belgian “Croix de Guerre” & that it had come out in tonight’s orders. Capt Edgley also got one. I think we are the first 2 in the Battalion to receive this decoration & needless to say I am proud of it.

In the afternoon the Coy were drawn up & the awards were read out on parade, & many were the congratulations I received from all our officers & lads. I don’t care such a wonderful lot as far as I’m concerned but those at home will no doubt be pleased to hear of it & it is for their sakes that I am more pleased than anything else.

6th February. Had a full marching order parade this morning. After falling in we marched out on to our parade ground, took our packs off & done a little platoon drill & rifle exercises till 11 o’clock then we marched down to the Batt parade ground for an inspection by the Colonel. Here he presented A Coy with the silver bugle which they won at the last inter Company sports. It is a fine bugle & it is for competition among the Coys of the Battalion. It is a good thing for it creates a feeling of rivalry.

After this was over the Colonel asked for all those who landed with the Battalion on the Peninsula to “slope arms”, & of the 1200-odd men who jumped out of those boats, but 17 were here today. It is then that one realises how lucky he has been & thanks his lucky stars he is still going strong. After this we marched off home & all were heartily glad to get rid of our heavy packs.

12th February. There has been some heavy firing up round the line; we could hear it quite plainly down here.

Old Fritz has been frightening the people round here by dropping pamphlets telling them he would be in Bailleul in 2 weeks time.

Received a letter from the Secretary of the Enquiry Bureau asking for any particulars I could supply them of Bob Creasy, who was killed on the 4/10/17. We often get these & nearly always are able to tell them all they want to know.

According to orders read out on parade this morning all mail reaching London for Australia & New Zealand between the 22nd & 25th of January has been lost at sea. I have 4 letters on this, gone down for a moral, & 3 of them were long ones I had taken time over — enough to make a man jump up & never come down.

27th February. We have only 1 blanket each tonight so I can see Howard & I doing a bit of a freeze, though we have come at the old “Domain” stunt: collected all the spare paper we could find & put it under our bed to lie on. It makes a good bed & is very warm. That’s one of the little points soldiering has taught us. You can’t beat practical experience & the Army is the place to get it, what?

28th February. After reporting to Mr Forrest at 8 o’clock this morning I had to dump my pack & go off with the transport to where they were going to dump the rations. We came across the first lot of guns, a battery of 9.2s, & they nearly blew our heads off in passing. Didn’t we bless them.

About a mile on from here we struck Spoil Bank, which is on the edge of the Ypres Canal. We were now in country with which I was familiar for we were holding the line in 1916 round here. One would scarcely know the place again, but the big Canadian cemetery is still here. These men were nearly all killed with the German gas attack in 1915, & later on the terrible fighting round Sanctuary Wood, which is quite close. This is the place where the Canadians made their great name & justified the faith placed in them, although they were only volunteers. All round here & along Middlesex Road the 4th Division are putting in field guns, getting ready if ever the Huns do succeed in breaking through. I should not like to be among them if ever they get this far back; what a time they will have crossing the ridge.

We pulled up at last after a walk of 4 hours just outside the famous Hill 60, which was blown up during the battle of Messines. Here we dumped the loads & set off back again. I got a ride as far as Veerstraat, & had to walk from there to our camp about 3 miles. Arrived there just as the Batt were moving off.

2nd March. This morning I went into Bailleul in our mess cart (took one of my trench boots in to get repaired). What a time we had on the way home, for just as we were clearing Bailleul a frightful snowstorm broke & it beat in our faces the whole way home. We were nearly frozen to death & covered with snow from head to foot; it was easily the coldest drive I ever remember & I don’t want many more like it. Took a good hour to get properly thawed & warm again.

3rd March. Still very cold & miserable, snow lying all over the ground & no sign of the sun. This cold snap will give the vegetation a bit of a check, for encouraged by the mild winter, everything is shooting & budding like wildfire, giving promise of a very early spring in places. The hedges were beginning to show a faint tinge of green & the buds on the trees were swelling fast; now I suppose they will have to call a halt for a while.

4th March. Got up fairly early this morning for Fatty Gill & I had to go down to Bailleul so off we set. Jimmy & I had a bonzer hot bath in a private place. After this the next item on the programme was to have some dinner so to a little tea room we rushed & had some of the inevitable steak, chips & eggs. There’s one thing that the French can’t do & that’s make tea. Of all the wishy-washy stuff as ever you tasted well they make it; tastes something like slops & is invariably cold & weak.

While in there today I saw a most interesting sight, & that was the “calling up” or beating the young French lads of the 1918 class, 19 years old. A great crowd were parading the streets, all wearing the national colours & carrying red, white & blue flags. If ever you saw patriotic & enthusiastic lads well these were, all singing & laughing as if they were going to a picnic but this is the spirit of this wonderful & magnificent people. I don’t think anything will ever break their hearts & I’m certain the Huns never will.

I laughed when I saw a great crowd of young boys & girls coming down the street hand in hand & singing at the top of their voices a little ditty which we often sing, a mixture of French & English, called “Parley Voo”. You would have thought they never had a care in the world. I felt sorry for these youngsters; little they know what they are so gladly coming to take part in.

6th March. Things have cleared up & it is a glorious & sunny morning, like a spring morning in Tasmania, not a cloud in the sky & birds singing everywhere. You would scarce know that a war was on save for the incessant & never-ending growl & rumble of the guns in the distance, & the stream of traffic on the roads & the steady hum of the planes overhead. Everything else seems so peaceful, calm & quiet.

I got the full strength of the raid the Germans made on the 10th Batt a few nights back. It appears that the 13th Batt knew it was coming off but they did not know when, & they had just been relieved when over Fritz came, 9 officers & 200 strong. He broke into the outposts & hand-to-hand fighting took place. Before they threw him out they had 27 casualties including a Major who was killed, & 5 men missing. They took 7 German prisoners, killed 30 more in & around the outposts, & they reckoned a good few more got wiped out by our fire crossing no man’s land, so they paid very dearly for this turnout.

7th March. My birthday once again & the fourth in the Army: 2 in Egypt & 2 in France. Surely this will be my last in the military; at any rate I am hoping so.

9th March. Another glorious morning. The sun is quite hot & everything looks beautiful, but the gun fire spoils the picture, for it is very heavy. Our big guns are all in action & the air is all a quiver & everything shaking like a leaf from the concussion, & we are easily 7 or 8 miles from the firing line. Things can’t go on much longer as they are; one side or the other will have to plunge.

The sector the Australians are holding at present is a most important part of the Western Front, & we are holding it strongly, a Brigade on a 2 Coy front, so you can see there’s some men behind the firing line. If ever Fritz wants to try his luck & his Prussians, the shell holes & craters stink of machine guns & we have field guns covering all our heavies — it would be a perfect massacre if ever he were to attack. Unlike last year we have all our ammunition dumps buried, so there’s little chance of blowing them up.

As I was going along the road this morning who should I meet but Bill Graham of the Pioneers. Old Bill was smiling all over his face when he shook hands & slapped his hand across my ribbon, & said, “That’s the stuff to give ’em, Snow.” He always calls me by that name does Bill. Had a bit of a yarn & then we both went about our business.

24th March. So the great Hun offensive has been launched at last. They surprised me; I honestly thought they had better sense than come at that game, for come what may they have not the slightest chance of winning. I’ll bet they will get cut to pieces.

The first news came through yesterday & from that it appears they had broken through at Bullecourt & Lagnicourt & one or two more places, but that signifies nothing for there is never any trouble for either side to make the first advance, for they have all their guns registered on the trenches & the front line is always lightly held. Wait till they get up against the line of resistance & have to haul their guns over shell-torn ground & get them into position for the next push — then the fun starts. We know all about that from personal experience & as for man to man goes, every Australian knows who is the superior fighter — that has been tested too often & the Fritzies know it in their own hearts too well.

Things must be very bad in Germany for them to attempt this mad act. I expect they are driven to it & have staked all they have got on this final plunge. No doubt they will make things hum & be very nasty for a while but the issue should never be in doubt. Everyone over here has the greatest confidence as to the eventual result of the offensive & it’s just the very thing that we have been wanting him to do — let him do the bag hopping by all means & when he is sick of it we will take a hand in the fun. He is now having a taste of what we had to put up with all last summer & good luck to him & his storm troops. This should be the beginning of the end & France will be a good place to be out of during the next 6 or 8 months for there will be plenty of stoush & etc.

It is Sunday today & one of the loveliest days imaginable, not a cloud in the sky & a brilliant sun. 3 of the chaps came for a stroll with me as far as our training ground & it was lovely walking along the hedges after the heat of the day. The perfume from the budding flowers & leaves was beautiful, & we quite enjoyed it. A few more hot days & you won’t know the country, so fast is everything coming along. You can fairly see the wheat & oats growing.

Nothing but rumours flying around. I heard someone saying that Fritz had got as far as Bapaume & had asked for an armistice. Another one that he has been knocked back past Lagnicourt & his old line, & was still going home. It’s funny but you always hear these sort of yarns whenever anything special is doing & I have got that used to them that I take absolutely no notice of what I hear, & not too much of what I see.

Old Fritzie was over bombing again last night. He seems to come across this part of the country each night on his way to St Omer & the sky was alive with the signals, rockets, shells & etc. They fell the one who came over last night; he was brought down in flames not so very far from here.

26th March. Bad news still continues to trickle through. The latest is that the Germans are within 2 miles of Albert. Just think of that after all the blood & agony spent in winning that hellish piece of country & now it has all gone for nothing & the Hun is still going strong. The 3rd, 4th & 5th Divs have all gone down there & the 2nd is following. So far we are in the line & they say we are stopping there for a time. I would much rather go down there & sink or swim with the rest of our lads. I’m certain that once the old Colonials get into the line again they will check his run; at any rate he will know he has been fighting by the time he finishes with them. She is some fight alright & the Germans are trying to make a finish of it for once & for all.

There’s one thing I am very pleased to see & that is in a terrible crisis like this everyone is still confident of the final issue & things are going on in the same old way. Nobody looks downcast or gloomy but all have a smile on their face as if it was a mere nothing. The things most discussed are the long-range gun of the Germans & sports.

The French people think we are very funny. I was talking to a lady this afternoon & one of the things she said she was most struck with in the Australians was their utter disregard of the war or the terrible disasters that had overtaken the British Armies. She said she thought such a thing would have a depressing effect on us, for we have to go back to the trenches & we never knew when our turn would come & we may have to go through the same ordeal as what the troops on the Somme are. I told her the devil-may-care air was natural to the Australians & nothing ever damped their spirits, nor they never met trouble halfway. We are interesting to the French people round here for we are the first Australians that they have ever seen, & they like our free & easy ways.

27th March. Great rumours are still flying round about the great battle down south. I was talking to a motor driver who has been running troops for all he was worth between here & Arras. He was telling me that in some sectors during the great fight they had to relieve the machine gunners every half hour owing to the frightful slaughter they were doing in the enemy’s ranks, the strain of killing men was so great on their nerves.

28th March. Things seem to be in a very tangled state round this part of the front. They have got some of our Light Horse & New Zealand mounted men holding portions of it, & men are being raked up from practically everywhere. They had a lot of gas this time in the line & nearly all the lads are talking a little hoarse & husky. Quite a number are now safely in Blighty.

1st April. Just before we went to bed last night down came the Captain with the news that we would be moving at 10 o’clock in the morning. What a rush set in then, trying to get as much straightened up over night as possible.

We were taken as far as Reninghelst in the light railway trains, passing through Dickebusch, Ouderdom & another little village. I was very surprised to notice how close to the fighting area the Belgian farmers have come; they have crops growing & looking real well almost into Dickebusch itself. Taking a line from what happened down south they are taking a risk of losing all.

On arriving at our destination we marched about a mile & pulled up in a rough little camp. There was a bit of excitement while we were getting the men into their quarters: 3 of Fritz’s planes came over quite low. I made sure they would empty a belt or two into us for we must have been a tempting target, however machine gun fire drove him off. Then all of a sudden there was a stir in the Heavens & 3 of our planes came tearing up & by a pretty piece of manoeuvring they cut one of them off & drove him down almost over our heads. There was great excitement as we watched our planes driving him down. Once he looked as if he was going to get away, but one of our small fighting machines got into position above the Fritz & jockeyed him down to the ground, where we saw him fall among a belt of trees to the right of our camp.

4th April. Today we got orders that we were moving tomorrow for the Somme & that we were hopping in for our cut at the earliest opportunity, so there will be a few of the lads missing in a week or so, worse luck.

6th April. Reveille at 2 A.M. this morning, so you can see we have had a lot of sleep. We moved off at 3 to catch the train at Goddersville, arriving there at 6. Here we had breakfast, & then entrained in horse trucks. We had a very cold ride for the next 10 hours when we arrived at the storm centre Amiens. All along the line from Ailly sur Somme to Amiens the people are packed up & prepared to move at a minute’s notice, while the road from Amiens is crowded with refugees of all sorts, carrying or pushing their few belongings, all hastening to get out of reach of old Fritz should he ever come any further. The station at Amiens is simply crowded with traffic, troops, munitions, guns, stores, horses & etc coming in & being unloaded as fast as possible, while the outgoing trains are carrying everything of any value out of the city.

Amiens is a big place. To give you an idea of the size we marched for a little over an hour before we cleared the town itself. Her streets are full of soldiers, both French & British with a sprinkling of Australian here & there. Our way led quite close to the beautiful cathedral. What a shame it will be if ever this lovely old pile is smashed, for she is one of the finest churches in France.

By the time we got fairly on our way it was dusk & we could easily see the flashes of our guns away in the distance. There is a big ridge which runs right round Amiens & it is quite evident whoever holds this has the whole of Amiens & the great basin which spreads for miles in their hands for it is such a dominating position, & this is what Fritz is fighting so hard to get. I don’t fancy his chance of ever getting it now the element of surprise has gone & his forces have lost their momentum.

It was a terribly solid march for the men to Allonville & they dropped out pretty fast as we approached her for they were done to the world, having had no sleep & very little tucker for the last 36 hours. No one was more pleased than myself when we threw our packs off in a great loft which held nearly the whole Batt. Just as we got in down the rain came in torrents & we thanked our lucky stars with our remaining breath that we were not out in such a storm. Tea was on as soon as they were ready. After this we made our beds & turned in for the night, done to the world.

7th April. The morning broke nice & sunny & the weather shows signs of clearing up. I am writing this sitting under one of the great sheds & the sun is pouring down. In the distance Amiens lies, a great white patch in a sea of green, & she looks very pretty with the sun glistening on the roofs & spires of the buildings while overhead the drone of our planes almost lulls one to sleep so continuous is it. They are there in hundreds, coming & going to the line in regular flocks. One Fritz was foolish enough to get a peep at what was going on over our way but he was simply eaten up, being rushed at from all directions.

Things are very busy round our billet, getting ready for the line. There are officers & men about here from all the Australian Divisions but everything appears to be running smoothly. From all accounts our lads are keeping their splendid reputation up.

At the present moment there is a great rattle of artillery. The old Hun must be attacking again, & I must leave off for it has just gone dinner.

This afternoon Mackie, Price, Dimock & I went for a stroll in a pretty little wood which is quite close to us. How nice everything looked for the sun was shining brilliantly & great white clouds were drifting across the sky, throwing fleeting shadows across the old beech trees, which are just beginning to get faintly stained with a green tinge which heralds the approaching spring. The most beautiful part of it all was the lovely carpet of early wild flowers, for they were there in abundance & in all colours: violets, anemones, crocuses, daisies, cowslips, primroses, buttercups & lots of other pretty little flowers that I don’t know the name of. The whole land was just a mass of colour, & it was delightful walking in such a bonzer place. I picked up a number of flowers & am going to try & press them.

11th April. Slept in till 8.30 for during the night we had been warned that we would be moving off today & nearly certain for the north again. Oh she’s a lovely war, & what a time we’re having.

We have just dumped our packs, in preparation for a forced march, where to I don’t know, nor care much either, for it’s all the same to us no matter where we go — we will eventually be shot into the thick of it.

A few of our financial members of the Staff, being seized with a fit of generosity, rushed down to the boozer & secured a few bottles of champagne to help drown their sorrows & give them courage for the promenade. Price & a few more of this issue are now sitting in the sun feeling very contented with the present state of affairs & scraping the mud off their boots.

25th April. Well to start with I shall have to go back some 13 or 14 days, just before we left St Pol on our way to Flanders again, so I shall have to be very brief & remember what I can. First of all I must mention this is Anzac Day & I am trying to scribble away sitting up in my bed in the Queens Hospital, Birmingham. I will have more to say of this later on when I catch my arrears up, so here goes for the back stuff.

We were held up for some unaccountable reason or other in St Pol & while here we were heavily bombed by Gothas. All we could do was to sit still in our trucks & heartily curse old Fritz & our drivers, who seemed to have caught a fright & done a get. Oh all were heartily glad when after a delay of some few hours we at last got a new engine on & pulled out. For the rest of the night we travelled steadily northwards & we never seemed to be out of hearing of the guns. In fact at some places old Fritz was even sending shells over our heads. Luckily we stopped nothing but it all tended to show that he had made a good advance; however our spirits were of the best & to kill time a party of us played “pontoon” till just on morning. I finished up by winning just on £4, a nice & handy little sum should I be lucky enough to get a crack in the next few days.

We got out at a quiet little siding just outside Hazebrouck & from here we could hear a few guns belting away in the distance. After the bustle & confusion of detraining was over we “fell in” in an old paddock just close to the railway line. After the rolls had been called the Capt spoke a few words to the Coy & told them what he knew of the situation, which I might say was very little, for after the heavy fight everything was upside down & mixed up to an astonishing degree; however he told us we would have to take up a position & dig in as soon as we came to favourable positions for defending, & at the same time he brought up several other matters about holding on till the last, no surrender & etc, which to my mind were quite needless for had not the Australians always fought up to their reputation, & needed no telling about it.

At any rate after waiting about for an hour or so we put our gear on & marched away from the railway line. We struck some pitiable sights all along the road for the poor old French people were tramping painfully along with their few treasured possessions done up in bundles which they were carrying in their hands. Some of the more fortunate ones had their carts & these were loaded with their few little scraps of furniture, bedding, some hay for their horses & etc, & on top as a rule there were seated some old people who had been driven from their one-time happy & prosperous homes & were now fleeing for their lives. Following the people up came their cattle, horses, sheep & etc, & among all this mixture we were threading our way slowly up to meet the wily Hun.

Now there is one thing I am going to say right here & that is this: when a lot of these old people saw we were Australians, they stopped on the road & some of them even turned back, such faith they have in our chaps. More than one old lady I heard say, “Bravo Australia, Australia bon,” & some of the old people actually cried with joy & relief when they saw the lads coming up with that firm easy swinging stride which belongs to us alone when marching in columns. Here, they thought, were troops who would give Fritz a fight for it, come what may. I don’t suppose you will believe me but what I say is quite true. We have a reputation second to none, & I don’t think we are going to lose it either.

Just before we reached Borre, we were halted for breakfast & rations were issued so we sat down & had a good tuck in, for all were very hungry & tired after the long & tiresome train journey right from Amiens. While we were breakfasting numbers of Tommies kept on trickling down, all dead beat both in body & spirit. We stopped a lot of them & tried to get some idea of how things were going but they could tell us very little. I have my doubts if a lot of them had been near the firing line at all, by the silly yarns they told.

After breakfast we “fell in” & marched away up through the deserted streets of what had once been a thriving & busy little village (Borre). Here we dumped our packs in a big house & threaded our way through the horses, waggons, limbers & etc which were rushing up & down the road. When we got outside the village the platoons got into “artillery formation” for we were gradually coming under long-range shell fire & we wanted as few casualties as possible.

We came to a halt just before we entered Pradelles. Here we were delayed till darkness had nearly set in, then we got a move on & went forward steadily till we were on the ridge overlooking Strazeele railway station. All senior N.C.O.s were called forward to have a look at the situation where we were going to dig in later on, so over we all went. Mr Beckett, Lynch, Gill & I selected our spot after much arguing as to field of fire, communication, flanks & etc. We had quite a few close shaves while reconnoitring & arguing the toss, for old Fritz was slinging his shells about in a most reckless manner, aiming at nothing in particular, just chancing to luck where they fell.

Well we got our men up & started them digging. For some reason or other Fritz chose this very spot & he plastered it unmercifully for a good hour with whizz bangs & 4.2s. Hanged if I can understand why we were all not wiped out for they landed all round us, throwing the dirt up in all directions & nearly choking us with horrible fumes. In half an hour or so time the lads were quite safe, for such good purpose had they dug that they put one in mind of rabbits with only their ears showing. Shortly after however he knocked off shelling & for the rest of the night we dug in comparative safety & ease.

By 1 o’clock we had finished & started off back to where we were going to camp for the time being, just behind Pradelles. I don’t think I ever felt more tired in all my life as I struggled home at the tail of the platoon, picking up the stragglers & putting them on the right track, & Heavens talk about cold, it was absolutely freezing. A cutting wind was blowing which struck right to the marrow.

The first thing I done was to slip over to the village, go into one of the cottages & get a bundle of blankets, rugs & etc (they were here for the taking as all the people had fled). There were dozens of chaps sleeping in every room but I managed to get as much as I wanted & slipped back to our windswept little camping place. Here Charlie Tonkin & I spread the bedding out & after a drink of tea, which old Mac had waiting for us, turned in utterly knocked out & too weary for words. I slept like a log in spite of the howling gale & did not wake till 9 o’clock & only then when Charlie shook me by the shoulder & told me he had the breakfast waiting. I wanted to go to sleep again but Charlie wouldn’t hear of it, so I rubbed my heavy eyes & set to work on my breakfast. We both turned in again & slept till 12 o’clock.

Mr Beckett came round then so we started to hunt the men up, but we could scarce find a one. They had all bolted off to the surrounding farmhouses & cottages, & here we found them sure enough sitting round the fires, roasting & cooking fowls, big Belgian rabbits, eggs, pork & all sorts of stuff which the people had left behind in their haste. In lots of houses the tables were all set for dinner, food & all being on the table. Needless to say the lads made the most of their opportunities & talk about wine, champagne & beer, well here it was in abundance. Early as it was in the day a good few were very merry, but we got them all mustered by degrees. Just close there was one specially big farmhouse & judging by the furniture & clothing left they must have been very well off. I found half of my platoon tucked away in here.

Towards the end of the day the majority of the Coy were half drunk so some of us went round & smashed as much grog as we could lay our hands on; champagne, wine or beer, it all went the same way. It’s a regular danger, you know, to have such a lot of stuff lying about & you never know the minute you may have to fight for your life, & half-witted men are more of a hindrance than anything else. How they swore & cursed when they heard of this but it sobered them up a bit.

The day was still frightfully cold & we had our work cut out trying to keep warm. At 7 o’clock we fell in & started off to complete our outposts (we were going to lengthen & wire them so as to make them stronger). We had a very nasty barrage to go through for old Fritz must have got a lot more guns up for he was giving the ridge we had to cross a taste of heavy shell fire; however we managed to get through without any casualties is a mystery to me for it seemed impossible. Once we had to scatter & take cover in shell holes for the shelling was severe. He hit building after building & set them alight & soon the whole countryside was lit up as by a gigantic bonfire & you could see people moving everywhere. She gave every promise of a very lively night & perhaps an attack by the way he was “barraging”, so I said to Mr Beckett, “Let’s get across this strip as soon as we can & take a chance, for it looks as if we will be wanted tonight.” “I was thinking the same,” he said, so he gave the signal to advance & men seemed to spring up from all manner of places & rapidly moved forward.

Before long we were in position, & attending to such little things as distributing our men evenly, passing 303. round, pushing “listening posts” out, getting the best position for our Lewis Gun & team & the hundred & one little things that have to be thought of when expecting an attack. The very night seemed favourable for it was pitch black, the wind had dropped & it seemed to have a moaning sighing sound as it passed through the trees. Houses & buildings were on fire everywhere, both our guns & the enemy’s were pounding away, the shells of both sides just seemed to be sizzling over our heads, & every now & again Fritz would send up a series of green & white lights as if signalling. At intervals there would be a short outbreak of rifle & machine gun fire & we would think, now they’re coming, but it seemed to die away each time.

We got that way at last that we honestly wished something would happen & break the awful suspense which seemed to be hanging over us like a pall. These are the times when the strain on nerves are greatest. I know I always pride myself on my nerves & I must say that I felt rotten, worse than I ever remember feeling under the same circumstances at any time before, but I dare not show it for I had to appear as calm as I could. I walked along the parapet every now & then & cracked jokes with the boys, for an N.C.O. is supposed to set a personal example to his men. I know myself the value of a don’t-care sort of way in these critical times for it helps to keep the men’s thoughts off what might be going to happen; however I might as well say right here that I had a nasty feeling about me, as if something was going to happen to me, & my heart seemed in my boots, but by exerting my will power I crushed this feeling utterly & carried on.

About 12 o’clock there was an attack sure enough but it fell on the 3rd Batt front. Old Fritz attacked in 7 waves & after some fierce fighting he was driven off with great loss, though not before we had to go & reinforce some of their posts which were being hard pushed. You have no idea what a relief it was to all when this came off for the horrible suspense of waiting had come to an end, & we knew what was happening. We were engaged most of the night, but as the situation was well in hand by daybreak we were allowed to go back to our billets.

After getting back to our camp we had a drink & then turned in to get what rest we could & this did not happen to be much, for he evidently found where we were & started to shell us unmercifully. As it happened I was away when it started — went down to see Bill Barwick, who was camped in the next village. Found Bill hard at work digging a strong point. We had a good yarn & then I heard this shelling commence & I said to Bill, “That’s among my Coy. I must get back as quickly as possible,” so I said goodbye & off I started.

On my way down I met Jack Hayes, who had been driven out of house & home, & Jack was cursing all the Fritzs in creation heartily. I said, “Come on, let’s go down to see how things are, they can’t hit us,” & for a joke I held up my arm & said, “Give us one, Fritz.” Jack laughed & said, “Right oh,” so down we went.

I was getting my men out from under the hedge & telling them to go down to the old sunken road for safety. Shells, big ones at that, were falling thick & fast & quite a number were getting knocked. I remember hearing the screech & howl of a big shell coming towards me. I stood quite still & waited to see what would happen. The next thing I remember was a frightful red-hot searing pass across my right side & I staggered from the blow. I knew I was hit but I did not know how badly; I thought at first that my stomach was hanging out when the warm blood started to run down my body.

As I staggered back Jackie Hayes caught me & throwing me over his shoulder started to carry me to a place of safety but the pain was too much so I got him to put me on the ground & he helped me across. The funniest part of all is that I never heard the explosion of the shell. I suppose the shock of getting hit took that away but I remember on looking round seeing 3 or 4 more chaps who had been hit & 1 lying dead alongside me. Lieut Champion was also cracked, so she had been a pretty successful shell from the German point of view.

When Jack got me over to a safe place he laid me on the grass, took my tunic off & cut the shirt away & disclosed the wound. It was as lucky a squeak as ever you saw. I had got it almost in the thinnest part of my body on the right side & it had cut a great gash, almost showing the ribs. Oh she looked a beauty. Jack took his field dressing & bottle of iodine out & poured nearly half the contents over the wound. Talk about sting & smart, made me sit up I can tell you, but it was the proper thing to do. Another piece just missed my arm, cut straight through the sleeve of the tunic, so I ought to consider myself rather lucky. This happened on the 15th, just 1 year & a week after I was hit at Doignies.

The crack did not trouble me in the slightest once I saw it was bad enough to get me to Blighty. When the lads heard I was hit they came crowding round, all anxious to know how bad it was & etc. They were all of the same opinion as myself & that was I was a lucky dog to get out of it for a while.

Just then Jack spots a limber coming down the road so he runs up & stops it, then brings me up & puts me on top. A little further down we picked up McKillop. He was cracked in the leg by the same shell & thus we were carted down to the dressing station. Here we had our wounds dressed again & also got one of my horrors: an injection by the needle for tetanus. Heavens how I hate these things for they drive them into your flesh a good 4 in. & it stings like Hell.

After this the Dr laid me down on a stretcher & in a few minutes the Major came bustling in. He had heard that I had been hit & he wanted to find out how badly; he’s not a bad sort is old Mac & has been a good friend to me. After him came the Capt & a lot of my cobbers so I had no lack of callers. I was sorry I had to leave my little diary behind but Jack Hayes promised to look after it & a bundle of letters I had left lying in the tent. Joe Ruebens promised to get anything of any value out of my pack & look after for me. We did not have long to wait for soon a car came along & picked us up.

Do you know I had a presentiment I was going to be hit but I did not know how badly, & I done a thing which I had never done before. Just before we went into action I gave Jack a couple of addresses which he was to write to should the worst happen to me. Jack laughed & called me a fool & said it was only a fancy, but he took them & promised to do as I wished should I go under. Jack’s a fine chap & a great cobber of mine. There’s no doubt we have some splendid chaps in our little circle & they would stick by one another till the last, mates in every sense of the word. As we drove away in the car I felt sorry in one way to be leaving them but all the same I was very glad to be leaving France & the horrors of the battlefield for a while, & I could see a vision of old England in the distance & a nice spell which would do me the world of good.

After an hour or so in the car we pulled up at the 15th Clearing Station. Here we were examined pretty thoroughly & our cases diagnosed. I was marked “severely” & placed in a tent along with a lot more to await the arrival of the Red Cross train, which was due at 10. I lost consciousness here for a while & came round just before we were being placed in the train at a little station called Erquinghem. They put me in a good bed & a nurse came round & took my temperature, eased my bandages & in general made things much more comfortable. After this I was able to drink a little tea & eat a small slice of bread & butter, but sleep I could not for the pain was too bad, so I just had to lie there & bear it as best I could. It made me bite my lip pretty hard at times but I stuck it out.

We pulled in at Etaps just about 3 o’clock in the morning & were unloaded into motors driven by women & taken to the hospital. As soon as they had taken all our particulars we were carried into the wards, placed on the beds & there undressed & washed. When this was over they brought some food round for we had had scarce anything to eat. How lovely the clean white sheets felt; it seemed like a touch of Heaven to be in them & free of the cursed lice & dirty clothes.

I was feeling very restless & uneasy for I could only lie on my back & this at any time is a hateful position for me. I could not turn without the aid of a nurse for I was as helpless as a kid by now; I almost felt ashamed of myself.

It was getting well into the morning so the nurse took my bandages off & waited for the Dr to come round & see what was going to be done with me. The old Dr said I had as close & narrow a shave for my life as he had seen for some time & he marked me for the X Ray the following morning, then the nurse dressed my side. After this it was much easier for a while but I could get no sleep, & the rest of the day passed slowly away & the night came on. How it dragged & not a wink of sleep could I get. The nurse gave me all sorts of stuff but it was of no use. How glad I was when morning came & the orderlies came round to wash us. By this time the whole of my side was swollen dreadfully & I could scarce stand anyone to touch it.

I was sent out on a stretcher to go under the X Ray. They strip you for this & lay you on a cold table. The room is then darkened & the X Ray, a great bluish-looking bulb all radiating with light, is swung over your body, spitting & fizzing millions of little sparks. All of a sudden the operator switches her off for he has discovered the piece of metal. The lights are then turned on & he marks the place on your body with a pen or a piece of pencil & then sketches the size of it on your card & away you go.

After this little piece of work I was washed & given dinner & carted away to the operating theatre. I don’t remember a great deal of what happened in here, only the Dr & nurses in their white aprons & rubber gloves, a formidable array of glasses, knives & etc. I can remember hearing the nurse say “smell this”, then a great & tremendous banging which gradually sounded fainter & fainter till it died away in the distance.

When I came to I was in my bed again & a nurse was bending over me. What a headache I had; everything was spinning round & round & I lapsed again into unconsciousness. I believe I swore a little when coming round — so the nurse told me at any rate & I see no reason to disbelieve her. When my headache cleared I felt very much better for they had got a good piece of metal out which had been pressing on my lung. The Dr said there was still another piece left in but it could stop till I got to England as it was just on the chest wall & not dangerous. I wished he had got both pieces out & made a job of it but I suppose he had his reasons for not doing this; I may have been too weak & my temperature too high to keep me long under the chloroform or whatever it may have been.

There were some awful wounds in this ward. One Tommy actually had a nose cap taken from out of his back — I never saw such a thing in my life. During the night 2 chaps died in the ward, & to make me sleep they gave me a dose of morphia. This had the needed effect for soon I was in the land of dreams & when morning came I felt quite refreshed & a lot of pain had gone.

I was the only Australian in this ward, & I must say the Sisters treated me real well (bit of a difference to when I was in Rouen last year), & the food was plentiful & good. How these nurses had to work, for the wounded were coming in so fast; they were working practically night & day. I felt sorry for them.

One of the Sisters told me I would be going to Blighty during the night. This cheered me up a bit but the pain had started to come on again & it got worse & worse as the night wore on but I cracked hardy for I knew they would not let me go if they knew of this & I wanted to get across as soon as I could.

About 3 o’clock the stretchers came in for us & when they carried us out it was snowing heavily & I thought of the lads up in the trenches. By a strange coincidence I had the very same bed in the car & the same car & driver as what brought me from the train to the hospital to take me back to the train I was going away on.

We had a very slow & painful trip to Calais. The train just crawled along, stopping every few minutes for something or other, & the jar when she started off each time used to make us swear, for it used to give the wounds a nasty jar & twinge. At last we reached Calais after spending 6 hours in the train, & we pulled up alongside the quay & very shortly we were being unloaded on to stretchers carried by German prisoners & carried down to the hospital ship. I had a good bed & was very thankful for the rest it gave me. Luckily the trip across the Channel was smooth & before very long we were in Dover & being unloaded again. We were carried off on stretchers to the railway station & put into different trains — I was put into the one leaving for Birmingham.

How pleased we all were to be back in England once more. It done one’s eyes good to see English things again & to know at any rate we were on the right side of the Channel. As I was being carried to the train I saw Len Pettitt sitting on a seat waiting to be sent somewhere. He was hit the same time as I was, but he was what they call a “walking case” while I was a “stretcher case”.

I can tell you I was beginning to feel pretty crook with the handling from train to boat & etc, & I was getting very restless & fed up, & try as I would I could not get to sleep. They gave us some bread & butter & tea. How funny this war bread seemed after the white bread which we get in France, for you know the Army in France get the very best of everything (civilians of course are rationed) & I must say I like the French war bread better than the English.

It was dusk when we pushed off & the train rattled along at a merry pace. We arrived in Birmingham at about 2 o’clock in the morning & I was sent to the Queens Hospital on the outskirts of the city. In peace times it is a public hospital & it is much better than being in a military hospital for there is not the same strict discipline & red tape. The nurses are practically all young girls & are very nice & kind; it does one’s heart good to see them after being away so long.

Oh what a relief it was to be finished travelling & to be put into a lovely bed & washed again. We tried to get a little sleep but no such luck for me, for my side seemed to be on fire & I had great difficulty in turning even with the aid of the handle & chain with which my bed was fitted. The Dr had another screw at my side & told the Sister that I was to have plenty of fomentations & to keep a good watch on me, for my temperature at this time was well over a hundred.

I put a miserable day in & a worse night. About 2 o’clock that night Sister brought the Dr in to see what they could do for me to make me sleep. At last, much against the Dr’s wish, the Sister prevailed on him to let her give me a small dose of morphia. This had the desired effect & for the rest of the night I slept fairly well & woke up in the morning feeling much better.

A couple of days after this the nurse was dressing my wound when she spotted something black so she got hold of the pincers. It turned out to be the piece of shell which had been left in by the Dr at Etaps. By Jove it stung when it was coming out but what a relief; the side started to go down straight away & the pain left as if by magic. The nurse took the little piece away & washed it, then put it in a cardboard box & wrote my name on it. I think I will send the piece home for a souvenir.

Today I got up for the first time & I am now toddling about with the aid of a walking stick. I shan’t be long getting convalescent now for my wound is healing rapidly.

29th April. Have been doing a little writing this evening, just a few lines to some of the lads in France. I hear tonight that old Fritz has started another great attack. When will it all end & how I wonder, but we must fight on till he’s beaten.

It’s simply marvellous how the people over here are taking it. They all seem quite contented to put up with all hardships & carry on till the job’s completed. Even the very nurses are rationed here, so you can guess what the food situation is like. Australia don’t know there is a war on compared to over here.

30th April. Had a bit of a lark with the Sister this evening when she was taking our temperatures. While her back was turned I dipped the thermometer in a basin of hot water which was on my locker. This had the effect of driving the temperature up to an alarming height. She got quite scared when she looked at the figures but I could not help myself from laughing & so gave the whole show away.

1st May. After tea tonight 4 of us went up with the elevator & pinched the piano, & so this evening we are having a little music & singing by some of the lads & nurses, & very good some of them are.

2nd May. Got a letter from Jackie Hayes this morning with some rotten news. My old cobber & pal Jock Mackie had been badly wounded & died before they could get him to hospital. Poor old Jock is buried somewhere round Hazebrouck & the soil that covers him is surely richer than ever it was before, for Jock was above all a soldier in every sense of the word & as true a chap as ever breathed. It will be a long long time before Jock’s old face & figure fade out of my mind.

That’s 2 of my best cobbers killed now, Reg Duke & Jock, & still I am left. I often wonder why the bonzer chaps are taken & such affairs as I left; doesn’t seem right, but I suppose a higher power than we poor mortals knows best & decreed it so.

I wrote to Jack Hayes & asked him to get me the address of Jock’s fiancée, for I promised him I would let her know if such a thing as this happened & I lost her address when I was wounded I am sorry to say. She will cut up rough I’ll bet, for they thought the world of one another.

Somehow or other I can’t reconcile myself to the fact that I’ll never see Jock or hear his hearty voice again but alas it’s only too true; however he died as he lived, with his face to the enemy & true as gold. The Coy will be very much poorer for losing Jock; his sort are few & far between, worse luck.

Jack also told me the names of a good few more who had made the supreme sacrifice. They were killed during a heavy attack the Germans made on the Australians 3 days after I was cracked. Our lads put up a great stunt & fought Heine to a standstill & beat him badly.

5th May. Had a bit of fun yesterday afternoon while we were sitting out on the lawn in the sun. A bunch of girls came out on the windows just close to us & started talking. By & by the chaff got fairly lively & I, by way of a joke, wrote a note & threw it over the wall to one of the girls. Of course this started them laughing like one thing.

Just then the old matron spots us & over she comes. I could see we were in for it so I beckoned to the girls to keep quiet. When she got up close to us she said in acid-freezing tones, for all of these old matrons are dead narks, “I can’t have you men talking to people out of the hospital.” I was sitting on the seat smoking a cigar & all the lads looked to me for a cue, so I rose &, knocking the ash off my cigar in an unconcerned manner as I could rake up, said, “Excuse me, Matron, but we were only thanking these people for the papers & books they have just given us,” & I pointed to some that were lying on the forms alongside us. She was evidently taken aback & lost for an answer. At last she said, “They have no right giving you these things & I don’t want you to have anything more to do with them.” “Very well, Matron,” I said, “but we can’t stop them from giving us things when they wish to, & one can’t be rude to them.” “I understand,” she said, “but please don’t encourage them.” With that she turned away, & when she was gone the girls sent down their answer to my note.

Len came up this afternoon; he is looking well. Brought me up some clothes & a few little odds & ends. We went for a stroll in the afternoon round the city till about 7, for we all have to be back in hospital by that time. We had some tea in the town & a good yarn & then walked back.

6th May. My little love affair is developing fast. We were out on the green again this afternoon when the girls came to the window & called out. She was going to send me down some cigarettes. I signalled all clear to her & she came over to the brick wall which divides us & let a big silken scarf down. I was too cunning to go & get it myself, for perhaps the old nark was watching our little byplay, so I sent a boy, who is in the civilian hospital & comes on to the green with us, for it. On undoing the scarf I found it contained some packets of cigarettes & a note. I took the note out & scribbled a few lines on the back & got old Beggs to throw it over later on, which he did, so I am expecting to hear something tomorrow, all going well.

10th May. Had a most enjoyable afternoon with my cobber. She is a Sgt Major in the W.A.A.C.s & has charge of 60-odd girls; they are all clerks & are of a much better class than the usual W.A.A.C. we run across. Miss Reading, the one I am going with, is a fine girl: well educated, of good family, & handsome, & jolly as you like, & we do have some fine times. In fact I am having the time of my life & I shall be sorry when I have to leave Birmingham.

Met our girls again at the 5 Ways, & then walked down to the Botanical Gardens. After strolling round a while we selected a nice grassy little patch & sat down for the rest of the afternoon & done a bit of spooning — practising of course for the time the right girl comes along. I have been very bashful & shy in the past, you know, so I am rapidly making up leeway. I only wish I had started before for I can see what a good time I have missed. Never mind, “better late than never” they say.

11th May. Got a letter from Len this morning with startling news to the effect that he was about to become engaged to Miss Winter, a girl I have heard him speak of frequently. In one way I was not a great deal surprised for I knew he thought a lot of her, though he never let on but I can read him fairly well. I only hope it turns out well, for Len has the makings of a good man, & besides we have been together a long time now, & I would not care to see him fall in. His intended I have never seen, though I must pay her a visit when next I go to London. I can just imagine them home when they get word of this; won’t Aunties raise their eyes, & wonder what’s going to happen next. I know there’s only one thing that keeps one from selecting a girl from over here, & that I shan’t mention.

I am not surprised at the Aussies marrying over here. Look how long they have kept us away from our own people, why we will be complete strangers if ever we return, & no doubt these English girls are lovely & charming. I know I have my work cut out from succumbing to the undoubted loveliness & charms, but whether I can hold out much longer is doubtful, for at times I feel very lonely & you know I am getting on in years.

12th May. Was very restless last night, could not sleep at all, but I do not mind this for the night nurse & I are great pals. She comes & sits on my bed & yarns for an hour at a stretch when the ward is all asleep & quiet. She is jolly nice; Miss Smith is her name.

I can see I am beginning to get on better with girls now. I could never understand them before; they sort of had me bluffed. This little nurse brings me in a cup of hot tea each night, so you can see I am not doing too bad in this country but there’s no doubt they treat the Aussies well & they are very popular with all. The old felt hat seems to be as irresistible as ever.

13th May. Oh these English girls, what peace disturbers they are & bad for the heart. The nurses we have at present are all leaving us tonight. They are changing over with the civilian wards & they don’t like it; neither do we, for we are all used to one another & are more like one big family.

Oh we had some fun this afternoon. 4 of us went down to the rink. Another chap & I had never learnt to skate before, so you can imagine what busters we got & the fun we caused. I managed to bring 2 girls & about 4 chaps down once, what a lovely mix up, but in spite of everything I got on fairly well & will master it in a couple more days if I can maintain the same rate of progress.

31st May. Rilen & I were marked out of hospital yesterday morning. They are sending us to Harborne Hall, a place with a good name round here; it’s better than Dartford or Harefield at any rate & all the lads reckon we are dead lucky.

Blows & I met the girls again this afternoon. We went away out to Alcester Lane’s End, right out in the country, & it was simply glorious, all the fields yellow & white with buttercups & daisies & a brilliant sun shining. We went boating on the Worcester Canal for a while & then a ramble round the lovely hawthorn & May hedges. The country now is a blaze of colour with lovely rhododendrons of all hues.

I am beginning to feel splendid & have quite forgotten the horrors of war nor do I ever wish to see France again, though I know this to be impossible for I shall have to go back some day, after I recover sufficiently.

1st June. This morning Rilen & I went to our new home. A bonzer motor car called for us & we rode down in style to Harborne Hall Auxiliary Hospital. On arrival we were ushered into a beautiful old oaken hall & there our names & particulars were taken & a nurse (V.A.D.) showed us to our room, which is by a strange coincidence in No. 9 Ward. This is the third time I have been in this number in succession: first at Etaples then at the Queens & now here.

This is a most lovely old place & the gardens & lawns around it are almost too lovely to describe for it is the prettiest I have ever seen in my life. Such a wealth of flowers, glorious dahlias, roses, chrysanthemums, pansies & etc, abound everywhere while the rhododendrons in all their glory of colours are a never-to-be-forgotten sight. Such a variety of colours, pink, mauve, blue, scarlet, cream, gold; there they are in a bewildering mass of beauty colouring the whole ground, & sending forth a perfume & incense that defies my poor humble pen to describe. I could wander for hours & hours in this magnificent garden, for there is everything to please the eye & soothe the nerves; it is a little bit of Heaven. Scattered all over the place are lovely big shady trees & birds are singing everywhere & every here & there are bonny little nooks with armchairs in them for anyone to lounge in should they feel so inclined.

3rd June. This morning the Dr examined us. I have to have my side dressed daily & he also marked me for route marches, as if I don’t do enough of that already. I am noted among the boys for the pace & distances I walk, for I love it over here among such beautiful scenes & it’s the only way I can make myself sleep — get real tired out.

17th June. Saw a bit of fun in the street yesterday afternoon. A Tommy on leave from Mesopotamia passed a Tommy Capt without saluting. The Capt walks up to the soldier & says, “Don’t you know an officer when you see one?” The Tommy looked at him coolly & said, “No, are you one?” & at the same time hit him fair in the eye with his fist & knocked him sprawling in the gutter, much to the amusement of all witnesses.

Just then a bunch of redcaps appeared on the scene & grabbed the Tommy after a great struggle. When the officer came round he said to an Aussie standing there, “You saw him hit me, didn’t you?” “I saw nothing” was the answer & the Aussie was within 3 ft when it happened but there was little chance of him taking an officer’s part. I daresay he would have liked to kick him; I know that’s how I felt. The skunk was an R.A.M.C. Captain & never had even a chevron up. I suppose he is one of the stay-at-home heroes — they are always the worst. I’ll bet he’ll never repeat such a performance again; he looked as silly as a rabbit walking away accompanied by the jeers of the crowd.

20th June. I am sitting at my favourite window surveying the countryside for it is a very nice morning & the sun is trying to break through the screen of clouds. I am going away this morning to Harefield but I don’t expect to be there long for I am practically alright now & feel as fit as a fiddle.

21st June. Was told this evening by the orderly that I would be going on leave in the morn.

22nd June. Left Harefield this morning for London. I can see very little difference in London from the first time I saw her in 1916. There seems just as many people about as ever there was, but there is a big difference in the food line; if you haven’t got your food cards you would nearly starve, that’s a certainty.

It was a lovely moonlight night so I strolled down the Strand into Whitehall & then went past the House of Parliament & over Westminster Bridge. The old Thames looked so quiet & peaceful with the moon shining on its silvery surface. I lingered quite a while enjoying this then I walked home down Victoria Street to my diggings.

24th June. Passed a real bad night & this morning I feel as if every bone in my body wants to drop out. My head is aching like mad & I feel weak all over so I have been in bed practically the whole day.

25th June. Still as crook as ever & can eat nothing.

26th June. I saw the Dr & he marked me for hospital at once, temperature 103. I got a taxi & run round to Victoria, where I had arranged to meet Len & his girl. Had a short talk with them, said goodbye & went back to Hqrs. I caught the train at Paddington Station after a lot of changing from one tube to another. Arriving at Denham I was met by a Red Cross orderly & put into a car & run down to the hospital. Here I had to put my khaki, much against my will, over the counter to be stored until I was fit to come out. They gave me a suit of blues in return & I was put to bed, feeling about the worst I have ever felt in my life, didn’t care what happened.

27th June. Passed another wretched night: no sleep, heavy sweats, bones aching, head splitting & as weak as a kitten. A pretty state of affairs, & my chest & throat are red raw, plenty of blood comes up. They say I have this “dog disease” (Spanish flu) in a very bad form & I believe them. This epidemic is raging throughout England & it attacks anyone & knocks you in a few minutes it’s that sudden. I have eaten nothing all day, only lay & squirmed in my bed with the intense heat.

28th June. Still as sick as ever & fed up with the place. The weather is very hot & this makes it worse. I managed to crawl out of bed & go along to the canteen & get a cup of tea.

29th June. Thank Heaven I feel a tiny bit better today but my cough is still very bad, & at present I have very little interest in life. I know I would make a very bad patient if it should ever be my misfortune to have a long illness. Stopping in bed breaks my heart, & oh the horrible & rotten medicines we have to swallow, almost as soon drink poison.

30th June. A little better again today but still have a headache & feel weak. It’s spreading like wildfire all over this part of the world according to the papers.

1st July. Frightfully hot weather & everyone nearly dead, myself included. Sweat all day & night, & soon will be like a matchstick.

A big batch of men left here for Australia last night; nearly all had lost limbs or something.

2nd July. Was marked out by the Dr this morning; they don’t keep you here long — as soon as you can walk out you go. She’s a nice place, but thank Heaven I am feeling a lot better, but I could do with a week’s spell nicely.

I am days behind. That’s the worst of leave — one has never time to keep his diary up for he is going all the time.

The day I had to report I felt very rotten. It’s pretty rough coming off leave & with the training & drill in front of one. A fellow now has 1 foot in England on a banana skin & the other in France, not a very cheering prospect. A chap does not mind going back to France in the slightest but I strongly object to drill & etc. I positively hate it.

After reporting at Horseferry Road the papers & documents were handed over to me for I was in charge of the draft. I took them by tube from St James’s Park to Paddington railway station. Here we all had something to eat & drink at the Buffet & I interviewed the R.T.O. & got my instructions, papers initialled & etc. We had not long to wait & soon, much to my sorrow, we were steaming out of London bound for the rotten camps. We reached Warminster after a fairly fast run & then marched into camp where we had to go through the usual lot of red tape. At last everything was finished & we were shown to our huts.

19th July. This morning I was up for classification & what a farce it is. You all stand in a row & they run you through like a mob of sheep. I don’t know what he marked me nor care much, for I have no desire to stop in this camp long.

It rained like Hell all the morning but this afternoon things look much brighter. Just before dinner Len came over & took me back to dinner with him to his mess; he is Catering Sgt & has the best mess on the plains.

20th July. I met a lot of chaps round here who know me well, though I can’t say as I know them too well, but being a Sgt they get to know one very quickly. They one & all reckon I look very thin & crook on it. I know I am not as strong as I used to be before getting my last crack but I think a rest will fix me up nicely, if they will only give it to me. The Australians don’t get very much consideration shown them in this respect; as soon as you are anywhere near the mark back to France you go — but what a name our lads have made.

The Americans in their lectures are told they are to follow the example of the Australian Army, for they are the finest fighters in the world. This sounds like skiting but nevertheless it’s perfectly true. They are being taught to look up to the Aussies like we were one time taught to look up to the Imperial Army. Thank Heaven we hear no more about them now; they are not in it. Today the Aussies hold first place as fighters. Every paper you pick up now has some little exploit of the Australians in it & it has been the same for the last 4 months. We have got the Canadians skinned.

29th July. This is what they call gutser day here. Everyone in the camp is examined & classified & of course a good number are marked for the O.T.B. Once you get there you get saddled up with rifle, packs, gas bags & etc & in 3 weeks time you are in France helping to keep the beastly Hun back, a position no one envies.

1st August. Jack Price arrived from France today to go on the permanent Cadre. Jack has great tales to tell of the doings in France & of how they are putting a lot of Australian officers & N.C.O.s among the Tommy regiments to try & teach them what they know about soldiering. Bit of a change when one comes to think of other days. 1 officer & 1 N.C.O. to a platoon is the order, & they have full charge. The worst of it is that they had just come out of the line & had to go back with the Tommies. 2 of our lads have been killed already. According to Jack they think the world of the Aussies.

2nd August. Bit of excitement in the camp today. A certain Sgt named Willis was put under arrest for supposed stealing a sum of money totalling £16. I was acting Sgt Major at the trial & heard all the evidence.

I got my own back on our Sgt Major in a quiet way. He was a witness in the case, & the day before I was one also & when he marched me in, he used to do it regimentally, so my chance come this afternoon & I took full advantage of it. When he was wanted I used to call out his name, call him “to attention”, “quick march”, “left incline”, “right incline”, “halt” & then tell him to “salute”, rubbing it in properly. I could scarce keep a straight face & the officer also was grinning for he knew what I was doing it for.

The case is not finished yet & Willis is getting a D.C.M.

3rd August. After tea we went down to the O.T.B., saw some of the lads & then went to the pictures. Just as we were coming out I spots Len & his girl coming up the road so we stopped & Len introduced Lindsay to his girl. We all 4 then walked along the road towards our camp. About halfway we parted for it looked like rain, so Lindsay & I pushed on & went into the canteen & had some tea. We take turn about in buying this & tonight it was my turn so when I took the spoons back to the girl to get my deposit I handed them to her clean ends first. She seemed astonished & she said in a loud voice so everyone in the room could hear, “Well, Sgt, you are the first Australian who has ever handed me the clean ends first.” “Don’t make it too rough,” I said as I walked off.

4th August. Anniversary of our declaring war today & still the end seems very little nearer.

5th August. Great rumour flying round that the 1914 men are all going home shortly.

7th August. Very hot & sultry today, looks like more rain brewing. The hot weather over here is much worse to put up with I think than our Australian heat but the reason maybe why we feel it so much is on account of the heavy & close clothing we wear.

I often wonder how on earth we are going to take to work when this war is over. As you know my hands are as white as snow & as soft as a woman’s. I have done no manual work these last 2 years to speak of, for a Sgt lives the life of a gentleman & is generally waited upon no matter where he is. There’s no doubt but it’s a life of ease, with the exception of a few hard times now & again in France.

Took all the names of the 1914 men this morning. Looks promising, but no one is pinning any faith to it. All the same I am of the firm opinion that we will be back in Australia sometime this coming winter.

12th August. The new order was supposed to come into force this morning; the order was that there was to be a roll call & then parade each morning at 6.30. Now this is a most unnecessary thing for we are supposed to be in a convalescent camp, not a drill barracks. If they are going to persist in this regulation being carried out there is going to be trouble, for the camp is seething with discontent & only wants a little match to start the mob going. They can’t do what they like with the Australians. All the men swear they are not going to go on parade & I only hope they stick to it.

I am getting much stronger now & am beginning to feel very fit, only I am very weak & sweat freely.

13th August. Well this has been a red letter day without mistake. The trouble all started over this early morning roll call, for none of the huts would get up for it this morning, no, not even for the officers & they tried their hardest. The consequence was that 6 chaps out of the artillery & 3rd Div were shoved in the clink for a crime that every man in the camp was guilty of. This so enraged the mob that they swore they would not go on parade until they released the men from the clink, & when the bugle sounded the “fall in” not a single man budged — you should have seen the officers running about, trying to get them on parade, but no good.

The 2nd Div fell in & I just got round to the Coy parade ground to see a pretty little scene. None of the others were on parade, so when they saw the 2nd Div squibbing it they came down in a body & started shouting all sorts of things. The 2nd Div could not have properly understood the quarrel but when they saw the rest were not going on, they immediately broke loose with a cheer & joined the mob.

Things by this time were getting rather interesting & the mob were in an angry mood. The officers tried to stop them but they were powerless. Down they went across the parade ground to where the 4th & 5th Divs were doing physical jerks. They were not long in convincing them to join them for the average Aussie is generally spoiling for a fight, & this kick against authority was right into their mits.

Things began to look serious. I made sure they were going to start & tear the hated L. Horse Major’s hut to pieces — it would have gone hard with him had the boys caught him — but no, they made straight down to the clink several thousand strong & demanded that the men they arrested should be set free at once or they would pull the hut to pieces. They meant it too, believe me, for our lads will stick at nothing as the riots at Etaps, Rouen, Wareham & etc will prove; they look on it the same as a battle. The Colonel was not long in granting this request & a great cheer went up.

28th August. Have had a pretty quiet day. We bumped all the Australian Press representatives who are over here looking round this country. One could easily see that this batch were Aussies, & when some of them leant up against the huts for support, that gave the show right away. Everyone over here remarks about that habit of the Australians. Oh we look a tired lot, but looks are deceiving, very, & I daresay old Fritz can testify to that same, for he knows something about the whirlwind habits of the finest troops in the world.

29th August. Done a bit of washing today. I am getting quite particular over here as regards the clothing I wear; compared to what I was a year or so back I am quite a dandy. Wonder how long I can keep it up. I have an idea I won’t slip back into the old “anything will do style” any more. England & the girls work wonders with a chap alright; at least I think so but I suppose that will be for other people to judge.

It has been a glorious day, just hot enough to be pleasant. Autumn is beginning to make its appearance. Lots of the trees show signs of colouring off & the nights are cold & nippy, just the weather for sleeping, especially of a morning. Do you know we never get up till 7.25 then there is a rush for breakfast & a wash. Not bad times, are they, when one comes to consider things.

30th August. I have had very little to do & time has hung heavily on my hands.

31st August. I don’t care how soon I get back to France now Len has gone, for there’s nothing much of interest to me round here now.

3rd September. The war news in the papers seems to get better every day of late. All the papers are at one in giving the Australians great praise for their magnificent performances. The capture of Mont Saint Quentin just outside Péronne seems to have set the seal on their wonderful records, for this was a most formidable fortress & one which held us up for a long time last year, yet the diggers took it & its garrison in a single leap to their everlasting glory. The English papers consider this to be one of the finest single feats of the war, & devote a lot of attention & space in their journals to the far-reaching effect this is likely to have, & now this morning the Canadians have broken the formidable Hindenburg Line. What England would do without her incomparable Colonial troops it’s hard to say, for wherever there is any particular hard position to take there you will find the Colonials.

In yesterday’s Times there was an article on Australia cut from the Berliner Tageblatt entitled “Poor Australia”. This went on to show how Australian troops were being ruthlessly murdered so that the English could walk over them, & it also pointed out that the Australians were more often mentioned in Army Reports than any other group in the British Armies. A certain amount of this is true but of course the main object of this sort of thing is to cause ill feeling among the Colonies & England. If the old Hun thinks this sort of piffle will do any harm he is greatly mistaken.

4th September. The war news still continues splendid & things look very promising. I believe everyone in France has got their tails sky high & are as enthusiastic & anxious to get at old Fritzie as if they were going to a picnic. The morale of the British Army was never better & this is what counts. Certainly they are fighting now as they have never fought before, & from all appearances nothing seems to check them.

6th September. One or two of the English papers of late have been making very foolish remarks about Australia, the Chronicle in particular. It galls them to think that Australia hasn’t got Conscription & they talk about Australia failing to rise to the occasion. I should like to see a comparison list published showing the real war efforts of the Colonies, Canada in particular & England. We have seen a few & we show out extraordinarily well no matter from what point of view they are looked at from, & unlike England nearly every man we raise is a fighter. When we say we have raised 300 or 400 thousand as the case may be, they are fighting troops & do something towards winning the war, but not so with England’s boasted numbers. Why half of her so-called soldiers couldn’t open the breech of a rifle let alone shoot. London & for that matter all provincial towns stink of khaki, but no, they are not line soldiers but simply work in some office factory or anything to do with Government work, & of course England puts a uniform on them & calls them soldiers, then every now & again she will skite as to how many men she has raised. If her troops only fought one half as well & as consistent as our few despised Aussies this war would have been over long ago.

It’s very foolish of English papers talking in the Chronicle strain for it only sows resentment among the Colonies. That little article which appeared in this morning’s papers has set the whole camp talking nasty things, & speaking for myself makes me boil with rage, for it is such an untrue & false statement.

15th September. Had a very quiet Sunday. Went out for a stroll & on arriving home found a telegram waiting for me but the address & number was a bit out. At any rate I decided to open it & have a look. I got a bit of a shock for it was from Harefield to say that Bill Barwick was “dangerously ill” & would I come at once. I couldn’t get away that night for all the offices were shut up so I had to rest content till morning.

16th September. Paraded to the Adjutant as soon as he set foot on the parade ground this morning. I only showed him the wire which was sent by the Sister. He granted me 48 hours straight off & in a few minutes I had my pass.

On arrival at Denham I got a ride out to the hospital in the Red Cross cars which meet all trains & once there I soon found 29 Ward. Bill was in bed & looked very thin & white on it. His knee, which he had smashed at Meteren by a German bullet, is just about healed but pleurisy had attacked him in a bad form. According to Bill the Drs have been taking a lot of water from his chest.

I stayed a couple of hours with him & I believe I cheered him up a lot. Before leaving the Sister took me into her room & told me the full strength of it all. She said the Drs were of opinion that the whole trouble was the cause of underfunding while Bill was in an English hospital — he reckons he was starved to death nearly. She also said that he stood a jolly good chance of going under, for from all accounts he is far worse than he looks or thinks he is, but she says he fights well & there is a chance that if they can get him to a warmer climate he will recover. He is booked for Australia on the 28th provided he is strong enough to travel. I am going to write & tell his mother, for Bill has a job to write at all.

20th September. Rain seems to have set in this evening & it is blowing & howling outside a treat, but I am quite comfortable sitting in our well-appointed billiard room in a nice easy chair beside a good coal fire. I am just counting the days now till we get our trip home to Aussie.

I see the 1st & 4th Divisions have just put up another splendid stunt & the papers are giving our troops great praise. I wonder how Len is getting on; he will be in all this heavy fighting.

22nd September. At last the papers are beginning to publish the true accounts of the fighting during March & April when the Australians so splendidly acquitted themselves & saved Amiens, yes & the British Army, when things looked their blackest. How proud the people in Australia will be when they read of how their boys stood up to Fritzie & fought him to a standstill when the other troops had chucked it in. It does one’s eyes good to read the accounts so long withheld from the public. I don’t know what they must think of the Aussies now after what they have been reading & it’s only the truth, for the diggers rose to the occasion & fought as only Australians can. The papers agree that the palm goes to our lads & they point out also what they have done of late, so Australia at present is very much in the boom, but no more than she deserves.

29th September. When I woke up this morning hanged if it wasn’t raining steadily. Never saw such a country in my life — you can’t tell 2 hours in advance what the weather is going to be.

The old war is taking some dramatic turns nowadays; nobody can tell what is going to happen from day to day. It’s easily to be seen that a master hand is at work & if ever a man has justified the confidence placed in him well old Foch has. He has pulled this war out of the fire with a vengeance for no doubt when he took things over we were in a very bad state, far worse than the general public have any idea of.

1st October. This book opens with a piece of the best news that I have received for many long days, namely a letter from Len saying that he was on his way home to Aussie. I am more pleased than if it had been myself that was going. How lucky he has been & all I hope is that he is the same through all his life. Just fancy during these 4 years that he has been in the Army he has never been wounded — that’s a bit of a record for a front line soldier I should think.

He has got a start on me but I don’t think we will be long before we are pushing off, for this afternoon all the 1914 men were fallen in & all particulars taken of them, so there must be something doing & I hope it comes quick so as we can be home for Xmas.

Everyone has been very pleased today over the fall of Bulgaria. Seems to be a rot setting in at last.

9th October. Our 1914 stunt is getting very close now; all going well a fellow can begin to get a sight of Aussie now. They have taken all our particulars again. I don’t know how many times this makes & I expect there will be a lot more of it yet before we eventually get clear from the red tape sins.

All sorts of rumours have been flying round tonight about Austria having surrendered to the Allies. It is supposed to have come through the Post Office at Warminster but this evening I was down at the pictures & they threw the latest war news on the screen: “Nothing official about Austria yet”, “Germans beaten all along the line”. These announcements were greeted with much handclapping & a running fire of remarks. These are great times; one never knows what’s going to happen from day to day & no one seems to be able to fathom old Foch’s scheme.

13th October. A lucky day for me. This afternoon as I was sitting at my table the Orderly Sgt rushed in & shouted out my name & sung out that I was to report to No. 10 Camp immediately to go to Australia. I was writing a letter home at the time so you can guess how pleased I was. I packed up my things at once & took them over to the camp.

In the afternoon Charlie Tonkin came across & we went for a walk. It was a glorious afternoon & the countryside looked simply splendid, everything so calm & beautiful, & the leaves were practically every colour imaginable. It was the first autumn that I had seen in England & I can quite believe now all the lovely tints in the old English pictures.

What a day this has been. I went over to the O.T.B. to say goodbye to a lot of our lads & then Charlie & I went down to the pictures & there happened the incident that millions of people have been longing & waiting for these 4 long years. A funny picture was being screened when all of a sudden it stopped & the crowd started to go out when an officer jumps on to the stage & sings out, “Wait on, boys, I have some good news to tell you,” & he sings out the following: “Germany admits defeat, has accepted President Wilson 14 points, & an armistice starts immediately.” Well if you could only have heard the shout of joy that went up; I shall never, never forget it as long as ever I live. Needless to say no one bothered to see the rest of the picture but out they tumbled cheering & yelling. I was excited myself & practically ran all the way home to break the news & then a lot of them wouldn’t believe me. In fact I could hardly believe it myself but it seems to be true.

As I write this the bands are playing “Apres La Guerre Fini” & a lot of old tunes while I believe down in Warminster there were great scenes of excitement, but I suppose one will have to wait in patience till the morning papers come. We will know the full strength of things then & then only.

14th October. What a sell, not a word scarcely in the papers about Peace this morning. I’ll bet I won’t be had so easily the next time such rumours come through. I was that sure of it last night that I would have wagered any money that it was true. I’ll be a bit more cautious next time believe me.

Before leaving the Command we all marched over to our Furlough Office, where all rolls were properly checked & pay books collected. Then we loaded our gear on to a G.S. waggon & set off for Warminster headed by an original 4th Batt piper with one of the old pipes brought from Aussie.

It was a dull heavy morning but nevertheless it was a morning I shall never forget. 4 long years have we been looking forward to this memorable day & now it has come at last. Everyone was in the best possible spirits & the march to Warminster was a pleasure. We arrived there in nice time, collected our kits & hopped in the train. 3 extra carriages had been provided for us of which there were 150 all told.

We had a pretty slow trip to Bristol. The country on the way down looked simply glorious. I never saw so many shades before in my life & everything looked so green & peaceful. All the way through Somerset we passed beautiful little villages perched on hills with flowers colouring everything & fine rivers & creeks with swollen waters for there had been a lot of rain of late. In fact the country looked almost perfect.

We eventually pulled into Devonport towards evening. We had about a mile to march to our camp which, like all military turnouts, lay fair on top of a hill overlooking the town. Plymouth & Devonport are almost the same town for only a mile or so separates them & the scenery round about is very beautiful.

15th October. 800 men marched in late last night from France. They are camped just over the road opposite us so I expect there will be quite a number of old faces among them. After things are fixed up I am going over to have a look.

Old Birdwood came down to see the 1914 men & he got the reception of his life. I believe old Birdie broke down completely & cried with joy, & the diggers broke loose & carried him shoulder high all over the place & finally down to his car where they had chalked all over it “Birdwood the King of the Diggers”. Old Birdie reckoned it was the proudest day of his life & he would never forget it nor the Australians either. They formed a ring round his car & sang “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow”, “Auld Lang Syne” & etc before they let him go, so you can see old Birdie is still very popular with the A.I.F. & needless to say he thinks that our lads are the finest troops in the world. He has said so often, & it nearly broke his heart when he had to leave us to take over what was left of the British 5th Army after the German breakthrough at Cambrai last March. I should like to see him visit Australia after the war — what a reception he would get, he would hardly hit the ground. It’s very seldom that you hear of a General getting the affection of men like old Birdie has of the diggers, for although he is no longer with us, the boys think the world of him, especially the ones who were on Anzac with him.

They reckon this demonstration in favour of old Birdie caused quite a flutter in the military circles, for it was practically an unheard-of thing before for the soldiers to show their appreciation in such a forcible way as the diggers did, but that’s just the Aussie way — it’s got to come out & they wouldn’t care if it was the King. I’ll bet the other Generals are a little envious of Birdie after this outburst & wish they were as popular with their troops.

18th October. 4 years today since leaving Aussie & to me it seems like 20, but thank goodness we are on our way back.

20th October. Sunday & a most miserable day. A cold wind has been blowing all the time & it looks like rain. I wish to goodness they would get us across & on to our boat. Influenza is raging round here & a lot of the boys are down with it. One chap has just died with it, how stiff is he. They reckon we are likely to stop here for a while until it dies down, for they are frightened we might bring it aboard & give it to the rest of the patients. Everyone is getting fed up & some are taking their 10 weeks in Blighty through so much messing about.

25th October. The boat that loaded up the other day has gone & we are left on our own & Heavens only knows how long they are going to keep us. We were to have gone some days ago but for the outbreak of flu. They then decided to put fewer men on each boat so that’s how we came to be stranded. Everyone is fed right up to the neck; if they would only tell us how long we are here for & let us make our plans accordingly it would not be so bad but as it is now we don’t know what to do. Some say we are likely to be here till the 19th of next month, that’s a nice piece of news to be sure.

A few days ago a submarine got a big transport just outside the harbour. A good many lives were lost, but yesterday they got even with them & bagged the submarine. There were only 3 survivors & one of them said that they were 380 feet down when the depth charge got them.

29th October. London seems to be taking the war news very calmly, just an ordinary occurrence it now seems to be, but underlying all the masked indifference you can see how glad & pleased they are over the prospect of an early & victorious peace.

The flu seems to have got them all thinking far more than the war, for people are dying like flies & so suddenly too. Rich & poor go the same way; people are inclined to think it is some sort of plague. In lots of towns they are dying far faster than they can be buried, so you can see it’s pretty serious. A chap gets it this morning & he’s dead the following day. According to last night’s paper the Government are going to take a hand in the matter; they have already released a lot of Drs to help fight the disease.

1st November. Great news this morning: both Turkey & Austria seem to be finished for good. There’s no doubt the war is nearly over. We are beginning to wonder if they will send us off now or not, or send us back to our units & send the lot home together.

I heard yesterday that Len & all his mob are held up in Cairo. I wonder if it’s true. If so I rather envy him for Cairo is a lovely place to visit.

3rd November. They are starting to inoculate all the troops here for flu. They are not going to get me if I can possibly help it. I don’t believe in their experiments & it’s nothing more nor less than this at the present time. I will take a risk if I can dodge the Drs. Besides it’s about spent its fury & is dying down according to the papers.

I have dropped in rather lucky here in one respect, for the girl whom I take out occasionally is a real good sort. She speaks French fluently & sings & plays nicely & is in all ways a real refined girl, but she has a rather sad thing in her life — her fiancé was killed over 2 years ago but she has never forgotten him. She told me all about it last night & I felt real sorry for her.

Thank goodness there are still some girls left who are true to the ones they loved & don’t go gadding about all over the place as if nothing had ever happened. That’s one of the worst parts of this war — the thousands of young people that have been parted for ever & the homes that have been left so empty & sad. It’s very bad over here, for practically everyone has lost someone near & dear to them. I have often thanked my lucky stars that if ever I happened to get knocked out for good no one would ever grieve over me with the exception of perhaps Mother. Sometimes I have often wished that it were otherwise, for a chap is very lonely at times & craves for someone to confide in, but I suppose one of these days all will come right as I have said before. The reason I am keeping on the straight track is on account of a girl who lives many miles from this country.

5th November. Anniversary of our most disastrous stunt at Flers 2 years ago when our Company C & D were pretty well wiped out & I got a dig in the leg with the bayonet. There’s not many of the lads left now who took part in that mix up; I am the only representative from our Coy who is here.

6th November. Have had a rotten day. Our Coy had been detailed to attend the funeral of 2 of our chaps who had just died. We done the slow march as far as the church, where the coffins were picked up & carried on shoulders draped with the Union Jack to the graveside. I wonder who would have thought of such a thing as 2 Australian soldiers being laid to rest in this pretty little churchyard & 200 of his mates there as a guard of honour a short 5 years ago, yet it has happened. The service to us seemed very sad & I was quite glad when the firing party had finished & the bugler had sounded the “Last Post”. The notes died faintly away in the distance & beautiful sunlight, for the day was a perfect one.

There were a fair number of civilians present, which added to the sadness of the thing, & it was with a heavy heart that I turned away when we marched out & left 2 of our mates lying in that lonely little spot. I often think if it should be my fate to die over here without seeing Aussie I should never rest but should wander in my spirit to the Sunny South, for love of our land is very strong in the Aussies for to us there is no land comparable that we have seen.

One of the ships that went out the other day had to return on account of the flu being so bad. An officer told me that 38 of our lads had died on her & not a single invalid had caught the disease. We are losing a lot of men through this cursed thing & until it dies down it’s a certainty we will be kept in England.

7th November. Have been busy shaking & belting my blankets this morning & they are now hanging out on the wire with my pyjamas getting a good airing, which they so badly need.

There was a great commotion about the town this afternoon. We were all just sitting down to tea when there was a most tremendous noise in the harbour. All the whistles & horns of the steamers & warships started blowing & every little thing that could raise a scream took it up & there was cock-a-doodle-doing galore. We all guessed at once what it was — the armistice signed & the end of the war.

All the boys rushed out of the huts & started cheering & shouting & everyone was wildly excited, so much so that none of us could wait for our tea but put our tunics on & rushed for the town, where we found kiddies marching about beating tins, carrying flags, singing at the top of their voices. The town was simply crowded & one had his work cut out to work up Fore Street. Here again great crowds had collected & were singing at the top of their voices “Keep the Home Fires Burning”, “Rule Britannia”, “Smile, Smile, Smile” & etc. Flags were very much in evidence — every little kid & girl was sporting a Jack or Stars & Stripes — & the whole town was in its gayest mood & fit for anything.

I went out to Plymouth & the same state of affairs was prevailing there, yet in spite of all this there was no official confirmation that the war was over — all they were going on was that the Navy had received a wireless to the effect that the armistice had been signed that afternoon at 3 o’clock, but the whole thing turned out to be groundless. If this is a sample of what’s going to happen when the war is over there will be some joy.

9th November. Well I got inoculated after all this morning. I got the good oil from the Adjutant & he advised me to be done without delay for he said they would turn me down for a certainty if it was not in my pay book, & he also said that I would have a good chance of getting on the next draft for Aussie. I am dying to get home & out of this country. I have an idea that most of my furlough will be spent in New South Wales for apart from home there is nothing whatsoever to keep me in Tasmania. I have very little time for what people I do know there outside my own relations, but I suppose a chap will know what’s doing when the time comes.

11th November. At last the great day has come & the whole air as I write now is filled with screaming & howling whistles & sirens. The time we first got the news here was 9.20 & it is now 11.45 & the noise is increasing if anything. All the church bells are ringing & clamouring & the little church hard by is floating a big old Union Jack & ringing her bells merrily on tins, the greatest day of England’s glory. We have come out on top as England nearly always has done after one of the most frightful wars that we have ever been engaged in & the end has been so dramatic & the win so complete that we can hardly grasp the full meaning of it.

When we got news of this the lads were on parade & the message came up telling of the signing of the armistice & the end of the war. The C.O. read it & proclaimed the day a general holiday amidst an outburst of cheering & the lads promptly scattered & made off for the town. The camp is now practically deserted but I have to stop here till dinner time for I am Depot Orderly Sgt.

12th November. Went down the town yesterday afternoon & found Plymouth & Devonport in the wildest state of excitement & joy. Flags, bunting, rosettes, banners fluttered from every house & building, & everyone was sporting red, white & blue, carrying flags, singing songs, marching up & down the streets. Our flag was well to the fore; the diggers were carrying it & singing patriotic songs & ditties at the top of their voices & crowds of girls were helping them.

I saw one never-to-be-forgotten sight, it was in Fore Street. A little party of our lads had 2 fine Australian flags — where they got them from goodness only knows. At any rate they started to sing “Australia Will Be There” & the enthusiasm ran very high. The crowds collected rapidly & the whole street was blocked for hundreds of yards & the people took it up. While it was being sung the lads crossed our 2 flags. All of a sudden a naval officer forced his way through with a big old Union Jack & on reaching the Aussie circle he hopped in & held up his flag between ours. They sang the song over again amidst tremendous enthusiasm & storms of cheering for Australia. They finished up by singing “Auld Lang Syne” & in the end half the people were crying. The street by this time was blocked from end to end almost, for Fore Street is quite short & it was with difficulty that we were able to move. It was a great day for everyone.

I made out towards Plymouth, & Union Street was simply blazing with flags of all the Allies & people were going silly. The Aussies were jumping on the horses’ backs, in the cars & on anything that came along. The whole place was a mass of excited people waving flags & singing. Little bands of kids were parading the streets with tins, kettles, old drums & anything they could lay their hands on; in most of these bands were Aussies. Processions kept on coming down, girls & boys dressed in any old clothes they could rake up & in all impossible costumes & decorated with green feathers, red, white & blue ribbon & all colours imaginable. Enthusiasm reached its height about 3 o’clock.

As I fought my way up Union Street, young girls were dancing to the imminent danger of their lives & flags, flags everywhere, bound round their heads for caps, over their shoulders & round their waists. The very roofs were black with people & young snoozers were burning a yellowish powder that gave off just clouds of smoke & everyone shouting shouting. Great lorries, taxi cabs rush past in bewildering succession, all crammed to the utmost on footboards, roofs & seats with howling flag-waving half-demented lads & lasses singing all sorts of songs. The street is thick with excitement, horns blowing, bells clanging & ringing, the place is gorgeous with flags. Everyone is kissing in the streets & no one seems ashamed of it. Procession after procession goes by singing & beflagged, roaring its way towards the square & the Hoe. A piper comes past followed by dancing crowds of young chaps with their girls, & Boy Scouts are out in their glory. The restaurants are packed to the ceiling & hungry crowds wait outside. Aussies climb all over the horses & wave their flags like fury, shouting & yelling all the while.

At last I reach the Hoe & this beautiful & historic place is crammed with people all laughing & shouting. All the steamers in the harbour were hung with bunting & blowing their whistles. I strolled round the Hoe for a while & then went down town again & made out for Devonport. By this time all cars were stopped from running for it was just about impossible for them to push through the crowds so I had to walk out. Here I met Starkey & his Yorkshire girl & shortly after Miss Nissen & we went out to the Theatre Royal to see “The Boy”. The place was crowded & just before the curtain rose the orchestra played & all sung the “Brabançonne”, “Marseillaise” & “God Save the King” amidst an almost indescribable scene of enthusiasm. When we had finished this a naval officer from one of the boxes got up & said, “Gentlemen, the war is won,” & then there was a renewal of cheering & etc. At last the play got going & during the course of it the actors were constantly getting champagne from the occupants of the boxes, & very nearly got drunk. It was a splendid thing & I thoroughly enjoyed it.

All the warships have left the harbour for Heligoland to take over the remainder of the German fleet, & what’s more 4 German subs came in flying the white flag & with open hatches — they could not have been lurking too far from Plymouth Sound.

This morning the Daily Mail printed a lot of the Generals’ photos who had helped to win the war & they omitted Birdwood’s so our hut wired to the Daily Mail wanting to know why this was. We also sent a telegram of congratulations to Birdie. I wonder if he will reply or not.

Another lovely morning & plenty of sunshine. The nights are very cold now but we have had remarkably little rain. Things have quietened down considerably in the town; the excitement is fast disappearing.

18th November. Done a bit of shopping this evening, getting a few things ready for our trip. All the men on leave were wired for this morning so that looks promising.

Already things are beginning to get a little better now the war is over or practically so. Food is far more plentiful & cheaper, streets are better lit, motor cars & taxis have more petrol & bigger districts, & tradesmen are getting a jolly sight more civil to their customers for soon people will be able to go & buy where they want to & not where they have been registered for their rations & etc.

19th November. Another draft for the boat was called out; they took from K to Z so I missed this lot again. I am just about sick of the whole damn business. Putting it off from week to week like they have been doing it’s enough to make anyone sick & I, like the rest of the lads, am just about as fed up with England as it is possible to be. We are all longing to be on our way home & until we get a move on towards that end nothing will ever satisfy us. We are getting more & more restless every day. Why on earth can’t they get a ship & bundle the whole lot on & off instead of this miserable dribbling policy that they are following out, putting a hundred or so men on a boat & then sitting down like Micawber, waiting for the rest to come along. You should see the look of disgust on each man’s face as our sailing is put off from week to week. The latest is that we might get away by the end of next week; that means pretty well a fortnight & this will seem a year to me at least. I have pretty well given up hope of ever getting away & feel more restless & discontented than ever I can remember before in my life & as each day goes by it only increases. Once I get aboard I will be satisfied & not till then. Now that we have Australia on our mind & the war over & done with nothing seems to please us, & one & all are longing for the Sunny South & our own girls.

This afternoon we got an answer to the telegram we sent General Birdwood congratulating him on the part he has taken to bring the war to a successful conclusion. The reply ran — Devonport Anzacs Hut 26 Ernesettle Camp, St. Budeaux. Thanks for kind message. Bon voyage. Birdwood A.I.F. 5th Army. This reply was put into Orders & read out on parade. The telegram form was raffled among the members of our hut & McDougall won it. He was that pleased with his souvenir that he went about showing it to everyone & then finally sent it off to Scotland to his old people.

28th November. Never felt so rotten for many a long day as I have done practically all last night. I had a fit of the blues, & nothing could please me; I just felt as if I wanted to be left alone. The lady who I was with tried her hardest to cheer me up. She took me to a dance thinking the music & life would do me good but she could not have picked a worse place for I can’t dance & this only made me feel worse. We did not stop there long so she took me home & there we spent the rest of the evening with the family. I soon came round then & by the time I left I was in the best of spirits. The last time I had a fit of these blues was nearly a year ago at Rossignol Wood just close to Ypres. The only thing I can put them down to is restlessness & dissatisfaction with the whole concern & I am sure until I get out of the military I shall often have them.

29th November. Saw in the papers today where the first lot of 1914 men have arrived home & got a splendid reception & here we are stuck in England yet.

3rd December. The boat roll was called again yesterday & after it was over we all went through a medical inspection. They cut no less than 70 Sgts off. Lord you should have heard the cursing & swearing.

We left our camp this morning after numerous rolls had been called & we had been checked over & over again. Right at the last minute they cut a lot of men off including some Sgts in our hut. All of us had the wind up for we did not know right up to the last minute that we would not have been left behind also.

We all moved off alphabetically & we had a band to play us down. How the people rushed out when they heard the drums beating & cheered us & wished us a good voyage & etc. We did not have to march a great distance for we went in by the Naval Barracks gate & what a reception we got from the sailors. Some of their officers rushed along the roadway & got all the tars to line up & they called for 3 cheers for the Australians as we marched through. The whole line broke into a perfect storm of cheers, & we cheered them back. An old chap then handed each man an envelope containing a message of congratulation from the King & Queen & we filed downstairs to our quarters. The Sgts are separated from the rest; we have a fairly good little joint. We soon got our hammocks & blankets & then had dinner for we got aboard about 10.30.

I went down below & started to write up the day’s doings & by now I am beginning to feel pretty rotten so one can guess what kind of a time I am going to have. I am dreading the first few days for I am no sailor. Anyone can have my rations for the next 3 or 4 days or I will be greatly mistaken.

4th December. We pulled out of the harbour exactly 12 o’clock & on our way down the Tamar passed lines upon lines of warships of all nationalities. Just off the Hoe we passed the U126, a German submarine, being towed into Devonport. She looked as rusty & as dirty as could be, as did a couple of squareheads who were standing on her deck. She was flying the White Ensign & all eyes were turned upon her & many were the curses chucked at her & her likes.

We picked up our anchor at 6.30 & I went on deck to get a last look at good old England, for I don’t suppose that I shall ever set eyes on her again & I have only happy memories to think of her with & especially Plymouth. We soon cleared the breakwater & lighthouse, & by now the old ship is rocking like fun & I am beginning to feel squeamish so I will cut this short & go & put my hammock up & get ready to turn in.

6th December. I am having great difficulty writing these lines for the ship is nearly turning over every few minutes. We have lost half our crockery already. You should have seen it sliding up & down, & off the table these last couple of days — would make the eyes of china manufacturers shine. I can see us having a pretty bill to pay at the end.

7th December. Have been nearly dead the whole day long; nothing but a shipwreck would have any interest for me. Poor Horan & I lay down on the deck & we stopped there for the day & only were roused by a squall, which forced us to go below. It is like a little Hell down there. How the place stinks; it makes me sick when I even think of the place.

There’s one thing I’m certain of, & that is that this is my last big ocean trip if I know anything about it. I’m pulling out for good, & digging in, in Aussie. No more of this agony for me. I’ve never felt so bad in all my life before & I did not care a hang whether we floated or sank.

9th December. Slept on deck last night for I did not want to miss seeing Gibraltar at any price. It was simply a glorious night, the stars shone the whole time, & when I woke this morning the coast of Africa was quite close & looming far away in the distance was the famous “Rock”. We were some distance off so I had breakfast & then brought my camera up. Just before we got into the harbour an enormous whale passed us, blowing like fun on the starboard side, & hundreds of porpoises came rolling & diving out to meet us. They played all about the ship till we ran into the harbour. We did not stop more than an hour. We then pulled out & are now getting for our lives down the Mediterranean under her famous blue sky & a glorious sun. All are on deck sunning themselves.

I took 3 snaps of old Gib. in different positions. I have always wanted to see this world-famous fort of ours & now I am satisfied for we could not have had a more perfect day & a more glorious view. I shall never forget how she stands like a sentinel, watching the opening to 2 oceans & also keeping an eye on Africa. Of all the massive bold steep rocks as ever I have seen she is easily first & no wonder she is classed as the most impregnable fortress in the whole world & valued by England as she is.

10th December. We are having a bonzer time on our old boat — nothing to do all day long & practically no duties. It has been another lovely day & the old tub is making quite good progress.

They are putting a stop as far as they can to all gambling on board & quite right too, for wherever you look there are schools of two up, crown & anchor, dice roulette & etc. This sort of thing is alright in a way but there are too many sharks who are living on the game, for in our returning 1914 men we have numbers of wasters who have scarce fired a shot in this war & this sort of thing, if allowed to flourish, is a regular harvest to such as they, so down with them by all means.

13th December. It is a glorious night & Bill Egan & I have just finished a good long yarn which we had hanging over the railings of the ship. I am going on top tonight & chance whether it rains or not.

Do you know I can’t realise that I am actually on my way home yet; it seems to be just like a dream. I often lay awake of a night & pinch myself to find out if I am really alive & not dreaming & yet it’s true. How do I feel? Well so far I can’t explain my feelings. I am taking it as a matter of course, the same as I have taken everything the last 4 years, & yet underlying all there is an emotion of almost complete happiness & the thought that we are going home, victorious beyond even our wildest imaginings, only heightens that enjoyment, for one can now look the whole world in the face, satisfied in his own heart that he has done all that was expected of him & perhaps a little more, & he has justified being brought into this world. I feel that if I was to die tomorrow I have not lived in vain but have done my little bit to clear this world of the greatest monster of all times.

I expect we will fully appreciate our position when we begin to get closer to dear old Aussie & our dreams are about to be realised. I am sure that is what has kept most of us alive all through this awful war, the very thought that we would one day return to our native land & get among our own people again. I know it has kept me going many & many a time when life has not seemed worth living & everything hopeless, & yet after all fighting is a most necessary evil in this old world. I reckon nations go backwards without wars — look at Spain for instance. What a decadent nation she is; she wants a good hard struggle with a nation her own match to develop her manhood & resources & brains & etc.

This war, bad though it is, has been the salvation of England, which was undoubtedly drifting into a very peaceful condition & were fast losing their warlike spirit but now everything is changed. Today we stand at the head of the world stronger than ever for we know our power & so do the rest of the nations.

Another thing: how on earth can anyone love a thing without wishing to fight for it if need be. To me the 2 go together, loving & fighting, but of course they want to be used in moderation. What is worse than Nietzsche when he says that we should go in for fighting instead of loving, & there can be no worse sign than that a man should be found, even Tolstoy, to tell us that we should go in for loving instead of fighting. The 2 things go hand in hand for how on earth can we lose a thing without wanting to fight for it, & you cannot fight without having something to love. That at any rate is my own opinion of such things & I for one am strongly against this worldwide disarmament that some politicians talk so glibly of. No doubt Germany made a fine nation of her peoples but unfortunately she used it to a bad purpose. I am not one of these canting one-sided bitter prejudiced snoozers who reckon that a German should not be allowed to live after this. I reckon in one way she has done the world, taking things all round, a jolly good turn. There’s one thing: she united the British Empire more closely than ever would have been the case otherwise, & much as I deplore the awful loss of life & suffering, I believe fully that such things have to be & they will come in some shape or form. There’s no need for all the blame to go on the side like we are trying to put things; we were not altogether blameless in this great war.

24th December. It was about 1.30 when Harry Braithwaite & Bob Modral came down the stairs. I could see something out of the ordinary had happened by their faces but I did not ask, for out it came in an awestruck whisper. They said our C.O. Major McPherson had just blown his brains out in his cabin & that the flag had been half masted in consequence. I wouldn’t believe them at first but they were in earnest; sure enough he was dead. I got up & walked along to his cabin but could see nothing.

I wonder what on earth could have made him take his life. What a shock it will be to his people. Just fancy him now going through what he did & then to do away with himself when on his way home. There’s more than we know behind this act you can bet. He has kept to himself since coming on the ship. I have only seen him twice: once when Harry & I went before him & the other night when he went off at the concert. I am inclined to think now that it was only imagination that night he said he overheard chaps talking of him for they say he has been suffering badly from nerves.

After tea this evening at 8.15 all the troops were on parade & he was put over the side sewn in canvas. The bugler blew the “Last Post” & the parson read a sermon or service over his body & then he was consigned to the mighty deep. Charlie Ross then played on the pipes the “Flowers of the Forest”, a fine old Scotch tune.

It will be a memorable Xmas Eve, & I shan’t forget the crowd of silent men in the hot semi darkness of the Arabian Sea & the lazy splash of the waves against the ship’s sides, for we stopped while he was being buried.

25th December. Xmas Day & the second I have spent on the ocean & fifth since leaving Australia: 2 in France, 1 in Egypt & 2 on the sea. This one is easily the happiest for the war is over & the world is now resuming its former quiet occupation & giving up cutting each other’s throats.

I slept on deck as usual & rose, or rather was pulled out, by Penfold about 6.30, who was wishing all & sundry a Merry Xmas & etc, folded up my blankets & rolled them into the hammock then downstairs to sling them in the bin & there for a wash to get the grime off, for sleeping on deck, though cool & nice, is a very dirty business for we all get the dust & ash from the funnels.

We had our breakfast at 7.20 & after that a parade & then followed the Xmas service. We sang 3 hymns: “Once in Royal David’s City”, “Hark the Herald Angels Sing”, the other one I forget. After we had sung the King & dispersed we, or a few of us, went & had a dip in the canvas bath. We had some jolly fine fun splashing & diving about & ducking one another.

Dinner followed (they put a good one on): giblet soup, roast beef, turnips, potatoes & etc, roast goose, plum pudding, oranges, dates, walnuts, peanuts, lime juice & so on. Each man was presented with a pipe & a little card from the shipping company, & the Y.M.C.A. gave each man 90 cigarettes so it was a pretty good turnout.

Bit different from our last Xmas, but for all that I for one can’t realise it’s Xmas Day. The word seems to have lost all its old meaning but let’s hope next one will be a far happier & merrier time & by that time we will have resumed our old style & methods of living.

29th December. Have been lying on the big coils of rope on the gun platform for a couple of hours after tea this evening. It was lovely up there & a favourite place of mine at any time. I watched the sun go down right up till the time she sank like a big ball of fire into the sea. The sunsets are getting very fine now; it’s a most peculiar thing but in England & N. France the sunsets are very poor. I think this can be accounted for by the lack of fine dust in the air for this, according to science, is essential for good sunsets.

I do all my thinking on the same coils of rope, but all the results I have got so far amount to good headaches. I revolve all sorts of plans in my mind & look at them from all possible points & angles, but they all tend towards the land. What I am trying to settle is in what capacity I will make my start in, whether to take up Crown lands & work for a lifetime improving it, or go share farming & take the risk of bad seasons & setbacks — not that I am frightened of the latter or hard work. Then again I think of taking up contract work in the bush & get a gang of men. Another plan I fancy sometimes is of getting a job for a year with some successful farmer in the district I decide to settle in & keep my eyes open & learn the methods & at the same time look out for my land — I don’t want to rush in blindly & grab anything. I have made up my mind to waste no time holidaying; a couple of weeks in Tasmania & a week in N.S.W. will satisfy me. I am going to combine pleasure with business as much as possible & all I ask is for my discharge from the Army & let me get to work. If ever anyone is sick of this loafing about it is me; I am itching to get to work once more.

God only knows how fed up I am with the Army. It would break my heart to be compelled to stop in it much longer — I am certain I would run amuck & break all sorts of regulations. Now the war is over I consider myself a civilian & anything military I thoroughly detest. The only time I would fight again is in defence of my own country; I would never go out of Aussie seeking stoush, I have had my fill of it. At the same time I am glad I came to this. I will never regret it as long as I live, but now the job is done I want to be out of it.

1919

Returning home

7th January. Been a very quiet & tiresome day. How the time drags & I suppose the nearer we approach Aussie the slower the time will go. I am just beginning to realise that at last I am going home, & I wonder & ponder how everyone will seem to me after being away so long. They are certain to see a vast change one way or the other for it will be just on 7 years since I left Tassy with the intention of stopping 18 months in N.S.W. but as the old saying goes: “Man proposes but God disposes”. This is what my few months have led to, & during that period a chap must alter considerably.

There’s one thing this knocking about has done for me & that is killed all desires I might have had for rambling. All I wish for now is to be allowed to settle down quietly on the land somewhere & work towards my goal, for I have a certain thing in view & I shall not be satisfied until I get that far.

9th January. Saw for the first time last night, or rather early this morning for the hour was 3 A.M., the good old Southern Cross. There she was sailing high & dry in the Heavens & it struck me as if welcoming us home. To me she appeared in the light of an old friend after our long absence, & now I fully realise that we are homeward bound at last. The very sight of her brought back old memories of guns, horses, gum trees, home & etc, & very little sleep I got the rest of the night.

19th January. Everyone on the boat is in a great state of activity, cleaning boots, airing & brushing clothes & so on, but there is very little excitement, everyone taking things as a matter of course. I don’t suppose I shall be in the least excited until I get to about Colebrook coming home then I shall be on the lookout for old familiar faces which I have not seen for years. A chap will about realise then that he is really home at last.

22nd January. Passed Cape Otway about dinner time. The country behind looks to be well wooded, but the foreshore is sandy coloured. We skirted the Victorian coast all the afternoon; heavy bushfires appeared to be raging along most of the coast, & a thick mist hung over all. Shortly after tea we entered the Heads.

There has been much speculation as to whether we will go into quarantine or not. We will soon know now what’s doing.

The pilot has just come aboard & we are slowly going up the bay. It’s too dark unfortunately to see anything save the glimmer of the lighthouses.

The sunset tonight was a dinkum Aussie one, bright red, the first one of its kind for over 4 years.

Most of the lads are highly excited. So far I have not gone or done anything silly, but I suppose my time is to come.

28th January. Everyone is in a great state of excitement tonight, getting cleaned up once more, for I think it is dinkum this time & soon we shall be home. I can’t realise that we are even in Australia yet but once we hit the land we will understand.

Afterword

by David Hassall, son-in-law

In the early 1950s I had the good fortune to meet a delightful, diminutive auburn-headed lass. She was the daughter of a World War I Anzac hero, Archie Barwick, who fought and survived the Gallipoli fiasco as well as many of the dreadful battles in France. He was seriously wounded several times and was active in service right to the end of the war, finally returning home by ship together with thousands of his mates.

Judy Barwick acquainted me with Archie’s massive collection of diaries and his personality shone through his writing. One could see his strength, determination, courage and integrity as well as his sophistication of mind.

Archibald Albert Barwick was born in Tasmania on 7 March 1890 to George Arthur Sturgeon Barwick and Elizabeth Ann (nee Tillack) who lived on a property near Hobart. He enjoyed an active social life and once played cricket for Tasmania. Archie grew up to be a typical country lad, independent and resourceful, who soon branched out on his own to manage a sheep property in New South Wales. When World War I broke out, he enlisted in the Army’s 1st Battalion and his diaries detail his time as a soldier.

Back home in Tasmania after the war, Archie set up in business selling farm machinery. That turned out to be a disaster for his partner went on an extended holiday to Europe and Archie suddenly found that the business owed over £1000 that the “partner” had left him to deal with. So he set to, worked hard and, using up all his savings, eventually managed to pay back the creditors.

Archie’s caption for this photograph is: “Some of my cobbers in Paris. The one on the left (Jack Hayes of the 1st Batt) captured 128 Germans single handed though badly wounded himself.”

A postcard Archie sent to his mother from England, where he was recuperating. It is dated 26/5/18, Birmingham, Queens Hospital. Archie is on the far right, second back row.

The message on the back of the postcard reads: “This is a group taken of some of our Ward. Our Sister (a Dane) who has been so good to us can be seen sitting next to the Matron on the left. While the remainder are day nurses in the Ward.”

Archie’s caption for this photograph is: “Amongst the Welsh girls in Cardiff.” His diary entry for 18 August 1918 gives more detail: “We met the girls this morning at Cardiff railway station. We went out as far as Barry & then walked to the beach at Barry Island. We had about 20 girls (all business girls) in our crowd & there were some very fine ones too. We all went bathing for a start & had a rattling good time teaching the girls to swim & shoot the breakers, which on this beach are pretty good. After we had our dinner we all went for a stroll & during this I took a few snaps with my camera to help keep alive & fresh a happy & clean day.”

Archie sporting Sergeant’s stripes, probably in England at or near the end of the war.

Archie left Tasmania and returned to northern New South Wales, where he managed a sheep and farming property for several years. In 1930 he married the girl of his dreams, Mona Carroll — an Australian girl unsurprisingly, as he was always at pains to emphasise in his diary that they were the best type of girl. Together they bought their own property east of Armidale, where they raised three children, John, Judy and Tim. Mona was a trained nurse and many times she was called on to treat injuries and illnesses for her own and other families. She was fully involved in good times and in bad, when drought, flood and fire threatened to overtake them, and was a constant confidante when plans were being made for developing the property and improving the livestock. A proud achievement of theirs was to have one of the first properties to introduce the “improved pasture” system in New England. Archie was fond of saying that the clover and rye grass grew “as thick as the fur on a cat’s back”.

Although his schooling must have been limited, Archie was a great reader and very knowledgeable about history and geography. He would always rise early and by the time others got up he had probably studied the newspaper and a National Geographic magazine. That’s if he was not already gardening, for he had a wonderful vegetable garden and marvellous fruit trees — a green thumb no doubt a legacy of his childhood in Tasmania. He hardly drank and occasionally smoked an old pipe that didn’t give off much smoke but seemed to require endless cleaning and stoking.

Archie was a pillar of the community, a justice of the peace who many times helped bail out locals who got into legal trouble or who had trouble with a neighbour’s stock. He used to run the local polling booth at election times and, as an ex-WWI Sergeant, he was in charge of the local VDC during World War II. He and his family were Anglicans but he was not unduly religious. An interesting fact is that he carried a little prayer book right through the war and used it to press the petals of flowers from the battlefields. Daughter Judy Barwick still has this precious book.

Archie kept up his contact with some of his old war mates, some of whom had drink and emotional problems. Thankfully he was apparently not much affected by the war. We believe that putting all the effort into writing a summary of his wartime experiences helped him emotionally. I can recall him on a couple of occasions saying, “It is very hard to kill an old soldier,” and he would describe how you dived into the nearest shell hole. Archie was always amazed that he survived but so many of his mates did not. He died in Armidale in 1966 at the age of 76 years.

Archie, on the right, with an unknown friend. Photograph believed to have been taken in Hobart in the 1920s.

Archie and his son John in Sydney in about 1934.

Archie’s three children at the family property in about 1949: John (aged around 19), Judy (aged around 17) and Tim (Rodney) (aged around 14).

Archie and his favourite horse, Dandy, on the New England property.

Archie and his son John on the family property in about 1934, with sheepdogs Daisy and Lassie.

Archie and his son John marking lambs on the New England property, probably in the early 1950s.

Archie and his wife, Mona, at their daughter’s wedding in June 1955.

Archie Barwick, a farmer, soldier, family man and model citizen. A great Australian, we salute you. May you rest in peace.

May 2013

Glossary

5.0.11

a particular strongpost

A.C.F.

Australian Comforts Fund

A.S.C.

Army Service Corps

Batt

Battalion

Bde

Brigade

Blighty

England; a wound that causes one to be sent to England

Boche

a German

bonzer

excellent

B.O.R.

Base Operations Room

C. of E.

Church of England

Cadre

core group of officers and the like necessary to train new military units

chats

lice

C.O.

Commanding Officer

come a gutser

to fall over; fail through error

Coy

Company

D.C.M.

District Court Martial

dixie

large metal pot

do a get

to run away; escape

doss

a bed; sleep

flukey

uncertain

Fritz

a German, Germans or German Army collectively

Gotha

bomber plane used by the Germans

G.S.

General Service

howitzer

cannon with a short or medium barrel

Hun

a German or Germans collectively

Lance Jack

Lance Corporal; lowest non-commissioned officer rank in the Australian Army

M.P.

Military Police

N.C.O.

Non-Commissioned Officer

old Harry

Satan

O.T.B.

Overseas Training Brigade

possy

position; place

Q.M.

Quarter Master

R.A.M.C

Royal Army Medical Corps

R.C.

Roman Catholic

R.F.A.

Royal Field Artillery

R.M.L.I.

Royal Marine Light Infantry

R.T.O.

Railway Traffic Officer; Railway Transportation Officer

S.A.A.

Small Arms Ammunition

sap

deep narrow trench

Sgt

Sergeant

skite

to boast; brag; lie

snifter

very fine

snoozer

man

squarehead

a German

squib

coward; to back down

Taube

military plane

Tommy

British soldier

V.A.D.

Voluntary Aid Detachment

V.C.

Victoria Cross

W.A.A.C.

Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps

Y.M.C.A.

Young Men’s Christian Association

Cover image: Group portrait of three members of the 13th Brigade Light Trench Mortar. The Sergeant on the far left has a Military Medal and Bar and is possibly 2234 Sgt Charles Thompson MM. Held by the Australian War Memorial, donated by Mr Kerry Stokes on behalf of Australian Capital Equity Pty Ltd. From the Thuillier collection of glass plate negatives, taken by Louis and Antoinette Thuillier in Vignacourt, France, during the period 1916 to 1918 (AWM reference number P10550.038). Only a detail of the original photograph has been reproduced on the front cover. The soldiers in the portrait are unidentified at the time of going to print.

Copyright

HarperCollinsPublishers

First published in Australia in 2013

This edition published in 2013

by HarperCollinsPublishers Australia Pty Limited

ABN 36 009 913 517

harpercollins.com.au

Copyright © State Library of New South Wales 2013

The right of Archie Barwick to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000.

This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

HarperCollinsPublishers

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National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication data:

Barwick, Archie, author.

In great spirits: the WWI diary of Archie Barwick / Archie Barwick.

ISBN: 978 0 7322 9718 3 (pbk)

ISBN: 978 1 7430 9981 0 (epub)

Barwick, Archie—Diaries.

World War, 1914–1918—Campaigns—Turkey—Gallipoli Peninsula —Personal narratives, Australian.

World War, 1914–1918—Campaigns—Western Front—Personal narratives, Australian.

Soldiers—Australia—Diaries.

940.42092

Cover design by Matt Stanton, HarperCollins Design Studio

Cover image: Group portrait of three members of the 13th Brigade Light Trench Mortar. The Sergeant on the far left has a Military Medal and Bar and is possibly 2234 Sgt Charles Thompson MM. Held by the Australian War Memorial, donated by Mr Kerry Stokes on behalf of Australian Capital Equity Pty Ltd. From the Thuillier collection of glass plate negatives, taken by Louis and Antoinette Thuillier in Vignacourt, France, during the period 1916 to 1918 (AWM reference number P10550.038). Only a detail of the original photograph has been reproduced on the front cover. The soldiers in the portrait are unidentified at the time of going to print.

Internal images courtesy Judy Hassall (nee Barwick), David Hassall and Elizabeth Barwick

Maps by Ian Faulkner