by Peter Hart
Corporal Charles Smith, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
The Victorians thought they had taken up positions in the support line following the advance made by the 2nd Australian Division the previous day. However, in the chaos they were actually in the front line and hence liable to be counter-attacked by the Germans at any moment.
The most remarkable thing about the trench was the number of dead that blocked access to it. Many of the previous occupants had been killed by concussion alone, for they were sitting as if asleep in little ‘funk-holes’ dug in the earth. Before commencing deepening operations in the sap, we first had to eject these corpses—a very unpleasant job. That done we removed our equipment and worked furiously with picks and shovels.42
Corporal Charles Smith, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
It was as well that they did. They had been lucky to travel up the communication trench without coming under German shelling. Now they were to receive the full force of the German artillery in all its destructive majesty.
A fearful bombardment from the enemy commenced. He seems to have registered our range perfectly. Several men near me were killed by falling earth, and others killed outright. Some who had recently joined up as reinforcements were killed in their first night or two under fire. Many were literally blown to fragments. Our little stretch of trench was fast losing all semblance to one, and it seemed we were completely at the mercy of the German artillery. For myself, I was temporarily stunned, on one or two occasions, by the concussion, and the wonder of it is that anyone survived to tell the tale. Few did, in fact. My party of three were still unwounded, but their nerves, of course, like my own, were not unshaken. Communication had long since been severed with the remainder of the platoon on the right, and on the left it was as bad—a dead end. Neither was there communication with the rear. We tried to continue our task of digging during that infernal uproar, but all to no effect. The trench was blown in faster than we could empty it.43
Corporal Charles Smith, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
Smith had been sent with a small party of men to cover the left flank of the platoon, where the ‘line’ they were occupying inconsequentially petered out into nothingness, with a yawning 60-yard gap before the next elements of the battalion. As the shells crashed down and the casualties mounted he decided to pull back.
Common sense told me to lead the way to the survivors of the platoon, whatever the risks. Better to be killed thus than as rats in a trap. Finally, acting partly from the entreaties of my comrades, and partly from what I judged best, I decided on the move. How it was accomplished I do not know, for it was indeed hard to find the course of the one-time trench in the darkness. At times we had to dash across the open, then jump over corpses in shallow shell holes, always amid the infernal bursting of the high explosives. Not a living soul did we see. Suddenly, in the lightning-like flashes of the shells, the dugout entrance sprang invitingly into view, and into this we disappeared without ceremony. Friendly voices hailed us and we soon discovered that the remainder of the platoon had taken refuge there.44
Corporal Charles Smith, 4th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
Despite, and because of, the searing traumas of the day, nature had its way and the exhausted men fell asleep in the stygian darkness of the dugout. Perhaps the best security blanket was the reassuring knowledge that the redoubtable Lieutenant Jacka had survived and stood alongside them, ready for anything.
About 3 or 4 a.m., someone asked Lieutenant Jacka the time, I forget what he answered, but he announced his intention of leaving the dugout to have a look around on top to make sure everything was OK. This he did, and returned shortly afterwards with the information that things were just the same.45
Corporal Charles Smith, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
The absolute confusion of the Pozières Ridge battlefield was such that the men had not yet realised that they were in the front line and still firmly believed that they were holding the support lines—in other words that there was an additional line of soldiers protecting them as they tried to recover and make sense of the day’s events in that dark dugout. They were soon to be rudely disabused of this comforting notion.
Just before daylight, a terrific explosion occurred at the bottom of the dugout steps, and two revolver shots rang out almost simultaneously. What had happened was this: the bombardment was but a preliminary to a counter-attack by the enemy. This barrage at 4.45 a.m. had gradually lifted off our front line, the enemy following in its wake. Passing our dugout, a German had thrown a bomb into it, and Jacka had immediately replied with a couple of revolver shots. Naturally, the explosions awakened all of us, and, grasping the situation immediately, a wild scramble towards the steps resulted. It was still pitch dark down there, and I don’t think any of us ever expected to reach the top alive. Certainly, I did not. Two of our chaps had been badly hit by the bomb and lay groaning at the foot of the stairs. Cruel though it seemed, we had to climb quickly over their bodies to meet the enemy. Reaching the top we looked around and saw Germans everywhere. We were surrounded!46
Corporal Charles Smith, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
Unsurprisingly, it was Lieutenant Jacka who had reacted first. He raced up the dugout steps and pitched straight into the Germans who were threatening to overrun their trench. This was no time for thought; instinct, luck and the primal urges were all that could help him
There were four Huns in a shell hole. All I could see were their heads, shoulders and rifles. As I went towards them, they began to fire point-blank at me. They hit me three times and each time the terrific impact of the bullets fired at such close range swung me off my feet. But each time I sprang up like a prize fighter, and kept getting closer. When I got up to them, they flung down their rifles and put up their hands. I shot three through the head and put a bayonet through the fourth. I had to do it—they would have killed me the moment I turned my back. I think another fellow must have fired at me and missed. I looked round and saw a Hun who must have weighed 17 or 18 stone. I aimed at his belly and he almost fell on me.47
Lieutenant Albert Jacka VC, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
His men were still stumbling round far behind him with no idea what was happening or where their officer had gone.
Jacka had disappeared somewhere, as had all our NCOs. The Germans appeared to be bombing parties, for they did not seem to possess rifles; instead they were throwing stick bombs—some with effect. As most of our chaps, including myself, had left their rifles and equipment in the shell holes when deepening the line, we were unarmed. Action was needed if we were to escape with our lives. I picked up an old rifle, choked with dirt, nearby, and, grabbing a bandolier of ammunition that someone handed up from the dugout steps, let fire for all I was worth.48
Corporal Charles Smith, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
In the absolute chaos the two sides were thrown together in a haphazard confusion where the surreal mixed with the grim certainties of close-quarter fighting, when men gave quarter only at vastly increased risk to their own safety.
A specially venturesome German was walking toward the dugout entrance, evidently with the intention of again bombing it. No one seemed anxious to stop him, and the peculiar part was that he could not be taken prisoner, as his mates were all around us. He could not very well be shot, at a range of a few yards, so the only alternative was to bayonet him. I looked around for a bayonet, but could see none. The rifle I had picked up out of the mud had a pair of wire-cutters attached to the muzzle, and, as these were sharp at the points, I decid
ed to use them instead. I therefore gave the German a sharp prod with them in the back, and he gave a howl. I was afterwards told that Jacka had shot him. I had lost sight of the gallant Jacka.49
Corporal Charles Smith, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
In the cold light of dawn, the fight had a strange aspect for the men watching it from the trenches scattered across the ridge around them. It was impossible to intervene from a distance without killing their own men as the Australian and German soldiers appeared randomly intermingled in close combat.
Through my glasses I could see some of our boys standing up and firing point-blank at other men. Some figures I could see on their knees in front of others praying for their lives, and several were bayoneting Huns. It was one of the queerest sights I’ve ever seen—Huns and Aussies were scattered in ones and twos all along the side of the ridge. It was such a mix-up that it was hard to tell who were Huns and who were Aussies. Each Aussie seemed to be having a war all on his own.50
Sergeant Edgar Rule, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
Lieutenant Jacka was undoubtedly by this time in a very bad state. He had been wounded several times but once again he drew on his phenomenal inner strength in his determination to survive.
A stretcher bearer came, took off my tunic and fixed me up. I asked him to go and bring a stretcher. He went away and I never saw him again. I lay there for a long time, and then began to think of the wounded that were never found. I made up my mind to try and get back by myself, I don’t know how I managed it, but I got back quite a way and some men found me.51
Lieutenant Albert Jacka, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
When his broken body was eventually put on a stretcher and carried back towards ultimate safety the departure of such a legendary figure caused much comment amongst those who witnessed it.
Stretcher after stretcher went by interspersed with the walking wounded. I called out to one set of bearers, ‘Who’ve you got there?’ ‘I don’t know who I’ve got, but the bravest man in the Aussie Army is on that stretcher just ahead. It’s Bert Jacka, and I wouldn’t give a Gyppo piastre for him; he is knocked about dreadfully!’52
Sergeant Edgar Rule, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
The situation was still terribly confused. To his regret Sergeant Rule was the man chosen to go forward and sort it out.
Even after all the Huns had been taken to the rear, our officers were in doubt as to who held the ridge, and a few minutes afterwards word came for Lieutenant Dean to advance and clear up the situation. As he was not present, I had to act. I got my boys together and we went along the communication trench leading to the front line, until we came to Major Fuhrmann’s headquarters. He was in charge of B Company. I did not like the job at all, because I knew nothing about the locality, and, what was more, no one else seemed to know. The Major told me to wait a little while before going over, and after a good wait he said he did not need me and my men, as a scout had been across our ridge and reported it free of Huns.53
Sergeant Edgar Rule, 14th Australian (Victoria) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
The Australian front line had once again been secured and all the Germans had either been butchered or surrendered.
Pozières had been secured but the next vital objective lay before them—Mouquet Farm, which still barred the way to Thiepval. The Australians were by no means finished with the Somme. Attack after attack was launched but, as so often before, piecemeal assaults led to little more than an accelerated rate of slaughter. An enduring horror had enfolded the Australians struggling on the Pozières Ridge. Insignificant humps and farms had become both the prime focus and unnatural bane of their lives. Advances and retreats were measured in yards and all semblance of objectivity was lost as the Australians and German troops fought to the death over near-worthless ground soaked with the blood of the men that had gone before them.
Just one of these numerous affrays took place at 2230 on 14 August when an Australian attack was directed at the Fabeck Graben Line which lay between the OG1 and OG2 lines in the maze of trenches that crisscrossed the ground to the right of Mouquet Farm. The 13th Australian Battalion went over the top at 1030 p.m. and were fortunate enough to capture their objectives. Unfortunately, in an oft-told tale, it soon became obvious that they were isolated as the flanking units failed to get forward. Once again brave men found themselves facing death in an atmosphere of blended chaos and terror.
Soon it became evident that the enemy was trying to cut us off; and, at the same time, were delivering strong frontal bombing attacks along his communication trench. Immediate retreat was essential, and to effect this under such hostile pressure it was necessary to hold the enemy in check, while retreating along the captured trench, falling back successively on to a number of hastily thrown up strong points. Unfortunately, we had run very short of hand grenades, and the cool, heady, courageous men who pressed us, were well aware of our disabilities and pushed their advantage relentlessly. Cleverly they mixed their attacks, twice trying an ‘over the top’ enveloping movement, but each time a fierce and deadly response from our riflemen and Lewis gunners taught them the futile and dangerous nature of such tactics. From thence onwards they relied on bombing entirely.54
Captain H. W. Murray, 13th Australian (New South Wales) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
Captain Murray had no choice but to fall back down an old communication trench that providentially led back towards the Australian front line. With the Germans hard on their heels it was an extremely difficult situation demanding both tactical skill and an iron nerve. Maintaining control of his men was all-important as they fell back in stages from one barricade to the next. It was a desperate business, but his men held their nerve even in retreat—potentially the most demoralising of circumstances.
We kept the enemy well in check all the time, and got all our wounded away. Our men were cool, confident and grimly determined, despite the continuous pressure. After each successive minor retirement, Freddy Doust would send a message to me that he was OK, and that was the signal to send most of the front post back, giving them a couple of minutes start, while we made all the show we could. Then we sent the last few remaining riflemen back, following a minute later with the two last ‘diggers’ and the officer.55
Captain H.W.Murray, 1 3th Australian (New South Wales) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
Captain Murray was responsible for timing the breaks between barricades and, of course, as the officer, it was his duty to bring up the rear. As the supply of bombs began to run out they found it difficult to keep the encroaching Germans at bay as they pressed ever closer during the final desperate scramble up the narrow confines of the communication trench.
Just before reaching the fifth post, and it looked as if we were clear, a bomb dropped one of the two men in front of me. The survivor, half-dazed by the explosion, wounded superficially by metal fragments, and not really comprehending what had happened, continued his flight. I jumped over the body of the prostrate man, who appeared to be dead, but just as I did so his eyes opened, and it was plain he was alive, but how badly wounded it was impossible to say. His leg was doubled and twisted, and although he did not speak his eyes were eloquent.56
Captain H.W. Murray, 13th Australian (New South Wales) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force
Behind him were the Germans and the thought of their naked, cold steel bayonets sent tremors through the length of Murray’s spine. It was a defining moment in his life. He had a simple choice to make: to escape alone in ignominy, or to risk everything for the sake of a wounded man who might well die anyway.
It was then I fought the hardest battle of my life, between
an almost insane desire to continue running and save my life, or to comply with the sacred traditions of the Australian Imperial Force and stop to help a wounded comrade. Surely I must be bayoneted if I stopped for an instant. The enemy were coming up at the double. I often dread to think of what I might have done. I was safe enough at the time, and all I had to do was to keep on going; there was only a straight run of 50 yards to my mates. Despite that poor, twisted leg, those mute lips and pathetic eyes, it was really only the mechanical habit engendered by strict discipline, that forced me to do what I did. I dropped on to my shaking knees, caught him in my arms, and pulled him on to my back. He helped like a hero with his one sound leg, and off we staggered, with Fritz just coming into our bay. We outpaced him, however, largely because the impetuosity of his advance had more than once been checked. Already he had been pulled up with a jerk four times, and such things test the mettle of the bravest and most seasoned troops. At last I had reached a haven of temporary safety, and now had others to support us. I was once more among my mates.57
Captain H.W. Murray, 13th Australian (New South Wales) Battalion, 4th Brigade, 4th Division, Australian Imperial Force