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 Ave
nue. 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.
In Great Spirits Page 11