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.
In Great Spirits Page 22