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 traff
ic 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.
In Great Spirits Page 27