In Great Spirits

by Archie Barwick

  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.