Oh we had some fun this afternoon. 4 of us went down to the rink. Another chap & I had never learnt to skate before, so you can imagine what busters we got & the fun we caused. I managed to bring 2 girls & about 4 chaps down once, what a lovely mix up, but in spite of everything I got on fairly well & will master it in a couple more days if I can maintain the same rate of progress.
31st May. Rilen & I were marked out of hospital yesterday morning. They are sending us to Harborne Hall, a place with a good name round here; it’s better than Dartford or Harefield at any rate & all the lads reckon we are dead lucky.
Blows & I met the girls again this afternoon. We went away out to Alcester Lane’s End, right out in the country, & it was simply glorious, all the fields yellow & white with buttercups & daisies & a brilliant sun shining. We went boating on the Worcester Canal for a while & then a ramble round the lovely hawthorn & May hedges. The country now is a blaze of colour with lovely rhododendrons of all hues.
I am beginning to feel splendid & have quite forgotten the horrors of war nor do I ever wish to see France again, though I know this to be impossible for I shall have to go back some day, after I recover sufficiently.
1st June. This morning Rilen & I went to our new home. A bonzer motor car called for us & we rode down in style to Harborne Hall Auxiliary Hospital. On arrival we were ushered into a beautiful old oaken hall & there our names & particulars were taken & a nurse (V.A.D.) showed us to our room, which is by a strange coincidence in No. 9 Ward. This is the third time I have been in this number in succession: first at Etaples then at the Queens & now here.
This is a most lovely old place & the gardens & lawns around it are almost too lovely to describe for it is the prettiest I have ever seen in my life. Such a wealth of flowers, glorious dahlias, roses, chrysanthemums, pansies & etc, abound everywhere while the rhododendrons in all their glory of colours are a never-to-be-forgotten sight. Such a variety of colours, pink, mauve, blue, scarlet, cream, gold; there they are in a bewildering mass of beauty colouring the whole ground, & sending forth a perfume & incense that defies my poor humble pen to describe. I could wander for hours & hours in this magnificent garden, for there is everything to please the eye & soothe the nerves; it is a little bit of Heaven. Scattered all over the place are lovely big shady trees & birds are singing everywhere & every here & there are bonny little nooks with armchairs in them for anyone to lounge in should they feel so inclined.
3rd June. This morning the Dr examined us. I have to have my side dressed daily & he also marked me for route marches, as if I don’t do enough of that already. I am noted among the boys for the pace & distances I walk, for I love it over here among such beautiful scenes & it’s the only way I can make myself sleep — get real tired out.
17th June. Saw a bit of fun in the street yesterday afternoon. A Tommy on leave from Mesopotamia passed a Tommy Capt without saluting. The Capt walks up to the soldier & says, “Don’t you know an officer when you see one?” The Tommy looked at him coolly & said, “No, are you one?” & at the same time hit him fair in the eye with his fist & knocked him sprawling in the gutter, much to the amusement of all witnesses.
Just then a bunch of redcaps appeared on the scene & grabbed the Tommy after a great struggle. When the officer came round he said to an Aussie standing there, “You saw him hit me, didn’t you?” “I saw nothing” was the answer & the Aussie was within 3 ft when it happened but there was little chance of him taking an officer’s part. I daresay he would have liked to kick him; I know that’s how I felt. The skunk was an R.A.M.C. Captain & never had even a chevron up. I suppose he is one of the stay-at-home heroes — they are always the worst. I’ll bet he’ll never repeat such a performance again; he looked as silly as a rabbit walking away accompanied by the jeers of the crowd.
20th June. I am sitting at my favourite window surveying the countryside for it is a very nice morning & the sun is trying to break through the screen of clouds. I am going away this morning to Harefield but I don’t expect to be there long for I am practically alright now & feel as fit as a fiddle.
21st June. Was told this evening by the orderly that I would be going on leave in the morn.
22nd June. Left Harefield this morning for London. I can see very little difference in London from the first time I saw her in 1916. There seems just as many people about as ever there was, but there is a big difference in the food line; if you haven’t got your food cards you would nearly starve, that’s a certainty.
It was a lovely moonlight night so I strolled down the Strand into Whitehall & then went past the House of Parliament & over Westminster Bridge. The old Thames looked so quiet & peaceful with the moon shining on its silvery surface. I lingered quite a while enjoying this then I walked home down Victoria Street to my diggings.
24th June. Passed a real bad night & this morning I feel as if every bone in my body wants to drop out. My head is aching like mad & I feel weak all over so I have been in bed practically the whole day.
25th June. Still as crook as ever & can eat nothing.
26th June. I saw the Dr & he marked me for hospital at once, temperature 103. I got a taxi & run round to Victoria, where I had arranged to meet Len & his girl. Had a short talk with them, said goodbye & went back to Hqrs. I caught the train at Paddington Station after a lot of changing from one tube to another. Arriving at Denham I was met by a Red Cross orderly & put into a car & run down to the hospital. Here I had to put my khaki, much against my will, over the counter to be stored until I was fit to come out. They gave me a suit of blues in return & I was put to bed, feeling about the worst I have ever felt in my life, didn’t care what happened.
27th June. Passed another wretched night: no sleep, heavy sweats, bones aching, head splitting & as weak as a kitten. A pretty state of affairs, & my chest & throat are red raw, plenty of blood comes up. They say I have this “dog disease” (Spanish flu) in a very bad form & I believe them. This epidemic is raging throughout England & it attacks anyone & knocks you in a few minutes it’s that sudden. I have eaten nothing all day, only lay & squirmed in my bed with the intense heat.
28th June. Still as sick as ever & fed up with the place. The weather is very hot & this makes it worse. I managed to crawl out of bed & go along to the canteen & get a cup of tea.
29th June. Thank Heaven I feel a tiny bit better today but my cough is still very bad, & at present I have very little interest in life. I know I would make a very bad patient if it should ever be my misfortune to have a long illness. Stopping in bed breaks my heart, & oh the horrible & rotten medicines we have to swallow, almost as soon drink poison.
30th June. A little better again today but still have a headache & feel weak. It’s spreading like wildfire all over this part of the world according to the papers.
1st July. Frightfully hot weather & everyone nearly dead, myself included. Sweat all day & night, & soon will be like a matchstick.
A big batch of men left here for Australia last night; nearly all had lost limbs or something.
2nd July. Was marked out by the Dr this morning; they don’t keep you here long — as soon as you can walk out you go. She’s a nice place, but thank Heaven I am feeling a lot better, but I could do with a week’s spell nicely.
I am days behind. That’s the worst of leave — one has never time to keep his diary up for he is going all the time.
The day I had to report I felt very rotten. It’s pretty rough coming off leave & with the training & drill in front of one. A fellow now has 1 foot in England on a banana skin & the other in France, not a very cheering prospect. A chap does not mind going back to France in the slightest but I strongly object to drill & etc. I positively hate it.
After reporting at Horseferry Road the papers & documents were handed over to me for I was in charge of the draft. I took them by tube from St James’s Park to Paddington railway station. Here we all had something to eat & drink at the Buffet & I interviewed the R.T.O. & got my instructions, papers initialled & etc. We had not
long to wait & soon, much to my sorrow, we were steaming out of London bound for the rotten camps. We reached Warminster after a fairly fast run & then marched into camp where we had to go through the usual lot of red tape. At last everything was finished & we were shown to our huts.
19th July. This morning I was up for classification & what a farce it is. You all stand in a row & they run you through like a mob of sheep. I don’t know what he marked me nor care much, for I have no desire to stop in this camp long.
It rained like Hell all the morning but this afternoon things look much brighter. Just before dinner Len came over & took me back to dinner with him to his mess; he is Catering Sgt & has the best mess on the plains.
20th July. I met a lot of chaps round here who know me well, though I can’t say as I know them too well, but being a Sgt they get to know one very quickly. They one & all reckon I look very thin & crook on it. I know I am not as strong as I used to be before getting my last crack but I think a rest will fix me up nicely, if they will only give it to me. The Australians don’t get very much consideration shown them in this respect; as soon as you are anywhere near the mark back to France you go — but what a name our lads have made.
The Americans in their lectures are told they are to follow the example of the Australian Army, for they are the finest fighters in the world. This sounds like skiting but nevertheless it’s perfectly true. They are being taught to look up to the Aussies like we were one time taught to look up to the Imperial Army. Thank Heaven we hear no more about them now; they are not in it. Today the Aussies hold first place as fighters. Every paper you pick up now has some little exploit of the Australians in it & it has been the same for the last 4 months. We have got the Canadians skinned.
29th July. This is what they call gutser day here. Everyone in the camp is examined & classified & of course a good number are marked for the O.T.B. Once you get there you get saddled up with rifle, packs, gas bags & etc & in 3 weeks time you are in France helping to keep the beastly Hun back, a position no one envies.
1st August. Jack Price arrived from France today to go on the permanent Cadre. Jack has great tales to tell of the doings in France & of how they are putting a lot of Australian officers & N.C.O.s among the Tommy regiments to try & teach them what they know about soldiering. Bit of a change when one comes to think of other days. 1 officer & 1 N.C.O. to a platoon is the order, & they have full charge. The worst of it is that they had just come out of the line & had to go back with the Tommies. 2 of our lads have been killed already. According to Jack they think the world of the Aussies.
2nd August. Bit of excitement in the camp today. A certain Sgt named Willis was put under arrest for supposed stealing a sum of money totalling £16. I was acting Sgt Major at the trial & heard all the evidence.
I got my own back on our Sgt Major in a quiet way. He was a witness in the case, & the day before I was one also & when he marched me in, he used to do it regimentally, so my chance come this afternoon & I took full advantage of it. When he was wanted I used to call out his name, call him “to attention”, “quick march”, “left incline”, “right incline”, “halt” & then tell him to “salute”, rubbing it in properly. I could scarce keep a straight face & the officer also was grinning for he knew what I was doing it for.
The case is not finished yet & Willis is getting a D.C.M.
3rd August. After tea we went down to the O.T.B., saw some of the lads & then went to the pictures. Just as we were coming out I spots Len & his girl coming up the road so we stopped & Len introduced Lindsay to his girl. We all 4 then walked along the road towards our camp. About halfway we parted for it looked like rain, so Lindsay & I pushed on & went into the canteen & had some tea. We take turn about in buying this & tonight it was my turn so when I took the spoons back to the girl to get my deposit I handed them to her clean ends first. She seemed astonished & she said in a loud voice so everyone in the room could hear, “Well, Sgt, you are the first Australian who has ever handed me the clean ends first.” “Don’t make it too rough,” I said as I walked off.
4th August. Anniversary of our declaring war today & still the end seems very little nearer.
5th August. Great rumour flying round that the 1914 men are all going home shortly.
7th August. Very hot & sultry today, looks like more rain brewing. The hot weather over here is much worse to put up with I think than our Australian heat but the reason maybe why we feel it so much is on account of the heavy & close clothing we wear.
I often wonder how on earth we are going to take to work when this war is over. As you know my hands are as white as snow & as soft as a woman’s. I have done no manual work these last 2 years to speak of, for a Sgt lives the life of a gentleman & is generally waited upon no matter where he is. There’s no doubt but it’s a life of ease, with the exception of a few hard times now & again in France.
Took all the names of the 1914 men this morning. Looks promising, but no one is pinning any faith to it. All the same I am of the firm opinion that we will be back in Australia sometime this coming winter.
12th August. The new order was supposed to come into force this morning; the order was that there was to be a roll call & then parade each morning at 6.30. Now this is a most unnecessary thing for we are supposed to be in a convalescent camp, not a drill barracks. If they are going to persist in this regulation being carried out there is going to be trouble, for the camp is seething with discontent & only wants a little match to start the mob going. They can’t do what they like with the Australians. All the men swear they are not going to go on parade & I only hope they stick to it.
I am getting much stronger now & am beginning to feel very fit, only I am very weak & sweat freely.
13th August. Well this has been a red letter day without mistake. The trouble all started over this early morning roll call, for none of the huts would get up for it this morning, no, not even for the officers & they tried their hardest. The consequence was that 6 chaps out of the artillery & 3rd Div were shoved in the clink for a crime that every man in the camp was guilty of. This so enraged the mob that they swore they would not go on parade until they released the men from the clink, & when the bugle sounded the “fall in” not a single man budged — you should have seen the officers running about, trying to get them on parade, but no good.
The 2nd Div fell in & I just got round to the Coy parade ground to see a pretty little scene. None of the others were on parade, so when they saw the 2nd Div squibbing it they came down in a body & started shouting all sorts of things. The 2nd Div could not have properly understood the quarrel but when they saw the rest were not going on, they immediately broke loose with a cheer & joined the mob.
Things by this time were getting rather interesting & the mob were in an angry mood. The officers tried to stop them but they were powerless. Down they went across the parade ground to where the 4th & 5th Divs were doing physical jerks. They were not long in convincing them to join them for the average Aussie is generally spoiling for a fight, & this kick against authority was right into their mits.
Things began to look serious. I made sure they were going to start & tear the hated L. Horse Major’s hut to pieces — it would have gone hard with him had the boys caught him — but no, they made straight down to the clink several thousand strong & demanded that the men they arrested should be set free at once or they would pull the hut to pieces. They meant it too, believe me, for our lads will stick at nothing as the riots at Etaps, Rouen, Wareham & etc will prove; they look on it the same as a battle. The Colonel was not long in granting this request & a great cheer went up.
28th August. Have had a pretty quiet day. We bumped all the Australian Press representatives who are over here looking round this country. One could easily see that this batch were Aussies, & when some of them leant up against the huts for support, that gave the show right away. Everyone over here remarks about that habit of the Australians. Oh we look a tired lot, but looks are deceiving, very, & I daresay old Fritz can
testify to that same, for he knows something about the whirlwind habits of the finest troops in the world.
29th August. Done a bit of washing today. I am getting quite particular over here as regards the clothing I wear; compared to what I was a year or so back I am quite a dandy. Wonder how long I can keep it up. I have an idea I won’t slip back into the old “anything will do style” any more. England & the girls work wonders with a chap alright; at least I think so but I suppose that will be for other people to judge.
It has been a glorious day, just hot enough to be pleasant. Autumn is beginning to make its appearance. Lots of the trees show signs of colouring off & the nights are cold & nippy, just the weather for sleeping, especially of a morning. Do you know we never get up till 7.25 then there is a rush for breakfast & a wash. Not bad times, are they, when one comes to consider things.
30th August. I have had very little to do & time has hung heavily on my hands.
31st August. I don’t care how soon I get back to France now Len has gone, for there’s nothing much of interest to me round here now.
3rd September. The war news in the papers seems to get better every day of late. All the papers are at one in giving the Australians great praise for their magnificent performances. The capture of Mont Saint Quentin just outside Péronne seems to have set the seal on their wonderful records, for this was a most formidable fortress & one which held us up for a long time last year, yet the diggers took it & its garrison in a single leap to their everlasting glory. The English papers consider this to be one of the finest single feats of the war, & devote a lot of attention & space in their journals to the far-reaching effect this is likely to have, & now this morning the Canadians have broken the formidable Hindenburg Line. What England would do without her incomparable Colonial troops it’s hard to say, for wherever there is any particular hard position to take there you will find the Colonials.
In Great Spirits Page 33