In his book “WITH OUR SOLDIERS IN FRANCE” - Sherwood Eddy paints some brief sketches of his impression of the work of the war.
Here reflecting on the battle of Messines Ridge in 1917 he recalls an account of a simple Australian boy in the front trench:
"Fritz had a machine gun to nearly every ten yards. I don't know what became of my friends Hugh and Bill. They were just beside me, but when I looked around both were gone. A shell landed just at the side of me, and I think Hugh and Bill were blown to pieces. I got my wound in the chest and the fragment came out through my back. I thought my last day had come. I dropped into a hole, and no sooner had I got in, than Mack got it through the face. He was able to go back, but I was simply helpless, as my legs refused to move. Anyhow, I pulled the shovel off my back and dug a little ridge in the side of the trench. No sooner had I done this than Fritz started to bombard. One shell fell in the hole in which I was, but exploded in the opposite direction. Then another came and landed just above my head, but it failed to go off. Had it gone off I never would have been here now. I had prayed hard to my God to deliver me from my enemies and when those things happened I felt my prayer was heard and that I was going to come through. I was there in that hole all day and the next night before anyone came near me. At last one of the 19th Battalion chaps came along and went for a stretcher for me."
Showing posts with label Australian Soldier Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Australian Soldier Stories. Show all posts
Monday, March 05, 2012
Monday, March 21, 2011
The Germans and Machine Guns
This article comes from the excellent “Letters from France” by C. E. W. Bean.
This book details the Australian action on the Somme in 1916, especially the action at Pozieres. As Bean puts it in his preface - “The record of the A.I.F., and its now historical units in their full action, will be painted upon that background some day. If these letters convey some reflection of the spirit which fought at Pozières, their object is well fulfilled.”
Here he describes the German defenses and the use of machine-guns.
Twenty miles behind the lines, or more, you can see every night along the horizon in front of you a constant low flicker of light—the flares thrown up by both sides over the long ribbon of No Man's Land—the ribbon which straggles without a break from one end of France to the other.
We were getting very close to that barrier now—within a couple of miles of it; and the pure white stars of these glorified Roman candles were describing graceful curves behind a fretwork of trees an inch or two above the horizon. Every five or six seconds a rifle cracked somewhere along the line—very different from the ceaseless pecking of Gallipoli.
Then a distant German machine-gun started its sprint, stumbled, went on again, tripped again. A second machine-gun farther down the line caught it up, and the two ran along in perfect step for a while. Then a third joined in, like some distant canary answering its mates. The first two stopped and left it trilling along by itself, catching occasionally like a motor-car engine that misfires, until it, too, stuttered into silence. "Some poor devils being killed, I suppose," you think to yourself, "suppose they've seen a patrol out in front of the lines, or a party digging in the open somewhere behind the trenches." You can't help crediting the Germans—at first, when you come to this place as a stranger—with being much more deadly than the Turks both with their machine-guns and their artillery.
But you soon learn that it is by no means necessary that anyone is dying when you hear their machine-guns sing a chorus. They may chatter away for a whole night and nobody be in the least the worse for it.
Their artillery can throw two or three hundred shells, or even more, into one of its various targets, not once but many times, and only a man or two be wounded; sometimes no one at all.
War is alike in that respect all the world over, apparently; which is comforting.
This book details the Australian action on the Somme in 1916, especially the action at Pozieres. As Bean puts it in his preface - “The record of the A.I.F., and its now historical units in their full action, will be painted upon that background some day. If these letters convey some reflection of the spirit which fought at Pozières, their object is well fulfilled.”
Here he describes the German defenses and the use of machine-guns.
Twenty miles behind the lines, or more, you can see every night along the horizon in front of you a constant low flicker of light—the flares thrown up by both sides over the long ribbon of No Man's Land—the ribbon which straggles without a break from one end of France to the other.
We were getting very close to that barrier now—within a couple of miles of it; and the pure white stars of these glorified Roman candles were describing graceful curves behind a fretwork of trees an inch or two above the horizon. Every five or six seconds a rifle cracked somewhere along the line—very different from the ceaseless pecking of Gallipoli.
Then a distant German machine-gun started its sprint, stumbled, went on again, tripped again. A second machine-gun farther down the line caught it up, and the two ran along in perfect step for a while. Then a third joined in, like some distant canary answering its mates. The first two stopped and left it trilling along by itself, catching occasionally like a motor-car engine that misfires, until it, too, stuttered into silence. "Some poor devils being killed, I suppose," you think to yourself, "suppose they've seen a patrol out in front of the lines, or a party digging in the open somewhere behind the trenches." You can't help crediting the Germans—at first, when you come to this place as a stranger—with being much more deadly than the Turks both with their machine-guns and their artillery.
But you soon learn that it is by no means necessary that anyone is dying when you hear their machine-guns sing a chorus. They may chatter away for a whole night and nobody be in the least the worse for it.
Their artillery can throw two or three hundred shells, or even more, into one of its various targets, not once but many times, and only a man or two be wounded; sometimes no one at all.
War is alike in that respect all the world over, apparently; which is comforting.
Friday, March 04, 2011
The Australians at Villers-Bretonneaux
This article from ‘The Great War in a Different light’ was originally published in 'the War Illustrated' on 21th July, 1918 by the famous war correspondent Hamilton Fyfe .
Entitled - My Impressions of the Great Offensive. It recounts how the Australian Divisions held the line on front a Amiens during the German Offensive in April 1918.
“A good show " — that is the usual term applied by the Army to any successful fighting. The phrase illustrates our persistent refusal to admit that we take anything very seriously. The Germans speak of their successes as "unforgettable triumphs." The French speak, of "glorious victories." We say "a good show."
The Australians have had several good shows during the past three months. The first effect of their being put into the line during the critical times at the beginning of the offensive was seen in the relieving of the German pressure towards Amiens. Enemy battalions were pushing in on Villers-Bretonneaux. Carey's force was doing its best to hold them, but needed help. That help was given by the Australians and by one of our finest cavalry divisions. The Germans were thrown back. A month later there was another attack on Villers-Bretonneaux. This time the Germans in large force got into the little town and drove us out. The attacking troops included the Prussian Guard Division, composed of assault troops, and a division fresh from the Russian front. It was evident the enemy meant business. At first it looked as if he had done a good stroke.
Beneath Moving Tanks
It was in this battle that he first used Tanks ; they helped him a good deal. They were bigger Tanks than ours, but not so fast or so handily turned. They looked like huge turtles, and their six machine-guns — two in front, two at the back, one on each side — spat out bullets with vicious energy. They carried a small field-gun as well, chiefly for use in case of an encounter with other Tanks, such as occurred before the Villers-Bretonneaux episode was over.
Our men stayed in their trenches in spite of the threatening aspect of these monster travelling forts. Some of them let the Tanks actually pass over them. An officer of the Middlesex Regiment related next day how he had this alarming experience : When he saw the Tank approaching, he calculated that if he took his men out of their shelter they would certainly be shot down. So he decided to stay where he was. As the Tank came up they fired volleys at it, the officer joining in with his revolver; but it took no notice. On it rolled, with its ungainly motion, and lumbered right across the trench. Yet no one was any the worse.
Next day, when our Tanks had been in motion, we captured a German, who said he had gone through the same experience in a shell-hole. He was so unnerved that he fainted, and when he came round to consciousness he found that another Tank was passing over him. But he did not faint again. "One can get use to anything," he said, with a wan smile.
The position, when dark closed in on April 24th, was that the enemy held Villers-Bretonneaux and some ground westward of it. This was dangerous, for it gave them high ground and a good starting-place for a further advance towards Amiens. One of the Australian generals proposed an immediate counterattack. His plan was to form an arrow-head by sending two columns—one from the north, moving south-eastwards ; the other from the south, to work northeastwards.
These would join hands in front of the town, and cut off all the Germans who were in it.
An immediate effort was found to be out of the question, but orders were given for the counter- attack in the form suggested to be made that night. .The chief part in this was allotted to Australian troops. It was the third anniversary of their landing on Anzac Beach, a date which will for ever be known in Australia as Anzac Day. No better occasion for a "good show" could be desired. No better show than the Australians gave has been seen during the offensive. It was a clever tactical operation, boldly and steadily carried out.
An Anzac Day Event
The attacking force started at 10 p.m. The night was overcast and rainy. There was no preliminary bombardment. The idea was to take the Germans by surprise. and it came off. They did not expect a counter-attack. They were not in good shape to receive one. Counter-attacks succeed best, so recent experience has proved, when they are made at once before the enemy has had time to pull himself together after his hard work.
There was some stiff fighting, though. At the start the Australians went at it with the bayonet, but as soon as the Germans got their machine-guns going they had to advance more cautiously. They kept on pushing ahead, however, and by daylight had got within five hundred yards or so of the point where they were to meet the other attacking force.
This had not encountered such serious opposition, but it had suffered more heavily. It reached the rendezvous long before the northern column had fought its way through, and its aim was fully realised. The town was retaken, and not far from a thousand prisoners with it. They came up out of cellars, where they had taken refuge, and surrendered readily, asking for something to eat. They said our gunners had interfered with their food supply. They certainly were very hungry.
Some German Prisoners
While the two Australian columns were encircling the town, English troops attacked it directly from the west. The Berkshires and the Northamptons were prominent in this, fighting. Both had a fair proportion of new and young soldiers in their ranks. Though fresh to warfare, they stood their ground well. All their officers spoke highly of them. But, as I said before, it was the Australians who' had the principal role in the operation. They took most of the prisoners. I saw several hundreds at one of their divisional headquarters next morning.
Lying on the grass before the French chateau, they were smoking cigarettes which their captors had given them, after they had had a square meal. They were enjoying the sunshine and the - freedom from their usual duties and discipline, when, all of a sudden, I saw them jump and stand to«attention with the rigidity of statues. A sergeant, who had been made prisoner, had been told to assemble them and march them off under escort with fixed bayonets. He barked out words of command, and the German soldiers felt that discipline had pursued them; they looked fifty per cent, less cheerful than before.
Going away, I met more on the road. They were white-faced and looked shaken. I asked what accounted for the difference between their appearance and the carefree aspect of the others. " We had an accident on the way," an Australian officer told me. " Two of the Boche shells burst among us, and knocked out thirty of the prisoners. It was a nasty-thing to happen. Poor devils, I felt sorry for them — killed most of them, the rest badly wounded. You'll meet them on stretchers farther back."
Not quite a month afterwards, on May 10th, the Australians did an equally effective piece of work, though on a smaller scale. They closed in upon the hamlet of Ville, on the Ancre, killed a great many Germans, and took four hundred prisoners. The operation was skilfully planned and executed with that tough vigour for which the Australians are famous.
Surrender — to a Piano
The scheme was similar to that which succeeded so well at Villers-Bretonneaux. Two bodies attacked—one from the north, across the river, which they had to wade with the water up to their waists ; the other from the south, along a spur of high ground, from which they rushed the village in the hollow. The action moved according to time-table. The two bodies joined half an hour after it had begun. Hundreds of the enemy were hemmed in. Some fought, some surrendered — none got away. One of the surrenders was amusing. Some Australians, hunting for hidden Germans, found a piano in a cottage. One of them sat down and began to play. He had not played long before a cellar-flap was pushed up, and a sergeant, with several men, came up. They could not endure the torture of hearing the piano so maltreated, so the other Australians said.
Along with these well-directed blows I must mention the one the New Zealanders delivered at the beginning of April near Hebuterne. There was a ridge which we wanted. The enemy were known to be in large force on the ridge and below it, but it was suspected that after their rapid advance they were rather mixed up. A plan was made for a sudden spring. At two o'clock in the afternoon the New Zealanders attacked, and in seven minutes they had done the trick — the ridge Was ours, and not the ridge only, but nearly three hundred prisoners and a hundred machine-guns. The Germans were in a confused state. They were trying to sort out the units which had got muddled up together. Catching them thus disorganised, our troops rounded up prisoners without much difficulty, after they had made their unexpected and irresistible rush. It was that which carried the operation to success.
It is because their commanders have initiative, and are encouraged to be enterprising, and because the men respond so gladly when they are called upon for an effort, that the Australians put up so many "good shows."
Entitled - My Impressions of the Great Offensive. It recounts how the Australian Divisions held the line on front a Amiens during the German Offensive in April 1918.
“A good show " — that is the usual term applied by the Army to any successful fighting. The phrase illustrates our persistent refusal to admit that we take anything very seriously. The Germans speak of their successes as "unforgettable triumphs." The French speak, of "glorious victories." We say "a good show."
The Australians have had several good shows during the past three months. The first effect of their being put into the line during the critical times at the beginning of the offensive was seen in the relieving of the German pressure towards Amiens. Enemy battalions were pushing in on Villers-Bretonneaux. Carey's force was doing its best to hold them, but needed help. That help was given by the Australians and by one of our finest cavalry divisions. The Germans were thrown back. A month later there was another attack on Villers-Bretonneaux. This time the Germans in large force got into the little town and drove us out. The attacking troops included the Prussian Guard Division, composed of assault troops, and a division fresh from the Russian front. It was evident the enemy meant business. At first it looked as if he had done a good stroke.
Beneath Moving Tanks
It was in this battle that he first used Tanks ; they helped him a good deal. They were bigger Tanks than ours, but not so fast or so handily turned. They looked like huge turtles, and their six machine-guns — two in front, two at the back, one on each side — spat out bullets with vicious energy. They carried a small field-gun as well, chiefly for use in case of an encounter with other Tanks, such as occurred before the Villers-Bretonneaux episode was over.
Our men stayed in their trenches in spite of the threatening aspect of these monster travelling forts. Some of them let the Tanks actually pass over them. An officer of the Middlesex Regiment related next day how he had this alarming experience : When he saw the Tank approaching, he calculated that if he took his men out of their shelter they would certainly be shot down. So he decided to stay where he was. As the Tank came up they fired volleys at it, the officer joining in with his revolver; but it took no notice. On it rolled, with its ungainly motion, and lumbered right across the trench. Yet no one was any the worse.
Next day, when our Tanks had been in motion, we captured a German, who said he had gone through the same experience in a shell-hole. He was so unnerved that he fainted, and when he came round to consciousness he found that another Tank was passing over him. But he did not faint again. "One can get use to anything," he said, with a wan smile.
The position, when dark closed in on April 24th, was that the enemy held Villers-Bretonneaux and some ground westward of it. This was dangerous, for it gave them high ground and a good starting-place for a further advance towards Amiens. One of the Australian generals proposed an immediate counterattack. His plan was to form an arrow-head by sending two columns—one from the north, moving south-eastwards ; the other from the south, to work northeastwards.
These would join hands in front of the town, and cut off all the Germans who were in it.
An immediate effort was found to be out of the question, but orders were given for the counter- attack in the form suggested to be made that night. .The chief part in this was allotted to Australian troops. It was the third anniversary of their landing on Anzac Beach, a date which will for ever be known in Australia as Anzac Day. No better occasion for a "good show" could be desired. No better show than the Australians gave has been seen during the offensive. It was a clever tactical operation, boldly and steadily carried out.
An Anzac Day Event
The attacking force started at 10 p.m. The night was overcast and rainy. There was no preliminary bombardment. The idea was to take the Germans by surprise. and it came off. They did not expect a counter-attack. They were not in good shape to receive one. Counter-attacks succeed best, so recent experience has proved, when they are made at once before the enemy has had time to pull himself together after his hard work.
There was some stiff fighting, though. At the start the Australians went at it with the bayonet, but as soon as the Germans got their machine-guns going they had to advance more cautiously. They kept on pushing ahead, however, and by daylight had got within five hundred yards or so of the point where they were to meet the other attacking force.
This had not encountered such serious opposition, but it had suffered more heavily. It reached the rendezvous long before the northern column had fought its way through, and its aim was fully realised. The town was retaken, and not far from a thousand prisoners with it. They came up out of cellars, where they had taken refuge, and surrendered readily, asking for something to eat. They said our gunners had interfered with their food supply. They certainly were very hungry.
Some German Prisoners
While the two Australian columns were encircling the town, English troops attacked it directly from the west. The Berkshires and the Northamptons were prominent in this, fighting. Both had a fair proportion of new and young soldiers in their ranks. Though fresh to warfare, they stood their ground well. All their officers spoke highly of them. But, as I said before, it was the Australians who' had the principal role in the operation. They took most of the prisoners. I saw several hundreds at one of their divisional headquarters next morning.
Lying on the grass before the French chateau, they were smoking cigarettes which their captors had given them, after they had had a square meal. They were enjoying the sunshine and the - freedom from their usual duties and discipline, when, all of a sudden, I saw them jump and stand to«attention with the rigidity of statues. A sergeant, who had been made prisoner, had been told to assemble them and march them off under escort with fixed bayonets. He barked out words of command, and the German soldiers felt that discipline had pursued them; they looked fifty per cent, less cheerful than before.
Going away, I met more on the road. They were white-faced and looked shaken. I asked what accounted for the difference between their appearance and the carefree aspect of the others. " We had an accident on the way," an Australian officer told me. " Two of the Boche shells burst among us, and knocked out thirty of the prisoners. It was a nasty-thing to happen. Poor devils, I felt sorry for them — killed most of them, the rest badly wounded. You'll meet them on stretchers farther back."
Not quite a month afterwards, on May 10th, the Australians did an equally effective piece of work, though on a smaller scale. They closed in upon the hamlet of Ville, on the Ancre, killed a great many Germans, and took four hundred prisoners. The operation was skilfully planned and executed with that tough vigour for which the Australians are famous.
Surrender — to a Piano
The scheme was similar to that which succeeded so well at Villers-Bretonneaux. Two bodies attacked—one from the north, across the river, which they had to wade with the water up to their waists ; the other from the south, along a spur of high ground, from which they rushed the village in the hollow. The action moved according to time-table. The two bodies joined half an hour after it had begun. Hundreds of the enemy were hemmed in. Some fought, some surrendered — none got away. One of the surrenders was amusing. Some Australians, hunting for hidden Germans, found a piano in a cottage. One of them sat down and began to play. He had not played long before a cellar-flap was pushed up, and a sergeant, with several men, came up. They could not endure the torture of hearing the piano so maltreated, so the other Australians said.
Along with these well-directed blows I must mention the one the New Zealanders delivered at the beginning of April near Hebuterne. There was a ridge which we wanted. The enemy were known to be in large force on the ridge and below it, but it was suspected that after their rapid advance they were rather mixed up. A plan was made for a sudden spring. At two o'clock in the afternoon the New Zealanders attacked, and in seven minutes they had done the trick — the ridge Was ours, and not the ridge only, but nearly three hundred prisoners and a hundred machine-guns. The Germans were in a confused state. They were trying to sort out the units which had got muddled up together. Catching them thus disorganised, our troops rounded up prisoners without much difficulty, after they had made their unexpected and irresistible rush. It was that which carried the operation to success.
It is because their commanders have initiative, and are encouraged to be enterprising, and because the men respond so gladly when they are called upon for an effort, that the Australians put up so many "good shows."
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Gallipoli Landing as recalled by Corporal Nixon, 13th Battalion, AIF.
This article in the Eastbourne Gazette from 1915, gives a personal account of the landing at Gallipoli on 25th April 1915, by Corporal Nixon of the 13th Battalion. Corporal Nixon was convalescing at the Summerdown Camp in Eastbourne after a wound to his left shoulder.
This is a fascinating account for the Newspaper. It starts off with plausible information about the initial attack, but as you read on it gets more and more bizarre!
After reading it you are left with the impression that Corporal Nixon enjoyed telling a ‘tale or two’ and had a captive audience with the newspaper reporter who believed everything he recalled.
“How the Australians Routed the Turks
Colonial Wounded By Sniper
Corporal Nixon of the 13th New South Wales Battalion, who is a Sydney man, told a “Gazette” representative a thrilling story of the landing at the Dardanelles. He arrived there he said, on the memorable 25th April. They had been at the peaceful Greek island of Lemnos and while on their voyage to the scene of one battle they were watching another conflict in progress. It was an amazing spectacle. The landing of the Australians was unprecedented in any warfare. Men were landed in open boats in small parties, and when they reached the shore the positions was so difficult that there was no possibility of any military formation being attempted.
“We fixed bayonets and rushed the Turks over the hill in the most extraordinary manner,” he said. “It was never intended that we should land where we did; we were taken there by some strange current. There was barbed wire entanglement under and above the water and the sea was heavily mined.”
“There was also a sheer precipice in front of us. We hopped out and the Turks could not make much defence; they only had a few machine guns. It was a magnificent sight and I would not have missed it for the worlds. As the General said, ‘Our men fought with such wonderful cheerfulness and absolute fearlessness.’ We were without trenches for twenty-four hours. Our greatest source of trouble was the snipers. They had picked marksmen in every shrub and among the dead leaves. We had to take of our packs and leave them on the beach; we could not carry them up the hill.”
Corporal Nixon added that as night advanced they had orders to retreat, and they found there were German Officers in Australian uniforms in their trenches giving orders. These Germans could speak very good English with an accent which deceived the Colonials who had not travelled much. They also engaged one man as an interpreter. He said he was an Armenian, but at Alexandria he was found to be a spy and arrested.
The “Queen Elizabeth” is doing splendid work and Corporal Nixon saw one of her shells kill 300 Turkish cavalry. The Navy rendered wonderful assistance in the landing.
Corporal Nixon mentioned the case of a Turk who was a prisoner on board a British ship. The Turk had twenty-seven bayonet wounds and a broken thigh. He died eventually but it was remarkable that he should have lived so long. He had been taken out of goal (to which he had been confined for murdering his wife) to fight and this was not an isolated case. Turks had taken small farmers off their land with a threat to seize their holdings if they did not take up arms.
Corporal Nixon, who was wounded in the left shoulder by a sniper on April 28th, speaks very highly of the kindness shown them by a number of private residents of Eastbourne and remarked yesterday that they were having, ‘true Australian weather.”
(Corporal Rupert Charles Clive Wallace Nixon of Harriett Street, Neutral Bay, Sydney enlisted 24th September 1914 aged 22. (No. 663).
He embarked at Melbourne with the 13th Battalion on “HMS Ulysses”, on 22nd December 1914.)
This is a fascinating account for the Newspaper. It starts off with plausible information about the initial attack, but as you read on it gets more and more bizarre!
After reading it you are left with the impression that Corporal Nixon enjoyed telling a ‘tale or two’ and had a captive audience with the newspaper reporter who believed everything he recalled.
“How the Australians Routed the Turks
Colonial Wounded By Sniper
Corporal Nixon of the 13th New South Wales Battalion, who is a Sydney man, told a “Gazette” representative a thrilling story of the landing at the Dardanelles. He arrived there he said, on the memorable 25th April. They had been at the peaceful Greek island of Lemnos and while on their voyage to the scene of one battle they were watching another conflict in progress. It was an amazing spectacle. The landing of the Australians was unprecedented in any warfare. Men were landed in open boats in small parties, and when they reached the shore the positions was so difficult that there was no possibility of any military formation being attempted.
“We fixed bayonets and rushed the Turks over the hill in the most extraordinary manner,” he said. “It was never intended that we should land where we did; we were taken there by some strange current. There was barbed wire entanglement under and above the water and the sea was heavily mined.”
“There was also a sheer precipice in front of us. We hopped out and the Turks could not make much defence; they only had a few machine guns. It was a magnificent sight and I would not have missed it for the worlds. As the General said, ‘Our men fought with such wonderful cheerfulness and absolute fearlessness.’ We were without trenches for twenty-four hours. Our greatest source of trouble was the snipers. They had picked marksmen in every shrub and among the dead leaves. We had to take of our packs and leave them on the beach; we could not carry them up the hill.”
Corporal Nixon added that as night advanced they had orders to retreat, and they found there were German Officers in Australian uniforms in their trenches giving orders. These Germans could speak very good English with an accent which deceived the Colonials who had not travelled much. They also engaged one man as an interpreter. He said he was an Armenian, but at Alexandria he was found to be a spy and arrested.
The “Queen Elizabeth” is doing splendid work and Corporal Nixon saw one of her shells kill 300 Turkish cavalry. The Navy rendered wonderful assistance in the landing.
Corporal Nixon mentioned the case of a Turk who was a prisoner on board a British ship. The Turk had twenty-seven bayonet wounds and a broken thigh. He died eventually but it was remarkable that he should have lived so long. He had been taken out of goal (to which he had been confined for murdering his wife) to fight and this was not an isolated case. Turks had taken small farmers off their land with a threat to seize their holdings if they did not take up arms.
Corporal Nixon, who was wounded in the left shoulder by a sniper on April 28th, speaks very highly of the kindness shown them by a number of private residents of Eastbourne and remarked yesterday that they were having, ‘true Australian weather.”
(Corporal Rupert Charles Clive Wallace Nixon of Harriett Street, Neutral Bay, Sydney enlisted 24th September 1914 aged 22. (No. 663).
He embarked at Melbourne with the 13th Battalion on “HMS Ulysses”, on 22nd December 1914.)
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Australians at Summerdown Camp, Eastbourne.
April 1915 saw the opening of the Summerdown Convalescent Camp, underneath the South Downs in Eastbourne. The camp held 3,500 convalescing soldiers and the facilities on site included a Cinema. All nationalities were sent to Summerdown to recover and later in the year Australians started to arrive.
Summerdown Camp, Eastbourne.
The Eastbourne Gazette contains an interesting article on the first Australian arrivals. The Soldiers give quite an account of fighting the Turks and this is also a time in England before conscription was introduced. Recruiting rallies were frequent and the Newspaper capitalizes on the fact the some men have not yet “answered the call” whereas these Australians have traveled 12,000 miles for King and Country.
“Australians and New Zealanders
Arrivals from the Dardanelles
Among the wounded soldiers now at Summerdown Camp are some Australians and New Zealanders who arrived last week from the Dardanelles. They are men who took part in the landing at the onset of the struggle now proceeding.
In the course of conversation a miner from New South Wales mentioned that the invaders were transferred from transports to barges which were towed to the shore by steam-tugs. Every time a tug put off with a convey of barges full of soldiers it was noticed that they were bombarded with the utmost regularity by the Turks, and the troops were anxious to know how the enemy learnt of their departure so accurately. They discovered the means employed on the second day. As they were advancing a Turk was discovered in a hole covered by bushes. With him he had sufficient food to last fourteen day; and there were about forty homing pigeons, one of which he liberated as each tug put off. Needless to say, he was given a short shrift.
Asked what struck him the most about England, a New South Wales man said that some of them had been driven up to the parade and he was amazed to see the number of young fellows not in khaki who came to look at them while they themselves had travelled thousands of miles to fight for King and country.
Among the overseas men at the camp are Sergeant Steed, Corporal Nixon, Privates McCauley, Rose, McCabe, East, MacBeth, Spang, Earl, Morgan, Bice, O’Donnell, Smith, Maxwell, Hasselt, Gallagher, Hensley and Godden (Australians) and Private Howell and Avery (New Zealanders)."
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Christmas - On board a troopship heading for Egypt.
Private William Dalton Lycett, 2063, of the 4th Field Ambulance A.I.F. enlisted on 12th September 1914, he embarked on the 22nd December 1914 at Melbourne on the H.M.A.T. “Berrima” and spent his Christmas on board boat.
This extract is from his diary which can be found online at Anzacs.net: -
Tuesday 22nd December, 1914
We broke camp at 10 a.m. and marched to the Broadmeadows Station where we entrained for Port Melbourne and boarded the S.S. Berrima which is to take us to our destination which is unknown to us at present. We left the wharf at 5 p.m. and steamed till 6.30 p.m. when we dropped anchor off Sandringham where we remained for the night.
Wednesday 23rd December, 1914
We raised anchor and steamed away at 5 a.m., reaching the heads about 7.45 a.m., after passing which we dropped the Pilot and took in tow the Australian Submarine AE2, continuing our journey in pleasant weather with no further events of note for this day.
Thursday 24th December, 1914
I forgot to state at first that the bugle sounded lights out at 9 p.m. when every man is supposed to be in his hammock. I woke on this morning after a lovely night's sleep at about 6 a.m. and on getting on deck found we had lost some time through the hawser which connected the submarine to our boat parting at 4 a.m.. This had been fixed up and we were off again but at 9.30 a.m. the same thing happened again and we had to heave to for a couple of hours while it was fixed up again. I started this morning to give a hand in the hospital at meal times. The hospital is splendid and we have at present 6 cases, all minor. The food has been splendid so far and this afternoon I was told to have my meals and to sleep in the saloon along with the rest of the tent division, up to now we had been sleeping below with the other men. We had a concert in the evening and there were some very good items.
Friday 25th December, 1914
Xmas day on the water with a church service at 10 a.m. which I could not attend as I was on duty in the hospital. We are somewhere in the Australian Bight. I had a splendid dinner pork and plum pudding being the chief items. The afternoon and evening passed away quietly with nothing else worthy of note.
Saturday 26th December, 1914
Boxing Day, we sighted a steamer which we think is the Ulysses, it has been in sight all day. I have been assisting all day while Captain Dawson has been vaccinating the troops.
Sunday 27th December, 1914
Sunday very quiet, everyone busy writing in case we touch Albany tomorrow.
Monday 28th December, 1914
Anchored outside Albany this morning about 6 a.m.. Moved to within half mile of wharf about 10 a.m. No chance of getting on shore. We finished the vaccin. this morning. A lot of the boys have been fishing over the side and have caught a lot of Mackerel, I had no line. We had a Patriotic Concert tonight.
(Will Lycett in 1910, at the age of twenty migrated to Australia from Middlesborough in the County of Durham with his parents, five brothers and one sister. He had served his apprenticeship as a boilermaker alongside his father in the Railway Workshops at Crewe in Cheshire. Four years after his arrival here war was declared and he enlisted on 12th September 1914. He survived the war and died in April 1975. )
Of all the ANZAC troops who left for the 'Great War' one in five (80,000 of them) were never to return home. So it was with the Lycett family - five served and only four came home, his brother Private Frederick James Lycett, 46th Battalion was killled in action on 18th July 1917 at Hill 63 in Belgium he was 19.
This extract is from his diary which can be found online at Anzacs.net: -
Tuesday 22nd December, 1914
We broke camp at 10 a.m. and marched to the Broadmeadows Station where we entrained for Port Melbourne and boarded the S.S. Berrima which is to take us to our destination which is unknown to us at present. We left the wharf at 5 p.m. and steamed till 6.30 p.m. when we dropped anchor off Sandringham where we remained for the night.
Wednesday 23rd December, 1914
We raised anchor and steamed away at 5 a.m., reaching the heads about 7.45 a.m., after passing which we dropped the Pilot and took in tow the Australian Submarine AE2, continuing our journey in pleasant weather with no further events of note for this day.
Thursday 24th December, 1914
I forgot to state at first that the bugle sounded lights out at 9 p.m. when every man is supposed to be in his hammock. I woke on this morning after a lovely night's sleep at about 6 a.m. and on getting on deck found we had lost some time through the hawser which connected the submarine to our boat parting at 4 a.m.. This had been fixed up and we were off again but at 9.30 a.m. the same thing happened again and we had to heave to for a couple of hours while it was fixed up again. I started this morning to give a hand in the hospital at meal times. The hospital is splendid and we have at present 6 cases, all minor. The food has been splendid so far and this afternoon I was told to have my meals and to sleep in the saloon along with the rest of the tent division, up to now we had been sleeping below with the other men. We had a concert in the evening and there were some very good items.
Friday 25th December, 1914
Xmas day on the water with a church service at 10 a.m. which I could not attend as I was on duty in the hospital. We are somewhere in the Australian Bight. I had a splendid dinner pork and plum pudding being the chief items. The afternoon and evening passed away quietly with nothing else worthy of note.
Saturday 26th December, 1914
Boxing Day, we sighted a steamer which we think is the Ulysses, it has been in sight all day. I have been assisting all day while Captain Dawson has been vaccinating the troops.
Sunday 27th December, 1914
Sunday very quiet, everyone busy writing in case we touch Albany tomorrow.
Monday 28th December, 1914
Anchored outside Albany this morning about 6 a.m.. Moved to within half mile of wharf about 10 a.m. No chance of getting on shore. We finished the vaccin. this morning. A lot of the boys have been fishing over the side and have caught a lot of Mackerel, I had no line. We had a Patriotic Concert tonight.
(Will Lycett in 1910, at the age of twenty migrated to Australia from Middlesborough in the County of Durham with his parents, five brothers and one sister. He had served his apprenticeship as a boilermaker alongside his father in the Railway Workshops at Crewe in Cheshire. Four years after his arrival here war was declared and he enlisted on 12th September 1914. He survived the war and died in April 1975. )
Of all the ANZAC troops who left for the 'Great War' one in five (80,000 of them) were never to return home. So it was with the Lycett family - five served and only four came home, his brother Private Frederick James Lycett, 46th Battalion was killled in action on 18th July 1917 at Hill 63 in Belgium he was 19.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Christmas - 1914 for the 8th Battalion.
While the Christmas Truce was taking place in the muddy fields of Flanders, on the other side of the world in the sands of Egypt things were very different. The 8th Battalion, of the Australian Expeditionary Army were spending their first Christmas away from home stationed at Mena Camp (with the rest of the 2nd Brigade), which was some 12 miles to the west of Cario and at the foot of the Pyramids.
Ron Austin in his book “Cobbers in Khaki” gives us this picture of Christmas 1914:-
“The 8th Battalion’s first Christmas away from home was a most forgettable one, as the Christmas dinner left a lot to be desired. Although the menu consisted of the “inevitable Stew” and rice and raisins, some of the men augmented the stark meal with buns, jams and oranges. After lunch some of the men climbed the Cheops Pyramid later had bread and jam for tea. Despite the paucity of the festivities, Private Taylor still described it as ‘a bonzer day.’ Cyril Bryant, a 24 old motor trimmer from Ballarat, dutifully wrote to his mother on Christmas Day,
“We had plenty of hard work to do, we go out in the morning at eight and come back at two and then we have the rest of the day to ourselves, that is, if we do not have to be on guard. It is very trying marching over the sand.
Just fancy mother, it is Christmas Day that I am writing this letter in Egypt, little did we know that I would be so far away from you this Xmas. We had a telegram from the people of Ballarat today, wishing as a merry Xmas. We get plenty of trench digging there…..they think there must be trouble with the Turks and the only way they can come is across the desert. I think we will be here for some time and then the France.””
Private John Pitt ‘D’ Company, 8th Battalion, (who was originally from England), in his own diary records this:-
Dec 24th Christmas Eve - on the desert, tucker pretty scarce.
Christmas Day - A lovely morning. 9 am Church parade. Issued with 2oz Havelock and tinned fish and fruit. In the afternoon we, being duty company, I was told off to go to the Garrison Military police barracks with 3 other fellows and an NCO (Cpl Craven) to fetch out a couple of prisoners to the 6th and 7th battalions. Also went to the Citadel, a poor Christmas day.
Boxing Day 1914 - Marching in the sand from 8 am till 3 pm.
Ron Austin in his book “Cobbers in Khaki” gives us this picture of Christmas 1914:-
“The 8th Battalion’s first Christmas away from home was a most forgettable one, as the Christmas dinner left a lot to be desired. Although the menu consisted of the “inevitable Stew” and rice and raisins, some of the men augmented the stark meal with buns, jams and oranges. After lunch some of the men climbed the Cheops Pyramid later had bread and jam for tea. Despite the paucity of the festivities, Private Taylor still described it as ‘a bonzer day.’ Cyril Bryant, a 24 old motor trimmer from Ballarat, dutifully wrote to his mother on Christmas Day,
“We had plenty of hard work to do, we go out in the morning at eight and come back at two and then we have the rest of the day to ourselves, that is, if we do not have to be on guard. It is very trying marching over the sand.
Just fancy mother, it is Christmas Day that I am writing this letter in Egypt, little did we know that I would be so far away from you this Xmas. We had a telegram from the people of Ballarat today, wishing as a merry Xmas. We get plenty of trench digging there…..they think there must be trouble with the Turks and the only way they can come is across the desert. I think we will be here for some time and then the France.””
Private John Pitt ‘D’ Company, 8th Battalion, (who was originally from England), in his own diary records this:-
Dec 24th Christmas Eve - on the desert, tucker pretty scarce.
Christmas Day - A lovely morning. 9 am Church parade. Issued with 2oz Havelock and tinned fish and fruit. In the afternoon we, being duty company, I was told off to go to the Garrison Military police barracks with 3 other fellows and an NCO (Cpl Craven) to fetch out a couple of prisoners to the 6th and 7th battalions. Also went to the Citadel, a poor Christmas day.
Boxing Day 1914 - Marching in the sand from 8 am till 3 pm.
Monday, September 10, 2007
The Bomb-Throwing Australians at Gallipoli.
Carrying on from Fredrick Palmer's description of the Australians, here is another another view from a differnent angle. It is an excert from "Trenching at Gallipoli, in the land of the Turks." by John Gallishaw, of the First Newfoundland Regiment.
"We were talking about Abdul Pasha's surrendering , when we dropped off to sleep. We must have been asleep about two hours when the insistent, crackling sound of rapid fire, momentarily increasing in volume, brought us to our feet. Away up on the right, where the Australians were, the sky was a red glare from the flashing of many rifles. Against this, we could see the occasional flare of different coloured rockets that gave the warships their signals for shelling. Very soon one of our officers appeared.
"Stand to arms for the Newfoundlanders," he said. "What is it?" I asked.
"The Australians are advancing," he answered. "We'll go up as reinforcements if we're needed. Tell your men to put on their ammunition belts, and have their rifles ready. They needn't put on their packs; but keep them near them so that they can slip them on if we get the order to move away."
I went about among the men of my section, passing along the word. Everybody was tingling with excitement. Nobody knew just what was about to happen; but every one thought that whatever it was it would prove interesting. For about half an hour the rapid fire kept up, then by degrees died down.
"Did you see that last rocket ?" said a man near me;
"that means they've done it. A red rocket means that the navy is to fire, a green to continue firing, and a white one means that we've won."
In a few minutes Mr. Nunns walked toward us. "You can put your equipments off, and turn in again," he said, "nothing doing to-night."
"What is all the excitement?" I asked. "Oh, it's the Anzacs again," he said; "when they heard of the advance at Loos, they went over across, and surprised the Turks. They've taken two lines of trenches. They did it without any orders — just wanted to celebrate the good news."
I was awakened the next morning by the sound of a whizz-bang flying over our dugout. Johnny Turk was sending us his best respects. I shook Art, who was sleeping heavily.
"Get up, Art," I said. I might as well have spoken to a stone wall. I tried again. Putting my mouth to his ear, I shouted, "Stand to. Art. Stand to."
Art turned over, sleeping. "I'll stand three if you like, but don't disturb me," he muttered, and relapsed into coma.
In a few minutes, two or three more shells came along. They were well over the ridge behind us, but were landing almost in the midst of another line of dugouts. I stood gazing at them for a little while., A man passed me running badly. "Come on," he gasped, "and yell for the stretcher." I followed him without further question. "It's all right," he said, slowing up just before we came to the line of dugouts that had just been shelled. "They've got him all right." We continued toward a group that was crowded about a stretcher. A man was lying on it, with his head raised on a haversack. He rolled his eyes slowly and surveyed the group. "What the hell is the matter?" he said dazedly; then felt himself over gingerly for wounds. Apparently he could find none. "What hit me ?" he asked, appealing to a grinning Red Cross man.
"Nothing," said the other, "except about a ton of earth. It's a lucky thing some one saw you. That last shell buried you alive."
The whistle of a coming shell dispersed the grinning spectators. I went back to my dugout, and found Art busily toasting some bread over the sieve that I had commandeered the day before.
"What was the excitement?" he asked.
"Charlie Renouf," I said, "was buried alive."
"Heavens," said Art, "he's the postman; we can't afford to lose him. That reminds me that I've got to write some letters."
While we were writing, the orderly sergeant, that dread of loafers, who appoints all details for fatigue work, bore down upon our dugout. "Two men from you, Corporal Gallishaw," he said, "for bomb throwers. Give me their names as soon as you can. They're for practice this afternoon."
"One here, right away," said Art, "and put Lew O'Dea down for the other."
Lew O'Dea was a character. He was in the next dug-out to me. The first day on the Peninsula, his rifle had stuck full of sand, and some one had stolen his tin canteen for cooking food. He immediately formed himself into an anti-poverty society of one thereafter, and went around like a walking arsenal. I never saw him with fewer than three rifles, usually he carried half a dozen. He always kept two or three of them spotlessly clean; so that no matter when rifle inspection came, he always had at least one to show. He had been a little late in getting his rifle clean once and was determined not to be caught any more. His equipment always contained a varied assortment of canteens, seven or eight gas masks, and his dugout was luxurious with rubber sheets and blankets. "I inherited them," he always answered, whenever anybody questioned him about them. With ammunition for his several rifles, when he started for the trenches in full marching order, he carried a load that a mule need by no means have been ashamed of.
"Do you want to go on bomb throwing detail this afternoon?" I called to O'Dea across the top of the dug-out.
"Sure," he answered; "does a swim want to duck?"
"Fine," I said; "report here at two o'clock."
At two o'clock, accompanied by an officer and a sergeant, we went down the road a little way to where some Australians were conducting a class in bomb throwing. A brown-faced chap from Sydney showed me the difference between bombs that you explode by lighting a match, and bombs that are started by pulling out a plug, and the dinky little three-second "cricket balls" that explode by pressing a spring. I asked him about the attack the night before. He told me that they had been for some time waiting for a chance to make a local advance and that would capture an important redoubt in the Turkish line. Every night at exactly nine o'clock, the Navy had thrown a searchlight on the part of the line the Anzacs wanted to capture. For ten minutes they kept up heavy firing. Then, after a ten minutes' interval of darkness and suspended firing, they began a second illumination and bombardment, commencing always at twenty minutes past nine, and ending precisely at half past. After a little while, the enemy, knowing just the exact minute the bombardment was to begin, took the first beam of the searchlight as a hint to clear out. But the night before, a crowd of eager Australians had crept softly along in the shadow made doubly dark by the glare of the searchlight, the noise of their advance covered by the sound of the bombardment. As soon as the bombardment ceased and the searchlight's beam was succeeded by darkness, they poured into the Turkish position. They had taken the astonished Turks completely by surprise.
"We didn't expect to make the attack for another week," said the Australian; "but as soon as our boys heard that we were winning in France, they thought they'd better start something. There hasn't been any excitement over our way now for a long time," he said. "I'm about fed up on this waiting around the trenches." He fingered one of the little cricket-ball bombs caressingly.
"Think of it," he said; "all you do is press that little spring, and three seconds after you're a casualty."
'"Pressing the little spring," said I, "is my idea of nothing to do, unless you're a particularly fast sprinter."
"By the Lord Harry, Newfoundland," said the Australian, with a peculiar, excited glint in his eye, "that's an inspiration."
"What's an inspiration?" I asked, in bewilderment.
The Australian stretched himself on the ground beside me, resting his chin in his cupped hands.
"When I was in Sydney," he said slowly and thoughtfully, "I did a hundred yards in ten seconds easily. Now if I can get in a traverse that's only eight or nine yards long, and press the spring of one of those little cricket balls, I ought to be able to get out on the other side of the traverse before it explodes."
Art and Lew O'Dea passed along just then and I jumped up to go with them. "Don't forget to look for me if you're over around the Fifteenth Australians," said the Australian. "Ask for White George."
"I won't forget," I said, as I hurried away to join the others. "
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