Schwinghammer

The 42nd Battalion A.I.F. - known as the "Australian Black Watch" because it had it own pipe band - recruited its men from the Northern Rivers of NSW and Southern Queensland during February 1916.

By June 5th that year, its men embarked for Egypt and then to England, arriving on the 23rd July.1916.

After further training in England, the Battalion shipped out to France, arriving on the 25th November. One month later, Christmas Eve, 1916, it entered the front line, remaining in or near the line from that day until October 2nd, 1918.

During their 647 days of near continuous combat, the 42nd Battalion engaged in twelve battles, with 450 killed.

Private Verdi George Schwinghammer succeeded in enlisting in the 42nd Battalion on 6th May, 1916. He had failed in an earlier attempt to enlist.

This is his diary. The story of a gentle Christian, named after the composer by music loving parents. Verdi was the Australian born son of German parents.

THE BEGINNING

6th May, 1916, signed the enlistment papers after having been previously rejected in 1915.

20th June, left Byron Bay by train to Lismore for the medical examination.

This time, Dr Bignell passed me, without even examining me, because he could see that I was eager to enlist and men were badly needed.

On 14th July I went to Lismore again and was sworn in. I returned to Byron Bay, resigned my position in the Northern Rivers Co-Op Coy Ltd and was given various farewells and presentations by my friends.

Then, I went home to South Grafton and spent a few days with my parents before leaving by steamer for Sydney and down on to the Jervis Bay Lighthouse where I spent a week's holiday with the Lighthouse Keeper and his family.

Returned by steamer from Sydney to Byron Bay and then on to Brisbane arriving the 9th August.

10th August, reported to the Drill Hall in Brisbane, then by train to Enoggera. Marched into camp at Frazer's Paddock. About sixty of us marched in that morning. Dressed in our civilian clothes and carrying our ports.

The men already there greeted us that morning with various welcomes such as; "You'll be sorry you joined the army" I didn't know anyone, but soon made friendships, some of which will remain for life.

IN CAMP

Our civilian clothes were taken from us and we were issued with a suit of blue dungarees, flannels, blucher boots, white hat, two blankets, knife, fork and spoon, plate and mug.

We were then portioned out into tents, twelve to a tent. Each of us, losing our identity, becoming known from then on, as a number. For me, it was; J 16242 of "A" Company.

Then the first inoculation and freedom to roam about the camp for the next two days. The various camps, which went by the names; Frazer's Paddock, Bell's Paddock, Rifle Range and so on, were well laid out.

Huts were under construction ( which eventually did away with the tents ) and we had our meals in large sheds, holding three hundred or more. There were good recreation huts, with pianos, billiard tables etc, each managed by either the Y.M.C.A., the Church of England or the Salvation Army.

A White City was constructed for the troops' amusements. It had a picture show, ( free ), boxing hall and restaurants. Concert parties came out from Brisbane almost every night and we used frequently to get leave to visit Brisbane.

After three days in camp I was appointed a clerk in the Quarter Master's Store which of course exempted me from drill, guard etc. I spent three weeks here. During this time we were vaccinated. I took sick, being sent first to hospital for a fortnight and then on to the convalescent hospital, called "Staghorn", which was located on the beach at Southport.

I had to return to the hospital to be discharged and rejoined the camp on the 12th October. On the 20th October, my brother Charlie entered camp and I was glad to see him. I was then given final leave, arriving in Grafton on the 3rd November, returning to camp on the 13th.

As my brother was sailing on the 16th November, I successfully applied to get away on the same transport. Charlie was attached to the reinforcements for the 41st battalion. I was drafted to the 5th Reinforcements of the 42nd Battalion. ( No. 2642 of ":C" Company.)

Sir Goold Adams - Governor of Queensland - reviewed the troops and then we had our last night's leave in Brisbane. 16th November, 1916, up early, marched with our packs to Rifle Range Station, accompanied by the cheers of the men still in camp. Entrained for Pinkenba - 14 miles away.

Our transport was waiting for us and we boarded. It was a memorable sight, the steamer, crowded with soldiers up the rigging and everywhere. The wharf was crowded with relatives and friends and coloured paper streamers were thrown over to us.

The band was playing and other steamers in the vicinity sounded their sirens. We then sailed down Moreton Bay and entered the ocean.

ABOARD THE "KYARRA"

Our steamer was the "Kyarra" - later torpedoed. She was 7,000 tons. An old but good sea boat.

There were 960 troops and seven nurses on board. (Some of the men had never been to sea before and got very sick. I was blessed as a good sailor and didn't get sick.) We were shown our quarters, (each company having drawn lots for positions on the steamer) and "C" Company was lucky enough to draw "A" deck - the best deck, first one below and portholes as well.

We were given hammocks but after the first night, I preferred to sleep on the floor of the deck as I was too tall and couldn't sleep comfortably in the hammock. We passed quite close to Cape Byron and Yamba and could easily distinguish the well-known landscapes.

The sea was very calm. Twenty sat at each table for meals and I was one of the two orderlies for our table. That meant laying table, clearing away and washing up, going to the cookhouse for food etc, but it had its advantages, as we were free from guards, drill and fatigues.

When the sea was calm enough to permit it, drill was indulged in and there were always piquet's and guards posted on various parts of the steamer. We also had to attend the many lectures that were given.

After leaving the New South Wales Coast we kept a good way out and saw very little land. Had a calm trip across the Great Australian Bight, which is very unusual. On the tenth day out, we sighted the West Australian Coast and early next morning, entered Fremantle Harbour and anchored in midstream.

Went ashore in launches and I was on picquet duty for two hours. Had a good look over Fremantle and then took a train to Perth, 10 miles away. A very pretty city. Sent a telegram from here. Returned to steamer at midnight.

The guard searched us as we went aboard to see if we had any liquor in our possession. We weren't issued any vinegar on the troopship and as I was craving for some, I had bought a bottle at Fremantle and had it on me when I boarded the steamer.

The guard, when searching me, thought it was liquor and took it from me, even though I had told him it was only vinegar, handing it to the orderly room and reporting me. Next morning, at breakfast, our Lieutenant came in and handed me back my bottle as he had opened it and found it wasn't liquor.

We had no piano aboard when we left Brisbane so at Fremantle, we put in two shillings each (most of us) and bought one. Placed it on the main top deck, strapping it down, and afterwards got much pleasure from same.

Early next morning, we sailed out of Fremantle Harbour and land was soon out of sight. Now commenced our long run across to Africa. We were hoping to go via the Suez Canal, but our instructions proved to be via the Cape. Every night we had sing-songs or dances on deck.

I was one of the pianists and the dances were all buck ones. Sometimes one of the nurses might be off duty and in which case she joined us. Every Friday was sports day and we had some very good deck races and games.

Every Saturday night we had a big concert. We used to print the programme of our concerts on the printing press which we had on board. There were twenty-two men from the Clarence River District on board the "Kyarra" so we got our names printed on a card and sent it home as a souvenir.

A newspaper was also printed at intervals - the "Dryarra Wail" - so named because all troopships were "dry" - no liquor available on issue or for sale. Wireless news was posted up on deck every morning so we knew how the war was progressing. Church was held on Sundays as we had three chaplains on board.

The food wasn't as good as we had been used to in camps in Australia and on one occasion when rabbit was issued to us, we refused to eat it and threw it overboard. Thereafter, no more rabbit was issued to us. The Canteen was open every day but it soon ran out of biscuits, chocolates, tinned fruits etc.

Meningitis broke out and we were fumigated and had our throats sprayed. Three died and were buried at sea. Burial at sea is very sad. A board is attached to the side of the steamer, on which rests the body, sewn in canvas, weighted and covered with the Union Jack.

The steamer is stopped. The chaplain reads the prayers. The body is thrown overboard. The steamer resumes her journey and life goes on as usual. That night, we had a memorial service on deck and most of us wrote letters of sympathy to the boys' parents in Australia.

Luckily, the outbreak was quelled and no more deaths occurred. After being eighteen days without seeing land, at daybreak on the 15th December, we sighted the African Coast and soon afterwards entered Port Natal and tied up at Durban.

Miss Ethel Campbell - "The Angel Of Durban" - welcomed us with her flags as we entered the harbour. We stayed a week here and had a very happy time indeed. We marched to the Town Hall and were welcomed by the Mayor.

Durban is a very beautiful city and is the most loyal part of South Africa. The people couldn't do enough for us. The trams were free to soldiers. Free meals were provided for us every day. People were always inviting us to their homes.

The "Niggers" coaled the steamer here. No machinery. Every bit of coal was carried aboard in baskets. Had several visits to the zoo which contains the finest collection of African wild animals and snakes in the world.

Surfing on the fine beaches was a delight, especially as the weather was very hot. I went to the "Messiah" in the Town Hall and saw, in the museum, the German Flag that General Botha hauled down when he captured German East Africa.

The "Niggers" - Kaffirs etc - here, are in the majority and are kept in their places by the whites. They are only allowed to walk on the footpaths in certain parts of the city (they must keep to the streets) and only allowed to travel on the four back seats of trams. A common notice to see up over shops, restaurants, theatres etc, is the "Europeans Only Admitted".

The natives do great business with their rickshaws and for sixpence we could get a rickshaw ride all over the city. The "rickshaw" men are fine big chaps. They paint their bodies - only having a loincloth on - with various designs and have a large headdress of horns and feathers.

When pulling a rickshaw along, they rear up and shy at other rickshaws just like horses. We left Durban on the 22nd December, accompanied by the transports: "Port Napier" and "Hororato".

We followed, close to the coast, passing East London and Port Elizabeth. Passed over the spot where the "Waratah" was lost with all its hands. Spent Christmas Day at sea and had a good dinner, supplied by the Australian Comforts Fund.

Entered Table Bay at daylight on Boxing Day and was lucky to see Table Mountain in all its grandeur and beauty. The sun was rising and the Table Mountain was covered with a white cloth of cloud. Hence its name. It was a very beautiful sight indeed.

We tied up at the docks and had the day free in Capetown. This is the oldest city of South Africa and proved very interesting. The people are mostly of Dutch descent. It is not so up to date as Durban and the niggers are not so plentiful - there are no rickshaws.

We saw all the interesting sites; the museum containing the Boer War relics; the cathedral which contains a book in which is written the name of every soldier who died fighting for the Empire in the Boer War, the Rhodes Monument etc..etc.

If you look up when walking down the main street of Capetown, Table Mountain appears to be right on top of you, hanging over the street, whereas it is many miles away. Fruit is plentiful here and we stocked up well.

Several other Australian troopships were also in the harbour. Whilst we were here, a troopship, laden with English soldiers from German East Africa, arrived in port. It was pitiful to see the men. Most of them were suffering from malaria and other tropical diseases.

On 27th December, seven troopships; Kyarra; Wanganui; Tahiti, Hororato; Suevic; Beltana and Borda escorted by HMS Glasgow, left Capetown. It was a fine sight to see - all steaming together. The Warship was ahead, then the Kyarra (we were the slowest) then three on either side about two hundred yards apart. We kept in this position until we arrived in the English Channel, three weeks later.

All sorts of rumours were now going around: some said we were going north to Egypt; others that we were bound for Nova Scotia via New York. (America was not yet in the war.) The sea continued very calm. On the seventh day out from Capetown - without seeing land - we were told that we were going to call at St Helena and all were excited at the prospect of seeing this historic spot.

On New Year's Eve (1917) we stayed up on deck and ushered in the New Year by visiting various parts of the steamer and singing " for he's a jolly good fellow" etc.

On the morning of the 3rd January, 1917, as the fog was lifting, we sighted the island of St Helena, and an hour later, anchored off Jamestown - the tiny capital of the Island and its only town. The island is very mountainous at one end (it is only seven miles long by three across) and slopes towards the sea at one end. It is surrounded by deep water with not an inch of sandy beach and is 1250 miles from the nearest land (West Africa). It was indeed a privilege to gaze on the spot where the great Napoleon lived for seven years and where he died. His grave - where he was buried before being transferred to Paris - is in the centre of the island. Many Boer prisoners were interned here during that war. The population is 3,600, mostly half castes. The island is strongly fortified and is an important coaling station.

Boats came out to us, selling fruit and souvenirs, such as leaves from a tree growing on Napoleon's grave. We picked up the South African troopship New Britain here and the next day we all left St Helena and resumed our voyage. The weather was now getting very hot.

We crossed the Equator on the 8th January and had the usual Father Neptune sports. A large canvas tank was erected on deck, filled with water and everyone was dipped. On the seventh day out from St Helena we sighted the African Coast and entered the harbour at Freetown - the capital of British Sierra Leone - and anchored mid stream.

Much to our disappointment we couldn't land here. Crowds of steamers (mostly captured German ones) were anchored in the harbour. From our deck the city looked beautiful. White buildings with red tiled roofs, nestling amongst the palms and cocoanuts. The heat here was terrific and the pitch was oozing from the cracks in the decks.

Natives came out in their canoes, selling us oranges and coconuts which were relished by us on account of the great heat. We used to get a billy can, lower it down through a porthole with money in it and draw it up full of fruit. The natives were not allowed on the steamer.

The natives were stark naked and used to go through lots of antics in their canoes. They were expert divers and if we threw a coin overboard they would dive and get it before it sank. Our Captain bought one of their canoes and took it to England as a souvenir.

The cruiser Swiftsure was in the harbour and some of her sailors came aboard to mount an anti submarine gun on our ship. We stayed there four days, taking on board fresh water, coal and provisions, then escorted by the auxiliary cruiser Almazora we put to sea again. (The Glasgow having left us to go back to Capetown.)

Now commenced the most dangerous part of the journey as we were in the submarine zone. All the portholes were darkened and we travelled without lights. If anyone wanted to smoke at night they were not permitted to do so on deck and had to go down to the bottom deck. It was a serious crime to show a light of any kind.

It is a wonder that there weren't more accidents at night as the ship was packed. We were in pitch darkness and there were so many steps and stairs with the ship rolling all the time. We gave the Canary Islands a wide berth as the German Submarines were, at this time, shelling them. One day we passed a suspicious looking steamer some distance away.

The cruiser signalled her to stop but, as she didn't do so, fired a shot across her bows. She altered course and came over to the cruiser. She happened to be a neutral (Dutch) ship on her way to America. One day, a target - a large floating box - was placed at sea and we enjoyed watching the gunners of the anti-submarine gun having target practice. They hit it several times.

Another day, we passed the fine battleship Prince Alfred and were lined up on deck and saluted her as we passed. We struck the first real rough weather on the 24th January and the nine of us were tossing about like corks. We ran into rainy and cold weather. A few weeks previously we were sweltering in the heat of the tropics, now we were almost freezing.

Submarine guard was on duty most of the time - that is, men were posted at various parts of the ship (up the masthead, etc.) with loaded rifles, in case the periscope of a submarine appeared. We struck terrible weather crossing the Bay of Biscay and had a very unpleasant time.

On the afternoon of the 29th January, 1917, we sighted seven British Destroyers and they were up to us in no time. It was a fine sight to see them cruising among us. We were now in the English Channel and we knew that we were safe with the British Navy to guard us. We had been nearly eleven weeks at sea and hadn't seen a single enemy ship on the high seas. That spoke volumes for the British Navy.

All the other troop ships put on full speed and left us, each being escorted by a destroyer. One destroyer stayed behind and guarded us. She used to circle around us all the time. Our troopship was very slow and we couldn't keep up with the others when they put on full steam.

We passed a lot of wreckage from a steamer that had been torpedoed only a few miles from us the previous night. Early next morning we passed Eddystone lighthouse and subsequently sighted the coast of England, which we followed all day and at eight o'clock that night - 30th January, 1917 - entered Plymouth Harbour and anchored there.

We were thankful to be safe after our voyage of 16,000 miles - we had come the long route - and which had taken ten weeks and four days.

ENGLAND

Next morning we could see the hills covered with snow. (The first snow that I and many of the other men had ever seen.) At 3 o'clock tenders came out to us and we left the troopship, which had been our home for so long, and went across the harbour, landing at the Princess Royal Pier and set foot on England>

Long trains were drawn up on the pier, which we entered and commenced our journey. We travelled 96 miles, passing through the beautiful English countryside and villages. Everything was covered with snow. At Exeter the Mayoress and ladies entertained us at tea on the railway station.

We continued our journey and arrived at Dinton railway station at midnight. Then marched five miles, through a snowstorm, to our camps at Sutton Mandeville. We were billeted here in large huts with plenty of blankets and a fire continually burning in the hut. The food was very good and we had the usual recreation huts.

For several days we were off duty as our feet and hands swelled up with the intense cold.

An aerodrome was next to our camp and some of us saw aeroplanes for the first time in our lives as there were no aeroplanes near our camp in Brisbane.

Mumps broke out and we were isolated for a fortnight.

When off duty on Sundays we used to walk to the villages of Fovant, Tisbury and Swallowcliffe. Also went one day and saw Wardour Castle.

On 16th March, we went by train from Fovant to Amesbury and then marched to the main Australian camp at Larkhill, Salisbury Plains and were billeted in No.11 Camp. Eighty thousand Australian troops were camped here. There were hundreds of large huts and through them ran a large street containing halls, picture theatres, recreation huts, etc. where we could buy almost everything.

The drilling here was very severe and strenuous. We were up at daylight every morning and continued drilling till dark, with half a day Saturday and all day Sunday off.

On Sundays several of us would walk all through the interesting villages and explore them. Stonehenge contained much of interest, also Figheldean, which is famous on account of the poem "Under The Spreading Chestnut Tree". We saw the original blacksmith's shop - also the tomb of the smithy (named Shepherd) and his wife in the Parish churchyard adjoining.

While we were here, we were given four days' leave to London. The night before leaving camp many of us were unable to sleep for excitement at the prospect of visiting the world's largest city. One morning we were up early and marched in heavy rain to Amesbury where we entrained for London, arriving there at 11 a.m.

It would take me hours to describe the wonders of this great city. We stayed at the A.I.F. War Chest Club which was run for Australian troops only and managed by Australian ladies residing in London. The first person I spoke to was an old friend, Mrs C Jones, who used to reside in South Grafton for many years where her husband had a Chemist's shop. Her only son was in the A.I.F. in France and when he got wounded she left Australia and came to London to be near him and worked voluntarily for the soldiers at the War Chest Club.

We saw through St. Paul's Cathedral, Westminster Abbey, The Tower of London, Houses of Parliament, Buckingham Palace, etc. Spent Good Friday, Easter Sunday and Easter Monday in London returning to camp on Easter Monday night after a very enjoyable four days.

Midsummer was now on us and the beauty of an English summer was not to be forgotten. The beautiful trees, shrubs, flowers, etc were a revelation. It was light at three in the morning and at ten at night the sun was still up. I had a touch of pleurisy here and was in hospital for ten days but my brother Charlie was very ill with pneumonia in Farge hospital for seven weeks.

Concert parties used to come down from London nearly every night and we had some very interesting lectures given us by some of the leading University men who were too old for active service.

Five months were spent at this camp and by the end of this time we were all fit and well trained soldiers. I myself weighed 12 stone and never felt better in my life.

On 17th April we marched to Bulford and were reviewed by the King, George V, a memorable occasion. On 23rd June, the majority of our reinforcements including my brother's 41st Bn reinforcements, left for France. Along with two others, I was kept back in England as witnesses in a case where a soldier was knocked down and badly hurt by a motor car.

DEPARTURE FROM ENGLAND FOR FRANCE

Great excitement prevailed among us when we were told to get ready for France. A couple of days were spent getting ready and on Monday morning, 23rd July, 1917 we left Larkhill camp, England, to the cheers of the men in camp and the strains of bands playing. We marched the four miles to Amesbury.

We then took train and journeyed to Southampton and embarked on La Marguerite.

It was a fine sight to see all the transports leaving for France, being escorted by destroyers and seaplanes. After a calm trip of nine hours we arrived at Le Havre and set foot on French soil at daylight on 24th July. We were in France at last!

The usual street pedlars besieged us selling chocolates, fruit and books ("How to Speak French" etc.)

We then marched 7 miles to the Australian base Camp at Marfleur. This was a huge camp with every comfort and all were happy here as we were a safe distance from the line - couldn't even hear the guns or bombardments. We were fixed up in Bell tents (eight in each) and the meals - which were served in large dining halls - were excellent.

We stayed here for a fortnight practising battle and trench warfare and going through rifle and gas drill. Our way to the parade ground ("Bull Ring" as it was called by us) was up a steep hill through a beautiful avenue of trees.

For three days I was a guard of the German prisoners' camp. Also went in one night (in by tram - back by train) with my pal and had a good look over the fine city of Le Havre. When everything was ready we marched with full packs - carrying blankets, gas helmet, ammunition, etc. - to the railway station at Le Havre. As no train was ready for us we slept on the station that night but there were plenty of canteens where we could buy food.

After waiting on the railway station all next day we entrained and left Le Havre at 4 p.m. We were lucky to get ordinary French carriages with wooden seats (no cushions) and ten in each carriage, but with our equipment in, there wasn't much room. Mostly the troops travelled in the 'famous/infamous' trucks; "40 Hommes/8 Chevaux" which, in English, means "40 men or 8 horses."

After travelling all night through the beautiful French countryside and many pretty and interesting towns, we reached the town of Hazebrouck next day at midday. We were now getting close to the line.

While we were at the railway station here, a daylight air raid took place. A German plane flew very low over the station buildings, dropping bombs, killing and wounding many and scattering debris on to our carriages.

This was the first enemy bomb that I had heard and I didn't realise the danger of it then. Our train then steamed off about a mile down the line and stayed there for some time.

We eventually continued our journey and arrived near the village of Steenwerck about 4 o'clock in the afternoon. This was as far as the train could go as the line was not many miles away. We could now see all the balloons suspended in mid air near the lines a few miles off and could hear the guns and also see the shells exploding in the air as they were directed at the balloons.

We dis-entrained and marched to some huts near the baths and after some tea we marched to our camp which was called by the religious name of "Jesus Farm" on account of a huge wayside crucifix nearby. Our Battalion was resting there after having been in the Battle of Warneton and in which they suffered heavily.

The camp was comprised of about twenty small circular huts. Our pals gave us a great welcome and we were glad to rejoin them in France. After our names were registered and distributed in the huts amongst our various pals we at last became part of the 42nd Battalion, A.I.F., ready for action. It was just twelve months since I had entered camp in Brisbane.

Just as we were getting fixed up, a huge shell came over and exploded in an open paddock next to our huts.

That night a big air raid took place and we enjoyed watching our guns shooting at the German planes - which were caught and held in the searchlights - several close hits being secured. No bombs fell on our camp but one bomb fell on the horse lines close by, killing and wounding several mules and horses.

It was pitiful to hear the wounded animals groaning and several had to be shot out of their misery.

The next day we marched to Steenwerck and were reviewed by General Plumer. We marched several times to the famous Palmer Baths over the border into Belgium.

One day, we went on fatigue in motor lorries some 16 kilometres away to Strazeele where we were engaged in stacking shells for our big guns. It took two of us to lift one shell. While we were here, we saw several large holes in the ground which had been made by bombs from the German planes. Each was large enough to hold a motor lorry.

The working parties up near the line at Messines Ridge were not to be forgotten. Every morning at 2 am we were awakened and given our breakfast of pork and beans and then went in motor lorries through the ruins of Neve Eglise up to the Messines where we were engaged in making roads and digging trenches.

We generally got in an hour or two's work, because as soon as it dawned the enemy used to bombard our positions and it was 'leave off work' and get back to safety the best way one could.

I remember one morning; the enemy followed us with his shells right back to our motor lorries which we had left on the cobble-stoned road near the big military cemetery.

We had several narrow escapes - some were wounded but none we killed. I soon learned to assume the "prone" position; that is to fall flat down on one's stomach as soon as one heard a shell coming over.

Whilst here we had a good look at Steenwerck which contained a fine old church with a famous grotto. The Bishop of Armentieres moved to Steenwerck after his city was destroyed in 1917 but he had to flee from STEENWERCK in March 1918 during the big German offensive.

On the 22nd August, we marched to Steenwerck railway station and entrained. After a three hour journey we arrived at Wizurnes where we got out and marched to the pretty little village of Remilly (near Lumbres) where we remained for several weeks practising for the Battle of Ypres.

Our stay here was very happy indeed. We were the first Australian troops to be billeted there and the people were very good and kind to us. Our platoon was billeted in a good barn with plenty of straw and Madam and her daughters could not do enough for us.

She had beautiful grapes growing which we used to buy at a franc (ten pence) per lb. It speaks volumes for the Aussies here when the people's fruit was quite safe and none of it was stolen by the troops.

The beautiful stream flowing through the village was great and many a good swim we enjoyed after coming back hot from the parade ground or a route march. No costumes were required and it was a common sight to see several hundred Aussies swimming in the stream near where the bridge crossed it in the main street.

My brother's battalion (41st) was billeted in an old paper mill close by and I often saw him.

I also visited the towns of Lumbres, Wavrans and Wizurnes and the fine old, ancient and interesting city of St Omer.

In peace time this city contained 90,000 inhabitants. Its Cathedral was majestic and was remembered by me for its famous clock inside, over the main door. The Cathedral of St. Omer may bring back memories of some other things to some soldiers who may read this.

One day we were marched to Flamburelles and were reviewed by Sir Douglas Haig.

We had plenty of severe drilling here and I was transferred to the rifle grenadiers section.

A regiment of Portuguese soldiers were camped close by. They used to walk through our village and some of our men used to call them the "Pork and Beans". They resented this and reported it to our Commander, so we were marched on the parade ground one day and given a severe reprimand - being reminded that the Portuguese were the oldest allies of England. However, they didn't prove themselves very good soldiers during the big German offensive of March 1918.

YPRES

BATTLE OF BROODESEINDE AS REPORTED IN THE CLARION

BATTLE OF BROODESEINDE YPRES 4TH - 6TH OCTOBER 1917

"SPECIAL FOR "THE CLARION"

By PRIVATE VERDI SCHWINGHAMMER "B" COY 42ND BATT AIF five weeks preceding the actual 'stunts" were very happily spent by us at Remilly (a small French village, away from the rear of the guns, where inhabitants were very kind to us.) During this time we were engaged in a certain amount of drill - enough to keep our bodies fit - and also had several practice stunts over country which was then thought to be similar to that on which the real stunt was to be done.

These practices were supplemented by lectures explaining in detail our future operation.

One night, just as we were settling down to sleep in our billets, the order came to be ready to move up towards the line, early next morning. This news had the effect of a general stir and the next couple of hours were spent ^~ packing our packs and getting things in general ready.

Next morning we were up early and after a good breakfast - and having said goodbye to the hospitable proprietress - Madame - of our billets ( who brought us apples, wine etc., as parting gifts - we started on our memorable march of 42 kilos, which occupied three days and taxed our endurance qualities to the utmost.

Poperinghe (Belgium) was now our location and we remained here five days, resting our bodies and feet in particular, which latter suffered most through the long march.

Whilst here, " Fritz" came over regular every night and bombed the town and camps very close to our tents ( fragments of shell came through the canvas) and also dropped one in the machine gunners camp which adjoined ours, causing the death of many brave Australians. That night many bombs were also dropped on the town, doing great damage and killing many civilians.

Early every morning we could hear our guns bombarding "Fritz's" positions, prior to our troops attacking.

At last the afternoon came for us to move up and we were told - for the first time - that our particular attack was to take place two mornings after. We were "fell in" and shown an excellent photographic map (also a model) taken by aeroplane of the country we were to advance over and also our objectives - the little woods found out being shown very plainly on it. After having all our extra "tools" etc., given us

(THE BATTLE OF BROODSEINDE 4th - 6th OCTOBER 1917

Our five weeks happy stay in the village of Remilly came abruptly to an end one night when the Sergeant came and awakened us at about 3 o'clock and told us to get up and be ready to move off in a couple of hours' time.

This news had the effect of a general stir and we were busy packing our packs and getting things in general ready.

After a hurried breakfast and having said 'au revoir" to the hospitable proprietress - Madame- of our billets (who brought us wine, apples, etc. as parting gifts) at daybreak we started on our memorable march of 42 kilos which occupied three days and taxed our endurance qualities to the limit.

Poperinge (Belgium) was now our location and we remained here five days, resting our bodies and feet in particular - which latter - suffered most through the long march.

Whilst here, "Fritz" came over regularly every night in his aeroplanes and bombed the town and camps.

One night he dropped two bombs close to our tents (fragments coming through the canvas) and also dropped a bomb on the machine gunners' camp - which adjoined ours - causing the death of 36 Australian soldiers.

That night, many bombs were also dropped on the town doing great damage and killing many civilians and soldiers.

Every morning we could hear our guns bombarding the enemy's positions prior to our troops attacking.

One afternoon, our procedure in the battle was explained to us and we were shown an aeroplane photograph (and a medal) of the country we were to attack and advance over. Our objectives; the little woods, swamps and ruined buildings were very plainly shown on the photographs.

On the 2nd October, we were told that our attack was to take place two mornings after - on the 4th.

The various Chaplains came and gave us church services in the open on the parade ground.

Then, after a good meal we began packing up. All our extra "tools" etc. were given to us; such as 150 rounds small ammunition, - and because I was a rifle grenadier, a bag containing 8 Mill's bombs and ten rods - eight sand bags, shovels, two days' rations, etc.

We marched to the Poperinghe railway station and entrained for Ypres. An hour's journey brought us to the ruined Asylum near Ypres (that was as far as the train could go as the Ypres Railway Station had been blown to pieces) where we disentrained and marched single file ( on account of the huge amount of traffic on the roads) through the ruined city to an open piece of ground at the back of the Madeline Cemetery where we bivouacked for the night.

Just in front of us were our eighteen pounder batteries which kept "barking" (firing) all night and on our right was a huge naval gun which fired at regular intervals.

German planes came over during the night, dropping bombs and raining machine gun bullets on us but none took effect in our locality.

Daylight revealed a great number of Australians camped on either side of us and we walked amongst the various Battalions to see if there were any that we knew. We were told to rest ourselves that day - which we did, with the exception of walking down to the water point at Ypres to refill our water bottles.

This gave us the opportunity of seeing the ruins of the Cathedral and Cloth Hall (which was one of the finest buildings in Europe before it was destroyed by the Germans.)

The amount of traffic going up to the lines was tremendous;- a continual stream of ammunition lorries, food lorries, water carts, cannons ( some drawn by mules, some by lorries), Red Cross Ambulances, etc. etc. and thousands of troops wending their way up.

No wonder that some of those thoroughfares to the lines were called after those of London, such as "Hyde Park Corner", "The Strand" etc., and as far as traffic was concerned, they didn't belie their names.

At dusk, we were given a hot meal, for some the last on this earth, for others, the last hot ones for four days and, after a final talk given us by our Captain and the Chaplains, we commenced the approach march to the line.

It was now 9 p.m. and all were in good spirits and quite cheerful.

Physically, we were fit and alert and ready for battle. How different we were to be less than twelve hours later.

Men do not go into battle sad and gloomy as many civilians wrongly imagine. They are quite the opposite even though they know the dreadful things they have to face and that some of them are going to their death.

We passed along what seemed an endless trunk of duckboards, "keeping in touch" - which was very necessary - if we were not to get lost. We had our first "rest" (a few minutes' halt) just in front of our batteries which were firing spasmodically.

After resuming the march again, there were frequent halts caused through broken duckboards with men slipping off into the mud and getting bogged. At several of these unofficial halts the followings, amongst others, would be heard; "Put out that ....... cigarette". The response from the smoker would be; "Oh, he's windy" or "he's got the wind up".

I am a non smoker ( the same as quite a number of the soldiers were) so I cannot describe the comfort or ease of mind which the men said that smoking gave them when in danger or sitting under bombardment. I always drew my cigarette issues and put them in my gas bag and the men always knew where they could get a smoke.

A few shells were now falling pretty close to us and the next stop was close to a "pill box" (captured German dug-out) near which, to my surprise, was a fire, from the light of which one could see several dead lying about.

We were now on ground which, a few days' previously, had been in the enemy's possession and the dead had not yet been buried.

Machine gun bullets were now hissing overhead as "Fritz" occasionally "rattled" his machine guns. We were told to keep very still when an enemy verey light went up as it is practically impossible to make out stationary objects when verey lights are sent up, but the slightest movement is easily noticed.

After a while it was found that we were on the wrong track and the order; "About Turn" came along which meant going back a considerable distance the way we had come. Eventually the right track was found and we continued moving onwards.

Shells were now falling amongst us and we took shelter, that is, huddled together in shell holes, until the shelling ceased. The next movement brought us closer up and the enemy lights now seemed almost upon us.

He said to me, just a few minutes before he was killed; " Well, I have been used to the bush all my life, sleeping amongst the dingoes, etc. and I was never afraid before, but I feel frightened tonight."

As we were getting into position, a bullet got one of our men close to me, killing him instantly. We were all sorry that poor old "brumby" (that was the name we called him) had fallen. He came from the backblocks of Queensland and was a rough diamond but had a good heart and was popular amongst us. He was uneducated and couldn't write, and I used to write his "love letters" to his girl in Queensland for him. He said to me, just a few minutes before he was killed; " Well, I have been used to the bush all my life, sleeping amongst the dingoes, etc. and I was never afraid before, but I feel frightened tonight." We assured him that everything would be all right, but he fell dead from a bullet soon afterwards. Such is war!

A corporal in charge of our platoon told us to make ourselves comfortable. I said "Where are the trenches?" (having pictured in my mind, well made and comfortable trenches which we generally occupied when holding the line.)

He replied; "These are the trenches." Merely a series of shell holes filled with water.

Our tape was laid in a line in front of them. A white tape was generally laid down in front of the trenches to keep us in line so that we could all advance together when the battle commenced.

We were now glad to rest our weary limbs, even if it were only a muddy shell hole, it being now 3 a.m. The approach march having occupied 6 hours.

In passing, I may say that this was my first "Hop Over" (battle) - although I had been up to the line on working parties before - and I was quite fresh, in fact, quite excited and had no idea of the dangers and didn't realise what was ahead of us and what we had to go through.

The Officers and N.C.O.'s were now busy seeing that the various sections were all in order and in their proper positions. The Germans were only about two hundred yards in front of us and they were continually firing flares (verey lights) which lighted up no-man's-land splendidly.

It is a wonderful and very pretty sight to have seen the many coloured lights which the Germans (and we too) used to illuminate no-man's-land and also for signal purposes. We also used to say that the Germans had the contract for lighting up no-man's-land, thereby saving us the trouble and expense.

White and gold lights were used for illumination and red and green for signals.

A civil display of fireworks could not equal the "free" exhibitions we used to witness nightly, and it could have gladdened the heart of many children to have seen them.

A corporal and I shared a shell hole between us. He said to me; "I am going to have a little snooze. Wake me at 5 a.m." This appeared to me to be very brave to even think of sleep under such conditions, but he was very weary and also an old soldier and had been in several battles.

However, he didn't get his desired snooze.

The shells were falling more often and getting uncomfortably close. One burst not very far from us giving us a shaking and covering us with mud so we crept further out into another shell hole.

As the lights went up I could see figures in single file in front of us, whom I thought were Germans, but were only the British troops then "holding the line" being relieved by us preparatory to the attack.

About half past five, I saw many red and green lights go up from the German positions and remarked to the corporal how pretty they looked.

He said; ' Now we are in for it!" "The Germans have taken a tumble that we are going to attack them and they are sending up their S.O.S. ( Save Our Souls) signals to their gunners."

Almost immediately, a heavy barrage (many cannons firing together) descended on our positions and continued until our barrage opened up half an hour later.

the Corporal remarked that the "Minnies" (nickname for the German Trench Mortar - Minen Werfer - a "dreadful weapon") were coming over. At that time I didn't know anything about them. Now I do!

We could hear "Stretcher Bearer" being called out as casualties occurred, those closest to the railway lines suffering heavily. The last hour previous to hopping over seemed to me to be the longest that I have ever experienced and I was continually looking at my luminous watch to see the time.

All one's past life seemed to be pictured in one's mind during that short period and our thoughts were naturally of home and our loved ones and also what the future would bring forth.

Just as day was breaking, zero hour, 5.55 a.m. arrived, and, as if by magic, our guns opened up and we rushed forward and commenced the attack.

It was said we had one eighteen pounder battery every 25 yards, on a front of several miles, besides many larger guns and hundreds of machine guns and Lewis guns that morning. Imagine all these firing together.

Our barrage seemed almost to silence the German guns.

For the first five minutes or so, I could remember nothing, but after I had collected myself, found myself going automatically forward with my section.

After hopping over I saw no more of my Corporal, but afterwards I learned that he had his right leg blown off and I am glad to say that he recovered and returned to Australia.

It was now, pretty light and the scene which confronted us I will never forget nor could I adequately describe it.

It seemed as if hell had been let loose on earth. The ground was shaking and the air was hot and full of the smell of powder from the guns.

The noise was terrible.

Dead and wounded were lying everywhere and as far as one could see on either side was a mass of soldiers moving forward behind the barrage.

Shells were falling in front of us and amongst us and earth was being thrown up into the air. In front of us our barrage was slowly creeping forward, the sight of which was one of awe inspiring grandeur. Behind and amongst us a few "shorts" ( our own shells which fall short amongst us) and some German shells were falling.

I saw one shell fall among a group of men, seeing human limbs, etc. being hurled into the air.

After I had gone a few hundred yards I came across a group of our own "C" Company men, lying in a group, all badly wounded. I knelt down and found one of them to be our Lieutenant whom I made as comfortable as possible and gave him some whisky which he carried in his water bottle. He (Lieutenant Ballard) afterwards died.

Also gave the others some water, emptying my own water bottle in doing so, but we could always get plenty of water after a battle by taking the water bottles from the dead soldiers.

Whilst I was thus engaged, our Captain happened to pass by and sharply told me to advance and get on with our platoon and leave this kind of work to the Army Medical Corps. However, this rebuff, which was quite military and correct, did not prevent me from assisting some more of my wounded comrades further on. The Red Cross had more than they could do to cope with the wounded.

We were now getting close to a German Pill Box which was rushed and captured. By now, Germans were running towards us, surrendering (from the various Pill Boxes that had been captured.) A lot of them put up their hands and shouted "Mercy Kamerads". Some of them were waving Red Cross and white flags and, as they passed us, they were relieved of any valuables they possessed. Souveniring the enemy being a strong characteristic of the Australians. One German ran out of a shell hole to me, handed me his watch - which on the spur of the moment, I took - but afterwards was sorry for taking it, because I felt if ever I was taken prisoner, I would not like my watch to be taken from me.

I came across several of our men badly wounded (some with arms and legs off etc.) but the way they bore their pain was wonderful - no complaining or grumbling. It was a frequent sight to see a wounded German and a wounded Aussie helping each other to get to the advanced dressing station.

A shell burst near us and a piece cut through my puttee and made a small flesh wound as big as a sixpence. It was hardly worth taking notice of at the time and it eventually healed up, but afterwards gave me a lot of trouble, as it was poisoned. It broke out afterwards and I had a lot of hospital in France and England with it. It still breaks out periodically and I receive a war pension for it.*

* To his dying day, Verdi carried this wound as a suppurating ulcerous mess on his inside left leg, just above the ankle. When he would call to visit, he would always be asked; "how's the leg?" and without fail, he'd unwrap the bandage and show the enquirer. It never seemed any worse and it never seemed any better. It was always horrible. How he had been accepted for service in the Second World War is beyond me.

By now, I had lost my section, in fact had got right away from my Battalion (which I could tell by the various distinguishing marks that each battalion wore - generally coloured patches on the backs of our tunics.)

In my endeavours to find my Battalion I got bogged in a small swamp where there were many others - some of them wounded. I managed to free myself and found my Battalion again.

During all this time, we were gradually advancing and shell fragments and machine gun and rifle bullets were flying all around us. When one considers the amount of material that is hurled around in a small space during a battle, it is surprising to see the number of soldiers who come out alive and unwounded.

At last we reached our objective and on looking at my watch, found it was 9 a.m. - three hours since the attack commenced but it didn't seem that long.

Ours was the second - or middle objective.

The 41st battalion was advancing through ours and going forward two hundred yards and the 44th (was) digging in three hundred yards behind us.

The Platoon Sergeant showed us where to dig and told us to hurry as our barrage was only timed to play in front of us just long enough to give us a little protection while digging in.

Digging our trenches proved very easy as the ground was soft, in fact, too soft - used to fall in - and when we were down three feet, we came to water so the trenches were soon quagmires and we were wallowing in them like a lot of pigs.

While digging in several were killed and one of our young officers - one of the most popular and best loved men in the Battalion (Lieutenant Hart) - was killed by a bullet only a few feet from me.

His parents have erected a fine memorial to him - which I have seen - in the Southport School Chapel - where he was educated.

Our trench was right in front of a Pill Box which was made into Company Headquarters.

Several of our men were now not with us, many having been killed, others wounded.

Our contact aeroplane flew overhead and we lit the flares (which had been supplied to us) to show our positions to the plane. After our barrage ceased, intermittent fire was carried on by the artillery of both sides all day.

The first counter attack was launched by the Germans at 7 p.m. which was repulsed by us without even leaving the trenches. When the attack was made, we put up our S.O.S. signals which brought down from our batteries and machine guns a wonderful barrage.

Runners were busy throughout the night keeping in touch with the different Companies and Platoons and carrying important messages.

I could not but help admire their coolness and bravery in doing their work under a continual bombardment.

About three o'clock in the morning a pal and myself were detailed to carry a dead Aussie from the Pill Box into a shell hole - which we did. On our return we were sent to help carry a stretcher case to the advanced dressing station which was a captured Pill Box about 100 yards behind our trench. This proved very difficult as the night was dark, the mud very bad, the shells bursting all around us. But we succeeded all right.

On our way back we were told to go over near the ruined Zonnebeke railway station and get the rations, but as we could not find any rations there, we went back to our trenches to find that the rations were already there - brought by the ration carriers.

It was now daylight. Our second day.

A German plane flew over our trenches, so low that we could see the face of the aviator as he looked over from his machine. He dropped lights to show his artillery where our positions were, and that night, the Germans put down on us a terrific bombardment.

About midday the Sergeant came and asked for two volunteers to carry a serious stretcher case from the 41st Battalion (in front of us) to the dressing station. A pal and myself went and arrived safely at the trench. We started to carry the wounded chap on an oil sheet but eventually had to wait for a stretcher. After arriving at the dressing station we sat down to drink some tea and have some biscuits, which the gunners had given us.

Our eighteen pounder batteries were firing close by and whilst we were watching one fire, a shell burst prematurely killing an English Officer and wounding several mules. Nothing is perfect and a lot of our shells used to explode prematurely.

I consider that stretcher bearers, generally speaking, are the greatest heroes in a battle, They, in my opinion, have the most dangerous and strenuous work to perform, and too much praise cannot be given them for the noble and excellent work which they carry out.

It was dusk when we got back to our trench and we were told to get ready and pack up as we were to be relieved that night. But we were not relieved that night and I think we ought to have considered ourselves lucky that we weren't.

The Hun that night put down a terrific bombardment on us which lasted all night and very many of our men were killed or wounded. A shell burst on the top of our trench, blowing it in and buried my body. My head was just protruding. A couple of pals (one, since killed) dug me out and freed me. I escaped without a scratch with the exception of a severe shaking. After this, my nerves went to pieces.

Sitting under a bombardment plays havoc with one's nerves and a good rest and quietness is the only cure for this.

At last daylight dawned and we prepared to move out. Started at 9 a.m. and hurried past a corner which was continually being shelled and where many casualties had occurred. Each side of the track was strewn with hundreds of dead Tommies killed going in to relieve another company the previous night as originally intended.

In places the dead and equipment (the latter discarded by the wounded as they evacuated) were piled feet high, so great were the casualties.

Tired, hungry and sleepy (having had no sleep for three days and nights) we struggled along, through mud, slush and dead, not resting until we got back a considerable distance and then fairly safe.

Coming out of the line is not the same as going in.

When going in we are in order and kept together, but coming out it is every man for himself to get along the best way he can.

We were now on the never to be forgotten Menin Road which was strewn with thousands of dead soldiers and mules.

After several rests, another digger and myself reached the outskirts of Ypres where the Y.M.C.A. (Young Men's Christian Association) gave us hot cocoa, biscuits, chocolates and cigarettes. Strengthened by these we continued on and eventually reached the ruined asylum where the rest of the Battalion had already arrived. We were given a real good hot meal of bully beef stew which made new men of us.

It was now raining heavily and a seven kilo march was ahead of us. Our Captain very kindly and thoughtfully gave myself and a mate a lift on one of the cookers.

Huts on the outskirts of Poperinghe were reached at dark, when we were given another hot meal, our packs and several blankets - which one does not take into battle with them - only when holding the line.

Then followed two good days' rest (we slept most of the time) before going back again - this time to hold the line.

The roll was called and showed to what extent the battle had cost us in wounded and valuable lives.

In conclusion may I say the Battle was a success, that is, all our objectives were gained and held and the total number of prisoners taken by the Australians that day was well over four thousand.

The foregoing is a description of the Battle of Broodseinde (Ypres) written by No. 2639, Private Verdi G. Schwinghammer, "C" Company, 42nd Battalion A.I.F. which was awarded the third prize of 100 francs at the Third Australian Divisional Essay Competition, held after the Armistice at St Maxent, near Abbeville, France. There were eighty three entries.

HOLDING THE LINE

On 18th October, 1917, we marched to Abraham Heights and held the line for several days. We were under continual bombardment all the time and many were killed or wounded. It was cold and wet weather and we were all "fed up" but nothing out of the routine of trench warfare happened.

I got quite sick and knocked up and was ordered out of the line to the details camp near Ypres cemetery for a day or two's rest. As I got no better I was sent to the Field Ambulance in the ruins of the Cloth Hall and the Dr who examined me said that I was suffering from shell shock - although not very serious - and required a few week's rest.

We were sent in Red Cross motor cars to the Canadian Hospital at Poperinghe.

During the night the Germans bombed the hospital and one sister and a couple of patients were killed.

After a couple of days here we were taken in a Red Cross train through Calais to the British Red Cross Hospital at Wimereux, Bologne. This was a fine hospital and beautifully situated near the beach.

They gave me a good hot meal then a hot bath and after being given a pair of pyjamas was sent to bed where I remained for ten days, sleeping most of the time. It was just wonderful to be clean and get a good rest in bed with pyjamas and sheets and good food and quietness.

The sisters were very good to us, I picked up wonderfully and was soon on the road to recovery again and was sent to the Convalescent Hospital on the hill adjoining Napoleon's great monument. This was a statue of Napoleon on a column 150 feet high. He was facing Europe - looking at all the territory he had captured. Had his back to England.

It was Napoleon's intention to have this statue erected facing England when he conquered it ( he designed this monument before Waterloo) but the French were honest and when he did not conquer England, they erected the monument with his back to England.

After a week here I was sent by train to Le Havre for a day, then by train to Caestre where I rejoined my Battalion which was out of the line, resting.

DRILLING AND HOLDING LINE

It was now snowing continually and bitterly cold. One day, my cousin, Bernie Johnson came up from the 25th Battalion to see me. He was afterwards killed in a raid at Morlancourt on 10th June 1918.

I received large mail here (over 40 letters and several parcels.)

Working parties, digging trenches for cables, now occupied our time I shall never forget the frozen ground when the ice had to be broken with a pick before we could start to dig.

The one bright spot here was the Y.M.C.A. That fine man, the Presbyterian Padre Clark was in charge.

While here, the news came through that the Australians had captured Jerusalem and we celebrated the event.

Part of the Battalion now went to a small village called Tilques (20 kilos distant) for a week's rifle practice. While we were away at Tilques one day, a German plane dropped bombs on the parade ground, killing many. One of the bombs dropped near the Y.M.C.A. hut, blowing the end off it and damaging the piano beyond repair.

We got another piano and on our return had sing-songs every night. We used to get a free cup of cocoa or coffee and some biscuits before we went to our huts to sleep.

Much to our regret, we marched to Waterlands on 20th December and stayed at this cold miserable camp for a few days. We went to Nieppe several times. This place was in ruins.

Then on Christmas Eve we marched into the line at Bois Grenier (Armentieres) and it was a fairly quiet sector here. Everything was covered with snow.

On Christmas Eve night we could hear the Germans singing and playing their musical instruments in the trenches. Very few shells came over for a few days.

On Christmas Day the C. of E. Chaplain in our Brigade - we had no C. of E. Chaplain in our Battalion, came into the front lines and gave us Holy Communion.

We were each given a tin of fruit and a tin of preserved sausages for our Christmas dinner. My pal and I were hungry so we opened both tins and ate half the contents for breakfast, putting the remainder - in the tin - on a shelf in the dugout, covering them with a board with a stone on it.

The rats were very bad in the trenches and dugouts. As we were off duty, we went to sleep for a couple of hours and on waking and going to get our dinner, found that the rats had knocked off the coverings and had eaten everything. So we had dry biscuits for our Christmas Dinner of 1917.

Christmas Day in the trenches was quiet with the exception of an amusing episode. It was moonlit. One of the men thought he could see Germans creeping towards us in front of the trench. Of course, when one saw anything, we all imagined we could see the same thing. So we threw several bombs over in the direction where we thought the Germans were and fired several shots, but nothing happened.

Next morning, through the periscope, we could see the tops of several stumps. These were what we had thought were Germans the night before. It appears that when we first occupied this trench the stumps were completely covered with snow, but as the snow melted, it left the tops exposed - and these looked like men creeping forward.

On Boxing Night I had a narrow escape. One of the men was cleaning his rifle on the step of the trench. I was on duty standing up close by. He thought the rifle was unloaded. It wasn't. The trigger caught and it went off, the bullet whizzing just past my left ear and grazing it. A narrow escape!

We used to have different pass words every night. One night, one of the men guarding the communication trench got windy and nearly killed an officer. The guard called out to the officer for the pass word, but as he didn't reply quickly enough, the guard thought he was one of the enemy and fired at him. It took effect in the neck, just missing the vein. It was only a slight wound and the officer recovered.

Our officer on many occasions told me not to put my head too far over the trench when of duty on moonlight nights, as I was liable to be sniped at, but I like to know what was going on in front of us when I was on duty. I had the reputation of having good sight and good hearing - very little escaped being seen or heard by me. One night I thought I heard a noise in the wire in front of us, so when the officer came along, I reported it to him. He and I then crawled out over the top of the trench and crept towards the wire when all of a sudden several large rats rushed out of the wire. It was the rats making the noise.

On New Year's Eve we were relieved and marched back to Water land Camp. Had a good New Year's Dinner here, supplied by the Australian Comforts Fund.

Nearly every night we used to go up to the line on working parties. The tramp through the great deserted city of Armentieres every night became very tiresome. We used to march through the deserted city ( which was not damaged very much - the inhabitants had evacuated it ) - with grass growing in the streets and tramcars, etc. rusting on the rails, to the ruined lunatic asylum and the, after a rest, go single file to the line a few hundred yards away and start work on the digging of trenches. Several of our men were wounded on these parties but none killed.

On 12th January, 1918, we marched over the frozen cobblestone roads to Loore (many were the spills and busters we got through slipping on the ice!) There we were billeted in circular low roofed huts. We could lie in our huts here and see the huge square tower of the church with its great chiming clock - so we always knew the time.

There were some very good estaminets (hotels) here, also eating houses with the usual eggs and chips and coffee, which was much sought after by the troops. The few civilians who had remained in the town did great business with the troops. We were in Belgium now and some of the civilians would do anything for money. They used to charge us exorbitant prices for anything we bought and were real profiteers.

When we remonstrated with them about their prices the inevitable reply was c'est la guerre (it's the war!) A lot of them were spies. Some of them used to lock their pumps so we couldn't get water, but we soon got over this difficulty. We used to get a Mills bomb and blow the lock off and get the water that way. Of course, the Belgians made a great fuss of this and reported us to Headquarters, but the officers took no notice of them.

Some of the Belgians here were caught and shot as spies. They ploughed the fields with one black and one grey horse etc. On different days they would change the position of the horses, thereby giving signals to German planes which flew over very low while our planes were away,

We used to go into Bailleul a lot. During the 'break through' of March 1918, Loore and Bailleul were both in no-man's-land and very heavy fighting took place there.

Working parties at Whychittie Ridge (daylight working parties) were performed by us for a week and the all one week we were on fatigue unloading trucks of coal and stone.

Near Loore was a large Convent where about fifty orphan Belgian children were looked after by the Nuns. We used to go down there of a night and in the big school hall (with its darkened windows and a few candles to light it up) have a happy time. The Nuns could speak English and they taught the orphan children to sing "God Save The King" and "Tipperary" in English.

Some of the men taught the orphan boys to box and they gave us some fine exhibitions. Food was very scarce but the Nuns would never let us go away without giving us a drink of wine or beer and we returned their kindness by giving them many little things that we could spare and which were a luxury to them. A piece of white bread was worth its weight in gold to them.

Major Willie Redmond - who died of wounds - was buried in the Convent grounds and we saw his grave. It snowed nearly all the time we were here. I was then transferred to the Lewis Gun Section.

On the 26th January we marched up to the front line again to near Ploeegg Steert Wood. We occupied the line for nearly four weeks without a break.

A party of us were sent out of the line one day back to Romarin Camp on fatigue. We halted for a rest on our way out at a post known as Lancashire Farm. Met some Aussies here who were coming in. Got into conversation with them and they proved to be Sir William (General) Birdwood and party.

Birdwood didn't look much like a General. He had old clothes on, covered with mud and his steel hat and gas helmet strapped on. We saluted and had a few words with him and told him it was quiet up the line and only a few shells coming over.

I believe he spent the whole day in the trenches inspecting and visiting the various headquarters. Some people said that Generals never exposed themselves to danger, but here is one instance.

For a week, I was one of the food carriers up to the front line. We (eight of us) had a dugout in the reserve trench. As soon as it got dark we went to the cookhouse where large dixies of stew and tea were strapped to our backs and we trudged up the communications trench about 300 yards to the front line. At midnight we had to bring up hot coffee and again at daylight the troops' breakfast. We could then sleep or rest in the dugout all day. We couldn't move about in daylight as the position was too exposed and the men in the front line had to do without food from sunrise till sundown.

One night we went up to the front line before it was quite dark and had a narrow escape. There was an opening in the communication trench (not noticed by us at the time) on which the Germans had one of their guns trained. This particular night, as we were passing, they put a burst of shot into us. We ducked in all directions and one of the bullets hit the steel hat of my pal, but bounced off without hurting him. Thereafter we went up no more till it was quite dark.

The cookhouses were always shifting their possies in the trenches as very often the smoke would put them away and they would be blown up by the enemy shells trained on them. It did not matter how careful they were, the smoke from them could be very often seen by the enemy.

One of the Italian cooks was "Bony" Ford from South Grafton who often gave us a dixie of tea and a little tin of fat (which was much relished by us to put on our bread) when we were out of the line.

One day a huge shell fell within a short distance from us but luckily it was a dud and didn't explode - otherwise we would all have been blown to pieces.

We then went to the front line again and held it for ten days and some of the other men had a turn at food carrying. Some of us were picked for patrol duty at night but I always missed this.

There was a little stream at the back of our trench with beautiful running water and we used to enjoy the water from it - washing and drinking - but one day we found several dead Germans and Aussies in it. (Who had not been buried.)

Thereafter we always waited for the official army water which came up to us in benzine cans but nearly always tasted of benzine.

As I had now been in France for nine months without leave and had the necessary money to my credit in my pay book, I was granted fourteen days leave to England. The last night in the trench before going on leave we were hoping not to get killed or wounded and it was with light and thankful hearts that we got clear of the trenches and danger the morning we started to go on leave.

ENGLAND

On March 1st 1918, four of us left the trenches for fourteen days leave in England. We went to the Red Cross Dressing Station with our leave passes and were examined by the Doctor and certified as being free from vermin and scabies. Then marched to Romaine camp. Slept there that night with some New Zealanders in their tent.

We were up early next morning and marched to Steenwerck Had to wait all day here but in the afternoon got a troop train, which was literally packed and travelled through a snow storm till midnight, when we reached Calais.

Marched to the great concentration camps there and reported ourselves. We were given a tent and had a good night's rest. Next morning we dumped our rifles and packs and were given our steamer passes to England.

But a terrible gale had been raging in the Channel, lashing the sea and washing a lot of the stationary mines away from their moorings, which, of course, proved a great danger to shipping. We were delayed here three days while the mine sweepers cleared the Channel of them.

In the meantime, we had a god look over the fine old city of Calais, which at one time, belonged to England. Saw all the historical places associated with Joan of Arc, etc.

On the morning of the third day we marched to the pier and boarded a steamer. It was crowded with troops going on leave and we had a fine run across the Channel of two hours.

The great British warships were cruising about and destroyers were flitting everywhere. We travelled a "zig zag" course through a lane of battleships, cruisers and destroyers. Saw the Queen Elizabeth which was at that time, the largest battleship in the world.

Arrived at Dover at 1 p.m. and took train to London, arriving there at 3 p.m.

Went to the Australian Army Headquarters where we were given a new suit of clothes, boots, hat, etc. and after a shave, hot bath and a good meal, booked our beds at the A.I.F. War Chest Club where I always stayed when in London.

The A.I.F. War Chest Club was a large building in Westminster - near the Australian Headquarters - and was run by the British and Australian ladies in London for the Australian troops.

It had 500 beds in large dormitories and had every convenience, good meals could be obtained by the troops - mostly food supplied by the Australian people.

We were very happy as we were away from the trenches and had fourteen days leave ahead of us. I had £25 in my pay book which had been cabled over from Australia by my mother.

That night we went to the "Maid of the Mountains" in Daly's Theatre, seeing Josie Collins in the name part.

We heard anti-aircraft guns booming and saw the people rushing about in the darkened streets to the tube stations for shelter. The church bells were ringing (signals for people to take shelter) and trains, busses and everything came to a standstill. Police were patrolling the streets on bicycles with an electric placard on their back "TAKE COVER". We walked to the War Chest Club where we found a lot of the staff (women) huddled together in the basement, but as we were tired we went to bed and slept soundly through it all. Next morning we read that 178 people had been killed the previous night by bombs from the German planes.

No lights were exposed in the shop windows in London and the streets were only dimly lit. A few street lamps at long intervals were alight, but with a pale blue light, shaded downwards and busses carried no lights at all. It was wonderful how the traffic got about in the darkened streets. Of course, the tubes (being underground) were brilliantly lit up.

The next morning we went to Westminster Roman Catholic Cathedral and saw the body of the great Irish patriot - John Redmond - who had died the day before and whose body was lying in state in the cathedral, before being transferred across to Ireland for burial. this is a modern Cathedral, built from 1905 - 1910 and costing £250,000, but a very imposing structure of Byzantine architecture (with a campanile 295 feet high.) The Duke of Norfolk (the Premier Duke of England) supplied most of the money for its erection.

For three days we were busy seeing the sights of London and one night left London in the "Flying Scotsman" and arrived next morning in Edinburgh - a 400 mile non stop run. The water is scooped up as the train travels along and the mails were caught from hooks as the train passed through the stations.

Edinburgh is a very beautiful city and the Scotch people couldn't do enough for us.

Saw the great Edinburgh Castle, Holyrood Palace, John Knox' birthplace and went by bus one day and saw the great Firth of Forth bridge. The North Sea Squadron of Battleships were at anchor here and we saw H.M.A.S. Australia which was amongst them.

Left Edinburgh and took train back to York where I spent a day and night as the guest of Sir Charles Milner. His sister, Miss Edith Milner - Sir Charles was a bachelor - did his entertaining for him and she was called the Soldier's mother. She wrote to my own mother a beautiful letter concerning me.

Saw through York Minster and all the interesting and historic things of that ancient city.

Then took the train back to London.

The same night a pal and myself went to Headquarters to get a pass to visit Ireland. We left London at 8. p.m. and arrived at Holyhead and boarded the Irish Mail Steamer at 3 a.m. Travelled a zig-zag course - with all lights out - across the Irish Channel, arriving at Kingston at daylight. Then took train to Dublin, fourteen miles away.

Had three days in Dublin seeing all the sights there. It is a fine city and brilliantly lit up - quite a contrast to the English and Scotch cities - as Ireland was too far away for air raids.

Food was plentiful as the Irish people were not rationed. The Irish people were also very kind to us.

We were invited one afternoon to a large, private mansion and had tea there, being received by butlers and waited upon by many servants.

We saw all the ruined buildings of the 1916 rebellion. Stayed at the Four Courts Hotel.

We were shown through St Patrick's Cathedral Trinity College (where we saw the famous book of Kells - one of the oldest books in existence, which was written by the monks and the crypt of St Michan's church etc.

We returned to Kingston and took the steamer across to London by the same route and after another two days' sight seeing in London (seeing Madame Tussauds famous waxworks, Whitehall, St James Palace, etc.) my leave was finished.

I was lucky to have had my leave because the day it terminated all leave from England and France was cancelled on account of the German break through.

I reported at Headquarters and left Victoria Station, London, next morning for Dover.

BATTLES OF THE SOMME - 1918

We left Dover by steamer on the 20th March and had a calm passage across the Channel to Calais. Stayed the night in the rest camp there.

That night, one of the biggest air raids on Calais took place. Our camps at Calais received a telephone message that the German planes had flown over Dunkirk on their way to Calais to bomb it. The signals in camp - to take cover - were given and we could hear the church bells in Calais ringing and the guns booming - signals to the inhabitants that an air raid was imminent and to take shelter.

It was a beautiful moonlight night, with no chance of our searchlights picking up the planes. Air raids seldom took place on dark nights. On a dark night the searchlights sweeping the skies could nearly always pick up a plane and hold it in the rays, thereby enabling our anti aircraft guns to aim at it and probably get it. But, on a moonlight night a plane could be a few hundred feet up and could not be seen although the noise from the plane could be heard. At night, in the moonlight, an aeroplane is like a silver butterfly in the sky and cannot be seen.

This night, the German planes came over in two relays and bombs were dropped on the Chinese Labour Camp (only about a hundred yards from our tent) killing 40 Chinese. They were too engrossed in playing pak-a-pu or some other gambling game to take shelter when the signals were given.

We had a narrow escape as the concussion from the bombs which fell on the Chinese Camp, blew our tent in, and it was covered with mud and debris.

Many civilians were also killed in Calais. One bomb that night fell on the beautiful Cathedral of Joan of Arc, badly damaging it.

The next day we marched to Calais railway station and entrained - travelled all day and arrived at St Omer at dusk. We marched to the barracks for the night and this city was also heavily bombed during the night, but no casualties occurred. The civilians took shelter in the basement of the Town Hall and the crypt of the Cathedral and the troops in the basement of the barracks.

Next morning I made enquiries and found that our Battalion had been relieved during my absence and was resting for three weeks at Lottenheim near Boulogne.

The R.T.O. ( Railway Transport Officer) directed us what train to take and we arrived at Lottenheim at 1 p.m. Here we found our Battalion resting on the station ready to entrain.

The air was full of rumours. We had not seen any papers for several days but were told that the enemy had broken through on a wide front and was advancing on Paris and Amiens and that the Australians were to be sent to the Somme to stop the advance there and prevent the enemy capturing Amiens and the Channel Ports. (The French were defending the roads to Paris.)

The Battalion had barely had a week of the three weeks rest but, nevertheless all were in good spirits and excited at the prospect of getting to the Somme and seeing new country as our Division, The Third, had never been to the Somme. Up till then all its fighting having taken place on the indescribable mud swamps of France and Belgium.

We left Lottenhein at 4p.m. and arrived at Caestre at 8 p.m.

They marched us several kilos to a farm near Steenvorde where we camped for the night. The next day we marched through Eccke (remembered by many of us as the place we once stayed a night at on our way to the Battle of Ypres) and Mont de Cats.

After a day's rest we marched all the following night and entrained for the Somme on the morning of 24th March. We travelled all day through devastated country (the result of the 1916 Somme Offensive) and arrived at Doullens at 4 p.m.

Great and feverish activity prevailed here.

Trains were arriving with troops every few minutes and the inhabitants were evacuating the town. We marched through the town and halted at an estaminet (hotel) where the French proprietor gave us all the beer and wine he had in stock before he left town. (It was much appreciated by the troops.)

That afternoon at the Doullens Mairie (Town Hall) a conference took place between the various Allied Generals and Premiers - Foch, Haig, Orlando, Clemenceau, Lloyd George etc and the Unity of Command was achieved, Marshall Foch being appointed Commander In Chief of the whole of the allied forces.

From now on the tide of the war changed in our favour and we commenced to push the enemy back after we had broken his last great effort.

About six kilos from Doullens we halted for a rest and were given a drink of tea.

Just after we left Doullens railway station a German plane flew over and bombed the station, killing and wounding a great many.

After resting till midnight, we boarded motor buses, travelled all night and reached the village of La Hussoye at daylight. We then started on the march again and knew that we must be getting close to the enemy as the horizon was lit from the flashes of the guns.

Many rumours were now going around and a great excitement prevailed here. I shall never forget the sight of the refugees fleeing from the villages. Some of them had carts, others wheelbarrows containing their belongings, whilst in many instances, cows, pigs and sheep were being led or driven. Sometimes a white haired cure (priest) would lift up his hands and bless us as we marched past - a touching and pathetic sight.

We eventually arrived at Heilly. Passed a few stragglers - Tommies - the remnants of Gough's British Fifth Army which had been overtaken by disaster. The citizens had evacuated Heilly before we arrived.

Whilst here we went into several of the houses and refreshed ourselves with what food we could find and wine, etc. of which there was plenty. Everything was as the people had left their homes - tables being laid ready for a meal etc.

We continued on from Heilly and crossed the river Ancre getting into the valley of the Somme itself. The engineers were busy mining the bridges in case occasion arose to blow them up. About midday we arrived at the pretty and peaceful village of Sailly-le-Sec and our Commander decided we should entrench here and make a stand against the enemy.

Scouts gave us the information that the enemy advance guard had reached to a position about three miles in front of us and was resting and reorganising.

Scouting planes of both sides were now active, flying about getting information.

An old trench system (made by the French at the beginning of the war) was converted by us into fairly good trenches but our dugouts were very poor and crude - a sheet of tin or a door from one of the houses in the village with plenty of straw at the bottom of the trench - these were our shelters.

Later on we made several visits to the houses and had our trenches decked with cushions, window curtains, etc. Our trench was only 100 yards in front of the village.

In the afternoon the Germans were observed in the village of Sailly Laurette (about a mile in front of us) and a patrol of British Cavalry was sent out to dislodge them, which they did with only one casualty to themselves. It was the first and only time that saw the Cavalry in action during the war and it was a fine sight.

(This comment obviously ignores the Australian Light Horse and the Signallers who fought on horseback in the "desert" campaigns during the Great War.)

The country where we were was really very beautiful. It consisted of green fields and crops of wheat etc. Flocks of sheep and cattle (which the French hadn't time to take away when they evacuated the village) browsed on the hills just in front of our trenches. The ground was free from shell holes and the absence of noise gave the place more an aspect of peace than of war.

This was all to be changed within forty eight hours.

We were all very tired after our five days marching etc. and all slept well that night - not a gun being fired. (Neither we nor the Germans had any big guns up ready to fire.) Of course, we kept watch as usual.

Next day we explored the village which contained some fine houses, well kept and beautifully furnished. The lovely clothes and family treasures (paintings, statues etc.) were fine. The Mayor's house way very nice and contained a magnificent piano.

The cellars were also full of wine - we filled our water bottles with it and also brought many bottles back to the trenches. Nothing to my mind is more refreshing than sweet red wine, especially when our drinking water was generally bad.

We got back to our trenches when it was dark and time for business. Had a quiet night. The next day was also very quiet and we could walk on the top and in front of the trenches without being fired on by the enemy.

Four days had now elapsed since the Germans had sat down to rest and reorganise after their great advance and victory. If they had kept going instead of resting and reorganising for these few days they very probably would have captured Amiens (which was their objective - 11 miles away) as there were practically no troops to block them.

But by this time we had many guns up, ready to fire and also plenty of troops.

The Hun now thought that he would resume his victorious march and capture Amiens but he did not succeed as his opponents were Australians who repeatedly hurled back as he made his attacks.

It was Easter Saturday, 30th March 1918, the nicest day we had had for over a month and the sun was shining beautifully. All the morning, things had been very quiet - not even a gun being fired. The only noise was from the aeroplanes as they cruised about the skies.

All my section were asleep in the rough dugouts and I happened to be on duty - keeping watch in the trench.

About midday the enemy suddenly opened up on us - putting down a terrific bombardment on a front of several miles - and commenced his attack.

We were all rather surprised at his audacity in attacking in broad daylight but he was evidently suffering from a swelled head owing to his previous great victory - an advance on a wide front several miles deep, capturing thousands of prisoners and much material and guns.

Of course the noise from the guns woke everyone up and there was a rush to the different positions in the trench. Our rifles were always ready for action (bayonets fixed) leaning against the parapet of the trench.

In less than two minutes our Lewis guns were at work, sweeping the ground in front of our trench with bullets and as usual, our gunners in reply to our S.O.S. signals, put down a great barrage on the German positions.

The enemy did not know exactly where our front line was and the shells directed against our particular trench fell wide of the mark, but he put down a terrific bombardment on Sailly-le-Sec and the village soon became a mass of flames and a heap of ruins. He also heavily bombarded our back areas to try to prevent reinforcements coming up to our assistance.

Our trench was slightly protected by a rise in the hill and was not as exposed as other parts of the Battalion front, but nevertheless bullets were whizzing around our heads the whole time that the battle was raging.

From a point in our trench, the observer could see the Germans massing ready for attack. They came in mass formations to the top of the hill in front of us and then spread out into single file, shoulder to shoulder in a wave, rushing forwards towards our trenches.

we were holding our own and hurling the enemy back as he repeatedly made fresh attacks

When they came over the hill they were excellent targets for our Lewis and machine guns, which mowed them down like flies. About two o'clock, the battle had reached its highest, but we were holding our own and hurling the enemy back as he repeatedly made fresh attacks.

There were many thrilling air fights during the progress of the battle and we saw several German and some of our own planes come down in flames.

About three o'clock he made his last attack and was again pushed back.