FIRST DAYS IN FRANCE . . .
We had some excitement crossing from Alexandria to Marseilles, and the
troop-ship ahead of us was torpedoed, though no lives were lost. But
it was great to see our watch-dog of a destroyer chase after the
submarine. The transport I was on was going over twenty-two knots, but
the destroyer passed us as though we were standing still. The captain
of our ship said she was doing forty-seven knots. At any rate, she
rammed the submarine and must have appeared, through their periscope,
just as a huge wave.
How excited those French people were over us Australians! They pelted
us with flowers and sweets, and, while no one objected to the embraces
of the girls, we thought it a bit too much when the men as well threw
their arms around us and kissed us on both cheeks. French customs were
new to us, and some of the boys thought the men were crazy.
We weren't allowed much time to enjoy the gayeties of this lovely
French seaport, but were marched off to the train and sent north to the
big show. We thought we had never seen such lovely scenery as the
south of France. I am not going to say that we have not just as good
in Australia, but the wonderful greenness and the trees were such a
change to us after Egypt that the boys just hung from the
carriage-windows, and as there was a good number that could not get
these vantage-points, they scrambled onto the roofs of the carriages,
so as not to miss any of that wonderful panorama of ever-changing
beauty.
We did not leave that train until we were well within sound of the
guns, and then disentrained at a small village named Morbecque. We
went into tents in a farmyard, and the very first evening began to make
acquaintances among the villagers.
The Huns had only been there a day or two in their march on Paris, and
during that time the inhabitants had made themselves scarce. But
enough damage had been done in the houses during those two days to make
every man, woman, and child speak with disgust of the filthy "boche."
Everybody was very willing to make friends with us Australians, but the
difficulties of language prevented a very rapid growth in knowledge of
each other. All were on the hunt for souvenirs, and on the second day
hardly a man had a button left on his coat. Orders were issued that
the buttons be replaced before the next parade, and it was amusing to
hear the boys trying to explain to the village shop-mistress what they
wanted. It ended in their ransacking the stock themselves, but I do
not think any one found many buttons of the same kind, and our uniforms
did not look as smart as usual, as somehow blouse-buttons do not seem
to go well with a uniform.
These people were simple and religious, as I found most of the French
people to be, at least the country-folk. I received no less than six
crucifixes that I was assured by the charming donors would protect me
from all danger, as they had been blessed by certain archbishops, the
favorite being the archbishop of Amiens. I was mean enough to remark
to one of them that it was a wonder any of the Frenchmen ever were
killed. After I had been in the trenches I met again the daughter of
the mayor, who had given me one of these crucifixes to wear around my
neck. I informed her how a bullet had passed between my eye and the
telescope I was using, laying open my cheek. She was quite sure that
the bullet was going through my temple but had been diverted by the
power of the charm, and fourteen "aves" she said for me every day.
While at this village I saw both a wedding and a funeral, but the
funeral was by far the most spectacular of the two. The whole of the
outside of the house was covered with black cloth--it must have taken a
hundred yards--and processions of boys and girls went back and forth
from church to house for several days, singing the most doleful music.
Every one in the village attended the burial, and I really think
enjoyed the show.
For six days we lay snug in this village, every day going for
route-marches of fifteen to twenty miles to harden us up again after
the soft days on the transport. We knew we were on the lip of the
caldron of war, for day and night we heard the rumbling of the guns.
Then on the seventh day I was chosen as one of a party to go up to the
trenches and find out the positions we were to take over. We went by
train a few miles nearer the line, and the guns grew ever louder.
Then, after a ten-mile walk, we came suddenly to a barrier across the
road, and a notice telling us that from this point parties of not more
than six must proceed in single file, walking at the side of the road.
Our flesh began to creep a little as we thought on the sinister need
for these precautions.
After about five miles of this, on stepping through a hedge we suddenly
found ourselves in a communication-trench. This trench was not very
deep, and a tall man's head would project over the top. It was
surprising how many of us thought we were six-footers and acquired a
stoop, lest the tops of our hats show.
You are always nervous the first time in a new trench, as you do not
know the danger-spots and are not even quite sure in which direction
the enemy lies, for the communication-trench zigzags so. However, you
generally acquire a bravado which you do not feel, for you see the old
residents walking unconcernedly about, and you dare not let them see
your nervousness. I remember on this morning we stepped right into
hell. The "boche" evidently caught sight of one of our parties, and
may have thought that a "change over" was taking place, for we had
hardly got to the front line when he started to pour shells upon it.
Gaps were torn in the communication-trench behind us, and shells were
falling so thick when we turned into the trench that we soon saw we had
not chosen a favorable time to "talk dispositions" with the battalion
in the line. When they realized, however, that we would most likely
relieve them in a day or two, they almost fell on our necks with joy,
for they had been five weeks in these trenches, and thought that they
were there for good. There was little rejoicing among us, however,
for, of our party of sixteen, seven were killed and four wounded in
that visit of a few hours. Two sergeants (who had just been chosen for
commissions) were blown to pieces as I was talking to them. As I
turned to reply to a question addressed to me by one of them the shell
came, and in a second there was not enough left of either for
identification. I picked myself up unhurt. Shells seem to have a way
with them--one man being taken, and the other left. And it is not
always the man nearest the shell that is taken.
They told me to go back to the support-trenches for tea; about three
hundred yards, and the communication-trench that I had to travel down
was as unhealthy as any place I have ever been in. I was told the
reason the enemy had its range so accurately was that it was of their
own building. The support-trenches seemed to be getting more shells,
even than the front line, and it looked as if I was walking out of the
frying-pan into the fire.
Tea was the last thing I was wanting, but, as others were eating, I had
to put up a bluff, though I felt it would be a sinful waste if I were
to be killed immediately afterward.
That first day, however, took away most of my fears, and thereafter I
got to fancy I possessed a charmed life and the bullet or shell was not
made that would harm me.
The most surprising thing of the life over there is the narrow escapes
one has. There are scores of men who have been in almost every battle
from the beginning, and are still there, and that day it seemed truly
as if I walked in a zone of safety, as shells would fall in front of me
and behind, and even pushed in the parapet against which I was leaning,
and I did not even get shell-shock.
I sat with my "dixie" of stew and lid of tea in the open doorway of a
dugout, and the whiz-bangs passed within twenty yards of me and pelted
me with pieces of dirt, but nothing hard enough to break the skin
struck me. We did not learn much about those trenches on this visit,
and were a sad little party that went back to our companions with the
news of what had befallen our comrades and the perils awaiting them.
The two remaining days spent in that little village were full of
foreboding. Those who had "gone west" were well loved, and but
yesterday so full of the joy of life.
Nearly every one wrote home those nights, as it might be for the last
time.
Under fire men are affected in different ways, but as for myself, I
must admit that after that first day I felt I was not to die on the
battlefield, and this gave me a confidence that many of my comrades
thought was due to lack of fear. Strange to say, this feeling of
security left me only on the night I was wounded, many months later.
But of that in its proper place.
When we left Morbecque, the whole of the inhabitants turned out to bid
us farewell. Many of the women wept, and though we had only been there
a week, we felt we were leaving old friends.
We knew something of what these French people had already paid in
defending that in which we were as much concerned. There was not a
young man in the whole neighborhood, and it was the old grandfathers
and grandmothers that worked the farms.
Our hearts had warmed to France, before we knew the lovable French
people themselves, because she had borne the brunt in the first years
of the war, and her soil had been ravaged, and her women so unspeakably
maltreated. And it seemed that the French people took especial
interest in us Australians who had come twelve thousand miles to join
in this fight in defense of the world's liberty.
This war has done more to make known to each other the people of the
world than any other event in history. Many of the French people had
hardly heard of Australia, but hereafter they will never forget the
name of the land whence came those stalwart boys who marched singing
through their country; who went to war with laughter, and when out of
the trenches were ever ready to give a hand with the crops.
To their poverty it seemed as if we Australians were all millionaires,
and our ready cash was a godsend wherever we went. Although we did not
receive on the field our full six shillings a day, we always had more
money to spend than the "Tommies." In fact, frequently within a few
hours after our arrival in a village we would buy out all of its
stores. The temptation must have been great, yet I never knew a French
farmer or storekeeper attempt to overcharge us. All we had, we spent,
and though we grumbled enough that we were not able to draw our full
pay, the French people thought that we were simply rolling in money.
The brigade did not go by train any of the distance, but marched the
whole way to the trenches, taking two days. This part of the country
was just on the edge of the Hun advance and, being only visited by some
scouting-parties of Uhlans, had escaped most of war's ravages. We
marched through beautiful woods, passed peaceful villages, and over
sleepy canals that we saw not again in France in many long months--most
of us, alas, never.
I do not know whether they wanted to show what Australians could do,
but we did a forced march that day of eighteen miles with full packs
up--eight of them without a "breather." This may not sound much, but
our boys were as nearly physically perfect as it was possible for men
to be, and yet when we arrived at camp we left a third of them on the
road.
We went into billets at Sailly, within five miles of the firing-line,
where we found the civilian population going about their avocations as
though war were a thousand miles away. There were plenty of ruins and
even great holes in the streets that showed the Hun had not only the
power, but the will, to send these death-dealing missiles among the
women and children still living there. I thought the boys were too
tired from their march to want to look 'round the town, but after "hot
tea" had been served out, they were like new men, and went out to
explore the place, as though they merely had had a morning stroll. Hot
tea is to the Australian what whiskey is to the Scotchman, his best
"pick me up."