Produced by Elaine Walker, Jeannie Howse and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
* * * * *
[Illustration: Major-General Sir John Monash, K.C.B., V.D.
_Photo by Elliott & Fry._]
'OVER THE TOP'
WITH THE THIRD AUSTRALIAN
DIVISION
BY
G.P. CUTTRISS
WITH INTRODUCTION BY
MAJOR-GENERAL SIR JOHN MONASH,
K.C.B., V.D.
_ILLUSTRATED BY NEIL McBEATH_
London
CHARLES H. KELLY
25-35 CITY ROAD, AND 26 PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C.
TO THE
FADELESS MEMORY OF OUR HEROIC DEAD
AND TO
THOSE WHO HAVE LOST
THIS BRIEF VOLUME OF SKETCH AND STORY
IS DEDICATED,
IN UNSTINTED ADMIRATION,
IN AFFECTIONATE SYMPATHY,
AND IN THE UNSHAKEABLE BELIEF THAT
'As sure as God's in heaven,
As sure as He stands for right,
As sure as the Hun this wrong hath done,
So surely we'll win this fight.'
PREFACE
In response to numerous requests from the 'boys,' this brief volume of
story and sketch is published. It makes no pretension to literary
merit, neither is it intended to serve as a history of the Division.
The indulgence of those who may read is earnestly solicited, in view
of the work having been prepared amidst the trying and thrilling
experiences so common to active service. The fighting history of the
Australian Forces is one long series of magnificent achievements,
beginning on that day of sacred and glorious memory, April 25, 1915.
Ever since that wonderful test of capacity and courage the Australians
have advanced from victory to victory, and have won for themselves a
splendid reputation. Details of training, raids, engagements, and
tactical features have been purposely omitted. The more serious
aspect will be written by others. In deference to Mr. Censor, names of
places and persons have been suppressed, but such omissions will not
detract from the interest of the book. 'Over the Top with the Third
Australian Division' is illustrative of that big-hearted,
devil-may-care style of the Australians, the men who can see the
brighter side of life under the most distracting circumstances and
most unpromising conditions. In the pages that follow, some incidents
of the life of the men may help to pass away a pleasant hour and serve
as a reminder of events, past and gone, but which will ever be fresh
to those whose immediate interests attach to the Third Australian
Division.
G.P. CUTTRISS.
[Illustration: The Author.
_Photo by Lafayette, Ltd._]
INTRODUCTION
At the outbreak of the World War in August, 1914, the Australian as a
soldier was an unknown quantity. It is quite true that in the previous
campaigns in the Soudan and in South Africa, Australia had been
represented, and that a sprinkling of native-born Australians had
taken service in the Imperial armies. The performances of these
pioneers of Australia in arms were creditable, and the reputation
which they had earned was full of promise. But, viewed in their proper
perspective, these contributions to Imperial Defence were no true
index of the capacity of the Australian nation to raise and maintain a
great army worthy and able in all details to take its place in a world
war, beside the armies of the great and historic civilizations of the
Old World.
No Australian, nor least of all those among them who had laboured in
times of peace to prepare the way for a great national effort,
whenever the call to action should come, ever doubted the capacity of
the nation worthily to respond; but while the magnitude and quality of
the possible effort might well have been doubted by our Imperial
authorities and our Allies, and while it was certainly regarded as
negligible by our enemies, the result in achievement has exceeded, in
a mighty degree, the most optimistic hopes even of those who knew or
thought they knew what Australia was capable of.
For, to-day, Australia has, besides its substantial contribution to
the Naval Forces of the Empire, actually in being a land army of five
divisions and two mounted divisions, fully officered, fully equipped,
and stamped with the seal of brilliantly successful performance; and
has created and maintained all the hundred and one national activities
upon which such an achievement depends.
We are still too close to the picture to realize the miracle which has
been wrought, or to understand in all their breadth the factors on
which it has depended; but, fundamentally, and overshadowing all other
factors, the result is based upon the character of the Australian
people, and upon the personality of the Australian soldier.
It is the latter factor which, to one who has been for so long in
intimate daily contact with him, makes the closest appeal. It is from
that close association, from the knowledge born of experience of him
in every phase of his daily life, that the Australian can be
proclaimed as second to none in the world both as a soldier and as a
fighting man. For these things are not synonymous, and the first
lesson that every recruit has to learn is that they are not
synonymous; that the thing which converts a mere fighting man into a
soldier is the sense of discipline. This word 'discipline' is often
cruelly misused and misunderstood. Upon it, in its broadest and truest
sense, depends the capacity of men, in the aggregate, for successful
concerted action. It is precisely because the Australian is born with
and develops in his national life the very instinct of discipline that
he has been enabled to prove himself so successful a soldier. He obeys
constituted authority because he knows that success depends upon his
doing so, whether his activities are devoted to the interests of his
football team or his industrial organization or his regiment. He has
an infinite capacity for 'team' work. And he brings to bear upon that
work a high order of intelligence and understanding. In his other
splendid qualities, his self-reliance, his devotion to his cause and
his comrades, and his unfailing cheerfulness under hardship and
distress, he displays other manifestations of that same instinct of
discipline.
Some day cold and formal histories will record the deeds and
performances of the Australian soldiery; but it is not to them that we
shall turn for an illumination of his true character. It is to stories
such as these which follow, of his daily life, of his psychology, of
his personality, that we must look. And we shall look not in vain,
when, as in the following pages, the tale has been written down by one
of themselves, who has lived and worked among them, and who
understands them in a spirit of true sympathy and comradeship. The
Author of these sketches is himself true to his type, and an
embodiment of all that is most worthy and most admirable in the
Australian soldier.
JOHN MONASH, _Major-General_.
CONTENTS
PAGE
FROM 'THERE' TO 'HERE' 17
AUSTRALIANS--IN VARIOUS MOODS 28
SUNDAY, 'SOMEWHERE IN FRANCE' 42
SOLDIERS' SUPERSTITIONS 49
ON THE EVE OF BATTLE 59
'OVER THE TOP' 64
SHELLS: A FEW SMILES AND A CONTRAST 77
MESSINES 88
BILL THE BUGLER 95
A TRAGEDY OF THE WAR 99
RECREATION BEHIND THE LINES 108
FOR THE CAUSE OF THE EMPIRE 119
OUR HEROIC DEAD 124
THE SILVER LINING 126
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Major-General Sir John Monash, K.C.B., V.D. _Frontispiece_
PAGE
The Author _Facing_ 8
The Trip across was not as comfortable as it might have been 21
Church buildings seem to have received special attention from
enemy artillery _Facing_ 25
When you are perfectly sober and imagine you're not 26
'Where are you going, my man?' 31
The Ostrich 45
Despite good wishes from friends in the Homeland it was
difficult to keep warm 51
A silent tribute to the brave _Facing_ 54
To the Widows of France " 58
To see ourselves as others see us 81
With the aid of electric torches ... we descended to the cellar 84
'Did you hear that one, Bill?' _Facing_ 87
The Illustrator feeling happy, yet looking 'board' " 94
'She, smiling, takes the pennies' " 106
Off to the Horse Show 111
Sweet and low 114
Taff Williams, Musical Director 114
Sir Douglas Haig, G.C.B., G.C.V.O., and Sir A.J. Godley,
K.C.B., K.C.M.G., at the 2nd Anzac Horse Show 116
'Bon Soir' 140
='OVER THE TOP'=
FROM 'THERE' TO 'HERE'
Towards the end of November, 1916, our hopes of moving out from 'where
we then were' to 'where we now are' materialized to the evident
satisfaction of all. Few, if any, cared as to our probable
destination; the chief interest centred in the fact that we were to
start for the Front. The time spent Somewhere in the Motherland was by
no means wasted. Due regard had been paid to the training of the men,
who reached a standard of efficiency which earned for the Division a
reputation second to none. While in England the Third was the subject
of scorn and bitter criticism. Older Divisions could not forget, and
possibly regretted, the fact that they had had no such prolonged
training in mock trenches and in inglorious safety. However, since
leaving England the Division has lived down the scorn that was heaped
upon it, by upholding the traditions handed down by older and more
war-worn units. Recently the Division was referred to by a noted
General as one of the best equipped and most efficient units not only
amongst the Overseas Divisions but of the whole Army in France.
The arrangements for our moving out were approximately perfect. There
was no hitch. The military machine, like the Tanks of recent fame,
over-rides or brushes to one side all obstacles. There was manifest
among all ranks an eagerness to leave nothing undone that would in any
way facilitate entraining and embarkation. The knowledge that we were
at last on our way to the 'Dinkum' thing had the effect of leading us
to take a more serious view of the situation. It is surprising,
however, how soon men become attached to a place; and though the
conditions at Lark Hill were in no sense ideal, it had been our home
for several months and we were loth to leave. Perhaps the thought
that many of us might possibly never return inspired the longing looks
that were directed towards the camp as we marched on our way to the
station. Who of those who took part in that march will forget the
cheers with which we were greeted by the residents of that
picturesquely situated village as we trudged along its winding road?
We had enjoyed their hospitality, and we appreciated their cordial
wishes for success and safety.
The task of entraining a large body of men was expertly accomplished,
and after a brief delay we were speeding in the direction of the port
of embarkation. The train journey was practically without event. The
men were disposed to be quiet. On arrival at the quay parties were
detailed to assist in putting mails and equipment aboard the
transports. Punctually at the hour advised we trooped aboard the ships
that were to convey us across the water. There was very little
accommodation for men, but they squeezed in and made the best of the
situation. The trip across was not as comfortable as it might have
been, but its duration was so brief that the discomfort was scarcely
worth serious thought. The transports cast anchor off the harbour
early the following morning, but it was not until late in the
afternoon that they were berthed alongside the wharf. Scarcely had the
transports touched the wharf-side when they commenced to disgorge
their living freight.
[Illustration: The trip across was not as comfortable as it might have
been.]
From the waterside we marched to No. 1 Rest (?) Camp, situated on the
summit of a hill on the outskirts of the town. The camp was reached
some time after darkness had settled down over the land. The weather
was most miserable. The air was charged with icy blasts, and rain fell
continuously throughout the night. The least said about our
impressions and experiences during our brief stay in that camp the
better; suffice to state that one of the most miserable memories that
can be recalled in connexion with our experiences on active service is
associated with No. 1 Rest Camp.
The following morning we marched to the main railway station and
entrained for the Front. The accommodation provided was fairly
comfortable, though the carriages (?) had been used more for carrying
mules than men. The train journey extended over thirty hours. All
along the route there were evidences of military activity denoting
extensive and effective military organization. We noted the continuous
stream of traffic on the roads, and were amused with the names chalked
on the heavy guns, which were being drawn by a style of tractor quite
new to most of us. 'No friend of Fritz' was a powerful-looking gun,
and greatly impressed us; but the sight of a number of heavier guns
thrilled us, and we involuntarily shouted 'Good old England.'
There was not a dull moment during that thirty hours' run. There was
much to interest the 'freshmen.' Eventually we reached our rail
destination, and marched to our quarters, where we arrived late at
night. That we were not far from the fighting line was very evident by
the close proximity of the artillery, which expressed itself so
emphatically that the air reverberated with its deep boom, relieved
at intervals by the staccato reports of machine-guns in action.
The troops were quartered in different places. They were as
indifferent as they were different, but any place which afforded
shelter from the rain and protection from the cold was greatly
appreciated. Despite the inconveniences within and the noises without
few had difficulty in wooing Morpheus and reposed in his embrace until
a late hour next morning.
Opportunity was afforded during the day for having a look round and
cultivating an acquaintance with the district. The country round about
is fairly level, and, despite the fact that it was just behind the
lines and under enemy observation, farming operations and business
were carried on in perfect serenity. A cinema afforded entertainment
in the evenings. The men were cheerful, and accepted the change from
the 'sham' to the real uncomplainingly, and commenced making their
billets as comfortable as circumstances would permit. Stoves were
greatly in demand, but few were available. The law in France is that
nothing shall be removed from a building without permission. Troops
were forbidden to enter houses under any pretence whatever; but very
occasionally men lost their way, and unwittingly (?) wandered into
forbidden places, and when detected by certain officials evinced great
surprise on being found therein. The Town Major on one occasion was
walking past a building, the door of which was ajar, and he observed
two men struggling with a stove half up the stairway. 'What are you
doing with that stove?' he peremptorily asked. 'Putting it back, sir,'
was the prompt reply.
It is surprising with what readiness the Australian adapts himself to
whatever conditions prevail. He possesses plenty of initiative, which
is an invaluable asset on active service. Friendships were quickly
formed with the villagers, who were chiefly refugees, and much
amusement was caused as the troops sought to make use of the French
words which they had endeavoured to learn. There was scarcely any
necessity, however to try to speak French, as most of the people
understood sufficient of the English language for ordinary business
transactions. It was only when love-making was resorted to that a
knowledge of French became a vital necessity.
There was a great deal to interest the troops in this district, which
for a brief period had been occupied by the enemy. The town was
subjected to heavy shell fire almost daily. Evidences of the enemy's
brief stay and the effects of their 'frightfulness' were not lacking.
Since our occupation, the place has been reduced to a heap of ruins by
the enemy's artillery, which appears to have paid special attention to
church buildings, for many of them have been totally destroyed. Almost
immediately upon our arrival in this place certain units of the
Division occupied the trenches along the Divisional Front, and very
soon proved themselves to be just as capable as the more experienced
troops which they had relieved.
We were located in and about the town for several months, during which
time the Third Division won a name for the efficiency and daring of
its raids, and silenced for all time the gibes and criticisms of the
more war-worn comrades of the older divisions. 'Here' the Division has
comported itself precisely as it did over 'there.' In training the men
tried to do their duty. In battle they have done their duty, many of
them even unto death.
[Illustration: When you are perfectly sober, and you imagine you're
not.]
What of the future? Just the same; but with that courage and
confidence born of experience, still greater attainments may be
expected.
AUSTRALIANS--IN VARIOUS MOODS
The Australian soldier is a peculiar mixture; but for pluck in the
face of danger, patience in the grip of pain, and initiative in the
presence of the unexpected, he holds a unique place amongst men. He
has been subjected to considerable adverse criticism for seeming lack
of discipline. Kind things and other kinds of things have been freely
said to his detriment; but if every word were true, he is not to
blame. The Australian soldier, like any other soldier, is but the
product of a system, the standard or inefficiency of which it would
not be just to hold him responsible for. The majority frankly admit
that soldiering is not in their line. They would never choose it as a
profession; yet the man from 'Down Under' has given unmistakable proof
that he is as amenable to discipline as any other, and rightly led
he, as a fighting force, compares favourably with the best that any
nation has produced. His language at times is not too choice. It is
said that on occasions the outburst has been so hot that the water
carts have been consumed in flames. Be that as it may, his diction in
no sense denotes the exact state of his mind or morals. His contagious
cheerfulness has established him a firm favourite with the French
people, whose admiration and affection he will hold for all time.
An officer belonging to another part of the Empire tells a story
against himself. Arriving in a village late at night, he inquired at a
cottage as to whether a billet could be provided. Before replying the
occupant, a widow, asked whether he was an Australian or a ----. Upon
learning his regimental identity, she told him that she had no
accommodation. Somewhat vexed, he retorted, 'If I were an Australian
you would probably have found room for me.' 'Yes,' was her reply.
'Well,' the officer observed, 'I fail to understand what you see in
the Australians; they're savages.' Before closing the door the
occupant said, 'I like savages.'
The following incidents but imperfectly portray the irrepressible
humour, unexampled heroism, and splendid initiative so commendably
displayed by the Australian under the varying and trying conditions
common to modern warfare.
IMPROMPTU WIT.
The ----th Battalion had been relieved. The men had been in the lines
six days. They looked forward to a few days' spell at the back of the
trenches. On reaching the back area some of the men were detailed to
carry supplies up to the lines. Whilst so engaged they were met by a
General, who was in the habit of visiting the trenches unaccompanied.
This officer, himself a young man, ever had a cheery word for the
'boys.' One of the men on duty lagged some distance behind the main
party. The expression on his face indicated that he was 'fed up.' He
was also beginning to feel the weight of the sack which he was
carrying. As he passed, the General acknowledged the reluctant turn
of his head by way of salute, and then asked, 'Where are you going, my
man?' 'In the ---- knees, sir,' was the ready and witty reply.
[Illustration:
'Where are you going, my man?'
'In the knees, sir.']
MORE CURIOUS THAN CAUTIOUS.
A man on duty in the front-line trenches displayed more curiosity than
caution and eventually paid the penalty for his mistake. In the
endeavour to ascertain what was going on across 'no man's way,' he
exposed himself to the keen observation of an enemy sniper, who
quickly trained his rifle on him and a bullet penetrated the steel
helmet of the over-curious soldier. The bullet traversed the crown of
the head and lodged in the nape of the neck. He flung his rifle to one
side and did a sprint along the duck-boards. His mates inquired the
reason of his haste. Without abating his speed he called out, 'Do you
think that I want to drop dead in that blimey mud?' As he reached the
dry duck-boards his strength gave out, and he would have fallen but
for the timely assistance from two of his mates, who lowered him
gently, then brought a stretcher on which to carry him to the R.A.P.
As they were about to start away with him, he opened his eyes, and
they inquired if he were hurt. 'Well, it does give you a bit of a
headache, you know,' he replied; 'have you got a fag?' A cigarette was
handed to him, and as they carried him away he smoked his 'fag.'
IT'S ALL IN THE GAME.
A similar instance of absolute self-forgetfulness and indomitable
spirit occurred at another part of the line. A shell burst near to our
wire and projected a tangled heap of it forward. A piece of barbed
wire encircled a man's neck. The barbs bit into the flesh. The
shoulders of his tunic were torn. The blood flowed freely from nasty
cuts in his neck and cheeks. Without altering his position he looked
out in the direction of the Hun lines and declared that if he ever got
hold of the ---- Hun who fired that ---- shell, he would drive his
---- bayonet through him. When the wire was taken from round his neck,
his face wreathed in smiles as he remarked, 'Well, I suppose it is
all in the game,' then turning to his mates he asked, 'I say, digger,
have you got a smoke?'
My Lady Nicotine is certainly a general favourite amongst the 'boys.'
They seek her solace during the critical periods of their active
service life. Unquestionably one of the most deeply appreciated issues
that the men receive is that of tobacco and cigarettes. For this extra
'ration' credit must be given to the A.C.F. and other funds which have
expended large sums of money in making available to the troops the
'pipe of peace' and the comfort of the 'fag.'
A CLEVER RUSE.
This incident is related in the strictest confidence, and solely upon
the condition that the identity of the individuals concerned will not
be disclosed. A certain officer--I dare not mention his rank, as there
are so few Generals amongst us that to even mention it would be
tantamount to disclosing his identity. Therefore, a certain officer
was on a tour of inspection. The utmost effort had been made by the
unit holding the line to have everything satisfactory. The trenches
must be kept clean and sanitary. Every precaution is adopted to
safeguard the health of the men. The officer's visit was timed just
after the issue of rum had been made. Rum is not a regular issue by
any means, but a little had been made available at that time, and was
supposed to be taken much the same as is medicine, viz., on the M.O.'s
recommendation. A few minutes before the arrival of the officer of
high rank the platoon officer observed one of his men under the
influence of drink. He learned on inquiry that the man had secured
some rum in addition to what had been issued. To get him out of the
way was his first thought. Somebody suggested that he be placed on a
stretcher and covered with a blanket. It was no sooner suggested than
acted upon. When the officer making the inspection entered the trench
two men bore the stretcher with its burden past him. He stood to one
side and saluted as he would the dead. Of course the man on the
stretcher was dead--'dead drunk.' No questions were asked, therefore
no untruths were told. The unit had the satisfaction of learning that
their lines were satisfactory; but in a certain company's orderly-room
the following morning a certain man had a most unenviable quarter of
an hour in the presence of his irate O.C.
TURNING THE TABLES.
During a raid made on our lines the enemy succeeded in reaching our
trenches, but were quickly ejected. Two of the raiding party were
killed, and as many were taken prisoners. One of them met his death in
a very tragic manner. A member of the ----th battalion was fast
asleep in his makeshift of a dug-out the night the Germans entered our
lines. He knew nothing of their visit until wakened by a heavy hand
being placed on his shoulder. Great was his astonishment on waking to
find himself gazing into the face of a Hun, who gurgled and
gesticulated, which sounds and signs he interpreted as an invitation
to put his hands up. His hands went up as he struggled to his feet. He
then discovered that he was about six inches taller than his captor
and certainly much heavier. When they got out on the duck-boards, the
prisoner suddenly looked down and allowed his gaze to rest on the
boards at his feet. The German's curiosity was aroused, and he fell
into the trap set for him. He made the fatal mistake of allowing his
gaze to be diverted from the prisoner to the duck-boards. By a quick
movement the prisoner possessed himself of his captor's rifle. One
blow from a tightly-clenched fist sufficed to lay him his length along
the boards, and the next moment the would-be captor was breathing his
last with his own bayonet through his chest, and the Australian was
heard to remark, 'I'll teach the blighter to waken me from my sleep.'
HEROISM UNEXCELLED.
It would be invidious to single out one for special mention from the
great army of brave men who have upheld the traditions of the Empire
on the field of battle. Without mentioning the name of the hero the
following incident is cited as illustrative of many which speak
eloquently of the bravery of our 'boys.' Our lines were being
furiously shelled, and a member of a certain battalion was severely
wounded. Assisted by another stretcher-bearer, the hero of this
incident endeavoured to convey the wounded man to the A.D.S. The
trench along which they were walking was blown in, making it necessary
to carry the injured man 'over the top.' This was done in full view of
the enemy. While so engaged a 'Minnie' was observed coming over, and
warning was given for all to get under cover. All did except
Private ----, who, actuated by an impulse to protect a fallen comrade,
and without thought for his own safety, immediately threw himself upon
the wounded man to protect him. For this gallant act he was awarded
the Military Medal.
A couple of months later this same person was in the trenches when a
British 'plane was compelled to land in a very exposed and
shell-swept area. Both occupants of the machine rushed for the
trenches. The observer reached a place of safety, but the pilot, who
was wounded, fell exhausted. Without thought of personal safety, and
despite the fact that the Germans were shelling the machine, the
stretcher-bearer climbed 'over the top,' in full view of the enemy,
and carried the wounded pilot to a shell-hole, where he rendered
first-aid and then brought the injured man to the safety of our
trenches. For this further act of bravery he was awarded a bar to his
M.M.
'WE WERE PALS.'
A man came to the D.B.O. just after a certain engagement in connexion
with which the Australians did splendid work. They secured a great
victory. They got to their objectives on time and took quite a large
number of prisoners. Every victory has its price, and it was
concerning part of the price of victory that the young man had made
the visit. He told of his pal, a D.C.M. man, who had been killed,
whose body was lying out on the ridge. He wished to know whether
arrangements could be made for the body to be brought down to a back
area cemetery for burial. Whenever practicable such is done. The
D.B.O. made inquiries, and learned that no transport was available.
The roads were in a frightful condition, and in view of the incessant
enemy shelling of the area, decided that the body would have to be
buried in the vicinity of where it had fallen. Arrangements were made
for the man to return on the morrow for the purpose of acting as guide
to the Padre who would conduct the service. Next day, he came to the
Burials Officer. Surprise was evinced at the change in his appearance.
His uniform was covered with mud and wet through, and he seemed to be
quite exhausted. 'I have come about the burial, sir,' he said. 'Could
it be fixed up for this afternoon, I have brought the body down?' Upon
making inquiries as to how he had managed it, he replied that he and
another had asked permission to go out and bring the body in. It
meant a carry over broken ground of about five miles, under heavy
shell fire most of the distance; but these faithful comrades gladly
endured the hardship and braved the dangers to ensure the burial of
their deceased mate in a cemetery which is one of the few that has not
been disturbed by the bursting shell. Thinking that the deceased was a
near relative of this brave lad, the question was asked. His eyes
filled with tears as he replied: 'No, sir; we were pals.' Such an
incident will surely suffice to erase from the mind the false
impression, which, unfortunately a few seem to have gathered, that the
Australian is devoid of sentiment.
SUNDAY, 'SOMEWHERE IN FRANCE'
The question that leaps to the lips in connexion with the title of
this chapter is, Why should the events associated with this particular
day be recorded? Are they different from what takes place on any or
all of the other days of the week--something special which clearly
denotes that one week has ended and another week begun? Is there a
temporary cessation of hostilities, during which bells are rung and
men may be seen wending their way to some established building for
worship, or does that indefinable stillness peculiar to the first day
of the week in peaceful places pervade all life?
Apart from the interest and curiosity that many attach thereto, there
is no significance in the selection of the day, and there is little if
anything associated with the events of Sunday at the Front to
distinguish it from any other day. Yet it is strange that though men
may frequently confuse the days between Monday and Saturday, they
instinctively seem to know when Sunday has come. Whether by chance or
convenience, I know not, some of the biggest 'stunts' have been
initiated on the Lord's Day. At times the voice of the Padre was
scarcely heard above the din and noise of heavy guns as they
dispatched their projectiles of destruction and death over the place
in which a church parade was being conducted. The recollection of
certain events and experiences of some Sundays will undoubtedly tend
to make many a man more thoughtful and analytic than the events or
experiences entered into on any other day during his active service
career.
The disposition of an army is not affected by certain days, but by
developments within the area of operations. If Sunday should be
considered the opportune time for putting over a barrage, making a
raid on the enemy lines, or effecting an advance, no thought of the
sacred associations of that day is given serious consideration. The
system in vogue provides for units when not in the line to be in
reserve or resting. Such units supply working and carrying parties; so
that the number of men available for church services on Sunday is no
greater than on ordinary days. The war proceeds. Man may worship when
opportunity permits.
A summary of the events of one Sunday will suffice to convey an idea
of how almost every Sunday is spent at the Front. The weather is
seasonable: over the country a dense mist hangs low in the early morn.
The sun rises, and the mist flees before it, revealing the face of the
earth covered with snow, mud, or in the tight grip of 'Jack Frost.'
Aeroplanes glide gracefully overhead. They are out for observation
purposes, or to prevent the approach of enemy craft. The artillery,
ever alert both day and night, sends out its missiles of death far
into the enemy's lines. The enemy guns reply, and thus it might
continue through the day. Shells are ugly killers and wounders; but
for them there would be little of the slaughter-yard suggestion
about a modern battlefield, with its improved system of well-built and
cleanly kept trenches and its clean puncturing bayonet thrust or rifle
bullet. While the shells shriek and whirr through the air, heaps of
humanity are distributed about the trenches, in the dug-outs, or in
the reserve lines. The men sit or lie about for the most part, as
unconcerned as if on holiday bent. The order to 'stand to' would bring
them to their appointed places, from whence they would resist an
invasion of their lines by the enemy, or launch an attack, make a
raid, or go forth on patrol of 'no man's land.'
[Illustration: The Ostrich.]
Back from the lines units are resting or engaged on the lines of
communication; from such units men are available for church parades.
Men of different units and of different theological views come
together in one place and worship God. Buildings are not always
available for parade services. Sometimes they are held in the open
field, in farm-yards, or in billets; frequently in tents provided by
the Y.M.C.A. Attendance at these services is purely voluntary, and a
large proportion of men attend whenever opportunity offers. While the
service is in progress the war goes on. The men in the trenches catch
the strains of band music, and there is carried over the distance
intervening the sound of the singing of old familiar hymns. It is a
privilege to speak to these men who have been in the shell-swept
trenches, who have participated in raids, who have taken part in one
of the most successful battles of the war, who have seen suffering and
even looked into the face of death.
Several parades might be held during the day at hours convenient to
those who wish to attend, and in the evening a song-service is
conducted, when the men choose the hymns which they would sing. They
are reverent in attitude, earnest in attention.
Sundays are no different from other days of the week. They merely
mark, as do other days, the passing of time, which will bring either
grief or gladness to those who watch and wait for the day of peace,
and to us who war a victory crowned with honour. There is no
_Sun_-day. The thick, dark cloud of war hides the sun's bright face,
but there is hope in the thought that Sun-day is prophetic as well as
historic, and insistently in its recurrence directs us to wait
patiently for the cloud-bursts out of which shall emerge the Sun of
Righteousness, who will proclaim such time to be the Day of the Lord.
For, lo, the days are hastening on
By prophet bard foretold,
When with the ever circling years
Comes round the age of gold.
When peace shall over all the earth
Its ancient splendours fling,
And all the world take up the song
Which angels once did sing:
'Glory to God in the highest, on earth
peace, goodwill toward men.'
SOLDIERS' SUPERSTITIONS
With the advent of Christmas, arrangements were effected by which
officers whose work necessitated their being temporarily separated
from the unit could come together for the purpose of observing the
special season in the established epicurean style. Every effort was
made to make the day as distinct from other days as circumstances
would allow. Donations from the officers and small contributions from
the men enabled those who had the matter in hand to provide the
customary Christmas dinner. Though it was not served up on tables,
spread with linen, and the usual impedimenta of the banqueting-table,
it was greatly appreciated, and afforded a rare opportunity for
reunion. Fresh friendships were formed, acquaintances renewed,
brothers and relatives met after months of separation. Toasts were
honoured and carols or hymns appropriate to the season were sung. A
great deal had been heard or read about our troops fraternizing with
the enemy during the Christmas seasons of the previous years of the
war, but there was none of that during the Christmas of 1916. There
was no cessation of hostilities. The lines were held with the same
keenness, and there was considerable aerial and artillery activity
throughout the day and night. In fact, Christmas 'Somewhere in France'
was born to the accompaniment of the boom of guns and the whirr of
aeroplanes. The weather conditions were decidedly inclement, and,
despite the good wishes from friends in the Homeland, it was difficult
to keep warm.
At the back of the lines, in a certain battalion's H.Q. billets, a
number of officers had assembled. They had come together by invitation
to participate in a reunion dinner. Everything had been done to make
it a meal worthy of the occasion. Great taste had been displayed in
decorating the table, and the cooks excelled themselves in the
quality of the food served. We seated ourselves immediately 'Grace'
was said, when somebody remarked that there were thirteen only, and
suggested that another be asked in to make fourteen. Little notice was
taken of the remark until the same officer ventured to predict that
one of them would 'go out' before the year ended. He was teased with
being unduly superstitious and attaching too much significance to the
supposed unluckiness of the number thirteen. His mind was evidently
depressed with the impression which he had gathered, and there was not
lacking evidence that the gathering ceased to interest him further.
[Illustration: Despite the good wishes from friends in the Homeland,
it was difficult to keep warm.]
Exactly a week passed, and another such reunion had been arranged for
the purpose of celebrating the passing of the old year and the
ushering in of the new. Several jocularly remarked that for G----'s
sake we should arrange to have more or less than thirteen present.
Late on the afternoon of the last day of the year, advice was received
at B.Q.H. that Lieut. G---- had been killed. He had gone down to the
trenches to inspect some work which was being done by his platoon, and
was on the point of returning when an enemy shell burst and a shrapnel
bullet went through his heart. This sad event recalled to us his words
at the gathering on Christmas night. His prediction that one would be
missing ere the year ended was fulfilled, and he was the one called
hence. Arrangements for the evening function were cancelled, and the
next day his remains were interred in the military cemetery, and the
grave is now marked by a beautiful cross made by a member of his
platoon and inscribed by his O.C. He was a fine fellow, full of fun
and life, a true comrade, an ideal officer, beloved by all who knew
him.
The following pathetic incident speaks of the attachment which springs
up between officers and men, and incidentally testifies to the high
esteem in which our late comrade was held by one who had exceptional
opportunities for knowing him. Duty took me to the cemetery a few
days after the burial, and I noticed standing at the graveside with
uncovered and bowed head a soldier of the battalion. I could see that
the lad was deeply affected, and inquired as to whether he had known
Lieut. G----. 'Yes sir,' he replied; 'I was his orderly; and--I miss
him so much.'
Superstitions play a large part in the life of the average soldier,
and frequently gain the ascendancy over common sense. Though rather
reticent about expressing his religious views, he is in many respects
intensely religious. He may admit being superstitious and even boast
about it, or declare himself to be a fatalist. Fatalism in the
vocabulary of the soldier is just another name for Providence.
Few, if any, are afraid of death. They seldom give it a thought. The
general belief is that if a man's 'time' has come, nothing can
possibly avert it. Under this impression he goes into battle or takes
up his position in the lines. He consistently refuses, however, to be
a party to anything which is considered at all likely to
precipitate the end. For instance, no amount of persuasion would
induce him to be one of three to receive a light for his cigarette or
pipe from the same match, and owing to the strange coincidences in
connexion with the number thirteen, he is prepared to deny himself
much.
[Illustration: A silent tribute to the brave.]
While soldiers are ever ready to avail themselves of every possible
comfort when in the trenches, they hesitate to make use of a field
service stretcher. They prefer to make their bed on the ground, under
the impression that if they were to lie on stretchers in the trenches
they would be carried out from the trenches on stretchers. One of a
draft of reinforcements was attached to a platoon which had been
detailed to proceed to the lines. On arrival, this man, despite many
warnings from the others, took possession of a stretcher and used it
as a bed. About eleven o'clock the following morning, the same
stretcher was used to carry him back to the R.A.P. While working in
the lines he was seriously wounded by a piece of shrapnel. It is
hardly necessary to state that this man was completely won over to the
belief which only the previous evening he had laughed at.
At the head of a trench in the vicinity of Ploegsteert a rusted
revolver which had been found by a working party was suspended from a
short pole. It caught the eye of all who passed by on their way up the
lines. Nearly every man was seen to touch that useless weapon. Upon
making enquiries it was ascertained that a superstition had grown up
round that revolver. It was supposed to possess a certain charm, and
the men who merely touched it on their way into the line would be
protected from all danger. Certainly many incidents occurred which
tended to support the belief that the mud covered rusted revolver
possessed all the remarkable miraculous powers attributed to it.
In course of conversation with a soldier, I questioned the
advisability of his proceeding to the trenches. 'Oh,' he declared, 'it
is all right; no matter where I may be, if a shell has my number on
it, I will have to take delivery, whether I like it or not.' While
working in the lines a few days later a shell penetrated the parapet
and buried its nose in the clay at the edge of the duck-boards.
Allowing sufficient time to elapse to ascertain whether it was 'alive'
(it proved to be a 'dud') he then examined the base of the shell, and
was astonished to read thereon his regimental number.
Such coincidences tend to strengthen the superstitious tendencies of
the soldier, and the effect upon most minds is to lead them to believe
that a man's death or deliverance is absolutely due to Fate, which is
just another way of saying, 'There's a Divinity which shapes our ends,
rough hew them as we may.'
[Illustration: TO THE WIDOWS OF FRANCE]
ON THE EVE OF BATTLE
TO THE WIDOWS OF FRANCE
Eyes that have rained tears, lips that have trembled,
Twitching convulsively, torn with their grief.
Now face us bravely with pride undissembled,
Glad to have suffered to show their belief.
Troop upon troop of them, some walking singly,
Weaker ones plodding in pairs for support;
Mates to the spirits of men who were kingly,
Coming from Matins with old men's escort.
Ask them, ye watchers, inquire their elation,
Tell them ye wonder they bear them so brave.
Proudly they'll answer, 'La belle France, our nation,
Requires us to suffer, our country to save.'
To save from the maw of the great avaricious,
The cold scheming brain of a commerce run mad--
A commerce all-grasping and sordid and vicious;
For this are we martyred, for this are we glad.
Then the soul of the Springtime, the great resurrection,
Shines bright in their faces, they wave to the car,
Packed tight with our comrades, a cheery collection,
As we dash thro' the streets to the trenches afar.
And France comes to meet us, to cheer us and greet us,
As we race past the fields to the woods brightly green,
Whose young leaves half rustle with a great show of bustle
When we halt at the fairest of spots ever seen.[1]
Where the old kings of history, now shrouded in myst'ry,
Once hunted the boar, or the feather, or fur.
But we feel this is over as we wade thro' the clover,
No tyrant again in this great wood shall stir.
For France now demands it; however she stands it,
However those brave ones in thousands can smile,
Requires some explaining, so cease all complaining,
And come on and battle and make it worth while.
Yes! on to the thunder, tho' it's a blunder,
On to the swish and the whine and the roar;
With the memoried face of one you called 'treasure,'
Above and around and ever before.
Oh! thou in that homeland so wistfully waiting,
Watching and wearing your worries or woe,
So proudly triumphant, consider such women;
Work for them, pray for them, smile as you go.
For into the furnace they've thrown all their 'treasures,'
Knowing that out of the vibrating whole,
Quiveringly molten, pulsating, gleaming,
Europe shall find her immaculate soul--
Soul of the suff'ring, bleeding and dying,
Soul of a freedom unselfish and clean,
Loving the light of a love all around us,
Scorning the actions of men who are mean.
Oh! men who were kingly, mated to martyrs
(Silently, cheerfully, plodding along),
Send all ye can of such great souls to help us,
Make us and keep us triumphant and strong.
G.P. CUTTRISS and J.W. HOOD.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Ploegsteert.
'OVER THE TOP.'
[Illustration]
From the time of our arrival in France until a week or two prior to
the battle of Messines, general dissatisfaction was expressed by the
troops because of the seeming slow progress that was being made. The
men soon tired of the uneventful trench warfare. They were eager to go
'over the top.' Defensive operations did not appeal to them; they were
impatient to assume the offensive. To put it in their own language,
they had enlisted not to dig trenches or repair roads, but to fight
the Hun. Certainly the monotony was relieved by an occasional raid,
for which work they earned for the Division a splendid reputation.
The area which the Division occupied was known throughout France as
the 'Nursery,' where men, new to the modern mode of waging war, had
opportunity for gaining experience and getting accustomed to shell and
machine-gun fire under comparatively safe conditions.
During this period of 'marking time' the men were engaged both day and
night on works of importance, without which an offensive would have
meant sheer suicide. The elaborate preparations that were being made
denoted that a big 'push' was contemplated. In connexion with this
work, the pioneers and the engineers did magnificently.
Everything was arranged according to well-conceived plans, and the
preliminaries to an unprecedented offensive were completed by June 6.
Guns of different calibre were massed at points of vantage, cleverly
camouflaged to conceal them from enemy observation. Dumps were replete
with the necessary supplies of ammunition, and scrupulous regard was
paid to arrangements for keeping the lines of communication clear.
Provision was made for the treatment of wounded and their evacuation,
and for the burial of the killed. Refreshment stalls were established
at convenient points, where the attacking troops and the wounded could
receive hot coffee and biscuits. Nothing that could be done for the
comfort of the men and to ensure the success of the venture was
overlooked.
Only those who are actually at the Front have any conception of the
amount of work involved in assuming the aggressive. The staff
responsible for perfecting the organization are deserving of the
highest praise. There had been numerous rumours in connexion with
mines. The air was electric, the men were confident, and all were
determined to do their level best to uphold the splendid traditions
bequeathed by older Australian units.
During the night preceding the dawn of June 6 the troops who were to
take part in the attack marched to their respective assembling
points. The march was uneventful up to a certain stage, after which
large clouds of gas were encountered, which rendered necessary the
wearing of respirators. Despite the sickly sensation produced by the
inhalation of gas, the troops advanced. There is much to be written of
the latter part of the approach march, but that will be recorded by
others. It is sufficient to state that certain unforeseen events
threatened to seriously disorganize things, but these were overcome as
they were met with.