About two hundred yards down the slope of the ridge behind us were stationed row upon row of 18 pounders and 4.5 howitzers which fired over our heads and kept up an incessant roar of artillery fire all night long. We were so tired though, that we soon fell asleep in our little “two man” dugouts in the sides of Switch Trench and slept without a break until morning, despite the terrific “hubbub”. Next night December 21st, as soon as it became dark enough, our battalion began to move down the duck boards, amidst the occasional bursts of shelling aimed at the tracks, and after passing over Needle Trench and Rose Trench, entered the communication trenches leading to the front line about 1,000 yards distant. Up these we struggled, treading in sticky mud up to our ankles and laden with a blanket in addition to our extra front line gear, until at last we arrived at the front line and took over the chain of outposts in enlarged shell holes, a sergeant and six or eight men garrisoning each post.

The first night on No.6 post, which was garrisoned by Sgt. J. Smith, Mitchell, Porter and me with three others, was fairly quiet and except for occasional whizzbangs which fell in close proximity to our parapets, there was nothing much to disturb us and we filled in most of the time between our turn on the firestep, in baling some of the water out of the post and in enlarging it and in generally trying to make ourselves just a little bit more comfortable.

All next day, the weather was sunny at intervals and also fairly quiet and the spells of good weather was taken advantage of by the aeroplanes of both sides in sailing about in an endeavour to trace the lines of the outposts, a very difficult matter since we had no connected trench and our posts in shell holes were very much the same in appearance to the other shell holes all about us. The following night was as quiet as the previous one, and we filled in the time as before in working on our post to try to induce a circulation in our half frozen bodies, until at last we had baled out most of the muck from our trench and were fairly comfortable. Our endeavours, however, were all in vain, as on the second day it became showery and very soon we found ourselves standing up to our knees in water with the rain trickling down our backs, and to make matters worse, a biting wind sprung up and chilled us to the bone. In addition, the ration carrying party failed to find our post, and we had to do without food until the third night when we were located. We had run out of drinking water also, so had to get out of our posts during the dark, armed with our entrenching tools, which we used to break through the ice of the shell holes to get at the water underneath, which we boiled with the aid of whale oil and strips of sandbag, and made a mixture resembling hot tea. So three days passed away and nothing much happened to disturb us, except that we were occasionally pasted with Whizzbangs and pineapple trench mortar bombs, none of which did us any harm and only frightened us a little. About 9 pm on Christmas Eve, just as we were settling ourselves down for another night of vigilance in the freezing cold and wet, Lieut. Tripp came along and told us to prepare our gear in readiness to move out as we were to be relieved in a couple of hours. This we did with alacrity and then settled down to wait until our relief should arrive.

After another hour or so, we could hear the sounds of men moving in rear and occasionally distinguished voices and the crunching and splashing of many feet moving along in the mud, so that we knew the relief was approaching. Suddenly, without any warning the German alarm signal was fired from the trenches opposite, and within two minutes a tremendous barrage was put down on our front line trenches and for the next half hour, we hugged the side of our post, whilst showers of mud and splinters mixed with shrapnel flew about our ears in every direction. To add to the general din and commotion, our own artillery also opened up and replied two fold to the German fire. After about three minutes of this whirlwind of fire, men from the relief who had been caught, just as they were entering the front line, began to drop into our post one by one until we soon had over twenty men on a space in which six was a crowd.

After half an hour of this bombardment, the German guns slackened off and then our own guns began to steady down until presently hardly a sound could be heard, and things became normal The officers of the relief, then began searching for their men who had scattered into the nearest available cover when the barrage opened and before long, the relief began to take place. As each post was relieved by the 19th Btn. we 20th men moved out down the communication under our sergeants and N.C.O.’s in charge of the posts.

Our post was about the last to be relieved, owing to the fact that the men to relieve us could not be found and it was nearly an hour after the bombardment had stopped before we were able to go to the rear. Once out of our post, we six who had all fortunately escaped without injury, cut across about 150 yards of the shell-torn ground and then dropped into a communication trench and followed it down until we emerged at last at Rose Trench, where we followed the duckboard track and followed it until it crossed Needle trench, where we remained until the following night, without shelter, in the drizzling rain.

We found out here that our company had lost one sergeant, corporal and six men in the bombardment of the previous night, and unfortunately during that day, which was Christmas Day, our battalion suffered several more casualties whilst in occupation of Needle trench, from the desultory shelling with .77’s which the Germans maintained all day. Thus ended our three days and night tour of duty in the mucky trenches opposite Gendecourt and Ginchy and we were glad when 8 pm came on Christmas Day and we received orders to move back to “E” camp for a short rest.

We struggled by platoons at intervals up the duckboard tracks, almost exhausted with fatigue and the constant fight with the mud, until we reached Delville Wood. Here, we were able to obtain a tinful of soup from the Comforts Fund stall, which had the effect of reviving us considerably and gave us renewed strength to hump our gear and drag our weary bones another kilometre to “E” Camp, where we were billeted in the Nissen huts. By 11 o’clock the same night, we were all safely ensconced in the huts, with blazing wood fires burning by the aid of which we soon dried our boots and clothes, and then settled down to rest for the remainder of the night rolled in our blankets.

In the morning, we all received an issue of rum and our Christmas parcels, which each contained a Christmas Cake, a tin of fruit, a pack of cards, and other oddments. For three days, we remained at “E” camp, principally engaged in cleansing our gear and clothes, and in resting our bodies in preparation of another trip in the line, whilst we also performed one or two carrying fatigues about the camp. On the fourth day out, we left “E” camp and moved into splinter proof dugouts in Delville Wood. This was a very disagreeable spot as it was low and wet and the dugouts were surrounded by the usual quagmire of mud and slush so that it was impossible for us to ever have dry feet which soon became sore in consequence. Delville Wood had been the scene of a terrific struggle and it was reported that 4,500 dead were buried in the neighbourhood and we frequently came across graves of the dead, which had been washed open by the rain exposing parts of the skeletons of the unfortunates who lay there.

It may be said that for the six days we were in Delville Wood, we really camped in a grave yard. One night as I lay with my comrade in one of the dugouts, the wall suddenly gave way and a deluge of water poured in from a shell hole next door, completely washing us out and compelling us to abandon our temporary, home. Such little incidents did not worry us much, however, as they were only in keeping with the general discomfort of our surroundings. On being driven out, we took up our quarters in an abandoned tank not far distant, and there we remained until another dugout was “to let.”

During the six days we were in Delville Wood, we were constantly employed on fatigue duties of all kinds, mostly in carrying Engineers material from the Dump in the wood to a dump at Needle trench, a distance of about two and a half kilometres. Long lines of men would file past the dump, seizing a duckboard or a bundle of corkscrew piquets or whatever we happened to be required to carry, as they passed, and then the line would file down the duckboards carrying their load on their shoulders. As soon as the line went over the ridge of Switch trench, the profile of the men was silhouetted against the skyline, with the result that the observant Huns would immediately commence to shell us during the remainder of the journey to Needle trench. I must admit that it was very hair-raising work to have to walk in file carrying our burdens, with German gunners potting at us with Whizzbangs and shrapnel all the day. I often felt inclined to drop my burden and flee for my life, but of course was prevented by personal pride and from the fear of being laughed at by the rest of the men. Occasionally, we would pass a spot where a shell had hit some other poor fellow as he was engaged on this or some similar work and the sight of the hole in the duckboards and the body lying near by did not tend to put courage into ones heart. However, I invariably used to return to the dump by some other route rather than un the gauntlet on the return journey.

On other occasions, when on fatigue and not engaged in this kind of work, we would sometimes be put onto carrying fatigue under the Engineers to build splinter proof dug outs in Rose Trench. This meant digging an excavation in the side of the trench, big enough to accommodate three or four men, covering the top with galvanised iron and sand bags full of mud. They were called splinter-proof because they were no protection against the pieces which flew about after a burst.

After spending your period of “rest” in this kind of work, our company moved to Needle trench, and there for the two following days acted as reserve to the front line battalion. At night we were employed in carrying rations to the front line. The rations were brought to Needle trench at nightfall by strings of pack horses and mules, and were there dumped in sandbags with labels on them denoting to whom they belonged. The first night in Needle trench, I was on ration fatigue and with twenty other men, shouldered our loads of two bags tied together and set off towards the front line. Entering the communication trench, which by now was 18″ deep in liquid mud, we floundered up for over a mile, until we came to the end. Then we jumped out of the trench and carried them in the midst of shell burst and machine gun fire until we came to the front line company head-quarters where they were delivered and we returned the way we had come, bearing back the empty rum jars and food containers.

The second night I was detailed for the same job and had just got out of the trench at the end of the communication sap when the German snipers commenced sniping at us with the aid of flares. As we floundered along, they would fire a flare, and we would stop dead in our tracks, and the sniper would fire at us. However their aim was bad in the uncertain light and we delivered our rations safely. Coming back, they performed the same business but on this occasion, instead of sniping, they used a machine gun which was too much for us, so we all dropped to the ground in the mud until the flare went out. I was disgusted to find myself lying alongside a half frozen body of a dead Hun which I kicked viciously when I got up and fled to the firing line again in exactly the same positions as on the previous occasion, and I found myself back on the old post with the same men for company.

For three more days and nights, we garrisoned this post during which the Huns left us fairly well alone, our chief trouble being the intense cold which fell below zero every night and froze the water in our boots and puttees, numbing our feet inside until we hardly knew we had feet.

The rum issue was brought round every night at 10 pm by our officer Lt. Tripp, accompanied by Sgt. Major Vince and a runner, Pte. R. Dowson and the sound of these three gentry as they approached the post in the slush was always very welcome indeed, as the issue of rum put new life into our otherwise perished bodies. On our right and left, the Hun firework display was always very pretty at night, especially when his line was being bombarded, but opposite us he was content with simply firing his ordinary white flares to illuminate No Mans Land at intervals of five minutes or so. On the third night, we were relieved by the 19th Battalion and as usual, our post was about the last to be relieved.

During the day it had rained hard for two hours so that the trenches had commenced to fall in and the bottoms contained about 18″ of sticky mud. We had floundered through about half a mile of this on being relieved, when we found a man of small dimensions stuck fast and unable to extricate himself. We soon pulled him out though and with difficulty, continued our way when we came to a group of stretcher bearers helping a chap along in a state of collapse. It seems that this person had lost his way, two nights before and had become bogged in an out of the way trench and had been unable to get out. He was found by the stretcher bearers after he had been stuck in the mud for 48 hours and was half dead when they found him, but they had given him something to eat and also a nip of rum which had revived him somewhat and when we passed, they were assisting him to the rear. Clearing the communication trench, we followed the duckboards to Switch trench and camped there in the splinter proof dugouts for the remainder of the night. Next day we moved back to “E” camp again, and stayed there another night. Resuming our journey in the morning, we arrived at “Adelaide Camp,” Montauban, two hours later, passing Gen. Birdwood and staff, en route. During the four succeeding days, I was placed on guard duty under Sgt. Beecham and twenty men, our duty being to keep under detention the Brigades prisoners. We were on sentry duty for 2 hours with six hours off and the guard remained on duty under Sgt. Beecham for about four days before being relieved.

The next two days were spent by the battalion in re-equipping the men and in having the usual clean up and reorganisation in anticipation of a further move back to the rest area in rear.

On account of the surrounding quagmire, there was practically no chance of leaving the huts and duckboard walks in the vicinity of the camp and it was only the visits that we made to the canteen, etc. that induced us to make any movement, whatever. After spending six days in all in the “Adelaide Camp” at Montauban the battalion moved right back to Dernancourt by road, passing numerous batches of German prisoners of war on the way, who were engaged with brooms and scrapers in cleaning the liquid mud from the surface of the roads into the sumps which were dug at intervals along the roadside. Their N.C.O’s sprang to attention and saluted our officers as we passed, but the privates just leaned on their tools and grinned at us as we marched by and were well cheeked by our men in consequence. At Dernancourt, we remained for two days and during that time it snowed heavily, covering the whole countryside to a depth of 4″ and giving it a monotonous appearance. It was bitterly cold and as the snow began to thaw, the roads soon became covered in inches of slush and mud which bespattered our clothes and caked on our boots and puttees so that it was impossible to keep ourselves clean. Here also, I was detailed to the newly formed raiding platoon in which I only lasted two days as I had no liking for such work and soon had myself sent back to the company.

After two days in billets in the village of Dernancourt the bulk of the 20th battalion was entrained at Ribemont and went back by rail, a distance of 45 kilometres to Pont Remy, where we disentrained in a heavy snow storm and marched to the village of Cocquerel another five kilometres further on. At Cocquerel, we were put through a course of musketry including firing practices, under English and Scots instructors, marching two kilometres to the rifle ranges every day for five days.

At 7.30 am we would form up on the roads in the village and then marched to the range, where we would go through the firing practices set down for the day. This generally took two hours and when our firing was done, we had to stand about on the frozen ground in the piercing wind until one o’clock, when we were marched back to billets.

Being a Tommy instruction camp, we of course were half starved and having eaten all there was to be eaten, we would sally forth in the afternoons in search of Quaker oats and tins of condensed milk, which, if we were lucky to procure any, we would make into porridge in our dixies and would consume in large quantities three or four times a day. I do not know how we should have fared only for this porridge as we got very little else to eat from the cook houses.

After passing a test on the range in which I scored 175 points out of a possible 240, the 20th battalion men were sent back to Ribemont by train, at which place we arrived at 4 pm and marched to our billets in Dernancourt, where we joined the remainder of the battalion. During the past week, we had had three falls of snow which now lay on the ground in one vast frozen cake, covering the whole country in a pall of whiteness, as if to hide the scarred and torn face of the district. At Dernancourt I had the pleasure of meeting an old friend named Ken Martin of the 18th battalion, and spent an evening in his billet during which we talked of old times and compared notes and experiences. The weather now was still bitterly cold, 18° of frost being registered in some parts. Most of our food was frozen hard when we received it, and consequently most of it had to be thawed beside a fire before we could use it. Our bread was issued in a loaf as hard as iron, into which it was impossible to force the edge of a knife, while the Bullybeef was a frozen block full of icicles. Eggs being broken would stand up like a piece of solid ice, whilst tinned pineapples could be turned out of the tins in one solid lump.

Our boots and sox froze during the night and had to be thawed, before we could put them on. However, with everything frozen hard, the mud nuisance disappeared temporarily, it giving way to a slippery hard surface on which iron shod mules and horses slipped and glided and made transport very difficult. The troops with their iron hobnailed boots did the same and our method of walking was a cross between a jazz and a slide, men frequently falling down and injuring themselves. At this village, we were inspected by our divisional General, General Smyth V.C. The parade fell in on a vacant field, standing in the snow for an hour before the distinguished officer arrived, our colonel filling in the time by putting us through some battalion drill in order to keep us warm.

At last the General arrived and the whole brigade was called to attention whilst the “General Salute” was blown and the brigade presented arms. General Smyth, V.C. then carried out his inspection of every platoon, followed by his staff officers and the officer in charge of the battalion he was inspecting and as each platoon’s turn came, it opened ranks and the General and staff and their “spare parts” made a pretence of inspecting each man individually, asking a question here and there, until finally the whole parade was gone through.

The general then addressed us and said that we all looked very fit and well equipped and that we would soon be going into the line again to kill more Huns as there still remained plenty more to be killed, and that the more we killed, the sooner the war would end. Having said his say, he departed and we were dismissed to our billets in the village. While we were resting at Dernancourt a batch of mud bespattered and haggard looking German prisoners to the number of 600 odd, passed through the village en route for the prisoner of war compound further back. They had been captured that morning by the famous 29th Division who in the earlier days of the war were old comrades of the Australians at Gallipoli and elsewhere.

For three more days we remained at Dernancourt, which time we filled in by writing letters between parades which were held in the snow covered fields and then we moved off by road to Albert, passing UK” Dump, at Meault where Kaffirs from South Africa were engaged in loading and unloading engineer’s material from the freight trains as they drew into the sidings. They were as black as the ace of spades and were muffled to the ears in their winter clothing and wore hats turned up at the sides, similar to our own, only of a cheaper make.

We remained in billets two days and nights at Albert, which was then out of range of ordinary shell fire and was only shelled occasionally by special long range guns which dropped about six shells a week into the town square on the off chance of hitting something. During the first night a German aeroplane made a raid on the town and dropped several bombs in the neighbourhood of the railway station, and then turned its machine gun on the streets as it flew low, some of which pattered on the roof of the house we occupied. None of our men were hit by the bombs and bullets but several Tommies who were in the streets at the time were wounded and the railway station suffered severely from the bursting of the bombs.

On the third day at Albert, we dumped our packs an surplus gear and route marched up the ice covered roads in fighting order towards Martinpinch Wood and after two hours march, went into billets at Scotts Redoubt Nissen hut encampment to the left of the site of Pozieres. The battlefield around about presented a dreary and desolate appearance, covered as it was in frozen snow and ice. As far as the eye could see, there was the same undulating country, covered in snowy whiteness, relieved only by the black lines of the abandoned trench systems and the roads choked with transport and troops. Here and there was a collection of Nissen huts, covered with snow, in which battalions of men spent their short periods of respite out of the line or where they camped for brief spells on their journeys in and out of the trenches. We only remained one night at Scotts Redoubt camp and at dusk on the following evening, we were issued with a case of bombs between two men and set off along the ice covered roads on the slippery surface of which we slipped and slid all over the place, finding it very difficult to keep our feet, encumbered as we were with our trench gear.

Passing through Contalmaison, where in the earlier days of the Pozieres battle, the English troops had severely handled the much vaunted regiment of the Prussian Guards, we continued along the road until we presently branched off half right and followed the slippery duckboards a few kilometres until we arrived at Martinpinch Wood. On the far side of this dilapidated village and wood, which were both totally destroyed by shell fire and which were crammed with 8″ and 9.2″ howitzers, we at last hit a communication trench called William Alley, up which we filed for another two kilometres, arriving at last, dead tired, at the rear of Le Sars village.

Here we met the guides from the Scots Regiment we were to relieve, who guided us through the moonlit snow to our various posts. The night was as clear as day almost, and it was rather a nervous feat to take over amidst the flying shells and machine gun bullets which crashed and hissed all round us during the process. Once relieved, the men of the 15th Scots Division from whom we took over, proved to be the quickest things off the mark that I ever came across. They barely waited to give us particulars of the post before they literally flew over the snow, through the village in rear to the safety of the trenches on the other side.

We had barely settled down on our post, which was an advanced one in a shell hole, when the Huns began to shell us with whizzbangs and for five minutes, pieces of shell, bits of ice and frozen mud flew about us in all directions, pieces frequently hitting our steel helmets and plunging into the sides of the trench. We found that we were in an advanced post, in front of Le Sars and opposite the Butte de Warlencourt and could distinctly make out the huge mound about three hundred yards in front of us. The Huns using this height were able to see right behind our lines and into most of our posts during the day time, and sniped at us frequently, making us keep well down in the bottom of the icebound trench. The post resembled an ice chest in some respects, as the sides were streaked with ice in the clay, while at the bottom there was six inches of solid ice, upon which we lay. The heat of our bodies soon caused this to melt a little and the moisture soaked into our blankets and clothes, where it instantly froze again making us very miserable indeed.

During the first night, both sides shelled one another with small shells at intervals, while the Huns pasted our post frequently with pineapple trench mortars. These kept us in a state of suspense all night long. We would hear the sharp pop of the discharge in the Hun lines, followed by the swishing sound of the approaching bomb which would fall with a thud just in front or a little to the rear of the post, where it burst with a crash, showering us with pieces of frozen mud and ice.

This kind of thing went on for that night and the next day without inflicting any casualties on our post. Next night, our company sent some scouts into No Mans Land to discover the German posts and about 7 o’clock they crawled past us, dressed in white calico suits and white steel helmets, so that they would match the snow, and after being absent for half an hour, came back without encountering any trouble, and having discovered a German post about 100 yards in front of ours.

At 12 o’clock, the same night, we were relieved by another platoon of our company and we went back about two hundred yards to an underground cellar beneath a ruined estaminet in the village. The cellar was only about 12 ft. square, yet for want of other shelter, over forty men were squeezed into it and to make matters worse, a fight ensued between one of our stretcher bearers named “Bluey” Jennings and another fellow over some trivial matter. The two contestants fought for five minutes, during which time they fell all over the other occupants who did not seem to mind as it afforded us some amusement, of which we were sorely in need. Presently it was stopped by a sergeant arriving with the rum issue which was always considered more interesting than a fight in a crowded cellar with shells falling overhead. It may sound a queer thing to say that we were all half famished with thirst, when there was so much snow and ice about, but the fact remains that we were in that condition. Our water bottles full of water had frozen hard, and we were not in a position to light a fire to melt the ice, so that for the past 48 hours, we only were able to get one drink of tea, of which we each received about half a pint. We tried to assuage our thirst by sucking ice and snow, but that only aggravated the trouble. Then we tried the idea of putting our water bottles under our jackets next to our warm bodies, and by this means we were able to extract a mouthful of melted ice at intervals of every five minutes, which did not relieve our thirst either, so that I say we were much inconvenienced by thirst during our two days and three nights in the line at Le Sars.

Towards morning, our company was relieved by D company and we moved back down William Alley to Flers line, a distance of half a kilometre, and there we remained in support to the forward company for another two days. For the first 24 hours, I was on gas guard duty, with a corporal and eight other men, doing two hours on and six off, our duty being to watch for gas shells and give the alarm by beating a shell case in the event of any falling near us. For the next day and night, I was on duty under Cpl. Bishop in collecting salvage material in the old trenches about the front line. When we collected a load, we carried it for two kilometres down William Alley to Brigade headquarters in Martinpinch Wood, where we dumped it on a salvage dump and returned for another load.

At the end of four days, in and about the front line at Le Sars, we were relieved by the 23rd Battalion who took over our line and we returned over the route, we had taken when coming into the line, back to Scotts Redoubt camp. The journey back to this camp was for the most part over the duckboard tracks which were still covered with caked snow and slippery ice and accidents and heavy falls were frequent, two or three men breaking their legs and arms. Walking along these tracks resembled a sort of glide and was a great strain on the legs. The troops used to call it the “Duckboard Glide” and a very good name it was too, as it quite explained our method of movement. No. 10 platoon was just about to enter the camp when a German aeroplane, attracted by the lights in the huts, flew over the camp and dropped a bomb on one of the huts, which burst with a loud crash and a shower of sparks followed by the falling of pieces of iron and wood. Hurrying into the camp, we were immediately detailed to assist in collecting the wounded and removing the rubbish of the destroyed, but altogether eight men were killed and nine wounded in the hut as they lay conversing to one another about their experiences in the line, and for half an hour I assisted in carrying the wounded to the roadside where a field ambulance was waiting to take them to the clearing station.

Then I went to my hut and rested all that night, lying for hours between the blankets with a shaded candle alongside, reading my letters from home and eating the contents of some parcels I had received. Next morning, I was detailed as one of a burial party and for two hours, I worked with pick and shovel until we had excavated a huge grave in the adjoining ground. Then the eight bodies, sewn up in service blankets, were brought along on stretchers, and were solemnly buried with military honours, the battalion padre reading the service, whilst the buglers blew the “Last Post” and the burial party standing to attention during the proceedings. The weather was still frozen hard and bitterly cold and most of our time when not on duty was spent in searching the old German dugouts in the abandoned trenches around about the camp for beams of timber which were carried to our huts and chopped up and burned in our camp stoves. I am sure I do not know what we would have done without these fires, as we only had one blanket apiece which was not sufficient to afford any warmth at night and for the most part, we simply lay and shivered all night long, waiting for the day to come, when we generally managed to obtain a little sleep between parades and fatigues. At Scotts Redoubt camp on the third day of our brief rest, I was summoned to the orderly room, where Sergeant Major Vince informed me that I had been appointed Lance Corporal.

Not having any aspirations for promotion, I scornfully declined and refused to wear the stripe, saying that I preferred to remain a private. On the evening of the fourth day out, we received orders to return to the line so that at 4 pm, we fell in in fighting order and a few hours later arrived at Gunpit Road to the left of Martinpinch Wood, where we occupied some dugouts which had been excavated in the high banks of that road. At frequent intervals in the same road were stationed big guns of the 9.2 variety which kept up a constant fire.

The report of the guns nearly burst the ear drums, but we soon became used even to their terrific crashing and being in a dog tired condition, we slept dreamlessly for the remainder of spending another day in Gunpit road, I was detailed to go to a Lewis machine gun school at Corbie.

Accordingly, I was marched with several others, a distance of ten kilometres back to Albert, where we were loaded into motor lorries which took us to the Anzac Corps Lewis gun school about two kilometres west of Corbie. Here we were comfortably billeted in clean billets with tiers of bunks and plenty blankets and I was able to enjoy the novelty of being warm for a while, after weeks experience of being half frozen. We were also decently fed in mess huts with tables and forms, the contrast between it and the firing line being the difference in Heaven and Hell.

For four days, I enjoyed myself at the school and visited Corbie every night and indulged in huge feeds of omelettes and the night right under the noses of these belching monsters. After chip potatoes with hot coffee and milk, bread and butter, which we obtained from the French shops. We made wine run like water as we had plenty of money after our long spell in the forward area, where we were unable to spend a cent and not knowing how long our holiday would last, made things lively whilst we could.

We also visited the concert party of an English division which was showing in Corbie called the “Very Lights” and were able to enjoy a laugh, a privilege I do not think we had had for months. Perhaps the living was too high for me, or perhaps I had strained myself laughing, or perhaps I was too comfortable in billets or something or other was wrong, because on the fifth day at the school, I was sent to hospital tent with another attack of trench fever, my temperature having risen to 102°.

In this state, I spent the remainder of the 14 days I was at Anzac Corps School, feel well one day and bad the next, with an almost insufferable ache in my legs, until at last after nine days of it I was pronounced to be well enough to return to duty. Summed up, my fourteen days at Corbie Machine Gun School resulted in 4 days instruction of the mechanism of the Lewis gun, leaving me not much the wiser, and nine days in sick bay with trench fever.