By this time we were about used to the sensation of being warned for the firing line and did not become very excited, and in fact were rather surprised to learn within a few hours that on this occasion we were really and truly going to join up and see some fighting with our battalion somewhere on the Somme where the big push was then in full swing. The same evening, the draft of twenty of us were lined up, being loaded to the eyes with front line equipment, including 220 rounds of small arms ammunition, 48 hours rations, water bottles full, rifle, gas helmet and the contents of a full pack. Altogether, our load weighed about 70 lbs in all and made us wish we were baggage mules or camels, so that we would not mind the weight. At 7 o’clock in the evening, we were fallen in and inspected by the officer and company commander and were then marched off to the general parade ground and there joined the rest of the draft for our Division, to the number of about 1,000 or so.

Here we were subjected to a rifle and kit inspection by the commanding officer and after a few parting injunctions, we were marched off in column of route, led by a band, down to the railway siding, where an immense troop train was waiting to receive us. Presently, we were allotted to our cattle trucks by our officers, thirty men being placed in each until we resembled sardines in a tin. Being so crowded, we could only sit huddled up on our gear and in this uncomfortable position, we remained all night long, as the troop train rattled, jolted and rumbled along towards the firing line. The journey was about the most uncomfortable one I ever experienced, as sleep was out of the question, and we could not even stretch our legs and I was heartily glad when we finally arrived at a place called Acheux at about 8 am next morning.

Added to the discomfort of the journey we were just a little depressed at the prospects before us, and as we drew nearer to the line as the hours sped by, we could see the flashes of the guns on the horizon and could hear the rumble of the artillery, which increased in volume until on reaching our destination, the din and roar was terrific. Up until now, the idea of participating in battle was only a future prospect but now it was grim reality, and I doubt if there was a man amongst us who did not have a feeling of homesickness, or was not a little downhearted as the signs and sounds of battle loomed before us.

At Acheux, which was only 15 kilometres from the firing line, we were disentrained and after having partaken of something to eat and drink, each detachment was marched under its own officers to its own particular destination. Accordingly our party proceeded along the road towards Albert in the sweltering heat, as July is mid summer in France, passing numerous batches of newly captured Germans, supply waggons, guns and other paraphernalia of war, all of which was intensely interesting to us who had never seen any real first hand signs of warfare before. We proceeded through the sadly battered villages of Bouzincourt and Forceville threading our way in and out of the long lines of vehicles and transport, drafts of troops likewise proceeding to the line and only now and then seeing any civilians who remained in their homes, most of the others having fled to the rear areas long before.

We were halted for a spell three times during the eight miles to Albert and during one halt witnessed a splendid air fight between a German and a British aeroplane, who manoeuvred and pursued one another, twisting and diving and evading one another all the while being peppered with “archies” from the anti-aircraft batteries on the ground. First the British plane seemed to have the advantage and we would hold our breath as the German plane appeared to lose contact and seemed to be dashing to earth. But suddenly, the Hun plane would finish its nose dive and shoot upward until presently the British plane would be the pursued and the German the aggressor. We did not see the end of this air fight unfortunately, as we were ordered to fall in before it was decided and soon were trudging along again with head down, heavily laden with our gear which by this time was beginning to become terribly heavy and cumbersome, we wished that the tramp would end and we could rid ourselves of our burdens. On and on we marched, until after three hours, we found ourselves at our destination and were told to fall out and await orders. Thereupon we relieved ourselves of our gear and fell to looking about us.

We found that we were at what was known as Brickfie1d Hill on the outskirts of Albert, and here we remained all that afternoon and night, lying about in a crop of oats, not being allowed into the town, which was being constantly shelled at intervals with long range shrapnel and high explosive shells, and was half in ruins. Every now and then a shrapnel shell would burst near us with a sharp “Burr-r-r” and much black smoke, but we were lucky enough to miss the pieces, being just out or range. We did not see anyone hit. The banging and roar of our guns between us and the firing line was terrific, as our artillery was keeping up an incessant bombardment night and day. The Germans were retaliating with as good as they received by shelling our front line (which of course we could not see), and our batteries, not forgetting a few shells at intervals into the town of Albert, about half a mile from where we were on Brickfield Hill.

Of course, we were considered to be in a perfectly safe position and thousands of troops, both English, Scottish and Australian were moving quite unconcerned hither and thither, all going about their respective business as if nothing much was taking place. But to fresh troops like us the scene was full of excitement and our nerves were all of a tingle with the strangeness of it all and personally, my head was buzzing with my efforts to understand all I saw.

Late in the afternoon, Harold and I ventured into Albert and secured a tin of preserved fruit for 3 francs and some tinned fish with which we made a meal. Later on, when it began to get darker, troops began to pass us from the firing line who turned out to be the men of our First Division who had just been relieved by our 2nd Division and who were making their way back to the villages in rear for a hard earned spell after having captured the Village of Pozieres. They were terribly haggard and worn looking in appearance, and covered in mud and dust, with over a weeks growth on their chins. Though they looked so terribly bedraggled and unkempt, they were all cheerful, pleased I supposed to be going out of the line for a spell. About 10 p.m. when it was nearly dark, our officer came back to us and told us to get some sleep if we could, as we were to remain the night on Brickfield Hill, and were to go up to our battalions in the morning.

We therefore made ourselves as comfortable as possible in the self sown oat crop and tried to forget the roar of the guns and the occasional bursts of shrapnel and slept in fits and starts until dawn. It was practically impossible to sleep, though every now and then the guns would suddenly begin drumfire and the noise would be so terrific that I thought that my eardrums would break, so that for my part, I simply lay and gazed towards the firing line, watching the flares from the trenches being sent up and tried to brace myself up for the ordeal I was to go through on the morrow.