Next day we dumped our packs in Albert with the rest of the packs of the 20th Battalion and after lunch we proceeded under the leadership of a guide, through the streets of Albert and practically running the gauntlet the while, since the Germans suddenly took it into their heads to send some shells over at the time, until we had wandered along towards Poziers for a distance of about three miles. Then we had a rest by the wayside and took the opportunity of looking at the shells bursting on the front line, per medium of some field glasses which our officer carried. The sight did not tend to cheer us up at all as we could distinctly see huge columns of yellow dirt spurt up into the air as each shell burst and we knew that before many hours had passed we would probably be trying to dodge the same shells. Presently, we continued our way up the crowded road, threading our way in and out of the transport and troops, passing Becourt Wood and the casualty clearing station there where we obtained our first view of men on stretchers being dressed for wounds which they had only received a few hours before. We were now well into the territory which had been occupied by the Germans a few days before.

Everywhere we looked were deep shell holes and trenches with barbed wire entanglements while there were innumerable signs of dead men having been recently buried, etc. and our guide who was a soot entertained us with tales of how the barrage had wiped this or that trench out completely, or how at such and such a spot so many Germans were killed and lay buried and so on. After another two miles of this kind of thing, we came to the entrance of Sausage Gully across which were ranged row upon row of guns of all calibres from 12 in. howitzers and naval guns down to 18 pounders and .75 quick firing guns, all belching forth their deadly missiles into German territory. I found out later that there was something like 4,000 guns behind the British during the battle of the Somme of which about 1,000 were behind the Australians at Pozieres mostly in and about Sausage Gully.

Going further on up Sausage Gully, we had to cross several recently captured German trenches, in all of which were signs of German dead, and abandoned equipment, and which were now used to afford shelter to the infantry and artillery men. Shell holes pitted the ground in every direction, and everywhere we looked we saw the litter of the battlefield and long white lines of trench systems, out of which the Germans had only recently been forced by our terrific barrages and the impetuous charges of the English Infantry.

We went on another half mile under the direction of our guide and presently came to a trench system in which were sheltered a considerable number of infantry whom we instantly recognised from the colour badges on their arms, to be the men of the 20th Battalion whom we had been sent to join. The represented the remnants of C Company of the 20th and were having a “rest” in the reserve trenches after having been badly cut up during a bayonet charge two nights previously, losing 80% of their complement.

Our batch of reinforcements then reported to the company commander, Capt. Hosking, who was lying on his back in a hole in the side of a trench and he handed us over to the company sergeant major to be taken on strength for duty so that in less time than it takes to tell, we had at last joined our battalion and were real soldiers from that moment on. The first thing we were told to do was to go and get something to eat from the cookhouse nearby which we promptly did as we were very hungry indeed, having had nothing substantial for the past two days.

Having satisfied our hunger, we were fallen in and detailed to No. 10 platoon which was practically extinct from casualties received up in the line during the preceding few days fighting. Our platoon sergeant was Sgt. Hamilton and our company commander was Capt. Hosking, who came from Wollongong and was a soldier and a man in every sense. We had barely been allotted to our platoon and company an hour when we were ordered to fall in as a company and were issued with a ration of rum and were informed that we were to act that night as a carrying party to the rest of the 20th battalion, who were going to attack the German trenches opposite for the second time.

Accordingly, the next hour was spent in drawing bombs from a dump and in issuing them out in sand-bagfuls to each man. At about 8 pm whilst the sun was still shining, we were fallen in and began to make our way, under our company commander, up to the support lines, a distance of about another 3 kms. We had already each salvaged a steel helmet from a salvage dump near by, so that we new men looked the real soldier with our fighting order and rifles slung and wearing our steel helmets and gas respirators and each man staggering along up the communication trenches under a sandbag full of Mills hand grenades. Every now and then as we filed along, a battery nearby would fire a salvo, nearly making us jump out of our skins and occasionally a shrapnel shell would burst above with a savage “ping-g-g” sending a shower of pellets all around us. Some of the sights we saw were disgusting to us new men. Once we passed a dead man, half of whom was on the parapet and the other half in the bottom of the trench, both halves being connected with his intestines. Further on, we passed a dead Australian with his head blown off and one leg standing up by itself, with the boot on and the puttee neatly wound round it up to the knee.

Further on still, we got out of the communication trench which we were following and went for a few hundred yards down a sunken road in the side of which were dug some deep German dug outs, which were used by the A.M.C. as a forward dressing station, around which were crowded hundreds of men hastily refreshing themselves with coffee and milk from a comforts fund stall. There were also dozens of stretchers on which were lying wounded men with their blood stained bandages awaiting their turn to be re-dressed before continuing their journey in the waiting, horse drawn field ambulances.

Big shells were bursting nearby at frequent intervals and we new chums were hard put to it to prevent ourselves from ducking our heads, which of course is only the effect of nerves and does no possible good. However, as we want along, we took a certain amount of confidence from the steady bearing of the old hands, who, it must be said did not laugh at us, but gave us a lot of good advice and sympathy and told us we would soon get used to the shells and then would take no notice of them, which we did in a surprisingly short time.

Passing the dressing station, we turned round to the left and followed a little valley, the soil of which was ploughed up with shell fire and in which we saw numerous dead Germans, half buried with their arms and legs sticking out. Then we followed another communication trench some distance until at last we came to the support trenches where there were-hundreds of men of the various battalions in the 5th Brigade, all occupying their own little “possies” cut in the sides of the trenches, some eating, but the majority trying to snatch a little rest. In this vicinity, the shell fire was much heavier, as the Germans always paid a good deal of attention to the support trenches where the men were likely to be more crowded and more careless. We then led up a trench called Pioneer Support Trench and there waited for a couple of hours until we should get the order to support those who were going to do the attack. In the meantime, although I was terribly depressed and was only forcing myself to look courageous, I managed to take stock of where I was and to study my companions a little. I found that we were about a mile as the crow flies from the front line, while on our right rear was a big dump of corkscrew piquets and barbed wire, ammunition etc. Nearby was an advanced dressing station, while a little to our left was a smashed up limber, with two dead horses attached, which stank dreadfully, and around which hovered a cloud of blue bottle flies which were the fattest and laziest flies I ever saw. They were so well fed and sleek that they could hardly fly and had to be brushed off when they alighted on our skin, causing us a horrible, creepy sensation of loathing and disgust. The ground around us was torn and ploughed up with countless shell holes and there was not a blade of grass to be seen, and it resembled a ploughed field to all outward appearance.

Some of the shell holes were only about a yard across, but others were enormous and must have been 10 ft. deep and 15 ft. across, these being made by the 12″ and 15″ howitzer shells. The trench we were in was dug by the pioneers in record time, so it was said, about 500 of them having dug 1,000 yards, 6 ft. deep in six hours. However, it was sadly battered about then and was blown in in dozens of places during the barrage that followed. Some of the old hands in our platoon were just as nervous and scared looking as ourselves, as the battle of Pozieres was about the first big battle they had yet been in and to do us new men credit, I must say that we seemed just as confident as they, and this fact enabled me to bear the trying experience of a first introduction to a battle with more fortitude. Our officer, a Lieut. Gallagher was only experiencing his first introduction to shell fire, like ourselves, so I don’t suppose he felt over confident either.

We rested in Pioneer Trench for about two hours until midnight came round, when we knew that in a few minutes, hell would be let loose and the attack would begin. A few minutes later a terrific barrage was put down on the German trenches by our artillery in rear of us and the din became indescribable. To make matters worse, the Germans, also, in reply to our artillery and knowing an attack was impending, sent over their thousands of shells on to our front line and supports with the result that in a moment we were in a veritable inferno such as I have never experienced since, The machine guns and trench mortars also added their quota to the general din, until within five minutes it was absolutely impossible to hear one’s own voice or see our neighbour in front of us on account of the acrid smelling shell smoke. Pieces of shell were whizzing and humming everywhere and the ground seemed to heave as if an earthquake was on.

Amidst this tornado of shells and bullets we began to work our way up towards the front line, keeping in the shelter of the trenches. We had not gone far before our officer took the wrong turning and lost us, leaving us in a trench about two feet deep which seemed to me to be the target at which most of the German shells were fired. Presently we were turned about and retraced our steps, still dragging our accursed load of bombs, and then turned up another trench, the right one this time, up which we followed one another in a dazed fashion stumbling over all sorts of impedimenta, including several dead men, until we came to the end of the trench.

We were just about to get out and race through the awful barrage across the open to our front line in order to deliver our bombs and support our comrades who were at grips with the Huns, when an officer staggered into the trench and ordered us to return as the attack had ended in a failure owing to the fact that the German wire had not been cut. Although, by this time, my blood was up, I was just as pleased to return as I had had enough for one night and am convinced that very few of us would have ever reached our destination had we been called upon to race across the open space to the German trenches.

As it was, we had lost six men of our party, killed and several wounded, which disaster was caused through a bag of the bombs we were carrying having exploded through a pin falling out of one bomb, thus bursting the rest. We then retraced our steps until we came to a Chalk quarry in Copse Alley, and there found our company commander, Capt; Hosking, who told us to sit down and rest and await orders. We were not required any more that night, however, and the shell fire having dwindled down somewhat we retraced our steps back to Pioneer trench, where we had been earlier in the night and there shivered and cowered under the German bombardment until morning, expecting every moment to be our last, and that every shell was meant to blow my head off.

During the night and immediately after the abortive attack, those noble and gallant men, for whom no praise is sufficient, the stretcher bearers, worked like slaves bringing the wounded from the front line. The trenches were too narrow for them to carry the wounded down on stretchers, so that they were forced to take the terrible risk of having to carry them down overland amidst the shell fire and bullets. Some of them seemed to bear a charmed life, but the casualties amongst them were very great, which fact, however did not prevent them from doing their duty incessantly and without rest all through the battle of Pozieres with a cheerfulness and devotion which was admirable and a little short of marvellous. They are the men for which the infantry have the greatest regard, and are also the men who got the least credit for their noble work from the authorities.

I have known the stretcher bearers to work until they dropped from sheer exhaustion during the battle of Pozieres and during other Battles in which I was present, and I know of very few who ever received a decoration for their gallantry and devotion to their wounded comrades.

During the next two days and nights we were constantly kept at it, doing fatigue work such as ration carrying to the front line and in digging and widening our own support trenches. The days were generally comparatively quiet but the nights were made hideous with incessant bombardments on either side, and we spent our nights for the most part in standing to in readiness to support the front line or in hugging the sides of the trenches in our endeavours to avoid the flying pieces of shell and shrapnel, which would miss us by inches, flying by with an angry buzz and hiss.

On the fourth day, our company was led out in broad daylight into the unconnected piece of ground between the village of Pozieres and the existing front line and there dug with shovels for dear life, midst flying pieces of shells until we had dug a communication trench to connect the supports and the front line. The job was dangerous and unpleasant owing to the numerous dead we uncovered who were in an advanced state of decay. It was nothing unusual to dig down for about three feet and then find that we had plunged our pick into a corpse which had been buried to that depth by the subsequent shell fire which three tons of earth up at each burst, the earth falling on the body of the poor fellow who had fallen there.

When the trench was finished it was a common sight to see a boot or a leg and arm sticking out from the side of the trench and I remember one hand sticking out with the fingers half clenched, belonging to a German, which was the cause of a rough joke on the part of the more hardened of our men. The joke in question was perpetrated by a man who remembering the solicitation for “Backsheesh” by the natives in Egypt, put a note into the dead Germans hand on which was written “Give it Buckshee boss!” much to the amusement of everyone that passed that way.

The same night we completed the job and finally made a good substantial trench of it which the Germans very soon discovered and commenced to shell to pieces, and blew it in in several places during the next few days.

On this job, we experienced our first dose of tear gas which smells somewhat like pineapples and stings the eyes dreadfully. The intention of the Germans being to force working parties to abandon their work. However, we just adjusted our gas helmets or goggles and carried on with the work until it was finished. On the fourth day, we were reinforced by the rest of our tenth reinforcements whom we four looked on as “green horns” we considering ourselves old hands by this time, having had just four days more experience than they, consequently we were pretty free with our advice to them. We were glad they arrived however, as 150 extra men meant less work all round, so that we were able to actually snatch a couple of hours sorely needed sleep as we lay in the bottom of the trenches. That day I managed to get six hours sleep at intervals, the first I had had for five days and nights! and there is no doubt that we all showed wonderful endurance in that respect. On the fifth night in we were subjected to a terrible bombardment, during which several men were killed and wounded.

One shell went right into the headquarters of the 19th battalion about 25 yards to our left so that Bert Allen, Harold Mitchell and I had to go to the rescue of the occupants. We found that four officers had been badly wounded and a batman was killed, so we straightaway assisted them down to the dressing station nearby. I carried an officer named Lieut. Swallow into our trench and there found that he had been badly hit in the right leg and I roughly bandaged it up for him and then got him down to the dressing station.

But incidents like that were occurring every day, and we soon became hardened to scenes of bloodshed and dead and dying men and I must say we had to become callous to a certain extent as otherwise we should have probably gone mad.

Next morning, the shelling dwindled down to normal and the weather being beautifully warm and fine, and not having any special fatigue work to do we lay down in the bottom of the trench and simply gazed at the blue sky above, listening to the shells screeching and whining as they flew to and from an endless succession of hatefulness. Some used to make a noise like trams in the distance, others whined and moaned while the smaller shells we used to call “Whizz bangs” came with a sudden hissing sound and burst before we had time to realise that they were coming. If it were possible to single out one shell more than another which caused us the most fear, I should give the palm to the German 5.9 which the troops used to call the “Jack Johnson” partly on account of the black smoke and the force with which it burst and partly because it was supposed to have a big punch when it burst close to us. It used to cause most of the casualties and had a more or less perpendicular burst sending a spout of earth and debris up into the air and had hardly any lateral burst to speak of, but if it burst in a trench it generally did a lot of damage. Later on this gun was standardised by the Germans and the shell was improved so as to give it a lateral burst, thus making it even a more terrible weapon.

During the battle of Pozieres, or in fact during the whole of the Somme battle, of which Pozieres was only the Australian portion, the shell fire was terrific and exceeded in weight of metal used, even that ghastly battle of Verdun. At least, this is the opinion of the French officers in charge of the .75’s field guns who were aiding the British artillery during the operations. Aeroplanes were always up in great numbers, observing and photographing, fighting and manoeuvring, and many were the thrilling episodes we witnessed from our trenches below, between bursts of artillery fire, when things were quieter than usual. The planes went about their duties in the air all the while the battle raged below, superbly contemptuous of enemy anti-aircraft fire and enemy planes whom they drove from the field whenever opportunity offered and I must say that, at this stage, our air force had complete mastery of the air, the German planes very seldom appearing in our territory unless they flew at a great height where they could not do much damage.

Two more days went by and we were still in the line, during which we snatched what rest we could between fatigues. Every night for three successive nights, our company filed up the support and communication trenches as soon as it was dark, into the front line which was held by A, B and D companies and from thence we were taken out in half dozens into No Mans Land about a hundred yards from the German line and there stealthily worked on a “hop off trench”. The job was extremely ticklish, as the slightest sound would set all the enemy “flare kings” sending up brilliant flares, on which we would have to stop shovelling the soft earth and keep dead still in whatever attitude we found ourselves, until the flare went out. Then we would continue digging for dear life, with our rifles handy and bayonets fixed ready to repel any sudden attack by the enemy who were likely to discover us at any moment. However, we carried the job through successfully and after three nights, we had a secret trench dug in the middle of No Mans Land which was to be used shortly as a half way hop off trench in the near future, the idea being to enable us to get as close to the enemy as possible to make the attack, thus minimising the casualties, most of which were caused through walking through the barrage in No Mans Land. Altogether, our battalion held the line in front of Pozieres for 14 days of which I was there for 9 days.

When, on the night of 5/6 August our battalion, under Lt. Col, Ralston, D.S.O., with the rest of the 2nd Division attacked the Germans opposite in order to capture the high ground, including his two lines of trenches and the Windmill which he was using as an observation post. At about two o’clock in the morning we filed up the trenches under heavy shelling until we came to the firing line, which was the hop-off trench we had dug, and there waited for zero hour to come. Our company was in the second wave, and we had to wait until A and B company had taken the first objective before we moved. After a few minutes of intense excitement, almost resembling funk on my part, zero time came and the usual terrific bombardment commenced with a sudden roar from our guns behind, which sent their shells down in thousands on the German trenches and even as far back as his artillery positions.

In a few seconds, the din was such that we could not hear our own voices, even though we shouted, and the smoke was so thick that we could hardly see where we were going. The machine guns rattled like typewriters in hundreds as they poured their fire over our heads into the German lines, and generally speaking the turmoil was awful and almost indescribable. This lasted for three minutes, which seemed like hours, then our first wave dashed out ever the parapet into the hell fire and confusion, into the German front line with bomb and bayonet. Within three minutes, a string of German prisoners were filing past us, as we waited orders to advance, with their arms above them and “Kamerading!” for all they were worth, and it was with difficulty that some of our lads were prevented from bayoneting them as they passed us to the rear. Four minutes after the first wave had advanced, our turn came and over the parapet of our advanced trench we went, carrying our barbed wire and piquets and sandbags.

Onward we floundered through the soft shell torn ground, our puttees and clothing catching the broken barbed wire now stumbling into shell holes, now just narrowly escaping a shell burst just alongside, over the numerous dead men and on into the German second line, where we did not find a solitary live German. The barrage by this time had shifted further back, but it had been so concentrated whilst it lasted, on the German first and second lines, that there was scarcely any trace left of them. I must say that we had an easy victory. Personally, did not see a live German, although dozens of dead ones were lying about in what was left of their trenches.

Our objective being taken, the next thing was to consolidate before the Germans should counterattack us. Therefore, we feverishly set to work in deepening our trenches and building up the parapets to meet the expected attach. However, although we took every precaution and dug our trench over six feet deep during the remainder of the night and formed defensive posts and mounted machine guns, etc. nothing happened all that night and we were able to consolidate our gains in comparative quiet.

During the advance, we lost rather heavily, our company alone losing about thirty out of 140 men. As soon as it became dawn, we inspected our position and I found that I was detached from the rest of my battalion, and that with three or four other 20th Battalion men, I was mixed with men of the 18th Battalion and were in a German communication trench, between his first and second lines. Also, I saw that there was an officer to take charge of us, who was the first one I had seen since the attack began a few hours previously. We also found that we had captured the Windmill with its big dug outs and presently had the satisfaction of seeing about 300 Germans surrender to the men on our immediate left and go under escort to the rear.

If we thought that the German artillery intended to leave us alone during the day, we were mistaken, because, as soon as it became light enough, their artillery commenced a desultory bombardment of our position with heavy shells causing great havoc to our trenches and inflicting numerous casualties. During that day, I was buried twice and was hauled out again on each occasion. A shell lobbed in the trench a little to my right and wiped out a post of six men there, and during that day I had dozens of narrow escapes, and the wonder is that I am here at all to tell the tale. The men who were unfortunate enough to be wounded had to remain in the trenches, as there was no means of getting them to the rear, and numbers of badly wounded just simply died for want of attention. One man on my left, was badly shell shocked and the poor beggar had to endure the agony of shellfire all day long, until he was taken out at nightfall, an absolute wreck.

We endured this kind of concentrated misery under terrific fire from the enemy guns until midnight when we were rather pleasantly surprised to be relieved by a battalion of the 4th Division. Once relieved, we made our way back under heavy fire all the way, to our old front line, where we were all collected in batches and led back to the scene of our old support line. The trenches were very congested, with men going up and down and on reaching the junction of Pioneer trench and Copse alley, I stepped aside and waited to see if Bert Allen and Billy Hookham were behind. Finally they arrived, much to my pleasure at seeing them safe, and we decided to risk it and go down to the rear by following a track overland rather than struggle down the overfull trenches.

We had not gone two hundred yards when a shell fell just behind us and a piece hit Billy Hookham. Allen and I immediately jumped down into the trench we were following, not noticing at the moment that Hookham was hit. On looking around to see if Hookham was with us, we found he was not and could just make him out, by the light of a burning dump of mills bombs which were exploding one by one at the time, lying half in and half out of a shell hole on the track we were following.

Allen, being behind me was the first out of the trench to go to his assistance, when another shell burst on the track and mortally wounded him just as he was walking forward to where Hookham lay. He, poor fellow, staggered back into the trench where he died in my arms within two minutes, having practically given his life in an attempt to save a friend. It was a terrible shock to be robbed suddenly of two staunch chums within five minutes of each other, and it was some minutes before I recovered sufficiently to remember Hookham lying out on the track.

A stretcher bearer was passing at the moment, and I asked his assistance in getting him in and between us we managed to carry him into the trench without being hit by the flying pieces of bomb from the burning dump, there applied a field dressing to a bad wound in the head. We then took him down to the dressing station and next day he was sent down to Boulogne Hospital, where unfortunately he died of concussion of the brain, much to my sorrow, as he was a splendid young fellow, always bright and cheerful, and a great friend of mine.

In the morning, I made my way down to Sausage Gully, and there had two good feeds, one after another, and snatched two hours sleep. When I woke up, I went to the cook house to get some more food, and was overjoyed to see Harold Mitchell doing the same for himself. He was greatly shocked to hear about poor Allen and Hookham and on comparing experiences, we found that he and I were the only ones left out of the eight of us who formed the little brotherhood in Casula camp. Out of the eight, four had been wounded, two killed and two remained unhurt.

Thus ended our initial experience of warfare. We had passed unharmed through nine days of the most tremendous shellfire and hardship that I think any troops had ever been called on to face and endure before or since, and were now entitled to consider ourselves hardened veterans which indeed we were. We had endured a bitter test and had not been found wanting and personally, I was quite pleased to think that I had not broken down or squibbed it, which only goes to show that no matter what a determined human being is called upon to face, it is possible to rise to the occasion.

The rest of the battalion having gone to the rear earlier in the morning, Harold and I of course had to rejoin them. On making enquiries, we learned that they had gone to a place called Warloy, about 12 kilometres back, so we therefore set out and took a short cut over the open fields until we at last found the remnants of our battalion, safely housed in billets and all busily engaged in cleaning themselves up. We were all in a most disreputable state after our fourteen days tour of duty in the firing line. I was in rags and tatters and had not washed or shaved for a matter of nine days, so that I was most filthy and covered with lice and dirt.

However, after a bath and shave and a change of clothing, I soon looked and felt more human. Our billets were barns, with straw spread on the floors, which although crawling with vermin, made a much better couch than the hard bottom of a trench, so after a meal of stew and tea, we lay down and slept for twelve hours without waking, our slumbers being disturbed with horrible dreams of being chased by fierce looking Germans, etc.

Next day, our battalion was formed up and we were addressed by General Birdwood, and thanked for our great feat of endurance in having occupied the line for fourteen days, and for having finally performed the great feat of having captured the almost impregnable position which was our objective. Out of 900 men, including the 10th reinforcements, we had lost about 600, leaving only 300 men in the battalion fit for duty and altogether the past fortnight had been a terrible one, our battalion having been in three attacks on the German line, and being under concentrated shellfire all the while, without sleep or rest.

We stayed at Warloy for three days, recuperating our strength and were then marched on to a village called La Vicognier, which place we reached at night fall, and there bivouacked under the trees in an apple orchard for the night. During the night, it rained incessantly which made us very uncomfortable, as we only had our waterproof ground sheets to protect us. However, Harold and I got over the difficulty by both lying on the one sheet and spreading the other one over us thus keeping most of the water off us. Next day, we continued our march to a village called Pernois in the neighbourhood of Amiens and here we remained in billets for eight days, during which time we refitted the battalion and were reinforced by a couple of hundred more men. We were bathed again, at the bank of a stream with the aid of canvas baths and a hose, and were given another change of clothing. Also the platoons were reorganised, and several new N.C.O.’s were appointed and by the time we left Pernois to return to the firing line, we were in fairly good fighting trim again.