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Friday, 07 January, 2011 10:20 AM
LIFE
IN THE TRENCHES – MEMORIES OF GALLIPOLI – BY AN OLD JERILDERIE BOY
JERILDERIE HERALD AND URANA ADVERTISER – July 7th, 1916
Continued
from Page
12..
The
following is the conclusion of Corporal Bert
SMYTHE’s letter, the first portion of which we published last week:-
The day
passed with out further incident until our tea arrives. Boiled rice and
raisins and tins of tea, both of which are liberally flavoured with flies;
also the bread and jam. Hold an inquest on the rice and raisins and then
bury it decently by throwing it over to Abdul. Eat my bread and jam
thoughtfully. The Company SM appears, “Change
over in ten
minutes”, and asks me for a parade statement. This statement shows that
No. 1 platoon, nominally 50 odd strong, has 13 men fit for duty, including
two NCO’s. We change over, 6 men and one NCO to each post, two men on duty
at a time, one hour on and two off. The off men must be kept awake, though
not watching. The night passes slowly. About midnight a Turkish machine gun
viciously spits out about 100 rounds in about 17 seconds and then their
whole line springs into life. Peer over the top. Little jets of flame are
appearing and disappearing everywhere along our front. Slip along to the
bombs. The throwers are there ready, so return with an easy mind. There is
a steady stream of bullets flying overhead or striking the parapet. Above
the rifle fire you can hear the incessant crackle of the machine gins.
Further along you hear bombs. We do not reply to the rifle fire and our
machine guns keep silent. We sit tight and wait. There are no points in
disclosing your MG’s possys just to get them shelled next morning. If Abdul
climbed out of his trenches, then there’d be something doing but until he
does we just wait. After an hour or so the firing died down and there was
only an occasional shot.
We had to
keep wakeful all night, or risk being shot for sleeping at our posts, or
perhaps get blown up through a bomb settling near one without one’s
knowledge. In protected parts of our trenches where bombs are frequent, we
have blanket men stationed at each post. They have a double blanket folded
into quarters why
? they threw over any bomb that comes over into their domain. We get
roused up thoroughly every morning an hour before daybreak and every one
’stands to’ in readiness till daylight. This happens every morning. After
the stand to we are relieved and retire into the shelters. After brecker
the blasted 75’s or pip-squeaks start again.
A
bomb-thrower in No. 1 Section has rotten luck. There was a hissing scream
with a loud bang, a 75 smashed into the parapet. Couldn’t see anything for
dust for half a minute and then saw poor Charlton lying in the bottom of the
trench. A mate and I carried him to the dressing station. On our
way another 75 struck near us and knocked us over but didn’t hurt us. He
was pretty badly hurt but very cheerful. As he was being carried away to
the beach he said. “Goodbye Corp., I’ll have a good time with the girls in
England when I get out.” Poor boy, he died of wounds. A bit later we got
a nasty shock from Abdul. We have a Marlin gun which fires high explosive
bombs which explode on concussion. One of these bombs landed in soft earth
and didn’t go off and Abdul threw it back. Unfortunately it landed on its
nose on an overhead cover and knocked out three men. Then one of our
bomb throwers whilst manipulating a lump of sudden death had an accident,
which badly shattered his hands. And now he’s enjoying a well earned
spell.
After dinner
a chap who’d been through the Lone Pine tragedy told me a story of those
first days after the capture of the position. He was a little man who had
lied bravely to the attesting officer in sunny NSW, swearing his age as 39.
His platoon in charge of a young officer had reached a very advanced trench
and already they’d lost two-thirds of their men through bombs and
cross-fire. Presently a signaller ran up through the communication and
seeing an officer said “The old man sees you are to retire – the position is
too exposed.” “Oh, be d-----d,” he retorted. The little man was near and
heard “Retire? Retire be d ----d. What about a bayonet charge sir?”
There is
very little rifle fire during this day, only occasional shots by snipers.
Most of the casualties in the trench warfare are from shells and bombs.
Another casualty occurred during the afternoon. One of our snipers was
watching Abdul through 3 by 2 loophole and a bullet came through getting him
over the eye and coming out near his ear. The poor fellow was delirious and
raving, when the stretcher bearers carried him away. A big pot of an
officer turns up during the afternoon and proceeds to examine Abdul’s
quarters per medium of a periscope. He hardly got it up, when “Crack” and
the top mirror was shattered to pieces.
A piece of
broken glass cut his face and the same happened to my nose. That’s the
worst of poking one’s nose where it’s not wanted. The officer remarked “If
I was Sherlock Holmes, I’d arrive at the conclusion by deduction that there
is some person or persons in the vicinity, whose intention towards myself
are not the kindest.” We collapsed and didn’t get our breath till some time
after he’d gone.
(Unable to read the last couple of sentences at the bottom of the page.
Ed.)
That night
my lot were sent to a new post, at a dead end. It was a communication
trench connecting us with Abdul. This trench was closed to traffic at both
ends by a sandbag barricade and an armed party, pending inquiry into its
ownership. Our barricade was about ten yards nearer Abdul than the main
trench. It was also roofed and bomb-proof and as dark as pitch at night.
About midnight a string of sparks sprang into sight and describing a nice
gentle curve, rose up and then descended softly just at the foot of our
barricade. We all held our heads below the loophole till it went off.
Another came over and still another. An officer came up an asked a few
questions and stole back. And then reprisals started and things were quite
lively for awhile, especially when on
(?one – Ed.)
of our bombers threw a slab of guncotton short and it landed right against
our barricade and after he had frightened us to death, promptly repeated the
performance.
The possy was a real hardship because the men had
to remain awake all night and couldn’t smoke. In most other places it was
safe to smoke so long as you lit the fag with a glow instead of a match.
We were relieved about 11 a.m. that morning and while waiting to move
off, got chatting to an artillery observer who was watching the interests
of his battery through a long periscope. “Have you seen our chaps that are
out there?” he asked jerking his thumb in Abdul’s direction. I hadn’t.
“Here, have a squint.” I looked. There were about 20 of our lads lying
about, some only five yards off and others about 20 yards. Most of them
were lying just outside the barbed wire entanglements, where they got
caught with the machine gun.
The time
before that we had been in the trenches we were deepening a portion but
ceased quite suddenly on coming on to a pair of boots. The pioneers we
(? were Ed.) requisitioned and the boots and the owner were taken away
and buried decently. When a certain tunnel was being excavated another
gruesome discovery was made. Whilst breaking through the crust to give a
little light, the diggers reached the surface under a dead man. In one of
our rest shelters a hand is protruding. All this must sound awfully
gruesome but we do not take any notice of it. If we did we would go mad.
After
relating further incidents of a similar nature to the foregoing Cpl.
SMYTHE adds :–“I’ve tried to describe what it is like in the trenches and I hope
that you have not found it too unpalatable. All the incidents I have
described actually happened, though not all in the short time in which I
have described them. THE
END
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