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Over the Top
A Digger's Story of the Western Front
By H. G. Hartnett, Chris Bryett Allen & Unwin
Copyright © 2009 Harry Hartnett and Chris Bryett
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-74176-917-3
CHAPTER 1
Marmalade days
In August 1915, Wor1d War I was raging with increasing violence in Europe, Russia and on Gallipoli where three divisions of the Australian Imperial Force, 1st and 2nd Infantry, and 1st Light Horse (the latter serving as dismounted infantry) in conjunction with British and French troops were clinging tenaciously to isolated portions of the Gallipoli peninsula, captured from the Turkish Army. The call for recruits to fill the gaps in the ranks of the units serving overseas, caused by casualties, was insistent. I enlisted at Inverell in northern New South Wales on 12 August 1915, and after being passed fit for active service gave up my job in the local post office. A few days later a party of us left Inverell by train, joining up with others who had enlisted on their way to enter a new military camp just established on the showground, at Broadmeadow, Newcastle.
What a strain it was at first turning out at 6.00 am each morning to run around the Showground and do 'physical jerks' before breakfast. Later on, however, we became accustomed to the new way of life and looked forward to the run and round of exercises in the fresh morning air. In rotation, we were all reduced to 'scullery status', peeling potatoes and other vegetables as well as scrubbing out dirty, greasy pots with cold water. Our food, chiefly stew, was cooked in pots on an open fire, often by men who scarcely knew salt from sugar. When cooked, the food was placed out in the open for all to help themselves.
At first, the bugle calls were a novelty, but we soon became accustomed to them; 'Reveille', 'Lights Out', 'Cookhouse', especially the latter, were soon very familiar. 'The Retreat', a call blown in all military establishments at sunset each day, is a tribute to the memory of soldiers who have fallen in action on active service under the British flag. When it is sounded every soldier not on duty faces the setting sun and stands to attention until its solemn notes have died away.
After a stay of about ten days in Broadmeadow all the recruits were transferred by train to Warwick Farm Racecourse, near Liverpool, to undergo a more serious course of training. Uniforms were issued here and we thought ourselves 'some boys' when we appeared on parade for the first time in full uniform. Many of us had never handled puttees before and I am afraid our first appearance was not a very creditable one.
The uniforms issued to Australian infantry, NCOs and privates were made from Australian-made woollen cloth of a pea soup shade of khaki. The tunic was a Norfolk-type pleated jacket, caught in at the waist by a belt of the same material with a simple, oxidised buckle. The sleeves were loose, full under the arms and buttoned at the wrist. The jacket had a high, loose roll collar and four useful,roomy pockets, one on each breast and one on each side below the belt. An inside pocket provided space for a small first-aid kit consisting of bandages and an ampoule of iodine. The buttons were oxidised a dull black. A small oxidised badge with a Rising Sun was worn on each side of the collar at the neck and another oxidised badge bearing the single word 'Australia' on each of the shoulder straps.
The trousers were made from the same material cut in knee breeches style, with two side pockets and were held in position by strong braces, and buttoned around the leg below the knee. Puttees of the same material, three yards in length by four and a half inches wide, were wound around the legs, commencing at the ankle to end just below the knee; they were held in position by a khaki tape, one and a half yards long by three-quarters of an inch wide, wound around the leg with the end tucked in neatly.
Tan boots made of good quality leather with leather laces were supplied. Khaki felt hats with a wide brim, the left side looped up, had a smart narrow leather chin strap. A large, black oxidised Rising Sun badge was worn on the looped-up side. Khaki woollen material caps with a flat circular crown rendered stiff by a wire hoop were also issued but most men preferred to wear their distinctive felt hats. Mounted troops wore the same uniform as the infantry but had leather leggings as well as puttees.
The Australian uniform was designed to be efficient for work and hard wear but its colour and style rendered its wearers easily distinguishable from the British and other colonial troops serving with them in the Allied armies.
After a brief stay at Warwick Farm we moved on to Liverpool, now a much improved camp, but a good deal of sickness still prevailed, especially measles and mumps. Army bell tents were gradually being replaced by large, roomy, comfortable galvanised-iron huts into which we moved a few weeks after reaching the camp. Each man had a straw mattress to sleep on and a small locker for his personal belongings — a big improvement on the 'canvas days'.
All new recruits entering the main military camps were dubbed 'Marmalades', principally on account of the general dislike of the daily issue of watery jam of that name. Leave from Liverpool Camp was easily obtained after parades ceased, and consequently many evenings and weekends were spent in Sydney, only twenty miles from the camp by rail. Everyone was supposed to pay the train fare to and from the camp to the city but as a rule those going on leave congregated outside the railway station and then marched onto the platforms in a body, telling the railway officials to 'Book our fares to Lord Kitchener'. On one occasion the stationmaster at Liverpool refused to start a train crowded with soldiers going on leave; a soldier engine driver and fireman then stepped forward, took charge of the engine on the train and drove it to Central Station, Sydney, despite the stationmaster's protests.
In December 1915, final or embarkation leave was granted to our company to enable us to bid farewell to relatives and friends before sailing overseas. For all concerned it was an ordeal, although in our particular case the excitement, novelty and bustle of embarkation eased the pain of parting. But how different for those we were leaving behind. Weeks and months must pass without definite news, during which time the worst was pictured and imagined over and over again. Far from the sight of their loved ones they must silently wait and pine for news, hoping always for the best. After leaving my own homefolks I bad my sweetheart au revoir. Little did we imagine that three long, weary years would elapse before we met again.
On our return to Liverpool Camp we were given our regimental numbers, mine was No. 4539, and our company was detailed as the 14th Reinforcement to 2nd Battalion. The term 'Fourteen Two' quickly earned us the sobriquet of 'The Ponies'. At that time pony racing was popular with the racing fraternity, so much so that in Sydney there were no less than four courses — Ascot, Kensington, Rosebery and Victoria Park — which held meetings twice weekly, Wednesdays and Saturdays, exclusively for pony class horses. Events on the programmes were spread over the various standard heights of ponies, one of the popular ones being for the '14–2' hands high class. A 'hand' is the recognised standard measurement for horses and represents four inches. The 'Two' represents two inches, therefore, the height of a 14–2 pony was 58 inches, the limit height for ponies.
The officers who were to accompany us overseas — Temporary Captain Vine-Hall, OC, Lieutenants Waterhouse, Taylor and Pitt — now took charge of our company. I found myself in No. 1 Platoon, under the command of Lieutenant Waterhouse. During the days that followed arrangements regarding our 'daily and allotted' pay had to be completed. Each man had the choice of drawing either one or two shillings per day while on active service overseas, one shilling per day was compulsorily deferred and the balance of our six shillings per day pay would be paid to any nominated relative or friend during our absence overseas, on active service.
The Central Army Records Office, Albert Park Barracks, Melbourne, has supplied the rates of pay for the various ranks of the First AIF, applicable in 1917.
Private and Lance/Corporal 6/- per day
2nd Corporal and Bombardier 9/- per day
Corporal 10/- per day
Sergeant 10/6 per day
Quarter Master Sergeant 11/6 per day
Warrant Officer, 2nd Class (Company Sergeant Major) 12/- per day
Warrant Officer, 1st Class (Regimental Sergeant Major) 14/- per day
2nd Lieutenant/Lieutenant 17/6 per day
Captain 22/6 per day
Major 30/- per day
Lieutenant-Colone l37/6 per day
Colonel/Brigadier-Genera l45/- per day
Major-General 65/9 per day
A 'brigade major' was a major holding an appointment in a brigade similar to that of the adjutant of a battalion. There was no extra pay granted for this appointment. The rank of warrant officer 2nd Class was a new rank in 1917, which had originally been styled colour sergeant.
In addition to the foregoing rates of pay commissioned officers received a 'field allowance'. A lieutenant received a field allowance of 3/- per day, bringing his total daily rate to 20/6 per day and a captain received 3/6 per day bringing his total daily rate of pay to 26/-. Higher ranks received field allowances in excess of these rates — the higher the rank, the higher the allowance.
On 14 January 1916, the 14th Reinforcements to the four battalions of the 1st Infantry Brigade, AIF, together with reinforcements for other units of the AIF, entrained at Liverpool Railway Station to proceed overseas. On arrival at Central Railway Station, Sydney, the troops marched through the city to a review in the Sydney Domain. After the review was over they marched to the Royal Agricultural Showground, where leave until midnight was granted to all ranks. Soon after daylight next morning we marched back toward the city. Even at that early hour our route was crowded with people anxious to farewell us, and many friends and relatives joined our ranks to say a few cheering words as we departed. On reaching the city proper we marched down Macquarie Street to the Orient Wharf near Circular Quay, to embark on the RMS Osterley, a 12,000-ton Orient Line mail steamer. A great crowd gathered on the wharf to bid us farewell; it was a touching sight to witness the breaking of the great mass of paper streamers as the ship slowly drew away from the wharf — a break, alas, for many for evermore.
Launches followed us down the harbour and circled around the Osterley as it lay, temporarily, at anchor in Watsons Bay. At noon, 15 January 1916, the ship left the anchorage; everyone was on deck for a last glimpse of Sydney and its wonderful harbour, as the Osterley passed out through the Heads. Goodbye homeland and farewell to the many happy hours of carefree youth! Farewell to the land we loved so well and to those we held near and dear; before us lay active service abroad on some foreign soil, privations, hardships, dangers and perhaps even death itself.
CHAPTER 2
The voyage to Suez
The Osterley was soon standing well out to sea and the principal landmarks near Sydney were fading from our sight. It took us some time to settle down owing to the bustle, congestion and strangeness of our new surroundings. The bugles announced the evening meal but one noticed that, for an obvious reason, many did not leave the ship's side. My immediate mates and I decided to sleep in the open on the deck whenever possible and were soon wrapped in our blankets after night set in.
Early on the following Monday morning the Osterley berthed at a Port Melbourne wharf. Leave was granted to all men not on duty but, unfortunately, our reinforcement had to supply guards and personnel for other services for the day. Leave until midnight was again granted the following day, giving us an opportunity to have a look at the sights of Melbourne. During the day a large reinforcement of Victorian troops from Broadmeadows Camp embarked on the Osterley. A number of first class passengers also came on board before the Osterley sailed from Melbourne the next day, at 4.00 pm. On arrival at Outer Harbour, Adelaide, about 36 hours later, the troops were given three hours' shore leave while mail and cargo were being loaded, giving us an opportunity to post letters written between Melbourne and Adelaide. Later that day we sailed from Outer Harbour and when night fell the Osterley stood well out in the Great Australian Bight, out of sight of land. Although cold, it was not rough, giving us a chance to get our 'sea legs'. About 8.00 am on 25 January, we arrived at Fremantle and again had a few hours' shore leave, our last for a long time on Australian soil. Everyone had to be on board for a muster parade at 3.00 pm, and about 5.00 pm, we left Fremantle and were well out of sight of the Australian coastline when night set in.
Many privileges hitherto enjoyed disappeared during the next few days, serving to remind us that we were now on active service. At first, the handing of all our letters, unsealed, to our officers for censorship went much against the grain, especially after hearing that some of them read aloud portions of the letter they were censoring. It cramped our style somewhat and for a time lengthy epistles were not the order of the day. However, after a few weeks we overcame this reluctance and wrote as freely as of old. The story is told of one digger (much unnerved by the thought of censorship of his letters) writing home to a pal. After many attempts he finally penned: 'Dear Bill, This a'int [sic] no ordinary war'.
The big drop in a private's fortnightly pay, from six shillings per day to active service rates of either one or two shillings per day, according to the choice of each man, brought us down to earth on the first pay-day. Most of our cash was spent buying extra eatables from the ship's canteen. Owing to the limited space on the decks, army drill was restricted; instead, games were played most of the time, with boxing contests at night.
The Osterley dropped her anchor in Colombo Harbour, Ceylon, about 7.00 am on, Thursday, 3 February. Natives were soon swarming on board trying to sell coins and curios at fantastic prices, while others dived from boats to show their skill in the water. No sooner was a coin tossed into the water than several natives dived in after it, fighting for possession. The successful one held it aloft before popping it into his mouth for safekeeping. For a time they dived after every coin tossed in, but as their wealth increased they became cunning, refusing to budge if a copper coin was thrown, protesting that they could not see dark coloured coins in the water.
About 10.00 am, a fleet of flat-bottomed boats, tied one behind the other in a long line, came alongside to take us ashore. The stench of Colombo Harbour will linger long in my nostrils. One fancied all the surplus bilge water in the entire world had been collected and released in this one harbour. On reaching a landing-stage the troops fell in to march through the city to the British Royal Garrison Artillery Barracks, where dinner was served. Most of us, however, preferred to make a meal off the plentiful fresh fruits available, particularly oranges and bananas. The rickshaw, a light carriage somewhat like a miniature sulky, with rubber tyres, drawn horse-style by sturdy natives who cover the ground at a fast pace, is a popular mode of transport in Ceylon. The diggers soon had rickshaws racing in every direction offering monetary inducement to the perspiring natives to put forth an extra effort and achieve their utmost speed. Our shore leave soon ended; laden with fresh fruit and souvenirs we returned to the Osterley via the same fleet of flat-bottomed boats and sailed from Colombo at midnight.
Soon after leaving Ceylon a naval gun mounted on the stern of the Osterley was uncovered for the first time and manned day and night by a team of naval gunners. In addition, military guards, drawn from the troops on board, armed with rifles and live ammunition, were posted at positions around the ship each day to watch for enemy submarines, said to be lurking in the Indian Ocean. All portholes were darkened and closed, and naked lights were forbidden on deck at night. Nearly everyone now slept on the decks, the heat between decks being unbearable at night. One night as we lay on the deck a flying fish landed amongst us — something must have caused it to make a high leap from the water.
Early on Tuesday, 8 February, we sighted land for the first time since leaving Colombo, a rough mountainous coast on our left, probably part of Somaliland. A couple of hours later we passed close by 'The Brothers', two large, rocky islands with flat, table-like tops, jutting out of the dark blue water around their bases. About 3.00 pm, we were abreast of Cape Guarda fui and on the next day sighted a portion of the Arabian coast on our right — a dry, barren waste. Only one settlement was visible, a little Hell all on its own. No growth or vegetation of any kind could be seen near what appeared to be a group of mud huts. We wondered what life must be like in such surroundings, in the terrific heat.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Over the Top by H. G. Hartnett, Chris Bryett. Copyright © 2009 Harry Hartnett and Chris Bryett. Excerpted by permission of Allen & Unwin.
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