The Other Side of the Trench. G. S. Willmott
Читать онлайн книгу.
we grounded and, in an instant, were in the water up to our waists and wading ashore with bullets flying all around us.
My landing was a bit awkward. I was responding to an officer’s call: ‘Hop out and after ‘em, lads’ but I bloody lost my footing on the slippery stones of the seabed, then fell a second time as I stepped ashore because of the weight of my saturated uniform.
Meanwhile, Abdul’s bullets were killing and maiming so many blokes the rest of us were bloody upset. A medical officer recalled a calm midshipman handing him his satchel, “as if he were landing a pleasure party” when he fell back into the boat, shot through the head.
The water became red with the blood and the corpses of our mates were floating everywhere, I am telling you Uncle Harry, it was bloody horrible.’ ‘But you made it to the beach Harry?’
‘Well yeah but that wasn’t any picnic either we were running, we looked up at these bloody big cliffs. Abdul was gunning us down with their fucking machine guns and starting to send their shells down on us. The noise was shocking and my cobbers were falling all around me. All I could do was fire back, but we had little chance of hitting one of the bastards.
They tried to organise us so we could start climbing the cliffs and dig some trenches for some sort of protection, however a lot of the blokes were running each way and that to avoid Abdul’s bullets so it was a bit difficult. We were crawling along the cliff face, which was falling away from under our feet.
Every time we seemed to make some progress, the Turks would spot us and open fire, killing more than fifty of the group that first night. Our officer was Lieutenant Jack Paul, he was a good bloke and cared about his men. He received orders from General Birdwood to dig in and establish a trench line against the Turks. That was easier said than done but we gave it a bloody good go.
The next day it was obvious that we were not going to hold our ground and we needed to piss off to the beach and consolidate our forces. We were crossing a place called Lone Pine when the Turks let loose and nearly killed the bloody lot of us. It was a slaughterhouse.
Gallipoli 6th of August 1915
Young Harry Daniel had survived the first three months or so in Gallipoli. He had survived numerous clashes with the Turks and, despite trying to kill him and his mates, they had earned his respect as a fighting force. He had survived the meagre rations that tended to be stale biscuits and jam. He had survived dysentery, which everybody seemed to suffer and which made the race for the bog a critical win. The only two things he had real difficulty coping with were the fucking flies and the smell of rotting corpses.
Harry was waiting in the trench waiting for the whistle to go over the top. He was checking out his sewing skills: they were ordered to sew a strip of white calico on each arm and the back of their uniforms so that the artillery boys did not blast the living daylights out of them when they were charging Abdul.
‘Harry you all right mate?’ said Alfie Whitecross, one of Harry’s few mates left from the troop ship that brought them to Gallipoli. ‘Yeah just checking out my sewing. Mum would be proud of me. I will be knitting a scarf next.’
‘I must admit I’m just a little nervous.’ whispered Harry. ‘We are all fucking nervous, mate, no doubt about that.’
‘She’ll be right, mate. I reckon this bombardment will be giving Johnny Turk a bit of a shake up. With any luck there won’t be any of the bastards left.’ ‘I wouldn’t bet on it Alfie’.
‘They are giving back as good as they are getting.’ The smell of shellfire was suffocating and the noise coming the artillery of both sides was deafening.
‘I forgot to write Mum and Dad a letter so I better make it back or they will be really disappointed.’ said Harry half joking. ‘Well we don’t have far to run before we are on top of them Harry. Must be only a hundred yards.’
The Lieutenant was moving amongst his men, reassuring them and ensuring all bayonets were fixed and they were ready to go over the top. At 5pm Lieutenant Paul was there with his fob watch in his hand calling three minutes to go, two minutes to go, one minute to go, half a minute to go. Then he shut watch and blew three shrill blasts of a whistle.
Out scrambled the Diggers. Harry and Alfie were running like mad; there was no nervousness now. The shrapnel was falling like hail and they were both firing their rifles as they ran. Harry saw Alfie trip but Alfie did not return to his feet; he had been ripped apart by Turkish machine gun. Harry kept running and was one of the first ANZACs to reach the Turk’s trenches.
The trench was completely covered over with logs and branches and dirt. It was impossible to penetrate it. ‘Come on men we’ll take the next trench’ shouted the Lieutenant he started running again with his pistol at the ready and with his men in hot pursuit.
Harry jumped into the next trench and found several Turks, they were all ready for a fight.
Harry recounted to his Uncle Harry the fight. ‘I shot one and stuck another with my bayonet. I looked around and saw the Lieutenant shooting Turks with his pistol I reckon he must have shot three or four. I saw the Turks running down the end of the trench and disappear; it must have been a cave or a dug out.
The Lieutenant called for Jackie Wilson the bomber to throw a few bombs in. He started to light the fuses and throw them. You could hear the Turks yelling and moaning it wasn’t a pleasant sound but it had to be done.
Lieutenant Paul sent me and another bloke around to the other side of the dug out to see if we could flush them out. The other bloke didn’t even know his name, was in the lead and got a bullet in the eye and dropped like a stone.
I fired my rifle through the opening of the cave and although I couldn’t see, I heard a scream so I figured I got one. Meanwhile at the other side of the trench the bombs had done their job and we experienced no more resistance. We occupied the Turk’s trenches for the next three days, they kept counter-attacking but by the end of the fourth day we could claim victory’
Lone Pine was a significant victory for the ANZACs but at what price? There were ten thousand casualties comprising seven thousand Turks and three thousand Australians. Nine thousand were fatalities.
Harry Daniel along with the remaining ANZACs was shipped out to Egypt before moving on to the Western Front.
From Desert to the Green Hills of France
Chapter 7
Cairo, Egypt, July 1916
Harry senior was playing a game of desert cricket with his cobbers from the Battalion on a balmy Egyptian Sunday afternoon when young Harry wandered up and started cheering his Uncle on. Harry senior was a bloody good sportsman all round. After the game they got together for a chat.
‘Are you alright mate?’ asked Uncle Harry’ ‘Well, we just got our orders to pack up and be ready to move out tomorrow morning.’ ‘Bloody hell, scowled Uncle Harry, we have been waiting around for what seems eternity and you bastards are on the move again.
Young Harry embarked on the troop ship with his mates and steamed off to France, they landed in Marseilles and were then transported to a place called Fromelles in Northern France.
They were allowed to rest for a day then they were instructed to start digging their defensive trenches. This was no easy task as the water table was very close to the surface so the troops were constantly standing in water. They could not go as deep as they had hoped because of the water level so that had to pile sand bags as high as they could without stopping them from going “over the top” when they were to attack the