Over the Top: A Digger's Story of the Western Front

By H. G. Hartnett

Harry Hartnett was 23 when he joined-up in 1915 - here he tells the real story of the battles and the boredom, of life and death, on the Western Front in World War I.


 


Australia's diggers didn't go 'over the top' for King and Country, they did it for their mates and their battalion - extraordinary deeds performed by ordinary men. Henry George Hartnett, known as 'Harry', joined the Australian Imperial Force on 13 September 1915 at the age of 23. He saw action on the Western Front at Fromelles and on the Somme, receiving his first 'Blighty', a wound so serious he was sent back to Britain for treatment, in the Battle of Pozieres. Upon his recovery, he returned to 'tour' the front with his battalion - an endless cycle of fighting interspersed with brief rest periods behind the lines.


In this book Harry recalls the battles, the long marches, and the many amusing events that provided escape from the horrors of the battlefront. His moving descriptions give the reader insight into the unshakeable bonds forged between men trapped in situations they could never have imagined.

Over the Top takes the reader on an eye-opening tour of life in and behind the trenches on the Western Front. Harry's book, which has never before been published, is a magnificent gift to Australia.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Allen & Unwin
• Release date: Jan 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781741769173

Book preview

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A photo of H.G. Hartnett taken in Edinburgh, Scotland 1916

OVER the TOP

A digger’s story of the Western Front

H. G. HARTNETT

Late No. 4539, C Company, 2nd Battalion AIF

Edited by Chris Bryett

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First published in 2009

Copyright © Harry Hartnett and Chris Bryett 2009

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to Copyright Agency Limited (CAL) under the Act.

Allen & Unwin

83 Alexander Street

Crows Nest NSW 2065

Australia

Phone:   [phone]

Fax:       [phone]

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Cataloguing-in-Publication details are available

From the National Library of Australia

www.librariesaustralia.nla.gov.au

ISBN 978 1 74237 000 2

eISBN 978 1 74176 917 3

Maps by Ian Faulkner

Contents

Maps

Introduction by Chris Bryett

Original preface by H.G. Hartnett

1 Marmalade days

2 The voyage to Suez

3 Egypt

4 Crossing the Mediterranean Sea

5 The ‘Bull Ring’, Étaples, France

6 The 2nd Battalion, AIF

7 The front line near Fleurbaix

8 The Battle of Pozières

9 Dear old Blighty

10 Back to the front-line trenches at Hill 60 in Belgium

11 Marching on the cobblestones

12 Floundering in the mud at Flers

13 Christmas in the front line at Gueudecourt

14 Freezing in the snow-bound icy trenches at Eaucourt l’Abbaye

15 Easter 1917: the capture of Hermies

16 The Second Battle of Bullecourt, May 1917

17 A return to marmalade days

18 The Battle of Broodseinde Ridge

19 The Battle of Passchendaele: unlucky days for C Company

20 Christmas 1917 at Kemmel

21 The 1st Brigade School at Dranoutre

22 Promotion for Jack Davis

23 Anxious days in March 1918

24 Hurrying south to Amiens

25 Helping to check the German advance on Hazebrouck

26 Weary months in hospital

27 Hopes realised

28 Home

Acknowledgements

Appendix 1: Xmas milestones

Appendix 2: Honours, decorations and ranks of the 2nd Battalion

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Introduction

When Albie and Nola Thomas came to visit me in my office and offered to lend me Nola’s father’s unpublished manuscript, I jumped at the chance to read it.

Albie’s daughter had given him a copy of a book on the Battle of Fromelles in which I featured as the ‘Man in the Black Hat’. It was Albie’s detective work that found me.

On reading Harry’s manuscript I immediately realised that it should be published. It holds detailed information about the diggers’ lot in World War I that I had not read before. This is quite a statement since my World War I library now extends to over 300 books. Harry’s style is engaging and very informative. Mixed with this information are many anecdotes that allow the larrikin spirit of the young diggers to shine through.

My interest in World War I developed over a number of years and in 2005 I narrowed my interest into an obsession with the Battle of Fromelles which was known in the early days following the war as an action at Fleurbaix. I had helped put together a team with the intention of finding the missing diggers from the Battle of Fromelles. The existence of this team played a catalytic part in helping Lambis Englezos’ cause and in prompting the Australian Government into action. The exhumation and identification of these 400 diggers and tommies is now taking place.

Harry’s book was a rare find indeed. Its detail about army equipment, food, weaponry and battles is extraordinary, without overemphasising the horror he must have seen.

I have read quite a number of personal accounts of World War I. Some are riddled with fiction and others aren’t that entertaining or informative. Harry’s account is personal, informative, entertaining and non-fictional.

Harry was born and raised on a farm at Lower Bago, between Batlow and Tumbarumba in NSW. Harry’s wife, Georgina Richards, was from Windowie near Tumut.

Harry and Georgina became engaged before Harry went overseas on war service. They decided to postpone their wedding until after the war. Harry and Georgina were married in March 1919. They purchased a house in Rockdale, with the aid of a War Service Loan, and resided there for the remainder of their lives.

After the war Harry resumed work with the Postmaster General’s Department and later transferred to the Department of Customs and Excise where his experience in keeping accurate records was of great value.

Harry and Georgina were very family orientated and enjoyed their years with their children and grandchildren. Harry also enjoyed attending the annual Anzac Day march in Sydney.

Harry saw his experience recorded in his book as not necessarily being personal but as being indicative of the experience of all diggers, of all units, and his hope was that the deeds of the diggers and their sacrifice will not be forgotten.

With the publication of this book Harry has helped, in a significant way, to achieve his goal. May the sacrifice of the diggers be remembered and honoured forever!

I thank Harry’s daughters Enid and Nola for the privilege of assisting in the publication of Harry’s book.

Chris Bryett LLM (USyd)

June 2009

Original preface

These memoirs were first compiled in the early 1920s from data contained in my daily diaries written each day while I was on active service overseas. When this revised edition was compiled the title Stand To was chosen. This was on account of the significance of the term to men who served in the forward areas of any of the theatres of war during 1914–18. Each day, as dawn approached, and in the evening as night began to set in, every man in the forward area ‘stood to arms’ for a period of at least one hour, at his appointed post, ready to repel an attack by the enemy. These two periods of the day were those most favoured by both sides to launch attacks on each other.

In the late 1920s the 2nd Battalion AIF Association decided to write the history of the battalion during the 1914–18 war under the title of Nulli Secundus, the battalion’s motto. Mr P.W. Taylor, secretary of the association at that time and a former lieutenant in the battalion, asked me for the loan of my personal diaries and memoirs and for permission to extract data from them for inclusion in the history. They were loaned to him on the understanding that as both contained a good deal of personal and private record they were on loan to him personally and were not to be lent to anyone else. Before they were returned to me, some considerable time later, Mr C.E.W. Bean, Official Historian of Australia in the war of 1914–18, wrote to me under the date of 16 December 1931, thanking me for making this assistance available to him. Incidentally, Mr Bean did make use of some of my data. My name appears on page 836 of Volume lV.

These memoirs are a record of my own personal experiences. They record incidents which occurred in the particular part of the front where I was stationed at the time; they make no claim to being a record of events in which C Company participated as a company, or of any other company of the 2nd Battalion. The events recorded would no doubt have been identical with those experienced by other infantrymen in any of the 60 battalions of the First AIF.

The 2nd Battalion, AIF, was formed in Sydney at the outbreak of war in August 1914, and after a short period of training, left Australia on active service on 18 October 1914, with other units of the 1st Infantry Brigade. The battalion took part in the famous landing at Anzac Beach, on 25 April 1915, and in the attack on Lone Pine on 8 August of the same year. On returning to Egypt after the evacuation of Gallipoli in December 1915, the battalion was halved, one half going to form the backbone of the new 54th Battalion, a unit of the new 5th Division then being formed in Egypt. Further service was seen in France and Belgium from early 1916 to near the end of 1918. During its service overseas between 7,000 and 8,000 officers and other ranks saw service in its ranks. The total casualties suffered amounted to 3,460, including 1,205 killed in action.

I left Australia as a reinforcement to this famous unit and served in its ranks for two years on the Western Front, taking part in every important engagement fought during that time. Although diaries were forbidden, I managed to secrete one in my haversack; brief notes were made in it each day, often under difficulties, especially when we were in the front-line trenches. Though brief and disjointed, its soiled pages contain much that is priceless to me and it has been invaluable in compiling these memoirs. The details of many of the scenes and events recorded therein are still fresh in my memory after a lapse of 55 years.

Old comrades! What feelings and emotions are aroused when some well-remembered name is found—there is pride in the association with such great-hearted Australians and there is sorrow when it is remembered that so many of them are sleeping on the site of their supreme sacrifice, so far from our shores! The unexpressed faith they had in each other, together with their unbounded unselfishness and lightheartedness, created that wonderful spirit of comradeship, one of the outstanding characteristics of the Australian soldier. The lessons learnt then have not been forgotten, as the same brotherly spirit exists today in civilian life among old comrades who served in the ranks of the First AIF. May it ever be so and more so.

The following table of AIF casualties extracted from Reveille, the official publication of the Returned Soldiers’ League, of May 1929, provides interesting reading.

INFANTRY

TOTAL CASUALTIES

The battalions which suffered the heaviest casualties in each of these five divisions of infantry are:

The 25th Battalion (Queensland) suffered the heaviest casualties of any unit in the First AIF, namely 147 officers, and 3,743 other ranks, including 1,029 killed in action.

The 3rd Battalion (NSW) heads the list of killed in action with 1,311, followed by the 2nd Battalion with 1,205.

From the figures quoted it is revealed that fifteen infantrymen and flying corps personnel died out of every fifty wounded, against eleven out of fifty for artillery, cavalry, machine-gun corps and engineers.

The formidable list of dead indicates that the 2nd Battalion was a fighting unit, well in the forefront. Its motto ‘Nulli Secundus’, and the reputation established at the landing at Anzac and at Lone Pine in its infancy placed it upon a pedestal—the standard of which was never lowered. Further lustre was added to its proud record by those who followed after Gallipoli to serve in its ranks in France and in Belgium.

The battalion’s battle honours are enumerated in Appendix 2.

September 1973

H.G. Hartnett

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.

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.

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.

On 10 February, in the Red Sea, a trooper of the Remount Section died from pneumonia. The poor fellow was buried that afternoon, at sunset; buglers sounded ‘Last Post’ and a firing party fired a volley as his body was lowered over the ship’s side. It was the first, but by no means the last, burial we were destined to witness during our war service in the AIF.

Our destination, Port Taufiq, in the Gulf of Suez, was reached at 6.00 am on Sunday 13 February. After breakfast we handed back our hammocks and blankets to the ship’s officers. The remainder of the morning was spent cleaning our quarters and collecting our belongings. Arabs were employed unloading stores and equipment and we marvelled at their strength as they walked down the gangways with huge, heavy cases balanced on their backs without any apparent effort. We disembarked about 3.30 pm. How strange it was to be on land again! The ground seemed to come up to meet one at every step as we marched away to a train standing in a nearby siding. Several days elapsed before we recovered our ‘land legs’ and forgot the roll of the ship. The trip from Sydney to Port Taufiq occupied 28 days and on the whole had been a very pleasant one.

3

Egypt

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Part of the Mena Camp showing the 2nd Battalion lines, Cairo, Egypt (AWM neg. no. P00152.020)

Our train moved off late in the afternoon, keeping close to the Suez Canal for some distance. Huge military camps, chiefly occupied by Indian troops lately transferred from France, lay on both sides of the railway line for some miles. Away in the distance the Osterley could be seen making her way slowly through the Canal. As night set in the train line left the Canal zone to head off to the left into the desert. What a dreary sight it was! Mile after mile of never-ending sand in every direction. Later, in the moonlight, our eyes were gladdened by the sight of a moonlit watercourse lined with date palms. Our journey ended at 1.00 am, when we arrived at Zeitoun, an outer suburb of Cairo. Guides took charge and led us through what seemed to be miles of army huts and tents before we reached our destination, the Aerodrome Camp. Here all was bustle, for a number of men were about to leave to join their units in the Tel-El-Kebir area along the Suez Canal. As we were to occupy the huts they were vacating, we had to wait around until they left. These huts, constructed of reed and bamboo laced together to form a kind of matting, were cool and evidently more economical to build and maintain than tents.

After breakfast men from camps in the neighbourhood came over to see if they knew anyone among the new arrivals; I was pleased to meet Harry Beattie of Gilmore and Tom Ferguson of Wondalga. From Harry I learned that my brother Walter had moved out of this camp only a few days previously with his unit, the 1st Light Horse Regiment. Luck was against us as we did not meet again until he arrived in Sydney in July 1919.

Strange sights greeted us on all sides, including a few aeroplanes flying around, the first some of us had ever seen. Everyone was anxious to see Cairo and we lost no time in getting away on leave after parade. Harry Beattie called for me and suggested a walk to Heliopolis, a fashionable suburb of Cairo. The Sultan of Egypt had a residence in Heliopolis and many well-to-do Egyptians lived in beautifu1 homes in this suburb. The buildings were striking in appearance, with flat roofs and small balconies outside each window to allow the occupants to sit outside to enjoy the cool night air. The average Egyptian lived every hour of the night and lay dormant during the heat of the day. The Palace Hotel and the Greek Orthodox Church were two particularly attractive buildings at that time. The former was an enormous building containing one thousand rooms, situated on a fine site near the centre of the suburb. It was originally built as a casino, similar to that of Monte Carlo. The Australian Government took it over and converted it into a military hospital for the duration of World War I. Luna Park, a pleasure resort nearby, somewhat similar to the old White City in Sydney, had also been requisitioned by the Australian Government and converted into a wartime military hospital. The Greek Orthodox Church was a remarkable building with many arches and a dome-shaped roof giving it a most unusual appearance. The many hotels and restaurants in the area usually had a large courtyard with tables and chairs set out in the open air. Crowds thronged these places at night to watch open-air moving pictures as they sat at the tables, sipping drinks brought to them by white-coated waiters.

Cairo, five or six miles distant, was connected with the suburbs by two separate tram systems and also by a train service. One of the tram systems, known as ‘The Brown Tramcar Service’, was fast and comfortable, and the six-mile journey was completed in about fifteen minutes, providing virtually a non-stop run. The regular service enabled us to often spend a few hours in Cairo after parade, and return to our camp in good time. A trip to the Zoological Gardens at Ghezrieh was arranged for our first weekend in Egypt. What a glorious spot it was! Hours could be spent roaming through the gardens, along mosaic paths, through grottoes which often disclosed new, wonderful views every few yards. The mosaic paths are one of the outstanding features of the gardens. Numerous small stones, coloured in many hues, are set on end to form patterns, giving the paths the appearance of a long carpet runner. As we moved about, natives could be seen, here and there, squatting on their haunches replacing worn or loose stones.

Next on our list was a visit to the Pyramids. Trams ran from Cairo to Mena, and a short walk over the sand from the tram terminus brings the tourist to Cheops, the largest Pyramid. As soon as we had left the tram and set out to walk, we were surrounded by a number of Egyptians, all dressed alike in their long, flowing robes, like ladies’ nightdresses, loudly proclaiming their qualifications as guides. Even when we had selected one of them the others still hung around trying to persuade us to change our choice in their favour. Some of them produced references written in notebooks by tourists they had shown over the Pyramids in bygone days. The diggers had also been induced to give them references—which they obviously did not understand—although they produced them for our inspection, as added qualifications of their skill as guides. One of them produced a reference written by a digger, couched in the following terms: ‘To whom it may concern—This is to certify that the Bearer—Abdul—is the greatest thief North of the Equator.’

The guide we selected took us to see the Sphinx first. The huge stone face was anything but impressive at close range, with a badly shattered nose, said to have been caused by an exploding artillery shell fired from a French cannon during Napoleon’s invasion of Egypt in 1798. A concealed stairway or path is said to lead from the Catacombs, nearby, underground to the base of the Sphinx, to connect with ladders leading to the face part. In ancient days the priests were said to have used this pathway in secret when they addressed the assembled people through the huge stone mouth of the Sphinx. It was a smart propaganda move; the people thought they were being addressed by the Sphinx, and they really believed all they heard, being firmly of the opinion that their gods were speaking to them. From the Sphinx we moved on through the tombs of the pharaohs to the base of the Pyramid of Cheops.

What an awesome sight this immense pile of stones presented at close range. At that time it appeared to rise abruptly out of a sea of sand, and had no foundations. Years later, about 1925, the Egyptian Government of the day had the sand removed from around the base of Cheops, revealing that it stood upon a huge square stone platform or base which extended outward some distance beyond the building line of the Pyramid itself.

My knowledge of the history of the Pyramids was nil at the time of my first visit to them in early 1916 but, in later years, I have attained some knowledge about them from some of the many interesting books dealing with them and the period of Egyptian history about the time they are thought to have been built. Cheops, the largest Pyramid, is one of ‘The Seven Wonders of the World’. Externally, it is a solid mass of masonry rising from a square base, with four plane-tapering sides, facing north, south, east and west. Each side at the base is approximately 756 feet long; they rise to a height of about 455 feet and the entire structure covers an area of approximately thirteen acres. The building is constructed principally of limestone blocks; this stone is thought to have been quarried in the Mokattam Hills, many miles away—on the opposite side of the River Nile.