In the Footsteps of Private Lynch Page 3

  The 13th Battalion, a New South Wales battalion that had served at Gallipoli from the first days until the evacuation, split to form a 'daughter' battalion with half of those seasoned Anzacs forming the nucleus for the new 45th Battalion. While the reorganisation of the battalions was a military necessity, it was hard for the men of the 13th, who had survived Gallipoli together and had a strong desire to remain with their battalion and their mates. In the words of the Official History, the 45th had been formed by 'simply handing over two splendid companies' and 'the sight of half the old battalion marching away from the desert camps was distressing in the extreme, not only to the half that was being divorced, but to their former comrades which watched them go.'2

  After they were joined by reinforcements from Australia and underwent training and final preparations in Egypt, the 45th Battalion sailed on the Kinfauns Castle to Marseilles, France, arriving on 2 June 1916. They then travelled by train to northern France, where they went into the 'nursery area' – so called because the frontline there was relatively quiet – at Méteren on 11 June 1916.

  On 1 July 1916, Britain's General Haig launched his disastrous five-month-long campaign in the Somme valley, known as the Somme offensive or the Battle of the Somme. The British aimed to wipe out Germany's reserves of manpower and divert their resources from Verdun, the French fortress the Germans had beseiged since February, severely impacting the French army. But Haig underestimated the strength of the enemy's defences and the first day of the Battle of the Somme is still the bloodiest in the British army's history, with nearly 20,000 men killed and another 40,000 wounded or captured.

  The first major Australian engagement on the Western Front came at Fromelles on 19 July 1916. The attack, designed as a feint to draw German troops away from the Somme offensive, was a total disaster tactically and resulted in horrific casualties for the Australians. In one night they suffered over 5,500 casualties, including more than 1,800 dead.

  While Private Lynch and the men of his reinforcement sailed out through Sydney Heads and into the cold, blustery Southern Ocean, the 45th Battalion was moving towards the front and its first major battle of the Somme offensive. The men moved through Albert, past the once grand, ornate cathedral whose Virgin Mary statue, damaged during fierce fighting, was dangling precipitously from the spire (it was known as the 'leaning virgin'). They continued through La Boisselle, towards the cauldron that was Pozières. Resting for a night, the men watched the terrific bombardment of the Pozières windmill, finally captured on 4 August by men of the Australian 2nd Division. The high ground beyond the village and the sky above was red with the flash of the guns and bursting flares, lighting the night sky.

  The following night, the battalion moved forward, winding through the congestion of Sausage Valley, which had recently been the scene of savage fighting but was now the main line of communication and transport for Australian troops on this part of the front. On they filed, past shattered trenches, first aid posts, smashed guns and wagons and the bodies of the dead. On through cluttered communication trenches, until they came to what had been the frontline: the shattered remains of OG 1 – Old German trench line 1 – below the crest of the Pozières ridge and just to the southwest of the destroyed windmill and the Bapaume to Albert road. Here the battalion spread out to hold a front of about 550 metres, with Australian battalions on either side.

  For the following ten days, the 45th remained in the frontline or the support trenches close to Pozières. By the time they were withdrawn, three officers and 76 men of other ranks had been killed, and seven officers and 334 men of other ranks wounded, a total of 420 casualties. As the battalion history tells us, they came under such heavy and sustained bombardment and counterattacks from the Germans it was a wonder anyone survived. They successfully repulsed the German counter-attacks, but their time in the line took a terrible toll physically and mentally on the men, many of whom were Gallipoli veterans.

  Meanwhile, the HMAT Wiltshire sailed on with a number of scheduled stops – Melbourne, Adelaide and Fremantle – to collect more men, before heading west across the Indian Ocean to Durban and Cape Town. Lynch portrays the voyage as one of boredom and monotony, broken by moments of hilarity and larrikin behaviour. Many of these 'men' were mere boys, full of youthful gusto. They had never travelled far from home. This was a great adventure and they were not going to miss out on the fun with their newfound mates.

  When the ship docks at Durban, the men's attentions turn to the local dock workers – or, as Nulla and his mates refer to them in the pejorative language of the time, the 'niggers and coons'. Later, when they stop at St Vincent in the Cape Verde Islands, they again have their fun throwing coins for the 'stark naked niggers' to dive for. They held no respect for these poor dock workers nor indeed the English merchant seaman or people of rank and authority.

  In these scenes in which the men entertain themselves at the expense of the locals, Lynch captures an anti-authoritarian, almost anarchic spirit, for which Australian soldiers were so renowned amongst other armies. In Somme Mud, it is mates against everyone else, whether it is the enemy, the local black populations, the British soldiers or their officers. No one is able to put a stop to the chaos they cause on shore; when they hit the streets of Durban it takes two hours to round them up from the local watering holes; by the time they reach Cape Town it seems that their journey to the battlefield is akin to a pub crawl. They play poker on board while the chaplain addresses them, pelt spuds at the dapper, cordial Harbour Master in Cape Town, and always manage to make fools of the officers and English merchant seamen.

  For the men, this was a time when they could test those in authority and learn the parameters of military discipline. It was also a time to forge bonds and test friendships. A soldier could quickly gauge whether a mate could be trusted to stick by him, even if his antics were dangerous and likely to offend. For the reader, however, there is something foreboding about the men's pranks, their drunken carousing in port, their careless fun, for we know what these men are steaming towards across the ocean.

  South of Africa, Lynch's ship headed north into the Atlantic, across the equator to St Vincent in the Cape Verde Islands. From there, the Wiltshire made for England. After seven weeks at sea, she berthed in Plymouth on 12 October.

  For Lynch, Bathurst was a long way away and there was much to endure before he would again smell the eucalyptus of his native land. He was heading into a terrible and bloody war he had no way of comprehending.

  TWO

  France

  and Fritz

  Private Lynch was admitted to hospital with the mumps on the day he landed in Plymouth, and he remained there for 11 days. Though no mention is made of his sickness and medical treatment in Somme Mud, we know that on 23 October he was released and returned to the 12th Training Battalion camp at Rollestone to begin his training.

  After the AIF had moved from Egypt, it had established a number of training camps in southern England, 15 to 30 kilometres from Salisbury, some within sight of Stonehenge. Initially the 1st Division had established a divisional training base at Perham Down. They were followed by the 2nd and 4th divisions, who established themselves at Rollestone, while the 5th Division had their base at Larkhill. These camps were part of Southern Command and came under the control of General Sir Henry Sclater, an officer of the British regular army renowned for firmly laying down War Office regulations about the fitness standards and training of men about to be sent to the front.

  While Lynch was training in England, weekly reports were coming in as to the exact number of reinforcements needed to replenish depleted battalions in France. Losses to battalions came not only from those killed, wounded and captured but also from those evacuated due to sickness, those who were sent to attend specialist training and from those transferred to other units. Reinforcements came from the men who had been trained in the AIF divisional camps around Salisbury, generally men fresh from Australia and new to France and the war, or from those returning to the fro
nt.

  Since being involved in the heavy fighting between the Windmill and Mouquet Farm, just to the northeast of Pozières, in August 1916, the 45th Battalion had travelled north into Belgium, to the area west of Ypres. Then they had gone into the line at Ridgewood near Vierstraat to relieve the Canadians and from there on to Bois Carré to relieve the Australian 47th Battalion.

  On 28 October, they and all the other Australians serving in France had voted in Prime Minister Billy Hughes's first conscription referendum. Australian recruitment numbers were down from 36,600 in July 1915 to 6,170 in July 1916 and something desperately needed to be done to keep battalions at full strength. Prime Minister Billy Hughes had spent the early part of 1916 in England, where he had seen their conscription system in practice. Though conscription was politically unattractive to many of Hughes's Labor ministers, some of whom resigned rather than support him, he decided to put the idea of compulsory military service to the people of Australia and the troops overseas through a plebiscite.

  All Australian troops at this time in the war were volunteers. There was a strong sense of pride in fighting for king and country without being conscripted as this, they believed, would change and devalue their sacrifice and contribution. There was also a strong feeling that only men who were prepared voluntarily to enter this hellish world of gas, mud, shelling and death should be there – a surprisingly sensitive thought given that more reinforcements from Australia in the line would have relieved their position and assisted their effort.

  The issue divided the nation and split communities and families, and after the votes were counted, the 'no' vote prevailed by a narrow majority. The troops overseas voted in favour of conscription: 72,000 votes to 59,000. In Australia, the failure of the first conscription referendum had been compounded by low recruitment numbers and a general apathy among potential volunteers. The Prime Minister was, as a result, expelled from the Labor Party and, with four loyal ministers and 19 backbenchers, formed a new party, the National Labor Party, later known as the Nationalist Party. The raising of further troops would depend solely upon volunteers, of which there were only 5,055 in November 1916. The following month, total recruitment across Australia would be only 2,617 men.

  Back in the training camps near Salisbury, Lynch was preparing to leave. He made the three-hour journey by train to the southeast coast of England, where he left the port town of Folkestone on 21 December 1916 on the ferry Princess Clementine, escorted across the Channel by warships.

  Though only a three-hour trip, it was a potentially dangerous one, as slow-moving ferries were tempting targets to German U-boats. It was also frequently a rough voyage. The journey across the choppy English Channel made many men sick, though probably as much from nerves as the sea itself. Little wonder Lynch had his character Nulla comment that the 'ship reeks with the sour stench of seasickness'.

  On arrival in Boulogne, France, Lynch travelled by train to the massive British base area at Étaples, about 25 kilometres south. Here there were depots for the five Australian divisions plus an Australian General Base Depot for other branches of the service, such as the Light Horse. There were also 16 British hospitals and a convalescent depot, which collectively could accommodate 22,000 soldiers at any time. Nearby was the Étaples Military Cemetery, where today among the 11,000 graves are those of 461 Australians.

  Men new to France and the front were subject to further tests, medicals and training and a 'final touch-up before facing the foe', as Nulla puts it. Within the training camp at Étaples was the famous 'Bull Ring', a circular course of training stations that had a reputation for being rigorous and harsh and overseen by bullying British NCOs – men not popular with the Australians. Training aimed to prepare the men for the practical side of fighting and for surviving the frontline trenches, and included bayonet practice drill, trench warfare, 'hop-overs' (leaving the trench and going 'over the top' for an attack), grenade throwing and the use of gas masks.

  The days were long and hard and, for some, a frustrating delay, but if Lynch's account in Somme Mud is any indication, the men of the fourth reinforcement had lost none of their sense of humour or anti-authoritarian spirit. Nulla's mates get their own back on the training staff, making a fool of, and even injuring, the sergeant whose unfortunate job it is to teach them bayonet fighting. But at night they hear the faint rumble of the guns on the front, 80 kilometres away, which must have been sobering. Nulla reflects, 'We were not very interested as we know before we're much older we'll hear all the guns we'll ever want to hear.' [p. 16]

  After 10 to 15 days' training at the Bull Ring and then being passed medically fit, men were sent to join their battalions. Some were sent to nursery areas on the frontline which ran from Armentières southeast towards Lille. Here the country was unsuitable for active operations and both the British and the Germans had a tacit agreement to let it remain quiet, which provided good experience for newly arrived troops.

  Lynch was not to be so lucky. He was destined for Dernancourt – a 'scene of filth, mud and misery' according to his narrator, Nulla – and then the far-from-quiet Gueudecourt. It is likely Lynch's journey from Boulogne to the front was similar to the one he describes in Somme Mud, and that after about ten days' training at the Bull Ring he had three days' travel, stopping in a couple of villages on the way.

  In Somme Mud, Nulla tells us:

  For two days we journey slowly towards the Somme. The train stops at night in pouring rain and after marching the wrong way, we arrive just after daybreak at the tumble-down village of Brucamps where our own battalion is billeted. [p. 20]

  Going by the battalion's published history, Lynch's battalion was in fact probably not at Brucamps. Although there is a brief reference to 100 reinforcements joining the battalion there in October 1916, Private Lynch did not land in France until 21 December, when the battalion was north of Amiens at Flesselles, about 22 kilometres closer to the frontline. This is one of very few instances in the book where the life of Private Lynch and his character Nulla diverges and was probably a simple mistake in dates.

  Australian troops were often billeted in French farms and houses well behind the line. Nulla describes a typical farm layout that has been used to accommodate Australian soldiers.

  Our platoon is in a big shed where fowls once camped before the Australians, part of a large farmhouse. The centre is a great, smelly manure pit round which the buildings form a quadrangle. On one side is the residence, whilst barns, stables and sheds complete the other three sides. The pit is fed with every bit of manure dropped on the farm; rotten vegetables, waste straw, potato peelings, feathers and rubbish of all sorts go into it, to be used by the farmer as fertiliser. [p. 20]

  In France today you can still see farms laid out this way – the barn, sheds and storage areas forming the four sides of a quadrangle. Sometimes entry is through an arched doorway to a paved or cobbled courtyard area. During the First World War, French farmers were not only paid for billeting Allied troops, but for any food they provided like eggs, milk or fresh vegetables. They were also compensated for anything 'used' or stolen by the troops during their stay. Nulla mentions a number of times how French farmers would claim inflated losses:

  Our billet tonight is a disused pigsty, so we 'rat' a lot of hay from a shed to sleep on. The old podgy Froggie farmer pretends not to see us taking the hay. We remark upon this, but a wise-head tells us, 'He sees all right, the lousy cow, but he won't complain for fear that we'll be made [to] put it back. He'll wait till we're moving out tomorrow and then kick up a shindy and get paid for three times the amount we've used. All these Frogs do that.' [p. 20]

  These claims were rarely contested or disputed by the Allied authorities, but paid for through the Anglo-French compensation system.

  Thanks to an especially wet autumn, the battlefields and trenches had turned to slimy mud, slowing down the Somme offensive. The Allies were held back by logistical problems, too. Late in October 1916, the vital Mametz–Fricourt road was forced to close beca
use heavy military traffic had badly damaged it. Surrounding roads were blocked, too, and much-needed supplies could not get to the front. Those left waiting on the roads were enticing targets for German artillery or air attack. Ambulances took hours to travel a few miles, men died in need of medical help and there were fears that the troops on the frontline might run out of food. As a consequence, repairing the roads became a first priority, for without roads to deliver supplies to the front, the men there would have no chance of rebuilding the frontline trenches.

  At Longueval in early November, an attack by a number of battalions even looked in jeopardy because of transport problems. Because the men had been constantly removing the mud from the trenches, they had become too deep to perform the usual 'hop-over', so scaling ladders, which the troops would use to climb out of the trenches, were needed before the attack could take place. But as the time of the attack drew near, few ladders had made their way to the front. Field ambulance horses and sledges designed to take the wounded from the battlefield had to be requisitioned to fetch them. Such a small thing as 600 scaling ladders could ruin the timing of an attack, costing lives.

  The main Australian operational area was around Flers, to the east of Pozières and just south of Gueudecourt; a number of futile attacks around Flers were launched in November, but as winter approached, the offensive was halted. On 18 November, the Battle of the Somme came to an end. The Germans fell back from Verdun, thanks to successful French counter-offensives. Both the French and the Germans had appalling casualties at Verdun, but in the end this frightful battle had achieved very little for either side. French casualties alone numbered 377,000 men, while British casualties on the Somme numbered some 432,000. The Germans had an estimated 567,000 casualties on the two fronts and, in most places, the frontlines had changed very little.