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Angus Duncan McCallum #6303
16 Btn 20th Reinforcements, 4th Inf Btn

Transcript of Letter from my Great Uncle Dunc to his brother, Alex McCallum (MLA)
(taken from his Repat Records at the NAA)

P13[16]
“1934: COPY OF LETTER BY EX-MEMBER DATED 20.01.1919:

Many years ago our own Australian poet, Adam Lindsay Gordon, wrote a poem on the eve of his exile from England to Australia, entitled “To my Sister”. It began like this –

“Across the trackless sea I go
No matter when, or where,
And few my future lot will know
And fewer still will care.”

It is just about 2½ years since across the trackless sea I went, no matter when or where, and few my future lot did know, but past events have shown, there were quite a few who cared, and foremost amongst them my only sister.

I will try and give you an account of how I came to be taken Prisoner and since.

We landed in England on Dec 2nd 1916 after a glorious passage of eight weeks and three days. We left England again for France on December 28th. We were camped in France at Etaples. We underwent a very severe training at a place nicknamed the “Bull Ring”. Here we commenced all over again, all the drills we had been doing, day after day, for seven long months in WA. This did not tend to improve our tempere; the only thing it improved was our language!! At least orders came to go up the “Line” to join our Battalion. Everyone was pleased to get away from Etaples. We had been sleeping 15 men in a tent, and packed like herrings. Only one man could get dressed at a time as there was scarcely room to turn around. This was the coldest winter they have had on the Continent for 30 years and our sufferings from the cold were terrible.

We left Etaples on Feb 6th in cattle trucks on a bitterly cold morning with a foot of snow on the ground. Someone pinched a dixeyfrom the railway siding and filled it with coal from the engine and made a fire. This was placed in the middle of the truck, and I can afford to laugh now when I think of the 30 men trying to get warm around this fire. I had a bad turn while we were waiting to board the train. I had put on over one stone on the voyage over to England, but the poor food and the hard training we went through at the “Bull Ring” took it all out of me, and I am ashamed to say that I fainted. This however had one advantage, it gained me a good place near the fire all the way up the line. We left the train about 10pm that night amidst another snow storm and had to tramp about 5 miles to the well-known town of Albert, where we camped again in tents for the night. We were now in sound of the Big Guns.

We left camp at six next morning for a 12 mile march with full packs, up to join our Battalion at a place called Mametz. We reached Mametz during the same afternoon after a very wet and weary tramp smothered in mud and wet through, only to find the Battalion were in action at a place called Fleurs, but were coming out next day for a spell.

Next day I had my first experience of seeing men fresh from the firing line, and the sight of them brought home to me that our part in the business had only been a picnic up to then, and had the effect of stopping a lot of my growling. We rested here a couple of days and then went to a place called “Quarry Siding” to do fatigue work. Here we had to build light railways running from the main line to the trenches; there were branches in all directions for the purpose of getting up rations and ammunition, and they were a great success. They were known as the “Anzac Light Railway”. This was all pick and shovel work, and the frost and snow being so severe made it doubly hard. Anyhow I survived it for six weeks. This is the sort of “SPELL” they give you when you come out of the firing line.

On April Fool’s day we left for Baupaume; this meant another 15 miles march. The Germans had just left Baupaume and our big guns were going up, and they had made an awful mess of the roads … (p14[17] con’t) … and the Germans in their retreat had done their dirty work well. We passed village after village reduced to ruins, not a house standing, only piles of bricks and the little Graveyard around the ruined Church.

In Baupaume itself a few buildings were left standing; amongst them being the Town Hall. Our own 11th Battalion from WA were in advance of us, and some of them slept in the Town Hall. The Mayor of the town and the MP for the district also slept there. One night, up went the Town Hall and all its occupants. We marched into Baupaume next day and were put to work digging for the bodies. When the Mayor’s and the MP’s bodies had been recovered, operations ceased, and some of those boys are still under those ruins.

Here I had my first experience of dug-out life, but there were plenty of ruined buildings about and we were able to get plenty of wood and iron, and made some real Palace Hotel dug-outs. We had some very heavy work around Baupaume repairing roads to let our big guns and transport wagons get through; the Germans had put mines in all the cross-roads as they left, and they took some filling up.

We were working just outside Baupaume laying a cable to another village, when over came the German planes and saw us digging. They went back and let their Artillery know, then over came the shrapnel. They shelled us all the rest of that day but no damage to speak of …. That’s where I received my baptism. Next day, April 6th, we entered the support line of trenches at a village called Noriel. This was all night work. We had to keep out of sight all day as the German planes were always over in the daytime and we had to carry ammunition up to the front line in the dark. This was an awful job. It was raining or snowing the whole time and we had not seen the sun for weeks. We had Guides to take us to the front line, but one night our Guide got lost and had us walking about for four hours. I had a box of Gas Shells weighing about a hundredweight, and it was no joke falling down shell-holes one minute and the next up to your knees in mud. Fritz was always sending up planes, and of course he could see us, and then he would send us over a few shells just to break the monotony. I can tell you I learned to speak several languages on those excursions. The night we got lost we nearly wandered into the German lines; we were just pulled up in time by one of our Australian Officers who put us on the right track. After about a week of this work we were quite used to the shells as we were getting it all day and were out in it all night and only had a few casualties.

Previous to this I had been through a course of training on the Lewis Machine Gun (The Suicide Corps) and I was No 2 Gunner on a reserve crew. It was in these supports I spent my first Easter from home. I will never forget that Easter Sunday, all the big guns on the Western Front blazed away for two hours on the Hindenburg line. We were laying between the lines and our guns, and had these shells passing over our heads, and what a row. On April 10th we were lined up and told we were to go over the top. We were shown a plan of the trench we had to take and the way to get to it. I will just explain to you how they generally plan to take a trench. The Scouts go out the night before and lay down a long white tape, halfway between our trench and the Germans’ barbed wire. The party on defence always had barb wire in front of his trench if he has time to put it up, and the Germans had miles of it. The first wave crawls out and lays down on the tape, the second wave of men lay 50 yards behind the first, and the third and fourth wave likewise. Then the Artillery open what they call a barrage on the barb wire. They blaze away at the wire for 15 minutes and they then lift their range onto the enemy’s (p15[18]) first trench while the men get through the battered wire and get as close as they can to the enemy trench. Then all of a sudden the barrage stops dead and in you go and dig them out with your bayonet, if you can.

On this night we left our dug-outs about 3am and got into an old railway cutting. The Germans were 800 yards away. We were told the barrage would open at quarter to five and stop at 5am. I was in the first wave over. I was absolutely the last man on the right flank. We got out and laid on the tape and we were waiting for the barrage to open. While lying there I saw the Jacks attacking a village on our left; saw the shells bursting in hundreds and the village catch fire. This was just at daybreak and the snow was on the ground, and the glare from the burning village and the bursting of shells was a grand sight – but awful. It was fast getting daylight and we had been seen by the Germans and they began to shell us, and we were told to retire. Our Artillery had not opened fire – something had miscarried – and we were told to get back to our dugouts the best way we could. It was daylight now and we made a beautiful target against the snow, and talk about a scramble! It was just like a football crowd going home, and he didn’t forget to pepper us. My number nearly went up on the way back.

We had been carrying ammunition all the evening before we went over, and of course, had no sleep. We had had no bread for four days, only Bully and Biscuits, and not had a hot drink for the same period as we were not allowed to make a fire. The ploughed fields we had to cross were too much for me, so I kept to the hard road and chanced the shells. One landed just about 10 yards behind me and blew me off my feet; two boys ran to me but I got up with nothing more than a good shower of pebbles and mud. I wished I had got one that morning, it would have saved a lot of hard work and worry since.

That night we had to go up again. This time we were told there would be no Artillery but each Company would have two tanks. Up we went to the same old railway cutting, and for me, never to return that way. The whole of the 4th Brigade were going over this time (4,000 men). The trench we were after was before Bullecourt and extended to the right to another village called Reincourt. The orders were, we were to leave the sunken road (as they call the cutting) and hop over at 5 o’clock. The tanks were to go first and mow down the wire. It was to send up a green light and then we were to charge. What happened was this… The Tanks went ahead alright but they kicked up more row than a steam roller. The Germans saw them and began to shell them. I was in the first wave laying on top of the cutting when the first shell passed that close over my head I felt it scorch my neck. It landed fair in the cutting and killed two of my closest pals – two brothers Geo and Sam Buckingham – two married men from East Perth. They had seven youngsters between them. It was now 5 o’clock and the order came – first wave over – over we went. The result was we passed the Tank before it reached the barb wire and it was unable to use its guns as we were in front of it, and then he saw us coming and opened his machine guns on us. He had a machine gun every 10 yards. You know the noise a motor bike makes going at full speed – that’s the nearest approach to the noise of a machine gun I know, so you can try and imagine a few hundred motor bikes racing at you together. We could see the sparks flying off the wire in front and the bullets cracking like stock whips around our ears. A Sergeant fell right in front of me. I went to him but he told me to go on. I went on till I reached the wire and what wire it was – a mass about 10 yards wide. I was looking for a post to climb over when Lieut Aarons, my Company Officer, came along. (He is an old Fremantle Lacrosse player) and a good (p16 [19]) game fellow. He said: “come on boys, we have to get over it”. I used the butt of my rifle to hold the wire down and walked across from post to post and got over without a scratch. The bullets were still whistling all around me. I could feel them hitting the wire while I was walking over it. I could see the boys falling all around. One by one they would go down with just a groan. Once they fell on the wire there was no getting off. They kept the machine guns on the wire and it was getting black with our brave wounded boys, and the groans and cries began to get louder and louder. I can tell you it made a man keep his teeth shut. I went about another 30 yards and struck another mass of wire just the same as the first. I was one of the very few who got through the first wire and I went over the second in the same manner as I did the first. A few of us made a rush for the trench. I went straight to the first dug-out and threw a bomb down. There was a yell. Another boy stood on guard at one side of the door when we saw a German crawling up saying “Mercy Kamarad”. He was badly hit and died soon after. He told us his Kamarad was still there but we found him too bad to crawl up. He had got it in the back.

Our orders were to hold the first trench. The second wave had to take the second trench so over they went over the second trench and gave us time to pick ourselves up and look around. We doctored the wounded German up as best we could and gave him a drink and some biscuits. He turned out to be the means of saving a few of our lives. When I had a look at myself, the corner of my sheepskin jacket was full of bullet holes and I have often wondered since how I got through that hell of lead without a scratch. It seems almost impossible to think that any living creature could possibly get through it without stopping something. I doubt if the Glorious Light Brigade faced anything worse than the 4th Brigade faced on that fatal morning of April 11, 1917. I am going to celebrate that day henceforth.

I had been given lots of good advice from the old “heads” to keep my head down, but one of the first things I did when I got cooled down was to have a look over the top – my number nearly went up for the second time. I got a shower of dirt right in the eyes. I fell back in the trench with fright and said to myself “blind”. When I got over my fright I found it was only an eyeful of dirt. Two of us went along to a bush on the parapet to see where that shot came from. I saw two German helmets just over on my left. I had a shot at one and it went up in the air and they didn’t appear again so I have counted that one to me.

We had been in the trench about an hour and it was broad daylight when along came one of our tanks and stopped right over the top of the trench I was in. I could see the bullets bouncing off it like hail stones, and they began to shell it. I saw a shell hit it and stand it right up on end. At the same time something hit me right inside the left knee. I called one of the boys who was near me and he took off my putty and there was a white fluid coming away from my knee-cap. Looked at the other side but it had not gone through. It was quite a long time before it began to bleed. They told me I went all the colours of the Union Jack so they took me down a dug-out where the wounded German was, as the shells were beginning to arrive by the score and the trench was getting blown about a bit.

The boys that had gone on to the second trench were getting pushed back and the dug-outs were all full of wounded. Then the boys began to gather up the wounded men’s ammunition. We could only carry four bombs each and they were soon used up. Then someone called from the top “anyone that can walk had better try and get back”. Someone shouted up “Are you going to leave the wounded”? There was no answer.

We had 3 men of the 14th Battalion who were tying up the wounded (p17[19]) in my dug-out. One of them went up to investigate. They told him the German s were bombing us out and we had no ammunition, and to try and get back. He came back and stayed with us. Several more came down and said the Germans were all around us and no one could get back. They were knocked over as fast as they put their hands up. My leg had gone up like a balloon and we were half frozen and had had nothing to eat since the night before. I was just in that state I didn’t care what happened. We could hear the Germans coming along the trench, hear them bombing the dug-outs as they came along, and we knew we were gone a million. No ammunition, helpless to put up a scrap if we had it. I said to myself “This is the end of a perfect day”. The boys of the 14th who were with us dragged the wounded German up to the mouth of the dug-out and made him yell to his mates. When they saw him he told them we were all wounded and were good Kamarads, and that saved our bacon. I was the first to be hauled out and my leg [was] useless and very painful so the 14th boys took turns to carry me on their backs. They took us along the trench where the shelling was not so bad and put us in another dug-out, and kept us there till 4 o’clock in the afternoon. We were then taken out and I was carried for about 3 miles across fields, sitting on a long handle shovel, to the village of Reincourt. Our own Artillery was shelling the trenches now and a lot of our boys were knocked out as they were being taken back. All the wounded were put in a large livery stable yard and I saw some awful sights there. Several men died in that yard. We were then put in German wagons drawn by three ponies and taken about another three miles to a Dressing Station, and had to stand all the way. Here we were put into a room about 12ft square with an asphalt floor and were given a drink of black coffee but nothing to eat. Anyone that had a bandage on was left as they were all night. The others were dressed by the German Doctor. We had to sleep on the cold floor without blankets. They threw in a few straw mattresses but the worst cases had to have them. Next day we were given one slice of black bread and coffee. This was the first bread I had for 36hours. In the afternoons they began to shift us in motor vans with stretchers and it was late in the night when the last van left, and I was unlucky to be an odd man, and had to stay in this room all night on my own. Two little French boys sneaked in this room and gave me a few biscuits, and I gave them my collar badges and they were in great glee.

I did not see any more of my own Battalion Corps until I reached Germany. Next day I had more bread and coffee and was put on a motor ambulance with two wounded Germans. We had nearly an hour’s ride to Cambrai. It was an awful rough ride and my leg was very painful, and I screamed all the way. I will never forget that journey. Here I was put into a Hospital that had once been a Convent and here I also met the only decent German I have seen. He was the Doctor and could speak a little English. I had all my clothes taken off – the first time for 5 weeks – and was put on the operating table. He put a syringe to my knee and took out a half a cup of humour and told me in a few hours more it would have been blood poisoning. Then he said “I hope you sleep wrll now” … and I did. This was the third day now and my leg had not been looked at before. It was an awful size and I was afraid I would lose it, but it soon went down.

I saw some awful sights in this hospital – shattered legs and arms that had not been looked at for 3 days, going septic and quite green. I was at this place about five days when I was put on a hospital train for Germany. I had been travelling one night when the Doctor came along the train taking temperatures. I was put off the train with some others at the famous town of Mons as being unfit to travel. I had a bad time at this place. I was there a week but I only remember two days. I was delirious most of the time. We were in a large hospital five stories high, and every floor (p18[21]) was filled with wounded. The Doctors were working from 8 in the morning till 10 at night. I was given some horse flesh here but I could not manage it. I was again put on a Red Cross train for Germany. I had a beautiful view from the window of the lovely green fields of Belgium. It was on this train we first realised we were prisoners of war. There were some German wounded on the same train and at every stop Red Cross girls came along with hot coffee and cake, but nothing for the English swine. We were 18 hours without a drink, all sick and wounded men … how different if we had only been going the other way.

Just 12 days from the time I was wounded I reached Germany on the morning of April 25th (Anzac Day). My thoughts were far away in good old Australia that morning. I was put in Hospital as soon as we reached Dulmen – my leg had been put in splints at Mons.I was examined and put to bed. It was a wooden bed with a wooden bottom. The mattress was filled with paper shavings and was damp and sodden with blood from other people’s wounds. It was impossible to put your head under the blankets without a gas helmet on. The Doctor came around at 9 in the morning. If you had pain he would dress you. If you had no pain, you were alright. There were two of our own Red Cross men to look after us but they were generally in their own room playing cards. The only ones to do anything for us were our own fellows that could walk. English, French and Russians were all in the same yard. I had a young Russian about 17 years old for my batman. I had to smile when I had a letter from you saying the people that were chosen to care for the sick men were the kindest people in the world. I wish you could have seen my nurse. The food here was awful. We had one slice of bread at 5 in the morning, no more that day. A Frenchman brought the bread around and threw it on your bed. He always managed to throw mine right on my sore knee. At midday we got a bowl of stewed Manglewerwels and at night a bowl of black coffee. I was in this ward about two weeks when my splints were taken off and I was told to try and walk. The next day I was discharged from the Hospital. I could not walk without a stick but that did not bother the Germans. I just had to go about but my little Russian found me a strip of a box and I hopped about with this for about a week. I was then put in the general camp and met a lot of my own pals again. We were all in rags and as thin as jockeys. Most of our boots had been stolen while in Hospital and we were given wooden clogs. I can afford to laugh when I look back and think of the sights we used to look, but it was not a laughing matter then. The Russians were dying like flies. Every day at 2.30 there was a funeral procession, and a party would be picked out to carry the coffins to the cemetery. There were always 7 or 8 Russians to bury. I was 8 weeks in this Camp before I tasted a cup of tea. There were a lot of English Tommies getting their Red Cross packets and living well, and they would not give you a crust. We used to cadge the old tea leaves from them and boil them up and kid ourselves it was lovely. It was just 8 weeks before I got my first Red Cross packet of food from England. They generally contained one tin bully, one tin fish, one tin rations and tea, sugar, jam and butter, and Quaker oats. We were supposed to get two of these per fortnight and 3 loaves of bread. If these packets arrived regularly we lived well, but very often we were 3 and 4 weeks without anything. We got a good blue uniform and boots and underclothes every six months, so when these began to arrive we were well fixed. I have my photo in the uniform supplied by the Red Cross. We had a very hard and rough time while we were waiting for these packets. I walked into the Hut one day and an Englishman was frying bacon. I thought that was the finest smell I had ever smelt. I had to go away down the end of the yard to get out of the way of it.

On August 16th my name was called out to go on a working party. We (p19[22]) were told we were going to a farm and we were in good spirits as we knew the farms were the best places for food. The farm turned out to be a coal mine belonging to the Steinkehlen Rheinprussen Bengwork in Rheinland, just on the banks of the Rhine. There were 1,200 prisoners working at this pit and I happened to be the only Australian. There were 600 Russians, 200 French, and 200 English and later on, 200 Italians arrived. This meant another 5 weeks without packets as my address had to be altered, but the English boys were very good to me. They were all fine fellows, mostly regular Army men, all captured early in the game. These men knew what suffering was. When they first went to the pit they, with the French, refused to go below. They were all flogged and stood to attention from 5 in the morning till 10 at night, and were then taken in and given a bowl of soup. They did this for 28 days in the middle of winter till at last the French gave in. I met a namesake of ours belonging to the Cameron Highlanders. He adopted me as soon as I went there and we were great pals. I have just spent a pleasant week at his home in Glasgow. I was not sent down the pit, but put to work on top where they make the coke. This was a task job. Every man had a certain amount to do and had to stop there until it was finished. I had 4 ovens of coke to shovel and wheel into railway wagons per shift. The ovens hold about 5 tons so we had to shift about 20 tons of coke per day. We had to wear wooden clogs to prevent escape. This was terrible hard work and I had blisters on my feet from the clogs, and blisters on my hands from using the shovel, and blisters on my arms from the sun. In fact, I was all blisters. This “Kokeri” work was known as the “Torture-Chamber”. If the boys in the pit tried to escape or broke any rules down the pit, they were given 7 days work on the “Kokeri”. There were only 4 Englishmen working on this job and 20 Russians, and a few Italians and French. We began at 6 in the morning and were taken into barracks at 5.30 in the evening. If our 4 ovens were not finished, we had to come out again at 6 with the night shift and work until you finished. I have seen men there from 6 in the morning till 10 at night, but I never had to go back once, thanks to a young Frenchman. He was an old hand there. He would finish about 4 o’clock and always came and gave me a hand. This poor beggar was burnt to death later on. I was one of the first English ever to work on this job, and the Sentries were very afraid we would escape. They were always behind us. They carry their rifle by the cling over their shoulder, and they had a nasty habit of hitting us just on the hip-bone. I did not lay on my side for weeks, my hips were black and blue, but when they came to know us better they were not so bad. I am bringing home a souvenier in the shape of a broken finger from the butt of a German rifle at this pit. I was on this job for 4 months and then I was given a job on top of the ovens, charging the furnace. This was not so hard as the other job but the heat in the summer was terrific. We had small bags over our hands as everything was hot. We were walking on hot bricks all day and had to tie up our sleeves around the wrist to keep the flames from shooting up the arms. Every night we would come off shift with no eyebrows and our hair singed around the outside of our cap. We worked 24 hours every second Sunday from 6 Sunday morning, all Sunday night, till 6 Monday morning with 3 breaks for meals. We had no Sentries over us on this job. We had an old German Pole in charge and he was a decent old pot. We did much as we liked but still the work had to be done. It was Sunday’s work that hurt me. It was then I used to think of the girl I left behind me and wonder who’s kissing her now, but I stuck this work right through the piece till 2 days after the glorious news came. The only spell I had was 4 days with the ‘flu in fifteen months. The pit did not work Sundays and they had 4 days off at Christmas, and 2 days at Whitsun but the “Kokeri” never had one sleep in.

(p23[227])
The first rough hand I had put on me in Germany was by the Doctor at this time. I went sick one day. I hurt my back shovelling coke and could hardly bend. When he saw me he knew I was not an Englishman as I was very dark. He asked me if I was an African and I told him an Australian. Then he said “You volunteered”. I said “yes”. He told me it was all the same if I was sick or not, I would have to work until the war was finished. He caught me by the arm and threw me right out of the hospital door. Another time I had my hand badly crushed between two wagons, but boss sent me up to the doctor. He tied me up and sent me back to work. The boss sent me back as I could not work. The Doctor gave me a note for 8 days light work, so they gave me a job messing about with one hand. He was determined I would not get a day off. I would dearly like a few minutes with that doctor. Several Russians down the pit chopped their toes off to get sent back to the Lager at Munster for a spell. We had 4 slices of dry black bread per day and a bowl of the same old Mangles Soup, and a bowl of black coffee, but the English seldom had need to touch the German food as our packets kept us going, but the poor Russians suffered terribly. Every Englishman had a Rusky batman to do our washing and we gave them any food we could spare as they had no Red Cross to look after them and had to depend entirely on the Germans. They are an awful class of people, quite uncivilised. They can neither read or write and some didn’t even know their own names – they only knew their prison number.

The French are a filthy crowd and awful Jews. The half of them are pro-German and would crawl on their knees to the Germans. They gave themselves up in hundreds during this war. I have seen English prisoners coming into Dulmen without hats or coats or even boots, while the French come in over-coat and kit bags as if they were prepared for the journey. I was just as glad to see the last of the French as I was the Germans.

Our sleeping rooms at this time were very clean. Of course we had to clean up ourselves. Men would take turns every day to sweep the barracks. When it was finished the Officer would inspect it. If it did not suit him, the men who did the job would be sent down the pit to do another shift, so you can bet it was kept clean. We had good iron beds and straw mattresses [and] steam pipes around the rooms to warm it in the winter. We had a yard about 100 yards square and were not let out. The mine was on the next block. Many weary hours I have sat and watched the great wheels at the pit, head going round and round, thinking about you all, wondering and wondering if it would be over this year or next, or if I would be lucky enough to live to see it out. I never had any doubts what the result of the war would be. The only thing that worried me was: would I be able to last it out. I knew that no God would ever allow these brutes to be supreme after the awful things I have seen them do with my own eyes.

We always tried to be cheerful. Dickens says “it is difficult to smile with an aching heart”. We did many difficult things, and the Lord only knows our hearts were aching. We had a sing-song every day our packets arrived. It was so easy to get down-hearted, and once you went down, there was no getting up. We buried two fine fellows at that shaft simply through worry. Only last March we got news the Germans had pushed our people back to Albet. We refused to believe it. We knew how far back Albert was . We had all been there before, but when some new prisoners came who had been captured there, we knew it was only too true, and the Germans were jubilant, and I can assure you there were some sad English hearts in Germany those few weeks. One fine young fellow dropped his bundle completely and threw himself down the shaft. He had been working at this pit over two years. He is buried in a little village called Moers. We put a beautiful stone over him costing the English boys at the shaft 1,500 marks. If he could only have kept his pecker up another short 6 months he would now be enjoying some of the good things we have talked about so often.

Thackeray says “As the tender twig is bent, so the tree grows”. I have seen the tender twigs being daily bent by toil at that mine. Boys and girls from 10 years of age – I have seen them on a cold winter’s morning plodding to work through the snow with an old shawl around them, their feet wrapped in canvas and stuck into great wooden clogs. These youngsters had to work their 12 hours a day, their fathers and mothers [were] also at the mine. If they did not work the got no bread. How many times I have thought of our own free happy youngsters. They should thank God every day of their lives that they are what they are, and that they are where they are.

A hospital was attached to this mine for the benefit of men who had gone to the front. If they got sick or wounded they were sent to this hospital. As soon as they were convalescent they were sent to work at the mines. If they refused to work they were sent back to the front. A German soldier coming home on leave had to work all the time. If they refused to work they got no bread, and a man losing a day’s work would have to go before the Magistrate. He would send him to the Doctor. If the Doctor said he was all right, he would be sent to the front. If he was too old to go to the front he would be fined. Thus it is all over Germany. Surely Kipling must have lived in Germany when he wrote “I am proud to be British today”.

At last the silver lining began to appear behind the great dark cloud … orders were given “Any prisoner found with a German newspaper would be punished.” We knew there was something happening. We got the papers from the civilians working with us and saw Bulgaria had turned it up. Austria wanted an armistice. The Germans were very excited. They were all very pleased and used to tell us we would be in England by Christmas. This was the news I had been waiting to hear for 20 long months, and it came that sudden we could scarcely realise it. The night the armistice was signed I was on night shift and I did not hear it until next morning. The boys had been up all night celebrating the glorious news. I saw brave men weeping tears of joy that day. Some of them had been working in the pits for 3½ years. We were kept working till two days after the armistice was signed, then we all left the mine together amidst great rejoicing for Munster, and now I am back again safe and well once more amongst civilisation after spending a glorious holiday in Scotland. I have almost made up for all the food I missed and all the sleep-ins I didn’t have during that awful nightmare in Germany, and I am booked to leave England on Wednesday, January 29th by the “Nevassa” for the best spot on earth – dear old Australia – land of our birth. Although I was unlucky to be captured, old Kitchener said “We are not prisoners …. Prisoners of honour, it showed we had been ….. the enemy”. Milton himself says “He serves who only stands and waits”, so I think you brother can say without boasting “I have done my bit”. I must thank you a thousand times for all your kind loving letters and know that these experiences of mine may interest you a little, and hoping to be with you within the next few weeks.

As I commenced this by quoting Lindsay Gordon, I will conclude it also by quoting him when he said:

“And I’d live the same life over,
If I had to live again,
And the chances are, I’ll go
Where most men go.”