Harry.
‘Strange mate I don’t see or smell any gas. What the hell is going on?’ What was ‘going on’ was the Germans had used mustard gas for the first time. They used shells to deliver it and it was odourless.
‘This isn’t the usual stuff the Huns use. This is something else!’ yelled Harry They continued their treacherous journey across no-man’s land but the officers in charge knew it was pointless and gave the order to retreat back to their own line. Harry and Paddy made it back to the trench having passed countless mates in various states of dismemberment.
The tried to get some sleep after eating their meagre rations of beef jerky, biscuits, jam and a little tea. In the middle of the night Harry was woken by the cries of Paddy.
‘What’s the matter cobber?’
‘I’m burning, my eyes, my face, even my balls. You’ve got to help me mate!’
‘OK, Paddy, I‘ll go and fetch a medic! You’ll be OK mate don’t you worry!’ Harry raced as fast as he could along the partially flooded trench, dodging Diggers trying to sleep in the pouring rain as well as rats and overflowing bogs and other obstructions. When he reached the dressing station he was horrified to find there were Diggers everywhere moaning and screaming when the medics tried to apply bandages. He had seen plenty of the wounded here with some atrocious injuries but he had not seen anything like this.
These blokes had been burned down to the flesh, a yellow festering mess. Harry caught the attention of one of the medics, asking him if he could come and see Paddy. The Medic just looked at him in disbelief
‘Take a look around you soldier. There’s no way in the world I can leave the Dressing Station. If you want your cobber to be seen to, you’ll have to get him here.’ Harry raced back to his mate and lifted him up over his shoulder. Paddy screamed in pain.
‘Put me down… I can’t… just can’t’ stand the pain. Harry tried to work out how to get him back, when another mate, Bluey, offered to help. They lifted him by the arms and legs and despite Paddy’s objection and screams made their way along the obstacle course until they reached the Station. The medic looked around and instructed Harry and his mate to place Paddy on a stretcher.
Harry and Bluey left him in the hands of the medics and returned to their posts. The Medics told Harry that this gas was like no other; you did not feel the effects until hours after the attack. That’s why Paddy was fine when they got back to their trench.
Paddy had received medium to severe mustard gas burns and as a result was transferred to The Australian Auxiliary Hospital at Harefield, Middlesex, England. He received magnificent care from the medical staff but because of the nature of the burns, he was required to stay in hospital for five months. He was shipped back to Australia and took no part in the war again.
The rain did not stop for days and days, making the trenches almost uninhabitable if indeed they ever were habitable in the first place. These disgusting conditions made it almost impossible to get any rest before the British Tommies and the ANZACs would go out again and try to regain the territory they gained the day before. Shell holes were always handy to jump into and take cover from the German machine guns but now they had turned into murky fetid pools with the odd corpse floating and the ubiquitous rats swimming at a frantic pace and devouring these unfortunate young soldiers. This is what the lad’s called ANZAC soup.
Harry was woken by the young Lieutenant and told to get ready as they were going over the top again at 5am. Harry checked his 303 Enfield rifle, which had been his constant companion since he joined this awful conflict. He fixed his bayonet and made sure he had his full allocation of grenades and bullets. He was ready to face hell again.
The five-minute whistle sounded, which alerted Harry and the rest of the troops that the time was near. It also alerted the Germans and they were well and truly ready for the attack. The Officer, Captain Blainey, looked at his watch and blew the whistle three times.
Harry climbed up the ladder and started to run but got hopelessly bogged. He managed to make some headway by crawling through the slime. He saw sickening sights, limbless men screaming in pain, dead men on either side with atrocious injuries but Harry had no real feeling well, not of horror or fear, but a desire to get on with it and do the job. This horrible situation had become a natural sequence of events while fighting this war.
You Never Know Who You Might Meet
in No-Man’s Land
Chapter 2
It was Passchendaele where three significant events happened to Harry. He and his good cobber, Bluey Cooper, volunteered to creep into no-man’s land and try to retrieve the wounded. The Krauts were shelling their defences relentlessly and it was not going to be easy. They crawled out with shells raining down all around them; the smoke haze made it difficult to see but they persevered.
Harry was crawling in the mud so thick that he crawled over a Digger without even seeing him until the soldier screamed when Harry put his knee into the young soldier’s chest. Harry was startled. He looked down only to see one of his cobbers from the platoon lying on his back with a severe chest wound.
‘No wonder he screamed.’ Bluey thought
‘Georgie, mate, are you OK?’
‘No I’m not, you bastard. You nearly finished me off.’ the young soldier whispered; his chest was making a strange gurgling sound.
‘I am sorry, mate, I just didn’t see you. Can you move at all?’
‘No I don’t think so.’
‘I am going to find a stretcher-bearer team, so don’t go any where alright?’
George just looked at Harry through glazed eyes.
Harry crawled off under constant shellfire. He cast his eyes around to see if he could see any medical teams but it was almost impossible through the dense smoke.
He was lucky to stumble across stretcher-bearer team, which had just decided the Digger they were going to take was too far-gone and they would have to leave him. The priority was for casualties that could be saved.
‘I have a soldier who I think can be saved, fellas. Would you have a look at him for me? He’s a cobber. There was urgency in Harry’s voice.
‘Every one of them is somebody’s cobber, mate, but OK where is he?’ ‘Follow me’
Harry crawled to where he left George, with the six-man team following in close pursuit.
‘Georgie, mate, I have got the boys here to load you up and take you back to the dressing station. They will fix you up. George can you hear me?’
It was too late. George Arthur Phillips aged 22 from Ballarat, Victoria, had died and was left in no-man’s land to be collected later when the battle finished. Chances are he would never be found.
Harry and Bluey rested in the trench for twenty minutes and then went out again. There
