not try to counter attack that day.
Major Jeffries ordered some men to escort the wounded and any German prisoners they had captured to the rear where the dressing stations were located. The prisoners were marched off to Albert where a POW camp had been established.
Orders came through for the 1st Battalion to move off to the left eleven hundred yards.
August 14
The rain bucketed down all night making the trenches a muddy bog; the incessant rain continued on into the day. There was a good reason why the diggers called it Mucky Farm.
‘I am not happy, George. This fucking rain has drenched me down to my stinking underwear. I’m hungry, I’m thirsty and I’m in the mood to go and kill some Germans,’ Dick complained.
‘Well, mate, I can’t help you out with the rain or your thirst and hunger, but I may be able to help you out with the killing business,’ answered George.
‘I suppose there’s one thing going in our favour— the Boche haven’t started up again with their bloody big guns.’
‘No, it’s been a little quiet lately. I wonder what the bastards are up to.’
Just then, their questions were answered, as shells started to fly past their heads. The Boche were at it again.
George had been recently appointed Platoon Leader and now had sixteen diggers under his command, including his remaining three mates.
George sent Dick Ruby and Sam Wilson to hold a large shell hole about fifty yards in front of the Australian line. A large shell exploded very close to where they had hunkered down. Albert was very concerned and persuaded George that he should creep over there to see whether his two cobbers were okay.
‘Just keep your head down, mate, and no heroics. Tell the boys I’ll relieve them in an hour or so,’ George instructed.
Albert climbed over the parapet, and, keeping low, made his way to the improvised foxhole.
Albert reached the hole only to find Dick dismembered with Sam under his good mate’s shattered body, shellshocked and covered in Dick’s blood and brain matter.
‘Sam, mate, come on… Dick’s dead, but let’s get you back to safety. There’s a nice meal and a bath waiting for you behind the lines.’
‘Fuck off! I’m not leaving Dick. He’ll be all right. We need to get him back.’
‘Cobber, Dick’s dead. Nothing you or I can do to change that.’
‘He was my best mate,’ said Sam, with tears flowing down his face.
‘I promise we’ll bring him back, and we can bury him properly. Just for now it’s too dangerous, but when the barrage has stopped you and I can come back and get him.’
‘You promise?’
‘I promise.’
Albert pushed Dick off Sam and helped him back to the line. The traumatised digger was taken to a dressing station where they diagnosed him with shellshock. Sam was taken back to the field hospital in Albert. He did recover and was back with his battalion four weeks later.
The Battle of Mouquet Farm - A Scenario
During the battle, the three Australian divisions of I Anzac Corps — the 1st, 2nd and 4th Divisions — advanced north-west along the Pozières ridge towards the German strongpoint of Mouquet Farm, with British divisions supporting on the left. The approach to the farm, however, was under observation from German artillery spotters who could call down barrages on the attackers from three sides of the salient that had developed in the lines. This resulted in heavy casualties among the attackers before they even reached the farm. Nevertheless, over the course of August and into September, the Australian divisions managed to reach the farm three times, only to be forced back each time.
I Anzac Corps suffered six thousand three hundred casualties and was so depleted that they had to be taken off the front for two months. As that battle dragged on, the Canadian Corps took over from the Australians who were withdrawn on the 5th of September. The Canadians captured the farm on the 16th of September, but were then pushed out by a counterattack. When the battle concluded in mid-September, the German garrison still held out in part of the farm. The farm was eventually captured on the 26th of September, following the general attack of the Battle of Thiepval Ridge by the 6th East Yorkshire Pioneers of the 11th Division who overwhelmed the last defenders with smoke grenades.
1916 - Not a Very Good Year
Chapter 4
George, his remaining mates plus the entire Division, got the grim news that they were returning to the Somme. In November they made attacks near Gueudecourt and Flers, but the wet, muddy conditions made it impossible, and they were unsuccessful. Fighting on the Somme ceased on the 18th of November, in the rain, mud, and slush of the oncoming winter.
Over the next few months, winter trench duty with its shelling and raids became almost unendurable for the diggers, though it did improve a bit when the mud froze hard.
Life in the trenches was never very easy but with the cold and snow, it became horrid.
Albert approached his Platoon Leader. ‘George, I think I’ve got a problem.’
‘You think you’ve got a problem? I think we’ve all got a fucking problem, mate what with the snow, the freezing rain, and the bloody Germans trying to kill us all. What’s your particular problem, mate?’
‘I think I’ve got trench foot.’
‘Do you? Let’s have a look. Take off your boots so we can see the problem.
George surveyed his mate’s feet.
‘For fuck’s sake Albert, how long have they been like this?’
‘A few weeks I suppose. Maybe a bit longer.’
‘Well, mate, I’m sending you back to the dressing station. I reckon your feet are going to drop of any minute now.’
Albert was escorted back behind the line. The doctor who first examined him diagnosed trench feet with gangrene starting to develop. Albert was first sent to the field hospital then shipped to England where he was admitted into Eccleston Hospital in London.
Albert remained there for six weeks and was then shipped back to his battalion in France.
While in hospital, Albert had time to write to his wife, Annie. He regarded himself as a very bad letter writer, but there was no excuse not to write now.
My Darling Annie,
I am writing to you from my hospital bed in England. Don’t be alarmed, sweetheart; I’m not wounded. I picked up this thing they call
