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Post by Dave Homewood on Jun 2, 2012 14:41:23 GMT 12
I just came across this great letter from a kiwi soldier at Zeitun, which I think must have been in Egypt, in 1915. It comes from the Auckland Star newspaper (which has been expanded on papers Past up to 1926 now!!). Apologies for the N-bomb but it is historical and must be read in that context. Auckland Star, Volume XLVI, Issue 100, 28 April 1915, Page 7 paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/cgi-bin/paperspast?a=d&d=AS19150428.2.61.3&cl=search&srpos=185&e=01-12-1914--12-1928--10-AS-181-byDA---0Air+Force--&st=1CAMP LIFE. NORTH V. SOUTH ISLAND CRICKET. "CATCHING A NIGGER." Sergeant Wynne Chilcott, writing from Zeitun on the 17th of March, says:—"All is O.K. here. Fancy to-day being St. Patrick's Day, and not getting a holiday. I should not have known of the day, except that we all noticed the 3rd Auckland Mounteds Band tickling up every conceivable Irish air before breakfast this morning. Just as I write this (7 p.m.), the Infantry Band is coming along the roadway, tuning Tipperary, etc. We have no dearth of band music here, for every morning before reveille (5.30 a.m.), the 3rd Regimental Band parades up and down the camp to awaken the boys, playing- all sorts of airs, but always includes The British Grenadiers.' The same thing happens every evening at retreat (5.30 p.m.). 'The nights are drawing out now, and it is quite light up till 6.30, so that we think of getting some games going in the cool of the evening. Last night someone conceived the idea of a game of cricket. With a broken pick helve for a bat, two old kerosene tins for wickets, the camp roadway for the pitch, and an old composition ball, we had a great game. It did not take long for about half the field troop to have an innings each. It took on so well, that the South Island members of the troop have challenged the Northern members to game under the same conditions, and teams have been selected, and the match is to come off on Friday evening, at 6.15. I am not sure if any of the players are up to Shield rep. form, but one of the boys last night drove the ball clean into our messroom. The spirit of esprit de corps throughout the Engineers is splendid, as I think it is throughout the whole force. Yesterday we had a great experience. If you please, it threatened to rain, and eventually did for an hour or so, though only slightly. But imagine the lovely sensation of waking up this morning to find rain coming down heavily on our tents. The second drop of rain we have had since our arrival on Egypt. It was delightfully cool for the rest of the day, after the rain cleared off about 11a.m. To-night we saw a bit of fun in the inlantry lines—the boys were tossing a nigger in the blanket, as they do now with any of the natives whom they catch in their lines. It is an effectual way of dealing with them, for if facial expression is any criterion, the natives do not relish the experience. On Friday evening last the signal and our own troop engineers gave a smoke concert in our mess hut, and we all had a royal time. The New Zealand camp as a fairly self-contained little show. We have our own canteens both dry and wet, a billiard saloon, picture palace, photographers, bathhouses, etc. This week everyone has been 'stony' in camp, as we have not been paid for a fortnight. It was anticipated that we should make a move last week, but nothing doing yet. All our boys are absolutely well and fit, and it speaks well for the tucker they get. The horses too are in good nick, although they are getting tired of the substitute for chaff which they get in this country, 'tibbin.' To-night all the New Zealand and Australian Divisional troops have gone out on the old Suez road direction on a night attack scheme, but I am stopping here in charge of camp. It is lovely and cool here to-night—quite a change, as the average here for a week during the middle of the day has been about 95deg. The majority of the units are cutting out any work during the middle of the day." |
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Post by Dave Homewood on Jun 2, 2012 14:48:15 GMT 12
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Post by Dave Homewood on Jun 2, 2012 15:00:35 GMT 12
From the same newspaper issue another letter. These seem to have been written in March 1915, before the Kiwis went to Gallipoli, and refer to the Suez conflict when talking about the trenches and Turks,
NOT ON A PICNIC.
KEEN FOR ACTIVE SERVICE.
"GABY GLIDING" AFTER TURKS.
Private Leonard Suggate, writing to his parents at Auckland from Zeitun on March 7th, says:—"We got back from the trenches last week, and leave here again next week some time. The Turks have run home like naughty boys. We were shelled for a day and a-half, but they did not hit us, although they dropped a couple of shells into the battery just above our outpost trench. We used one of their shell cases for a candle stick. They did not come close enough for me to get a shot at them. I saw them several times, but they were out of rifle range.
No. 3 and 4 platoons of the 3rd Auckland Infantry get a bar each man for the engagement. l am in No. 3. It was very exciting, but outpost duty at night was the worst. Thirteen of us dug ourselves in right on the canal bank, some two or three hundred yards in front of our trenches, but the Turks went home, bother them. I wanted a turban badly.
We shall want a lot more men to finish this war. Turkey will have to be wiped off the map. We were disappointed we were not allowed to do the Gaby Glide after the Turks when they trotted home.
You people seem to be hearing a lot of fairy tales about us according to the papers. We are roughing it. and we don't mind roughing it, but we don't like to see articles on New Zealand Chocolate Soldiers, etc. It makes us wild. We are not on a picnic. The yarn about some of our boys being killed for tearing off the women's veils is quite untrue. I don't expect we shall see Auckland for a long time. I think this war is only starting really. All those fellows from Auckland who have not already left will have to come. Recruiting is not too good in England from what we can gather from English letters that manage to filter through here."
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Post by Dave Homewood on Jun 2, 2012 15:02:59 GMT 12
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Post by Luther Moore on Jun 2, 2012 17:27:21 GMT 12
Great to read.Leters tell it like it is.
What is ''Tossing a nigger in the blanket''?
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Post by McFly on Jun 2, 2012 18:20:37 GMT 12
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Post by Dave Homewood on Jun 2, 2012 18:20:53 GMT 12
I guess using the blanket like a trampoline. he was a local Egyptian they caught in the camp, so the boys were shaking him up a bit to teach him a lesson I guess.
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Post by alanw on Jun 2, 2012 18:40:22 GMT 12
I guess the Gaby Glide was a dance?? Hi Dave Found this interesting tidbit on the Gaby Glide en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gaby_DeslysI find it interesting that our troops wanted to dance after a battle or scirmage. I guess though, dancing helped relieve the stress? Regards Alan |
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Post by Luther Moore on Jun 2, 2012 18:46:02 GMT 12
What an odd way to teach someone a lesson!
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Post by Dave Homewood on Jun 3, 2012 0:09:57 GMT 12
Here's another first hand account of life in the Army in WWI:
Auckland Star, Volume XLVII, Issue 176, 25 July 1916, Page 8
THRILLS IN FIRING LINE.
AEROPLANES AND GAS.
BILLETS IN BATTERED CITY.
PICK AND SHOVEL EXPERTS.
In writing from France, an Aucklander who has since been wounded, gives an interesting account of his individual experience and the general work of the force to which he is attached.
Talking about roughing it, he makes an interesting comparison between conditions of training in New Zealand and the actual experience at tbe front.
He says: "'This is really roughing it, not the namby-pamby business such as at Trentham and other camps. It is the real truth that at those camps our mess of eight threw out more food daily than our present section of ten are given to live upon for 24 hours. On Saturday night, at 6 p.m.. we marched out of the village in which we were billeted for the preceding fortnight. Our packs were full except for oil-sheet and blanket, though our newly issued steel helmets made up in part for the relieved weight. It was a wet night, and the roads were in an abominable condition, in places ankle-deep in mud and water.
For six hours we marched, the rest periods being of little value as we could not sit down owing to the mud. An infantryman's life on the march is not a happy one. At twelve midnight we struck a fine big town, but badly battered. By 1 a.m. we were billeted, and most of us asleep, too tired even to chase our blankets brought through by transport.
I had a look over the building in which we'were billeted, a rambling old convent of three storeys. Many of the rooms were wrecked by shellfire, and were useless.
We moved at dusk the next day and on reaching the fringe of the town, turned into a street of shell-battered terraces, and entered the communication trench to go to the firing line. This trench, my first entrance to the real thing, was deep and well built, and there was a good strong duck-walk above the mud.
Things were quiet all night except for occasional snipers' bullets whistling overhead. Star-shells and searchlights lit up the surroundings at irregular intervals. Towards the end of our journey the trench became a picturesque promenade, passing below an orchard, beneath a hedge and along a ditch with a trickling stream. We passed groves of willows, crossed over a road of granite setts, and then under the floor level of a ruined farm building, to our own trenches.
On arrival we were shown our dug-outs, and lost no time in getting into them, and to sleep, not waiting to remove our boots.
Wednesday:
This morning big guns were busy —a lot of shells being directed on a point 300 yards west, the explosions being plainly visible. The shells make a great variety of noises, one being for all the world like a tram with brakes applied coming down College Hill on a wet day. As I write now. tbe only sound is the song of a lark away up.
Yesterday was a gloriously sunny day, and aeroplanes were out by the dozen. As I am writing, a few minutes ago there came the scream of the gas siren from the distance, followed by others in quick succession, and then our own passing the warning on. We fairly tumbled over ourselves to get our gas helmets on. For three-quarters of an hour we waited, but the gas did not come our way.
Thursday:
At 20 minutes past midnight I awakened to find my mate's hand tugging at my overcoat, and though still half asleep, was sufficiciently conscious to realise that he was calling 'Gas. gas, gas!'. By this time bells, gongs and sirens were making quite enough noise to usher in a new year. The gas again missed us; it did twice later on in the same night.
We were working long hours wielding pick and shovel where the Tommies had not had time to repair and improve. Our working hours are from 7 am. to 11.30 a.m.. and from 1 p.m. till 5 p.m. After nightfall we also work where it would be unsafe to do so in the daytime.
When star-shells and searchlights flash we stop as still as mice under the cat's eye. for movement shows, and movement means a sniper's bullet. A shell came singing past just now, one of the many fired at an aeroplane overhead. I often smile to think of the three weary hours I waited in the Domain mud to see Wizard Stone's flight, which did not come off."
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Post by Dave Homewood on Jun 16, 2012 18:24:05 GMT 12
This is from the Akaroa Mail and Banks Peninsula Advertiser, Volume LXXV, Issue 3477, 23 July 1915, Page 3
THE CAPE HELLES ADVANCE.
GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION FROM PENINSULA INFANTRYMAN
A STRUGGLE NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN.
Private Norman Young, who went in the Main expeditionary Force with tbe 16th Waikato Regiment, gives the following graphic description of the attack from Cape Helles after the lending had been effected at Gaba Tepe: Private Young is well known on the Peninsula, and took part in Peninsula football and athletic meetings. His letter is as follows:
"Nile Delta Hoppital
Alexandria, June 11th
We were ten days at Gaba Tape, and on May 6th the New Zealanders were sent down to Cape Helles at the entrance of the Dardanelles, to reinforce the French and Tommies.
We were taken down at night in destroyers, and landed at four in the morning. We had a spell all day. and were then taken to the trenches and relieved the Borderers and Royal Scots on the left, with the French on our right.
At ten the next morning. Saturday, 8th May, we made an advance under a tremendously heavy fire, and gained 300yds, but lost heavily. We dug in and held on all day, and at 5.20 p.m another order came for New Zealanders to be ready for another general advance at 5.30.
All the naval guns started, and every artillery gun, both French and our own. Our airships were dropping bombs over the Turk trenches to show the warships the range by having smoke all along the Turk trenches. The hills were nothing but smoke and flame, and you could not hear a thing for the noise of the big guns and artillery.
The guns ceased, and the order came "Advance, New Zealand". All you could see was a mass of heads and bayonets rise together. We just got out in the open when we had a hail of bullets from rifles and machine guns and shrapnel. It was a hell. We were dropping everywhere. We would make a rush for a hundred yards and all throw ourselves down for a blow, and then on again.
Here I got one on the side of the neck which was bleeding freely. Dozens were lying groaning all around. We all made another rush. The French on our right could not keep up with us, and we got a lot of enfiladed fire as well. This time I was brought down with two in success on in my right hip. I laid and groaned. There was no cover from the bullets that seemed to be skimming the ground, and I got another in my left hip. It was the end of me, I thought, and was longing for another to finish me. I looked round in the twilight, ahd saw hundreds rolling and groaning, some killed right out.
It was a sad night. One chap could not walk He was singing "It's a Long Way To Tipperary," but his voice died away. He was bleeding very hard with a wound in his stomach I will never forget this night. All my inside seemed to be running out, and I was blood from head to foot.
There seemed to be no hope of getting away. I managed to undo my equipment and got my water bottle out and scraped along on my stomaeh and gave one or two poor beggars that were yelling for water a drink, but the bottle soon was empty. I scraped along among the daisies and poppies back to a place where some of the Royal Scots were digging in for the night. I was just about done and very weak from loss of blood.
Two of the Royal Scots carried me to the dressing station. There they gave me an injection and cut my clothes off, bandaged my wounds, and took me down to the beach to catch the boats taking the wounded to the Hospital Ships. It was a night I won't forget in a hurry, and all who took part in it are the same.
Instead of shrubs for shelter we only had daisy fields and scarlet poppies. It was much more open than at Gabe Tape, It put me more in mind of Banks Peninsula with the fruit trees and green fields of corn, instead of cocksfoot.
We watched the Turks have about 30 shots at our aeroplane one night with a big gun of theirs, but it had no effect. The New Zealand main body is nearly all out of action. The mounteds have gone as infantry now. A lot of us will be ready for the firing line in a few weeks again, and are looking forward to seeing Constantinople before returning to New Zealand.
There are 30,000 Germans mixed up with the Turks, and they are responsible for the determined way the Turks are resisting. There are very few Peninsula boys in the infantry, but quite a number in the mounteds. The attack we had on the Suez Canal was only play compared with Gallipoli Peninsula. Well, as I have scribbled enough, I will draw to a close. Hoping to see the old Peninsula on my return, and have another go at your running events and football matches once mere."
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Post by Dave Homewood on Jun 16, 2012 18:33:13 GMT 12
Here's another first hand account from the time, from the Feilding Star, Volume XI, Issue 2795, 21 August 1915, Page 4
UNDER SHELL FIRE.
A COOL LETTER WRITER
A letter written under shell-fire by Trooper A. B. Mossman, of the 4th, Waikato, Mounted Rifles, has been received by his father, Mr Edwin Mossman (for many years headmaster of. Marton School), of Remuera.
Mr Mossman has received a cablegram from his son in Cairo, stating, "In hospital; well," and has cabled for particulars. The letter referred to is dated June 26, evidently from Gallipoli ,and runs as follows:
"It is 5 a.m. A beautiful morning, the sea like a mill-pond, and rather a merry artillery duel proceeding. Our destroyers have been pumping them in, and the enemy's replies have been landing pretty close to where I am on guard. Bits of lead and shell are falling all around. There is a perfect tornado of machine-gun and rifle fire. I have never heard such a furious tornado before.
One can scarcely hear tho screech of the shells amidst the clatter and spit of the bullets. This high explosive stuff is rather nasty, and gives very little time to dodge. The enemy must either have a nerve attack, or else it is a prelude to a real attack. They are really making things somewhat uncomfortable just at present. Shells to the right, to the left, in front of, and behind my post, all falling within 100 yards.
The water tank I am sitting near is a pretty good protection from shrapnel, but that is all. There are four of us on guard over the water tanks. The hospital ship is lying much closer in to-day, as if in anticipation of some attack.
"Two shells have just burst over the gully in which we are camped, and it will be a wonder if no one gets hit. Something hard landed right over my blankets just then. I can see tho fellows shaking the dust from their clothes. It seems so funny that, half-an-hour ago, everything was so peaceful, and now it's the reverse.
A tremendous explosion—fellows dive out of thoir dug-outs and run as hard as they can in case a shell catches them on the way. The enemy must have a few more guns than we suspect for the shells are falling fast and think right enough. After the explosion of a big shell one can hear the hum of the cap as it goes hurtling through tho air. Yesterday morning one of our men was going along to draw water, when a 12lb shell struck him. Of course, he was killed outright.
"A hostile aeroplane flew over yesterday and dropped several placards, on which were written accounts of the "unsuccessful efforts" of the British, and asking the colonials to come in and surrender, promising them the best of treatment. Just fancy how we laughed. To-night is our turn for inlying picket, and then next week we go back to the trenches again, I suppose. There are one or two stretchers going up the hill now, and six wounded men have just gone down. They look pretty bad. too. Wounded in the head, most of them."
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Post by Dave Homewood on Jun 16, 2012 18:39:41 GMT 12
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