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 As that battle dragged on, the Canadian Corps took over from the Australians who were withdrawn on the 5th of September.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 trench feet. The doctors tell me I got it by stomping around in wet muddy trenches for months.
I’m making hay while the sun shines, lying back in bed between clean white sheets, and to tell you the truth, the food’s not half-bad. Better than the bully beef and stale biscuits I’ve been eating since I got to the front.
The fighting has been pretty intense and we’ve lost lots of blokes from the Battalion. I really can’t see how anyone can win this war; we are both in trenches facing each other and every now again we attack them and then it’s their turn to attack us. There is very little territory won or relinquished.
The land looks like… actually, I don’t know what it looks like. There isn’t a tree alive or a bush. There are no birds or rabbits or any wildlife. The land is pockmarked with huge shell craters and in battle the smoke hangs over the landscape like a dense fog.
Anyway I’m alive and can hardly wait to see you and little Levi really soon.
As you know, I’m not much of a letter write so I’ll sign off with much love.
Your Husband
Albert
‘George, I think Albert’s lay up in hospital in London is the way to go. A comfortable bed, pretty nurses caring for him plus heating and no Boche trying to kill him. I think I should shoot myself in the foot and join him.’
‘Don’t be stupid, Dick, they shoot soldiers for doing that.’
‘ Well maybe that’s not a bad option either. Anything would be better than what we’ve got to put up with here.’
‘I know it’s hard, mate, but I’m sure things will get better when spring arrives. No more fucking snow and freezing winds to taunt us.’
‘Yeah, just flies and lice and more rain.’
‘I don’t know what’s worse, mate; sitting around in this shit hole or fighting the bloody Germans. I think I’d prefer fighting the bloody Germans. We haven’t had any real action for months.’
George and the boys got their wish. the next full-scale engagement was The Third Battle of Ypres – Passchendaele. Be careful what you wish for!
October 28, 1916
By mid-1916, there were insufficient new volunteers to cover the AIF's massive casualties and to meet the British authorities' requests for reinforcements… or cannon fodder as General Haig regarded them.
The Prime Minister, Billy Hughes, appealed directly to all eligible men to volunteer. His plea was supported by the work of patriotic organisations, and a campaign of propaganda posters, to raise more volunteers.
When it became apparent that the recruitment targets would not be met, the government sought approval, by way of a referendum on October 1916, to require men conscripted into militia training to also undertake overseas service. The referendum of the 28th of October 1916 asked Australians:
‘Are you in favour of the Government having, in this grave emergency, the same compulsory powers over citizens in regard to requiring their military service, for the term of this war, outside the Commonwealth, as it now has in regard to military service within the Commonwealth?’
As there were 1,087,557 in favour and 1,160,033 against, the referendum failed.
‘So what do you think about the referendum not getting up mate?’ asked Sam.
‘Well, Sam, I’m pretty happy it didn’t. Here, we are up to our arses in mud and slime being shot at by people we’ve never met and being ordered to salute fucking Generals as they swan past in their nice clean uniforms in their toffy cars. And then there are the pricks that don’t want to enlist, stay in Sydney or wherever, take our girls out and have a good old time. I don’t want those pricks fighting reluctantly by my side,’ answered the recently returned Albert.
‘Yeah, I’m with you mate. Although I hate this war I’d much rather be here with me mates than being shipped back home as a mental case. Nearly happened.’
‘Yeah, it’s good to have you back, Sam.’
1917-Not Much Better
Chapter