Diary transcript of Reginald Harriman Heywood, 1917 - Part 9

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Cornwall and Devon and Browning when that Sparks put in
his head and mentioned that this is where the "Persic"
clouted the stone wall.
July 19th, 1917.
Arose at 3.40 and found we had formed in line
ahead and were surrounded by 23 destroyers and mine sweepers
galore. Talk about ocean greyhounds - greyhounds
are like paralysed elephants to some of them.
Saw the Eddystone lighthouse soon after that
and then we entered Plymouth Sound - the real thing at
last. Why we could see the Plymouth Hoe and the green
where old Frank Drake played skittles before he went out
and put the acid on the Armada. Home and dried! Anchored
about 7 a.m. in Plymouth Sound - took down the sign and
packed up the stock-in-trade. I'll be very sad to see
the shutters up on the old "Benalla" - the poor beggars
have to go through it all again and unload her at Havre -
I like her a whole lot but I'm glad I won't be on hand
when they take the lid off those hides we took on at
Durban - they're in a key near the Padre's grouse.
Had lunch - got busy with our good-byes and
Auld Lang Syne and went ashore in a tug. Set foot on
the Mother land and boarded  the train for Tidworth in
Hampshire.
It's no good trying to describe the journey thro'
Devonshire which was away up miles past my imagination.

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No wonder old B.C. used to get all hit up. I won't try to
describe the second part of the journey either - gentlemanly
instincts again. We got to Exeter all right -
and spent three hours in this most picturesque old spot
but couldn't get anything much to eat. Then we boarded
the bus again and were taken away up to a place called
something or other: then they stuck the engine on the
other end and backpeddaled to Salisbury where we arrrived
at 1.30 a.m. We waited at Salisbury till 7.30 a.m. and
then got in another train which lobbed us at Andover
Junct; Unsaddled again and finally got a train which did
deliver us at Tidworth station - and we padded the hoof to
the Camp - that was easy tho' - the walk is like walking
thro' a Turner oil painting exhibit, only more so, and the
Camp is grand. On the approach of some aircraft, Tom
and I commenced to zig-zag, but he diagnosed them as
British.
But that Salisbury - I camped on the floor of
a dirty waiting room, but I was lucky as I had a threadbare
mat under me. If only the fat punce hadn't got
his epiglottis stuck in his larynx and snored so I would
have been almost happy. They ask you to come 16,000, miles
spend the last 3 or 4 nights attired in a lifebelt waiting
for four blasts and then sleep amongst the dust without
any grub - win the war - these English couldn't win an
argument. Lunch wasn't hard to take at the Camp after

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24 hours - and I might add that if the civs. do without 
food, we don't so far.

I heard one of the men say - from his couch on 
the Salisbury Station paving - "if old King George could 
see me sleeping here, he'd be in a h-- of a b-- worry".

July 20th, 1917.

Arrived at Tidworth Camp and was most agreeably 
surprised. Tidworth is a part of Salisbury plains as is 
Amesbury where the rest of the troops on board went. 
The Meds came with us. Lark Hill and Bulford where the 
big Vet'y hospital is are close at hand. Our address 
is Camp 4 Park House, Salisbury. We are accom^modated in 
a very comfortable hut and our mess room and lounge are 
good - oh. Our O.C. is away, so we don't know what comes 
next - yet.

There is a large Aviation Camp just over the 
hill and there are dozens of aeroplanes in the air continually.

Was charmed with the place till I found Cam 
Burbridge has joined the Big Bat^tallion - poor little Fay.

July 21st, 1917.

Made the acquaintance of our O.C. Capt. J.A. 
Rudd of the Melb. Vet. School and an old pal of Robbies - 
he's not such a bad sort as his gum boots and general 
bushranger appearance would lead one to suppose. He's a 
rank tee-totaller too. Had a heart to heart talk with

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us and in about 3,000,000 words advised us to keep our 
mouths shut and think a lot - hardly necessary becos' he 
hasn't given any of us a chance to get a word in since. 
We are with the A.S.C. under Lieut Co. McWarland - whom 
I knew I was going to hate as soon as I saw him.

We have nothing to do and spent the day meandering 
round amongst the wild flowers etc or lying down 
watching the aeroplanes.

The other officers are men of the first division 
who regale us with the most harrowing tales - how any 
one is going to come out of this mill alive is more than 
I can understand 

The further you travel in this world the smaller 
it seems to get, tho' we do seem a good distance from 
home. The first man I saw in Plymouth was Geo Burns of 
E. Malvern. Close at hand are Lampard of Richmond, Kelleway, 
McCartney, Eric Barbour and others of cricket fame.

Did a bit of scouting in the evening and got 
48 hours special leave for London to date from Monday.

July 22nd, 1917.

First Sunday in camp and we went to Church 
parade - Band and all in the open.

Spent a very quiet day - looking thro' the ads 
in the magazines chiefly.

Wandered thro' cabbage patches and along lanes

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to a village called Chalderton - very pretty and very old. 
Saw old houses and walls that must have been there in 
Billy the Conk's time, and a church with Caractacus sticking 
out of it a yard.

Got on to the track of Roy Gibbons and Bill Tyree.
Their late commander Lieut Mattocks is staying here.

Borrowed an alarm clock and turned in with 
pleasant and awed anticipations of London tomorrow. It is 
now 10.20 p.m., and the clock shows 11.20, the alarm is 
set for 7 a.m., and yet the batman assures me it will go 
off at 5 a.m. If it makes good I'll try and get that 
batman a job as a mechanic somewhere.

Was saddened by the news that Caibye just got 
beaten in the National in record time.

July 23rd, 1917.

The alarm got away well and I left camp for 
Tidworth R.S. at 6.10 a.m. per hoof. On the way I saw 
a squadron of planes doing "sections right" - how it 
would have gladdened old Bill Boreham's heart to have seen 
them. Caught the train at 7.35 and passed thro' more 
beautiful country, a couple of disused racecourses and 
the Brooklands motor track - overgrown with weeds.

Reached Waterloo at 10.11 and per taxi Mr. W.T. 
Treadaways at 10.30 - got mail from home. W.T. showed 
me where bombs had landed all round him - he seems a 
target of military importance, so was glad to leave.

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Rushed off to Reuter's and cabled home and thence to 
Horseferry Road A.I.F. Headqrs: where I received some 
much needed cash, after being arrested at the gate by 
Iris Merrett. Next called on Mrs Larking and had lunch. 
Ron has got an extra bar to his M.C.

Was startled after lunch by a person whom I 
took to be one of the original Ta-ran-ta-ras and bearing 
a strange device which I presumed to be an air raid warning 
Zig-zag^ged for shelter but on emerging found him to be an 
advertisement for someone's sauce.

Tried to find my way back but was badly bushed - 
so surrendered myself to a taxi. No wonder they don't 
try to stop the Germans blowing London down - they ought 
to knock it all down - and build it on some plan.

Did some shopping etc and spent a fortune getting 
taxis to take me back to my base and was then delighted to 
run in ^to Sister Cave - in a white costume and pink hat too. 
She took me to her married brother's in Herne Hill to 
dinner and we had an altogether pleasant evening - the 
first time there hasn't been a steward or waiter on hand 
for 10 weeks.

Wandered into the Strand Palace Hotel at about 
11.30 and met McGillwray from the old "Benalla", we communed 
for some time and I returned to Haxell's Hotel about 
1.30. I had taken precautions to book rooms at two 
places to be sure of finding one of them.

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July 24th, 1917.

Arose at 8.30 paid 1/- for a bath, breakfasted 
and sallied forth, determined to find my own way round. 
Soon abandoned that idea and resigned myself to the tender 
mercies of a goggled and mechanical edition de luxe of 
Jehu. It was a great relief to have my hair harvested.

Visited tonsorial artists, manicurists etc, and 
renounced the sea for ever - except one trip I know of - 
and then provided myself with a sleeping bag and other 
necessaries for the dinkum thing which isn't far off now.

There is still plenty of good food about, tho' 
sugar and bread are a bit shy.

Still kept running into friends, so London isn't 
so big, is it?

Dropped into "Zig-zag" at the London Hippodrome. 
Geo Robey & Co. Theatres are the one thing Londoners know 
something about. After collecting purchases etc, felt 
about pet^ered out, so dined at Haxells and spent a quiet 
evening on trams etc out in the suburbs.

St. Pauls, Westminster, Parlt. etc I saw only in 
the distance but will enquire into them next time. 
Old! London's that old that you can't tell whether the 
buildings are falling down or going up, and they everyone 
of them look as tho' they've been lately bombed. 
Before turning in I went into the Strand Palace and 
inquired after Mr. Blob but he hadn't been there for 
some weeks.

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July 25th, 1917.

Returned from Waterloo to Tidworth a poorer and 
a tireder man. Made an unostentatious entrance to camp 
some 5 hours late and then improved the shining hour by 
being inoculated again - Paratyphoid this time.

I got switched on wrong when I said I was going to 
hate the Lieut: Col: - he isn't at all a bad sort when 
you can keep that comic opera bushranger Steele Rudd man 
away. He's the incompatible in the scrip but then its 
not all his fault-he admits that he was sunstruck when 
a mere child - hasn't been the same since the mangle fell 
on him.

I got back in the midst of a glorious dust up - 
it was just fierce. Tuck had gone off on the bushranger's 
horse - and he seemed to think Robbie was responsible - 
at any rate. I could hear them swearing at one another 
thro' Rudd's door and some five rooms away.

Altogether it was a sad day and Tuck got struck 
up and robbed when he returned. Then the blighter accosted 
me- blood in his eye too - and greeted me with the news 
that I am to be ostracised at Lark Hill for 10 days in 
charge of the R.B.A.A. relieving the V.O. there. The said 
V.O. is one Leitch, who I am given to understand is somewhat 
eccentric, decidedly blind and whose scholarly attainments 
are negligible. Coldwater Leitch he goes by the 
name of - all this from "don't talk much but think double".

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Altogether the outlook is trimmed with ultramarine.

July 26th, 1917.

Arose tardily and unwillingly - result of 
London and Paratyphosus A bugs.

Called on the meds and found Gary and DeLacy 
just returned from Scotland where they had seen inter alia 
the Grand Fleet - reminds me of E.A. Connelly.

Returned to find a billet-doux requiring me to 
toe the carpet before the Lt.Col: I could see the hand 
of Rudd in that.

Called on the old man after lunch - and he asked 
me why I was a.w.l. I didn't quite know except that I 
wasn't there and begged to point out that I could only 
be destroyed or sent home - the first a national calamity 
and the latter a godsend. The old Sport regarded this 
simple elucidation as highly satisfactory and advised me 
to apply for another five days leave immediately. How's 
that you Rudd? with the gum boots and the hard boiled 
brain.

Set out for Lark Hill and its some camp. On the 
way you pass thro' the N.Z. and Canadian lines and there 
are huts and camps as far as the eye can see.

Reported to the O.C. camp Lt. Col O'Mahoney and 
one of the best and soon made the acquaintance of my predecessor. 
He's one of those ruddy little Scotchmen - 
in a tight uniform and a bath of perspiration all the time

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and I'd rather have a whole pond of him than one Rudd. 
It took him 10 minutes to explain how simple everything is - 
only about 800 horses, no drugs - no instruments - no men 
no nothing but mange and sore heels etc, and then he buzzed 
off with a large brown paper parcel under his arm and his 
immense camera round his neck - for Scotland.

My sway extends over the R.B.A.A. here, the A.S.C 
at Durrington and the A.S.C. at Rolestone. Business was 
brisk and I was called at once to a case which I take to 
be a fracture of the tuber-ischii.

Had dinner in the mess with about 50 other 
officers - wrote some letters and turned in.

Coldwater is evidently a man of discriminating 
habits and has comfy quarters and a good library which 
I shall patronize largely.

July 27th, 1917.

It's good to have something to do for one's 
living again and I ran thro' the horses this morn and 
packed one or two off to the hospital.

This afternoon the Col. kindly placed one of his 
horses at my disposal and I ran up to Rolestone and 
Durrington. The said mount is a game showy little chestnut 
and has all the generous eagerness which is a horse's 
crowning glory and makes me regard him as God's kindest 
gift to man.

You ought to see the groom tho' - one Micky