Diary transcript of Reginald Harriman Heywood, 1917 -1918 - Part 9

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Messines came out at Hyde Park Corner Ploegsteert Wood. I rode 

on a bit and found poor old Cam Burbidge's grave in the Strand

Military Cemetary (28.V.19 d o.s. 25) The cemetary has been

knocked about a good deal, but fortunately Cam's grave was intact

with its deal cross and identification.

After the War the spot will be a very beautiful one,

especially in Spring and Summer.

The famous Catacombs is a most dreary and desolate place,

reeking with gas and in a state of destruction that would satisfy

even Fritz.

By the way the 2nd Aus. Div. are holding that sector.

I left my little silver cross and gold boomerang hanging on 

the cross but will get the Pioneers to make me a nice cross.

Wonder how Arthur and Co. are. Fritz starting plastering Bde.

Hqrs. with 5.9s yesterday.

What with salvoes from our own numerous 9.2s and an occasional

Fritz H.E. shrapnel I made a detour home round by.

Armentieres. Saw on the way the spot where General Holmes was    

killed. Mr. Holman (N.S.W.) was with him at the time.

21.1.18. Gee! last night a man came in here smoking a cigar - such an

unusual smell that I asked him if his pocket was on fire which made

him most indignant and he hastily assured me that it was a good

cigar and further he got it at Divvy. I had only to ask him who

threw it away to goad him into asking me to sample one which I 

hastily did. It was no Muria but passing fair.

The only other event worth chronicling was the advent of an

officious sanitary expert who wanted to know what we proposed doing

with a heap of manure which the tommies have allowed to collect

apparently for the last 18 months. I explained that our own daily

stable refuse was receiving our earnest consideration and the benefit

of a rough burial service once per diem - but as to the other

accumulation of ages we were forced to remain mute and had absolutely

run out of proposals which might meet the case. It didn't 

sound good to our worthy friend, but that's where it stands.

Darkie has done me quite proudly to-day but if he wouldn't wear

that air of expecting the whole scheme of culinary operations to

break down without further notice, I'd be much happier.

22.1.18. Still holding the fort and getting no livelier quickly. Last 

night was the first clear night we have had and for 3 hours I heard

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our bombers going over to Fritz without hearing a Boche: think

he must have some friends on this village.

There seemed to be a new machine among our 'planes. I wonder

if the new Handley Pages have come to light, they carry 2½ tons

of bombs when fully loaded.

I read the other day where some correspondent had a brain wave

and said the thing that impressed him most of all on the front was

the deathly silences. I wonder what part of the front he was on.

A lot of things have impressed me, most and among them is the

absolute darkness that we have had to feel our way around in for the 

last 8 months. The imagination balks at what it will be like to

walk down a lighted street again.

Again I join with the poets and admit that nature is a beautiful

thing, but I am strong for the improvements introduced by Thos.

A. Edison & Co. I have found the worthy Jimmie has an acetylene

lamp and since I've been here as soon as its dusk I seal up the place

and turn her full on and gaze at that giddy little white light till

I can't see for looking.

Yes, its a beautiful world but in future I'll never want my

nature unadorned.

23.1.18. Nothing doing, so went out and shot a couple of horses before

breakfast just to keep my eye in. That's one thing about our job -

there isn't any coroner.

Tom Tucker informs me, that our old friend Francis X. has 

arrived in England with great fanfare of trumpets &c. Tom who is

a great fund of information also further informs me that poor old

Robbie has just about gone to the pack. I wouldn't be surprised if

he goes back to Aussie; some people have all the luck.

The gun that caused all the commotion the other day is a 14 in.

Yankee contrivance and some gun - 75 feet long, and with a range of

35 miles.

Old Terps (G.Eloie) was up at Bde. Hqrs. this morn: and reports

all well with things - very quiet still. He's going on leave.

24.1.18. Its easy to see why Jimmie doesn't hit it with Bill. He was

down here this morn: and caused more trouble than a couple of people. 

We wouldn't mind that so much if he'd only do his job but he doesn't.

Had a letter from the worthy Phil himself, he has been at

Parkhouse and buzzing over most of the Plains and having no end of a 

time apparently. He has also had 6 days leave, which reminds me of 

that lunatic Rudd. I hope Phil doesn't have the misfortune to run

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into him. Makes me feel all over alike when I think of him.

In spite of great mismanagement on the part of Bill we

evacuated 26 horses to the Hosp. Calais to-day. Talbot & Co.

will be glad to get some of them Yes! No? 26 is a very small

load by the way.

25.1.18. Spent most of the day busily waiting for Bill - most fatiguing

As Geo. Drane would say, ain't he a ---- artist? He's like the 

wind and blows about where he listeth never leaving word as to

when he's likely to return.

Besides. I encountered a couple of tommies who'd been despatched
from some M.V.S with 2 horses in a float. For some hardly

intelligible reason they'd gone up a side track and emptied the two

animals out on the side of the road - brains aren't they and some

mess.

They'd cogitated over the situation since early morn: without

getting any forrarder, so I shot the two poor beasts and advised

them to cast the carcases back to their mobile. Their O.C. will

be charmed, won't he?

A queer bird by the name of Lloyd blew in this afternoon, and

said he'd come to inspect our transport, so I regaled him on White

Label and cake to give the Staff a chance to dig it out of the mud.

I don't know what it was but he went away apparently quite

satisfied.

26.1.18. To-day is A.N.A. day back where they have sunlight and race

courses and other perquisites of civilization, but what's the use

I've forgotten the psalm for the day before the Kaiser's birthday.

They generally try some particular hunnishness for the old

pot's birthday - wonder what they'll put up tomorrow.

To-day Iris sent me a bomb which duly percussed. She's the 

only pilot I know in London and I have been relying on her to get

me round the infernal place so that I might have enough cash left

to live on for 14 days after paying the taxi-bill and now she's

engaged, and I am desolated.

Still youth will be served and I had to send along my congratulations.

She says it will make no diff: and she'll be a sister

to me and all that sort of thing, but I have one sister. When a 

lady tells me she can never love me, I take hope, but when she says

she'll be a sister to me I take my hat and sugar card and go somewhere
I can dream of a place where you can get a drink.

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Had a note and a bundle of 'plane photos from Sigs Waring - 

he says things are still very quiet up there.

27.1.18. Was this morn: awakened by a most homely and memory stirring

sound. I thought I could hear a blow-fly buzzing and it was

the sweetest music I've heard for many a day. Then I came to

and found it was only the shaving water boiling on the stove - 

was so disappointed that I got up which was lucky as Bill showed

up shortly afterwards. I had intended remaining in bed all

morning this being Sunday (I think).

I'm all capset over that fly tho' - makes me wish I was back

where you have to pick a few flies out of your tea occasionally,

or otherwise interest yourself in some civilized pastime.

28.1.18. Encountered Bill on the road and on a new charger of which

he demanded my opinion. He was in such a fine frame of mind that

I quickly changed the subject rather than tell a lie.

I also regarded the occasion as propitious and hastened home

to send in an application for leave. While riding round, up

above, I saw an interesting little episode which centred round

one of our gas-bags.

There are several of these tame balloons up there. Every

morn: they are led out of their sheds and tethered by a string

out in a paddock. They remain aloft all day on a more or less

long string, keep an eye on the war and attach numerous shots

from the Boch. If they are not destroyed or unleashed by Fritz

they are hauled down at night and gently returned to their abodes.

Frequently Boch 'planes come over camouflaged as rain or

clouds or something and shoot red hot tracer or explosive bullets

at them. This is generally regarded by the occupants of the

appendage under the gas-bags as the time to hope out which is quite

a safe performance as long as the parachute acts and the Boch

doesn't fire his machine gun at it.

The parachute makes no guarantee however as to where the

performer will land and this may be anywhere from "No man's land"

to the Dickiebuch Lake.

What I started to say was that to-day a Boch fell out of the

fog and circled round a most gentle and unobstrusive balloon

firing anything from 50 to 100 rounds at it. The occupants hopped

toute-suite but the old gas bag remained serenely tugging at its

string. It must have been punctured surely becos' the Boch was

within a few feet of it.

The sequel was interesting tho', as one of our 'planes dived

head first from no-where and as the Frtizes were pretty low they

had no chance. Souvenirs was about all that was left of them.

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Fritz has had a hell of a time of it in the air around here

lately.

29.1.18. Too sleepy to write tonight as one of the boys who has just

returned from Paris came into my dug out to report and has nearly

talked me blind. Amongst other things he's engaged to the finest

girl in the world - absolutely. I wonder if a thing of the past like

myself would stand any chance in Paris.

If I've been talked dizzy tho' its my own fault. Col. Whitfield

warned me about this self same man.

Poor old Bert Shoebridge was in from the quagmire - and very

down in the dumps. He says its terribly unhealthy in a hut this weather

that's that moon again. Bert also hopes he won't be here for the Spring

he reckons Frizt's bombs will wake the dead.

30.1.18. A shoal of Fritzs came over very early and bagged an inoffensive

balloon. I think the occupants hopped out alright, tho' where and how

they landed is another matter.

A couple of stray shells landed close here during the day - looks

as tho' Fritz is ranging for one of the dumps, what joy.

With the usual foresight, the M.V.S. is situated on the main La

Clytte - Reminghelst Rd. with a munitions dump on one side, another on 

the other side, a railway dump at the back and a couple of infantry

battalions opposite. So the overs and shorts both ought to be very

adjacent.

The weather has been quite charming lately, and the sun has

had quite a bit of punch in it. Real cocky weather, beautiful days and

a drop of moisture at night.

31.1.18. A beautiful thick damp fog has settled on the scene, and I had

a great time in a cross country attempt to find the new 12th Bde. horse

lines. The mud is appalling up there, and Dick after getting bogged once

or twice got the wind well up. When I got a strong whiff of Chlorine

the wind also enveloped me - began to think I must be in "No man's land"

but I was much relieved to stumble on a calcium chloride dump, which

also gave me my bearings. Poor old Darkie - those hideous wounds you

see scattered carelessly round the visible parts of his anatomy are the

calling-cards of some chats he's encountered round about here - those

you don't see are the same. Clothes just don't have any meaning to a 

chat, except as a suitable ground to deploy from and say do chats eat

anything besides solders, or do they fast when there isn't a war on.

Since coming here Darkie says he's that expert he could chat

a chatty shirt with a pair of boxing gloves on. Pour moi! they haven't

got thro' the camphor barrage I put up - yet.

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1.2.18. My term of solitary confinement has ended as Jimmie

returned to-day but I'm staying on here until the Bde. comes back

which they should do on the night 5-6th. In a way I'll be sorry to

leave the Mobile again - it may be conceit or imagination but I 

always think that with the horses you always meet fellows as good

as the best - hard cases and always someone to talk horse to.

Went into Bailleul and spent the afternoon trying to buy a 

couple of souvenirs for Madam and Antoinette etc. haven't told you

about them have i? Bailleul is rather a nice place and very French

but has received much attention both from shells and bombs.

There are several large aerodromes round Bailleul and some

of them are used by our own squadron. Darkie has picked up a bit

and looks like a man who has passed thro' a terrible ordeal. Jimmie's

batman George (Gill) has come into his own again and lifted some of

the load of worry and responsibility off Darkie's shoulders.

2.2.18. Foolishly called on Bill who let me in for a P.M. on one of 

the Don Ac horses that died suddenly. It was a ragtime P.M. conducted

in an open field and a shower of shrapnel and pieces from the

Archies which were making determined tho' ineffectual efforts to blot

out Fritz. Bill got a report.

Tom Tucker turned up apresmidi, and Tom who seems permeated

with detective instincts gave me beaucoup news. Amongst others he

mentioned Norm. Marshall, Billie Flintoft, Charlie Davis, the Dyspeptic

Hebrew, Locky Searle, Sparks, Clarke and Snowy. Poor old MacFarlane

of the Benalla only lasted a fortnight in France.

Tom graced our festive board in the evening and then I took

him round to Madam's. She was in great form, and Tom reckons if it

had cost 10/- it would have been the cheapest evening he'd ever

spent, and it cost nothing.

In a way Madam's a marvel. Her eldest daughter is in

Roubaix - occupied by Fritz, and she hasn't heard from her since the

war started - her other two children were whipped off and sent to

Paris when this place was first shelled. Her husband is more or

less interned down Calais way, but she's stuck it out for 3½ years

now, Germans, shells, bombs and all. 

She's got more spirit than a bottle of Dewar's, enough

grit to start an emery paper factory, and a command of dinkum Australian
that's positively unique. For vigour of language and a 

varied stock of expletives she's be hard to beat, while her insistent

manner of delivery, and her unique manner of welding her anathemas

into new and wonderful combinations to meet every conceivable

situation places her in a class by herself. In other words she

wins.

Antoinette is a little girl who stays with Madam at times,

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14½ years of age, and a carpenter by trade working at a neighbouring

dump. She makes duck boards &c. at a salary of nineteen

pence halfpenny per day. She's very pretty and very clever - poor

Belgium. Tom partied for Locre - where he's in Buller's camp

about 9.30.

3.2.18. When I asked the old dame the other day what she would have

for a souvenir, she said a pair of boots, and by judicious enquiries

I found that the Flemish taste runs somewhat on the lines of the

abo's and that the merit of a pair of boots is judged according to

the length of heel. Accordingly I came back with a pair to beat

the band, and which I duly delivered. For once the poor old thing

was at a loss for an expression to fit but she looked worlds and

was devastated with enjoyment. Then she came to and enquired the

price, the knowledge of which has agitated her with esteem, and

from now on I mightn't be headlined on the bills but I'm the white

haired boy.

With her vaudeville head-gear, her unusual and prismatic

clothes and those boots, she's got all the ladies of mythology

sculpture and fiction reduced to a lot of soap ads. on the back of

a magazine.

She's 45 but out for a promenade this afternoon, she had the

rest of the villagers looking about as lively as a lot of policemen

going to a riot.

Then there was a locket for Antoinette and tears of joy.

Gee, I never had so much joy out of a couple of pounds in my 

natural.

There's a Sunday for you.

4.2.18. Besides the usual round, was called in to a civvy mule.

Losing a donk is worse than losing a wife for this poor old Belge.

I reckoned it was a case of kill or cure so fired in Gr.½

Strych. and Gr.½ Ancoline - compree that?, some heroic eh. Anyway

he was up and taking an interest in meal time this evening. I'm 

still not too keen but if the donk pulls round that Belge can

thank his lucky stars and me.

Managed to get a couple of stiff runs into Madam this eve:

not a very hard job - As she puts it, there was "plenty --- larfin".

She's very gone on Tovell tho' and tomorrow she expects

him back, it will be some night.

5.2.18. Jimmie's had another row with Bill - that's the third

already since he returned. He reckons he's going to apply for a 

transfer to another Divn. as soon as he gets this section

straightened up.

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The Bde. are on the move, and the ubiquitous Tweedy called

in and wished me "Sieda". Suppose I'll have to go back to them

tomorrow.

Tovell's kit also blew in to Madam's, and she fell on it like

a long lost pal, but I don't expect he'll be in till close on midnight.

She's going to have the coffee warm tho' if she has to 

remain up all night.

"Squarehead" is also somewhere near at hand as I sighted his

batman and kit on the road.

The old donk has been snatched from the jaws of death, but it

was a near shave.

6.2.18. Moved back to Bde. and found they'd had the time of their lives

in the line - a regular home from home they say. They're going to

take me up next time in.

Their chief amusement seems to have been rat hunting and as Tweed

and John Kerr returned with their stock and trade which included

smoke bombs, flares cordite S.O.Ss and "Ginger" who is no beauty but

knows the business from A. to Z.

I was treated to several hunts thro' out the day.

I brought Jimmie over to dine and as Col. McSharry was at his

very best we had a most entertaining evening.

Madam has hit the clouds now that the Major is back.

7.2.18. Located the 13th F.C.E. and the 12th A.F. Amb. for the first

time. They are at a place called the Brasserie which is altogether

too near the line to be good taste. However.

Tom Tucker again favoured us with his company and remained to

dinner, where he was fortunate enough to hear Col. McSharry in one of

his good moods. Tom reckons the Col's harpoon story wins.

Tom also renewed his acquaintance with Madam who was also

rather talkative especially after a glass of rum, which she declared

was all water. It was the liveliest water Tom and I ever tasted tho'.

8.2.18. Have struck the ideal way of doing things - when things aren't

coming your way don't get excited and don't get depressed, and

particularly don't run over to Divn for a transfer to the A.F.C. If 

the horses are standing up to their ears in mud and someone asks you

where one is lame, or if some transport officer gets an idea into his

head that he's just about as wise as a couple of serpents, you mustn't

worry and you mustn't run off to the general - the thing to do is to

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88

have a wad - as long as it isn't "Three Swallows". If that doesn't

fix things go and have another.

Personally, when I've had one I've either got to unstopper the

accumulated language or have another. The latter course is generally

the safer. You see the idea.

The 12th Fld. Amb. have got a new T.O. - an ideal one. He's

an M.O. with an M.C. and spectacles, and when I blew in he confessed

that he was the new T.O. and that he knew less than nothing. I

replied that to tell the truth I knew about the same, so the obvious

course was to have a wad. The water up there has to be gathered

from shell holes, and consequently its use is contra-indicated to the

medical mind. When I left, what we didn't know about hosses wouldn't

have made a text for a parson. Then I sought out the dentist - one

Meldrum from Melb: - but he suggested I should return about Tuesday.

9.2.18. Now we're Jakes: between the Sgt. his understudy McGarvie and

myself we've salvaged a trench cart and a chaff-cutter and acquired a

steed and some harness from some dopey Tommies. The Sgt. has made

over the chaff-cutter to the 4th Engnrs. and in return they are going

to transform the said wheels into a Maltese cart. Quite a boom for

the veterinary arm - our transport difficulties should just about be

settled.

This is a terrible life tho', and if I don't find something to

do before long I'll get bats in my loft. There's hardly a sick

horse in 3 Brigades.

10.2.18. After a trot down to see a Div. Train horse - while Bill sat in

his room studying the Bulletin, I came back and got into my best

clothes and a pair of light boots - gee! Must explain that old Tas

Morgan is away on leave, and Bill is supposed to be looking after the

Div. Train.

Antoinette and her Mother visited Madam. and so Maj. Tovell and

I spent the afternoon with them and tried to keep them supplied with

whisky and rum. Antoinette Senior is even more vivid than Madam, so

we had quite a drawing room Sunday afternoon.

In the evening I got an urgent call on the 'phone to visit

a distant artillery camp, so in very bad grace I prepared to set out.

Four horses were suddenly taken seriously ill and the V.O. was away.

When I got out in the air tho' the four cases began to stick out a 

yard so I went back and taxed Waring and found it was a roughie

fabricated by him and Tweedie.

11.2.18. Alex. Fraser blew in to-day, gee he's been away since we were

at Moislains. He's only a bird of passage tho' and going back to

his Battn. - the 52nd (13 A.I. Bde.)

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Another change is Massa's - he's going to the 14th Battn.

temporary Lt. Col. I expect as Col. Smith was one of the 140

gassed up the line this time.

Maj. Tovell is to be promoted to Bde. Major which causes Sigs

to dance reels and hornpipes &c.

Jimmie and I walked into Reminghelst and renewed our acquaintance 

with Gaby and Judith - they're grand girls but it was a 

terribly long walk home. As I've said before, one thing about

this game is that you can always find someone so much worse off than

yourself, for instance at Gaby's we met an old pot who is O.C. of a 

Chinese Labor Battn. I don't think he rules with a very firm hand and

he's beginning to find some of those old ivory carvings have got

just as much sense as a human being. 

12.2.18. Spent a giddy hour with the dentist and was then disgusted to

find that promising medico-transport officer was busy with a board.

In the evening the Pierrots re-opened without poor old Dinks

who has been invalided to Blighty. They say he may come back to us

but for his sake I hope he goes to Aussie. He looks as tho' lung

trouble would come very easy to him.

The troupe included 4 new artists - all worth a place, and if

Dinks does come back we'll have a show as good as any Divnl. outfit.

13.2.18. Went over and found the "man with the iron jaw", now T.O. 31st

Battn. and living in Kemmel. He's just the same as ever, and I

recognised him about ½ a mile away. Tom Tucker blew in about lunch

time, and altogether we had quite a day of it. Assisted by

(judiciously) liquid refreshment we talked from 10 a.m. till 4 p.m.

and then feeling very fit I went and joined Bill in a little

friendly strafe. He's been making it pretty hot lately. Arthur

Lamborn is in the 31st Battn. Orderley Room and old Ike Maudsley is

M.O. 29th Battn. with an M.C. into the bargain.

Wish I could get into the 5th Divn.

14.2.18. Woke just in time to hear a bit of a barrage open up. Its

rather weird to lie here in a comfortable - well more or less - bed

and think what it means to be up there in that barrage.

It was a very still morning and it was just possible to hear

the machine guns get a bit of a break, only a second or two, then a

couple of 18 pdr got away early and then hell broke loose. Of course

this was nothing to the drumfire we heard at Cambrai, but the contrast

from absolute stillness to the droning growl of the barrage

is very wonderful. The silence that follows must be the silence

that that newspaper bird talked of.

Continued the strafe with Bill and got no forrarder. Its 

very /