Thomas James Richards, Diaries, Transcript Vol. 2 - Part 13

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"Beachy Bill" put in some good work to-day.
I saw him get on to several mule lines to-day - one he
cut to pieces and the timing and accuracy of the shells
(a bunch of seven) was surprising. Twelve mules dead.
I cannot get any decent information about our
new landing party on the left flank. It is however
pretty well certain that we have not taken it and this
makes me rather despondent as the battle is 68 hours old
now and the Turks have had time to make all kinds of
killing devices for our ghastly reception.
10th August, 1915. It is 8 a.m. I have just come in
after being on duty since 1 a.m. but I am almost joyful
to know that by the very few wounded that we are holding
our captured positions, the Turks having steadied down
and thereby giving our poor devils a chance. No news
comes from the left wing at all which means we have not
yet got control of 971. So much delay makes me very
anxious too. The Turks are dropping 8 or 9-inch Howitzer
shells 100 yards away from here. We can hear these
awful things sizzling down almost out of the clouds
and stand anxious awaiting the crash. On the afternoon
of our attack I was on the hill behind the trenches and
got some good photos. of these shells bursting. Although
out of seven successive shots only one exploded, they
seemed to turn and fall on their side. One of them sent
out a lovely smoke ring. It hung together a long time
and was so fascinating. There were a few Tommies
injured by this bombardment and this morning the shells
though so very close are falling in the gully safely.
I think it's the 5-in. Howitzers that they are looking
for. Well, there are some 11 in the right gully and 6
in the gully over the hill to the left. Their range is
pretty good and regular so please Mr. Turk keep on the
same old spot.
 

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There are no hospital ships about this morning.
There were four yesterday. This looks very bad for the
few bad cases there are about. Rumour has it that there
are some hundreds of wounded out on the left that we
can't, for reasons not given, get back to the Dressing
Station.
I read hurriedly a flattering message from Ian
Hamilton to the Australians giving them much praise and
prevailing upon them for another effort. I will get a
copy of it if I can. Nevertheless I wish Ian Hamilton
would give us bombs instead of "bulls-shit." The former
may be all right but not nearly so effective as the
latter and our mutilated and dead rate would thereby be
considerably reduced. Turk has a big pull over us here
and a wonderfully effective one too.
The warships have been keeping up a good
steady fire all day, while rifle firing is not very thick.
11th August, 1915. I am on duty from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m.
with a hell of a headache but there is not much doing.
If I have to go sick it will make me miserable. I would
sooner be wounded. I have lived on the contents of
Mother's parcels for four days now and cannot stick much
longer.
Our tent division arrived and joined us this
morning. All of the nursing section and the dozens of
non-coms - a very puny lot of stripe-wearers they are too.
I suppose there are 60 in the party and not a hand's turn
for them to do. I hope they won't hum-bug we old hands
much. It is surprising the disrespect the old hands have
for all new arrivals. Up in the firing line the reinforcements 
are cursed as useless. They stop at every
shot and squeal at even light work, yet talk with a
tone of superiority. Of course they soon come to their
level and knuckle down.
 

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13th August, 1915. News is very hard to get still concerning 

our new landing party on the left or north
but we have good reason to suspect that our success has
been very limited, if it exists at all. Several times
I've heard that the Tommies broke and came back upon the
reinforcements in a demoralized state. We have had a lot
of East Lancashire, Warrickshire, King's Own and others.
Some of them looked loose and solid but taking them
generally we Australians have not much faith in them.
They oftimes look slovenly built and are slow of action.
It is nice to see an English fatigue party walking down
to the beach two deep with the sergeant in front. Our
parties loll down in a long scrambling line from one
to five deep. If they pick up a pal they stop and chat,
and if the sergeant arrives with 15 out of 20 he's well
pleased, as they saunter away and get lost anywhere.
We didn’t have a patient all last night.
Matters have been extremely quiet all along our front.
14th August, 1915. I am at this moment sitting at the
Clearing Station waiting for a boat for Mudros where I
am to have a rest. Major Welch, upon an examination
by Capts. Kay and Wessell, gave me the clearance last
night. I don’t really want to go but they tell me I'd
better. My spleen or some such thing has gone wrong.
Anyhow, I've had nothing to eat worth mentioning for
8 days now. I expect it’s up to me for a spell though
really I don't feel as if I've earned one.
I waited on the beach all day long and
until 9 p.m. before getting aboard. A boatload went at
1 o'clock but as they asked for the worst cases I
missed getting aboard. Well this time there were 160
scattered about a huge barge and away we went wondering
how long the journey would take to Mudros but alas, they
pulled up at the hospital ship and we all climbed up
 

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there and spent the night.
15th August, 1915. I had a glorious night's sleep on
board last night. We were treated really well. Told
where to get a mattress and blankets, which is the first
mattress I've used for 11 months, and later cocoa, bread
and cheese was served up. But lo! the soft loving voice
of a woman turned me over to look out and there was a
nurse talking some little distance away. I didn't see
her face but her voice brought back sweep hopes of
reaching civilization again. The first feminine voice
for four whole months - hard and nasty months too -
but she vanished all too soon. I would have/given the
world if she would only have spoken to me and given me
a chance to reply. Nothing could have sounded so pure
and holy (though I know they're not) in my harsh ears,
yet I did hear the voice and it did me a lot of good.
Breakfast at 7.30 and we were bundled off
on to a trawler and this time assuredly for Mudros but
another disappointment awaited us. We were pushed off at
Imbros Is. and bundled into an R.A.M.C. Hospital. These
Tommy-controlled hospitals are prisons to Australians as
the poor Englishmen can't understand them and are also so
lazy and always squeaking. This I have already found and
am hoping to be shifted to-morrow.
16th August, 1915. It is nightfall and I am lying beside
some steam-pipes on the deck of the "Christian", a kind
of converted hospital ship, having left the Imbros
Hospital where I got four mugs of home-made milk hot at
1 o'clock. I am glad to get away, but if I strike another
English-run hospital to-morrow or whenever and where we
go, I will curse my luck. We are still in Imbros Harbour
- a decent little harbour considering how useful it is
at present as a supply base and a shelter for our warships

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from submarines. There was a terrible rush at meal
time to-night. I got something out of it but it was hard
and patient work.
Sailed from Lemnos Island at nightfall.
On Monday, August 16th, the "Scotian" with
a load of sick and wounded was steaming past and close to
the Island of Samothrace, on which there was to be seen
quite a lot of habitation. I was leaning over the rails
and a young Englishman was at my elbow evidently much
interested also. I cleared my throat and prepared my
plainest English voice as I did not want to be asked to
repeat myself and then probably be misunderstood - a
common trouble when talking to English Tommies. After a
pause which woke him up I attempted to explain that the
Island was called Samothrace. It was very prosperous in
olden times and was frequently visited by St. Paul
according to the Bible. I felt certain I had him understanding 
me and interested. I was going to tell him of
James Turner's fascination for the skyscrapes and sunsets 
of Samothrace, when the fellow in the most casual
voice possible, said "Yes, it's a lovely night, isn’t it?"
I didn't answer him.
17th August, 1915. We steamed into Mudros Harbour
this morning but as there is no room in the hospital
ashore we are remaining aboard. Matters are quiet.
Food and attention very poor.
18th August, 1915. Still anchored at Mudros. Nobody
knows what the next move is going to be. I hope we go
to Malta. I badly want to see it.
19th August, 1915. It rained last night and drove us from
the decks. We have just had breakfast and no sign of
leaving yet.
 

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14th August, 1915. Left the Peninsula. Sick.
I went down to the clearing station and
waited until 9 p.m. for a boat or rather a huge barge
which took some 150 sick and wounded on to the hospital
ship where the workers were cheerful and kind. I spent
a comfortable night and in the morning was put off on a
trawler.
15th August, 1915. Landed at Imbros and put on milk
diet under a R.A.M.C. blighter. I don't like having
anything to do with Englishmen. The brogue seems to
prevent any understanding and they also seem so arrogant
when placed in charge of anything. Against the warder's
threat I did procure some biscuits and grapes. The
latter were extremely fine.
16th August, 1915. I was very pleased when told to pack
up and go on to Lemnos Island at midday. This I did
with a large crowd and at 2 o'clock found myself transferred 
to the steamship "Scotian" which drew anchor at
6 p.m. and steamed prettily past the Island of Samothrace.
Imbros Harbour is very exposed but the
water is deep and permits our warships to enter at will.
A breakwater has been formed by the sinking of two small
ships. The British are lucky to have this useful little
harbour right at their door.
17th August, 1915. Arrived at Mudros (Lemnos) in early
morning. Steamed in between the torpedo nets along the
mouth and anchored.
There are dozens of other vessels lying
about. A few of them only have troops on board.
It is evident that there is no room at
the large canvas hospitals here either as no arrangements
have been made for our removal.
 

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It is four months since we left this lovely
land-locked harbour for the attack on Gallipoli but many
changes have come about in the landscape. Instead of it
being green and happy looking, it is now dreary and
desolate so bare and ungainly looking is it.
There are rows and rows of tents running up
hillsides and along the flats being used as hospitals.
18th August, 1915. Rumour hath it that there is no
hospital accommodation either here at Alexandria or
Malta. This information cheers me along a little but
yet it seems altogether too good to be true. We had
about 1400 patients on this ship. Some 500 were transferred 
to-day so now I expect matters to go along better.
19th August, 1915. Still melancholy waiting in Mudros
Harbour but to add a little interest to proceedings a
base depot ship with some 150 Canadian nurses drew alongside 
and tied up. The nurses and our wounded got freely
into conversation. Our wounded are mostly English and
the brogues of one and another provided an excellent
entertainment.
20th August, 1945. I bought this diary aboard for 2d.
and am agreeably pleased with it. The Canadian women
are still next to us and much friendship exists.
These women wear stars like other military officers on
their shoulders. These points bother me very much as
I vote the idea absolutely ridiculous. If, of course,
the stars do not denote that they hold the position of
doctors, and this being the case I think they would have
been of much greater value if left back in their native
country and give the men a chance to be of some use to
their country's sick and wounded soldiers. Women are
 

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a damned nuisance at other than ward work and doing
dressings. Give her an inch and she works it into a
mile.
21st August, 1915. At dusk a troopship crowded with
Australians passed out of the harbour. They were ina
very cheerful mood and "hoorayed" everything and everybody 
en route. It's truly wonderful how these Australians
go gloriously satisfied to their death. These lads must
know the hell that they are going into and yet they went
bright and gleefully. I wonder if any country on earth
possesses men so willing to make sacrifices. I am
certain England does not possess the same spirit and not
within 40% of the physique. It’s a shame to see some of
the weakly, undersized, premature-looking Englishmen
we have aboard. They are earnest and willing enough to
fight but they are not of the same material as the Australian. 
Their minds seem dull and their actions
hobbled. They have neither initiative nor resource in
comparison with Australians. The more I see and mix with
these Englishmen the more I think of Australia and the
independent, quick-witted fighting men they breed. The
self-assurance and confidence of the Australian must out.
The shipload of Canadian nurses had not been alongside
of us many minutes when several Australians were climbing 
over the side and chatting freely with the girls.
One fellow comes from an out-of-the-way place like
Hughenden and he struts the deck as if he were part-owner 
of the ship. He pushes himself in anywhere too
and all the way from Hughenden. It's no wonder the
world at large cannot understand the Australian.
 

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22nd August, 1915. To-day has been as monotonous as
other days. Nothing in the air at all to indicate that
it is Sunday. The pianos on this and the adjoining
ship - s.s. "Simla" - have played ragtime and all the
popular airs but never once did I hear a sacred note.
The Canadian nurses are still next door but our fellows
are not so intimate just now. I have not yet discovered
what the stars on the nurses' shoulders signify.
It is now getting on for 7 o'clock and rumour has it
that we sail for Alexandria before dark. I have been
awfully afraid that we were to be dumped down here at
Mudros and I will not be satisfied until we draw in the
anchor and get under weigh. There are so many aboard
that should be ready for duty in less than two weeks
and it would be unreasonable to take them away from here
and above all we have been here just seven days now
which looks as though we are waiting for them to prepare
room for us ashore. I would love to go on to Malta for
a few days' rest and a look around. I believe Valette
is a very pretty town.
I am feeling no better than when I left
the Peninsula. My head is at times very light and my
tongue is very thick and dirty. George Barr, Buller and
I have managed to obtain a bottle of stout each these
two nights but it is so extremely difficult to procure
drink that I won't bother further.
I have a letter written to Mother but I
don't know how I'm going to post it.
I am sleeping under a boat on the boatdeck. 
I get my meals on the narrow deck where most of
the men sleep. The food - very poor stuff - is brought
around in baskets and each man gets a turn.
 

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23rd August, 1915. True to rumour, and much to my
surprise, the "Scotian" pulled away from the "Simla"
at 8 o'clock last night and we are now proceeding to
Alexandria. There was a lot of cheering and singing as
we left the Canadian nurses, as they were a very
amicable crowd.
We have been steaming all day amongst
Islands first on one side and then on the other.
I will be glad to get some decent food
inside of me. This boat is over the odds but I don’t
know that much different could be expected over-crowded
as we are and with so many slightly wounded cases, many
of whom should never have been allowed to leave the firing
line, who are as hungry as wolves and rush the good.
It is going to be cold on the boat-deck to-night.
We are afraid of submarines. Life-belts
are issued.
24th August, 1915. We have done a good day's steaming
to-day and should be in Alexandria by now (7 p.m.) but
we must have taken a round about and zig-zag course.
I noticed last night that we were steaming due east,
while during the day we went around to westward and
now we are going due south. Submarines have got shipping
scared, right enough, damnable machine they are too.
I have not seen a doctor since leaving
the Peninsula ten days ago but to-morrow morning we
should be ashore in Alexandria.
I have meals on the deck with a rather
decent little Englishman. He is keen on getting back
to fight but most of the Englishmen around me want to
throw in the towel and are praying that they will go
back to England. They are poor-spirited and alas, have
no inclination to even up their own score with John