Thomas James Richards, Diaries, Transcript Vol. 3, 26 January to 8 November 1916 - Part 24

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I had no particular reason for going down in the direction

of Mont de Cats although the French girl down that way who

allowed herself to be  kissed last Sunday may have been an

inducement. Mollie is a splendid horse, so quiet about the 

stable, but carries herself with a lot of spirit along the

road and is fairly easy in action. The weather  was rather

close and the sun shone strongly so Mollie was sweating

freely. We passed the frontier at 3 o'clock. Here there

are both French and Englishmen on guard, but troops so far as

I can see are not asked any questions or interfered with at

all in crossing from Belgium into France. I passed on with

Mollie in splendid condition through a fair sized village

until I came to Berthen. The signpost now said 6 kilos to

Bailleu, and by my map I could see that Outtersteen was even

further so that it was too far to go with the horse so late in

the afternoon. I turned up onto the mountain of Mont de Cats.

I was up here on Sunday last while it was raining and could

not get a decent view at all. Today it was much better, not

clear quite but good enough to get a general panorama view

of the surrounding country right across to Ypres and to note

the square patches of hops, the brown fields from which the

crops were cut and the light green lengths of mangles with tall

rows of trees ever here and there making the country look like

a well wooded forest right along over the German lines. The

outlook was very grand i ndeed, as the country for miles and

miles around was entirely flat and here was I standing on a 

hill some 400 feet above.

On leaving Mont de Cats down a narrow lane grown over

with trees and bushes, the mud and water was deep, while I

gathered my first blackberries of the season. They are very

small indeed, a great surprise indeed to me, as I wanted to

see them here as good as in England. They were not very nice

to taste but coming along the commencement of the season

they may not be the best. After a good hard ride I arrived

home to camp at 6 o'clock after a thoroughly enjoyable

afternoon's outing.

 

 

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I groomed the horse and instead of having tea I got

Tom Yeomans and walked 5 kilos back along the road to Mont

de Cats, then we had tea, 3 eggs and chips and came back to 

bed at 8.15 p.m. I am keeping to walking just now as I  want

to get into a bit of condition again. At 9.45 tonight a

whole flock of aeroplanes, I could not see them but from

the whirling I guess about four of them. A searchlight was

streaming straight up into the sky as a guide to the planes

so of course they were our own going and returning from a 

night raid.

Sept. 7th. Thursday.

Another lovely day but I missed getting out owing to

the painting of a G.S. waggon which is dismantled and under-going 
a  good painting. In the afternoon there was a whole

lot of horse jumping over a brush hurdle mostly by the 

officers. I practised football in the evening and after

returning read "Canadian Born" a jolly fine book.  A letter

from Cairns and one from Townsville both from Bert were well

written and interesting. I am delighted to hear that there

is going to be a chance in coconut growing when peace is

declared. That should be an ideal life right enough

particularly when a fellow is so 'fed up' with this so-called

modern world as I am and have been since such a war as the

present one became possible under civilized conditions.

Sept. 8th. Friday.

The sun is shining beautifully after a very misty

opening. It was warm when we went to bed last night so I

did not put down all of my bedding but towards morning it

was terribly cold and I would not get up and put more 

clothes over me.

Harold Miller came along this afternoon just when I

was sitting down to write in answer to Madge Davies of Cairns.

A cousin of mine. She is one of a large fatherless family

 

 

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and when I saw them in Cairns their smallness and slightness

in range of sizes embarrassed me considerably.  Their so

many different names were so appalling to a poor cousin who had

not seen all of them before. I will never  forget that

experience. Anyhow, I must write to Madge as soon as possible.

       Harold Miller and I went out to get some tea and eggs.

We found a little place with a somewhat elaborate system of

decorations including some large mirrors and a huge penny-in-the 
slot orchestra music machine. I ventured a penny on it

and the music it produced annoyed me considerably. I could

have xxx run away from it and left my greasy chips and salmon

behind (there were no eggs obtainable). The boy who waited on

us confirmed my first opinion that the place, like the "boozer'

next door was owned by Greeks. Greeks, yes, beyond any doubt,

this in itself rather bothered me and I will not go back there

again, I prefer to patronise the Belgian folk who are hard

pressed for a living. The cleanest house I have seen in 

France or rather eaten in was near Mont-de-Cats last Sunday

and again on Wednesday. The place was run by a very

attractive woman and the meal served in City style. Dainty

cups and saucers with an attractive design, good cutlery and

nice plates while the eggs were served in the pan they were

cooked in and the chips were not greasy but dry and crisp.

We may have paid a little more for them but they were easily

worth it. One seldom gets a cup with a handle on it in this 

country, not even down in the Somme, they are always basins

very poor and knocked about cutlery.

       On leaving the Greeks we came back, got Ted Reynolds,

and went into a refugee 'boozer' (estaminet), a roughly built

place without a floor in it and crowded with men, chiefly

Tommies and Canadians. The room was full of smoke and noises.,

so we soon got out of it. Harold tells me where to find

Jack Pedcock and I must do so as he is on the finest little

fellows I know. What is more I am in rather strong

 

 

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communication with his young lady, Bessie Blaxland, which

perhaps is not the proper thing. But I don't much care.

September 9th. Saturday.

We have had another good day today. The morning

opened misty but cleared by 9 a.m. and left the day almost

perfect. I have been painting the waggon. Good experience

right enough.

Although I wanted to write badly, was nevertheless

drawn into going out  for some tea and eventually wandering

right into Poperinghe where an old dame prepared some badly

cooked eggs and chips, a tin of fruit following quite

pleasantly. Fresh fruit is an impossible price which is

surprising considering in this part of the world and at the

present season of the year, I won't buy any as I have got it

into my head that it is robbery and as long as tinned 

Californian fruit is available, I don't bother a little. I 

got home at 9 p.m. and wrote up my book.

September 11th. Sunday.

It has been a dull misty kind of a day but a cricket

match between B & C sections passed the day splendidly. It

is my first cricket match. B batted first and totalled 53 

on a rather bad wicket. C looked promising at 3 down for

30. I went in at 4 down and was still in at 8 down for 35

runs. The game seemed lost but the unexpected happened,

the bowler sent along a lovely ball for me and my!as the 

sides only chance rested in my hands, I opened out and hit

him for four. This was repeated four times and the game was 

saved midst great jubilation. It certainly was a remarkable

finish. My score was 22 bowled. Our officers alltake a

very keen interest in our games of both football and cricket;

and everything runs along splendidly. It is in a position

like the present that one notices the even temperament of a

man who is a follower of sport, not one of the extremist,

the fellows who get drunk and kick up are playing anything

 

 

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at all. Absolutely the pick of the unit are the  fellows who

take a lively interest in sporting matters. They are clean

living and reliable - never did this fact present itself to

me so strongly as at this moment.

     I went to Church tonight held in the Canadian Casualty

Clearing right opposite. The preacher a Canadian-American

was very good indeed, he brought the meaning of his sermon

and the Bible generally right into our own present day life

and dealt with it in a plain and uptodate fashion. Not like

the prevalent English way of taking oneself right away from 

his present and only accurate surroundings, he knows for

certain exists, and study the scripture in a hazy and mystic

atmosphere of so many bygone and doubtful years.

       No!  I favor the American style of dealing with

religion. They apply it to their present surroundings and  

don't run the risk of missing the proper track in taking the

Bible in imaginings that differ so to the colour in which it

was written to lose its real grip and worth in the method of

transplanting.

I have written to Dad tonight and I had a little to 

say on religion that if it does not please him altogether he

will most certainly know that I am still alive to the

existence of the Bible even though I have my own idea of its

utility and form of interpretation.

September 11th. Monday.

I have just finished reading "Canadian Born" and 

although the moral of the story did at one time during the

reading stand a chance of being a failure in my eyes, it

pulled through gallantly and concluded quite a triumph for

Colonial life versus the old world type of life. This brings

back to me the fact that Australia has never yet turned out 

a decent good reading book that in any way portrayed Australian
life and characteristics. Steele Rudd is positive nonsense

and must do a young country a whole lot of harm if read in

other lands, but I am pleased to think that few  people would

 

 

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ever attempt to waste time on such poor stuff in other lands

when better reading is at hand. Most other Australian writers

work in raging bushfires terrible droughts, floods, vice, and

a raid by bloodthirsty blacks or robberies by bushrangers.

Anyhow I sometimes think that the Australian mind is of a

morbid and melancholy temperament or an upright clean and 

pleasant theme would stand out in their writings.

     It is high time that the Australian knew Australia better

too. It is literature like Canadian Born that puts the Hall

Mark of confidence into anoutward people concerning the 

future. The good and the patriotism of the settlers has a 

great influence on intending settlers far away.

September 12th. Tuesday.

The weather sometimes to be exceedingly patchy, rain

squalls come along and the sky becomes so dull and sullen that

one would bet anything dismal weather was setting in for a 

long stretch.

The surroundings are becoming almost exclusively

Australian just now the Tommys and Canadians seem to have

gone back out of Poperinghe.

Our men seem to be behaving very well indeed, although I 

have not seen much of them outside of a run or two into

Poperinghe.

September 15th. Wednesday.

 Mail  day today. In fact, there is mail coming along

every day, but today was the bulk delivery, I got a number of

letters and papers; from K. Evans, came a pair of bootlaces

and a letter in one envelope and two silk handkerchiefs in

another. It is exceedingly kind of her - but why silk?

She said that she thought I would prefer them as they are so

easily washed - very thoughtful indeed, but I really cannot,

in this democratic kind of life, use other than cotton and a 

colored one for preference. Others show up too plainly and

 

 

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a fellow is put down as a swanker.

September 14th. Thursday.

Today has been our first sports day. Heats in most

events were run off. 100 championship, 440 three-legged,

potato, cock fight, and others. The tug-of-war was a good

thing for our transport section and they have an excellent

team to meet the Canadians English and Scottish teams on 
Saturday. 
I am not a competitor for many events, just the novelty 

affairs, although I am feeling splendid. Let well alone is 

my motto.

There was a rain storm or two during the day but nothing

much and a good day's sport was carried through.

September 15th. Friday.

Tomorrow is to be our big Sports Day. The men are all

very keen on the races and great doings are expected. There

are a number of jumping events for the horses and although

they are a poor lot of animals, the galloping and schooling

they have been getting during the past few weeks has done a 

surprising amount of good. I went into Poperinghe tonight

to get some prizes for the events with Owen Burton. There

was very little to choose from so we finished up with some

very different sizes of electric torches and a handful of cigarette 

cases. Burton and I had quite a serious discussion concerning 

these prizes. Of course funds were limited today, 18 francs

per prize. I wanted to get metal cases and some pieces of 

small metal ornaments on all of which their inscriptions

could be engraved - the price of engraving might have

cost 6 francs, that meant only 10 francs value for the prize.

Burton picked onto some nice looking electric lamps covered

with leather, certainly pretty looking, also a lot of leather

cigarette cases, 12 francs each - I wanted the round metal

electric torches some 5 francs cheaper than the leather, also

cigarette cases of metal at 6 francs. I had to give way in

 

 

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my ideas, now there willbe no inscription on the things and

instead of the fellows having little mementos of both Ypres

and their achievements to look upon in years to come there will

be nothing at all, the leather will  perish or wear out. I

think it a shame and knowing the after value (years after) of

these souvenirs, I am much hurt at the moment to think that 

I had anything to do with these prizes.

September 16th - Saturday.

After a big day's work our sports program was carried

through very successfully. Excitement ran at fever heat

during many of the events whilst every one of the contests

were keenly fought out. The tug-of-war was a great go.

First the Australians beat the Canadians, then the Scotch

pulled the English team over. The final pull between

Scotland and Australia was a great go, first one side and 

then the other held the advantage. Cheering on the

respective sides stirred interest to a great pitch. For

minutes neither side wavered,  then the greater endurance and

determination of the Colonial became manifest and ended in 

glorious win for our team of stalwarts and the crowd going

wild with glee, throwing up caps and hats with tremendous

shouting. The Victoria Cross, Gretna Green and Point to

Point races on horseback were b very good events and put 

everybody in a splendid humour. The tug-of-war on horseback

was good, also the cock-fighting. In the latter there was

no rules, one rider had to be clearly thrown or it was fight

on, most of the bouts were most vigorously contested and

caused much merriment. Bert Boardman and I ran out the 

winners. I took no part in the foot races which were

strongly contested and went very much in "C" section's favor.

Higgens winning 100 and 440. The high jump was a keenly

fought out event Boardman, Jacobs and myself cleared at 4ft.

7in. Jacobs was the only one to clear the next rise. I 

threw myself over the last jump landing right down on my

side to the consternation of the spectators.

 

 

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September 17th, Sunday.

The weather held up splendidly over our Sports

meeting, yesterday being one of the very best days possible.

Today is also a charming day. I went out at 7.30 a.m. in

the waggon for 6 miles and enjoyed the crisp morning air as

well as taking a whole lot of interest in the folk coming

and going from Church. There are a few nicely developed 

girls about here, most of them are heavily built, thick

ankles oversized shoulders and big necked, due to their

manual labours. But many of the girls are fond of strongly

contrasting stockings, perhaps a dark skirt, blue shoes and

yellow stockings. They certainly catch the eye and after 

all I expect that is always the wearer's chief mission in such

stockings.

I went to Church twice today, and as the Canadian

with the Yankee drawl and plainness was preaching, I enjoyed

both of the services immensely. In the morning he told of

Samson's great misused mission, how his tremendous strength

was for joking and how in the end the joker paid the

bitter price for his weakness and jollity. At night he 

dealt with the prodigal's return in a plain straightforward

manner. He brought the prodigal son, father and brother 

right down, or up from, the back ages into our present world

and its ideas &c. And he held the crowd with ease. I wish,

and so do all the Australian boys present, that we could get

a parson in Australia to deal so plainly and straightforwardly

with Bible stories. What a difference it would make and how

interesting Church would be.

September 18th. Monday.

A wretched day. It has been raining all day long

with really heavy showers now and again. I saw the O.C. at

the Orderly Room regarding leave for England before the 23rd

inst. He could not let me go until the 30th September which

will be too late to see the Fergusons before they leave for

South Africa. A very regrettable matter indeed as it would

 

 

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probably have done the old folk a lot of good to know that 

everything is well with me.

At the Y.M.C.A tent just across the way we get good

coffee and cake in the morning and it is jolly fine indeed.

These Y.M.C.A. people do a whole lot of good, they are the

only places where a quiet drink of tea or lemonade can be got

at all. So the fellows are kept away from the boozer, or 

estaminet.

September 19th. Tuesday.

Another wrong day - I borrowed a horse and went into

Poperinghe to send a wire to Angus Ferguson as follows -

"Extremely sorry cannot meet you, leave been granted September 

thirty" - Richards.

I have been trying hard to get over to Outtersteen

but with the roads so wet I cannot get out at all.

My letterwriting is bad, just now, when I try to

write I break away into a long sorry story that I dare not 

complete it.

September 20th. Wednesday.

Again a rotten day - my boots are wet through and

most uncomfortable the whole time, I must buy a pair of rubber

boots.

     I have just read how Anthony Wilding died on May 10,

1915. The fact the he was buried in Estaires is interesting

and I shall have a look out for his grave when I get back

that way again.

     Jack Pidcock was here today, he was in the 1st Field

Ambulance, is now with the artillery and doing well. Alex.

Murphy was up against Pido, and it might surprise the reader

to know that there are less casualties in the artillery than

any other unit barring perhaps the Army Service Corps and

Murphy accused Pido of joining a coldfooted corps.

September 21st. Thursday.

The weather looks like drying again - it will