Charles E W Bean, Diaries, AWM38 3DRL 606/272/1 - 1917 - 1932 - Part 5

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ceremony, although there was something dramatic

about it that was secretly felt by each one. . . .   

Examining my rifle, discovered that the bolt was covered

with dust & was unworkable.  Had to clean it as quickly 

as possible.  At one time we were issued with protectors

for the breech & this kept the part dustproof.  They

have not been issued of late because it was considered 

it was useless . . . . Many wise old xxxx veterans

I observed now had their breeches covered entirely

with a piece of flannel.  They evidently knew what a

menace the dust was.  Even after cleaning my rifle

I don't know how I am going to keep it clean here.

Soon there was the noise of shellfire overhead, this

time from our ^own guns. We observed  a curtain of fire just

a few yards ahead.  It seemed that not a yard of ground

was missed by this systematic barrage.  This . . . . was our

signal to move off.  Our contact aeroplane hovered overhead.

Caught up to the N.Z's in a short time.  They were commencing to

dig themselves in & had quite a small trench constructed.

This was begun by them crowding into shellholes & then

xxx linking these up.

They gave us a great cheer as we passed over them

& now stood on NoMansLand.  We were to begin our attack in

grim earnest now.  The remarks of our gallant comrades 

spurred us on to action.  Our covering barrage was about

thirty yards in front & looking at this rolling slowly

towards the enemy lines it seemed that we had an easy

task after all. Surely no living being would escape

that awful fire. It hardly seemed possible. Behind our

final objective was another barrage, stationary this time & of

equal intensity . . . .  

Advanced in extended order now in just the same way

as we were wont to do in practice . . . . Directly in front

were a number of concrete block houses & through the loopholes

of these machine guns were sweeping the ground.  Could

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see our shells fall on these pillboxes; but they made little

or no impression. We were beginning to feel very excited

about these because they were quite protected and had

the advantage of us. All attention was concentrated 

on one large blockhouse on our right. This was of

immense proportions but there was no loophole for a

machine gun as far as we could see. . . . . Machine guns

concentrated their fire on it but no effect was observed.

Stealthily we advanced & coming abreast of this

unharmed, a number of men rushed the entrance.

There was not a German in it . . . . This large place

was the electric power plant that supplied the light to the

German dugouts on Messines Ridge. An elaborate plant

it appeared to be & was in perfect running order it seemed.

. . . . There was no time to lose & had to move on again at once.

Came across a small gun here . . . . It was just

alongside the blockhouse.  We searched for ammunition

but could not find a shell . . . . The enemy was

sniping from a wood about a half a kilometre ahead 

. . . . Some of our men were being picked off by bullets

now and I could see spurts of dust near my feet

just as xxxxxx though something had struck the ground.

These were bullets. Could not see a man of the enemy

yet & were just longing for a glimpse of them. Our

pulses were throbbing with excitement  & anxiety.

While advancing over broken ground pitted

with shellholes, I was suddenly confronted by a German

standing in one of these holes. I was alone at the time

& my first thought was self defence. Being startled at so

suddenly coming upon one, like a lightning flash

I brought  the butt of my rifle down on his head. Like

hitting a piece of rubber the rifle rebounded & the man

fell over. Realised I was mad now & rushed on from

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the scene of my mad attack. I had struck a dead man.

In that brief interval, the sight had burned into my

brain a picture that haunted me. . . . Wearing no

helmet, I noticed his fair hair. A shirt & trousers

completed his attire & the shirt front was wide open

revealing an ugly wound in the breast which had caused

his death. The blood was fresh & still flowing from the 

wound. The mouth was wide open & the eyes had a glassy

stare. Just a boy about my own age. My last glance

revealed his dead body lying in the shellhole with

the skull smashed in by my rifle butt. God forgive

me for my rash act. The boy was defenceless. He never

even possessed a rifle. I wonder if he were dead when

I struck him. He could have been alive but I could

scarcely believe it. He fell like a log. I cannot think

I had killed him.

Rushed on pell mell into the fray. My brain is

pounding my head like a sledgehammer. It wants to be

released. Cannot collect my senses for one moment

& my nerves are jumping.  My whole body is twitching.

Not fear, for I asked myself the question. My courage is

perfect but the physical & mental strain are beyond

human endurance. I cannot vouch for my sanity. Saw

a man running all over the place now & crying. He

was uttering incoherent words & it appeared that he had

lost his reason. No notice was taken of him & he was left

behind a raving lunatic.

A shell fell amongst us. Not one was injured

but one map man leaped or was blown about five yards into

the air.  He fell to the ground again like a clod of earth

. . . . he got up apparently unhurt. . . .  

We have hardly commenced our attack so I still

have something before me. My one fear is if my brain

will hold out. Still had charge of my section & when

they obeyed my commands I realised I was still sane.

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The m/gun fire from the blockhouses was beginning 

to harry our advance.  We were having too many

casualties from this quarter & now decided to make a 

determined attack on a large blockhouse that was

barring our progress directly in front. Accordingly we 

all took refuge in shellholes while our m/guns

concentrated on this fort.

Peeping out occasionally I could see the

concrete being chipped away by this fusillade of

bullets. Two m/guns were firing 800 rounds a 

minute each on to a particular spot on this b/house

It was dangerous to look up at all; but I could not

resist the temptation to watch what was going on. Soon a

large hole was being bored into the thick concrete wall

& eventually the two feet thickness of concrete reinforced 

with steel rails was perforated. Armour piercing

bullets had broken right though this within ten minutes 

. . . . All during this time, from the loophole in

the wall spurted a fire that was as intense as ours.

. . . . Our m/guns were on the flanks, which gave the

gun in the emplacement little room to play on them

they could only fire on one of our guns at the one time.

In the distance could see British tanks like huge

tortoises rumbling along the road known as Huns

Walk and firing machine guns right & left. One of these

tanks suddenly burst into flames & immediately turned

round & made for our own lines. Flames were coming

through the roof, leaping to a height of about 10 feet.

Did not see any men get out of it . . . . the tank had

plunged along for some yards like a bull elephant rushing

through the jungle & then had run right into a tree on

Hun's Walk, where it cam to a fatal end, being completely

burnt out . . . .  

The gun in this blockhouse was now silenced by our

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m/guns, so we moved on again. Walked right up to the

place & couple of men went to the entrance where the

gun crew was found all huddled up inside. They had

evidently been wounded & killed by our fire. No time

was lost here, however, & these men fired point blank into

the group. There was a noise as though pigs were being 

killed. They squealed & made guttural noises which

gave place to groans after which all was silent. The

bodies were all thrown in a heap outside the blockhouse

to make sure all were dead. There were five of them

altogether . . . . nearly all were young men.

It is an impossibility to leave wounded Germans

behind us because they are so treacherous. They all have

to be killed. . . . .

Not far in front now was a German trench. This was

our objective. At intervals we could see the enemy's

head above the parapet as he fired a shot at our

advancing infantry. We were not 100 yds off it but met

with a stubborn resistance. There appeared to be a 

good number in this trench. I noticed many men

fling up their hands & fall to the ground from the

deadly rifle fire from this trench. . . . All our

rehearsals of attack practice & instructions to be

observed are flouted now when it comes to the real thing.

We simply have to advance as quickly as possible 

in the face of that murderous fire.

Were forced to fall down into shellholes now.

Simply could not advance another yard with that rifle

fire. Could hear bullets clicking past my ears. . . . . Our

advancing barrage would be on the trench in a minute

& then we could move forward in peace.

Soon the barrage played on the trench & the enemy

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began to vacate it. Could see them climb over the

parapet and run. This was too much for us to watch

silently & we set off as fast as we could go after them,

fearing we would miss an opportunity that was

rare. Carrying a bag of grenades, I was handicapped 

in the run. It swung between my legs and retarded

my progress to my annoyance. Forgot all about the

pins in these bombs in the excitement. It was taking

a big risk running with them all rubbing against 

each other. I might have been blown to pieces.

Better had I thrown them away; however ^on I went in

in great glee. Visions of a bayonet charge had

never occurred to me in this way before. It was

incredible to see the enemy on the run.

Every few yards they stopped & ^bending down on one knee took a well

aimed shot. Some fired from the hip. . . . We

in turn stopped & took aim at their fleeing forms.

All were worked up to the highest pitch of

excitement. Could see some of them drop in their

flight, but one could not say by whose aim. I 

know I fired frequently & saw men fall; but felt

the satisfaction of having scored a hit although I

knew so many were firing it could have been any

man's target. Some men were even counting their

victims aloud & it was rather funny when an

argument ensued as to who had brought down

a man when two or three had claimed him. We

were less than 50 yds from them now & it was

disappointing  when they got into some cover. The ground

ahead was covered thickly with small shrubs

and hedges & most of our men (i.e., the enemy) had

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got away under cover of these. They could hide here

& give us a bad time when we were out in the open.

Just in front of this trench was a barbed 

wire entanglement that had been shattered by out

shellfire & flattened by tanks in places. As we

moved rapidly forward, we had no difficulty in

passing through this although in places a few trip

wires still remained intact. I was lagging a little

from the weight of my bombs & some men go to the

trench before me. I was only a few yards behind

& saw them just prepare to make a thrust with

the bayonet at some one in the trench when they

threw up their arms & fell into it. So there were

still a few Germans holding the trench. Was nearly

frozen to the spot when I saw a man deliberately

take aim at me. I was almost looking down the

muzzle of the rifle. Presence of mind failed me

& I expected to fall like a dog, but by some

strange hand of fate that same man screamed

with pain before he pulled the trigger, & xxxx

reeled over. Some of my comrades must have got

him. . . .  

Mounting the parapet I observed the edge of my

bayonet & peering over watched until an opportunity 

presented itself. Not a German was standing there;

but a number lined the bottom of the trench either

wounded or dead.. . . . Jumped into the trench. Some

of my comrades were lying here wounded or dead too.

At my feet was a big German lying perfectly still. . . .  

I plunged my bayonet into him (in the back). . . . . The man was

alive & as he curled up like a worm with a long groan

I stood stricken with awe at the spectacle. He drew

his legs up, clenched his fists in mortal agony,

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his eyes turned showing white, & there was a gurgle in his

throat like water running out of a bath. Blood flowed from

the mouth & it seemed that the shadow of death had

passed over him.

This man might have been wounded & if so I am a 

murderer. God alone can judge. My brain is bursting

in my head. Looked at my bayonet. Six inches of it

were dyed red. Everything is red. I am a madman.

No longer I feel the exhaustion of the strenuous day,

but have the strength of a Hercules. Tried to call out,

to make a sound, but not a sound passed my lips.

My lips were hard & my tongue laid in my mouth

like a stone. Saliva was gone. I fired shots at random.

A comrade had a bullet through his water bottle.

The precious liquid was fast flowing away to waste

on the dusty earth. I rushed at it & falling down

on my knees grasped the bottle in both hands &

clasped it to my mouth. It was all wasted. Could

not get the water through my lips before the last drop 

had left the bottle . . . .  

A German clamoured for water. One of my

officers said:  "You German b____ of a b_____

breed; I'll give you blood but not water", & there

& then emptied his revolver into his head. I saw a

German taking water from his bottle & had to turn

away. . . . It was his last drink, however, & someone

cut his life short by a bullet. . . .  

It seems that something has happened & we are

all mad. My own comrades are wild eyed &

staring. Would not be surprised if they commenced

shooting each other soon. My world is upside down.

Some men had encountered stiff opposition in parts

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of this trench & hand to hand encounter ensued

with the bayonet.  We were victorious of course,

because we outnumbered the enemy. . . .  

Seeing the enemy running in front & hiding

behind trees was a great temptation to go after him.

We simply could not stay here under fire now we

had him on the run.  Some men wanted to break

right through the barrage & destroy all that were

left. It was as much as our officers could do to 

restrain them.

After a few minutes in this trench we all

broke loose again & rushed madly after our retreating

enemy. They fired volleys from behind these

bushes & we could not get at them. Our barrage had

lifted & now there was no protection during the

remainder of our advance.  Went down on our 

knees from time to time & fired a few rounds in

quick succession at any forms we could

discern behind bushes. . . . a number of

Germans were seen to fall. . . .  

As we approached the bushes about a dozen

men rushed out all unarmed, holding up a

white shirt on a stick & shouting "Mercy

Kamarade". Some held out watches, field glasses

& all kinds curios in lieu of the proverbial

olive branch. With these gifts they tried to

barter their lives. This was our opportunity & we

fired point blank as fast as we could, dropping 

them wholesale. . . . three or four had got so

close, that it was impossible to shoot them.  They

grovelled at our feet like whining dogs asking

for mercy. We had made most of our time & now

were too tired to finish these off. . . . Like snakes

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they crawled on their bellies crying "Kamarade,

Kamarade" and as treacherous, too, that if we passed them

they could turn round & shoot us in the back. Calling them

to their feet we drove them before our bayonets as a 

screen for ourselves. As soon as we became settled

we could have them work like slaves for us. . . .  

Advancing further into the bush we had the greatest

moment of our lives.  Our m/guns were particularly

active & sprayed every thicket with bullets. We soon

realised why so many men were hiding there. A heavy

barrage was cutting off their retreat & they were between

two fires. To pass through that barrage meant certain

death, whereas if they elected to face our advancing

bayonets, they had a chance of being taken prisoner.

Men threw away their arms & in a feverish state

awaited our onslaught.

Progress was slow through these bushes, because 

we had to advance cautiously. I was astounded when

I looked about me to see so many dead & wounded

Germans. Our own men were all over the place also

& I did not think we had had so many casualties.

Any of the enemy we saw lying wounded we put a

bullet into their heads & put them out of the way.

A man walking alongside me now screamed 

& dropped his rifle. He flung his hand about which

was bleeding freely. Upon examination it was found

that a bullet had shot away the three fingers of his

right hand where they clasped the rifle. . . . when

told to retire, absolutely refused & said he would

kill three Germans by way of compensation before he

was going back. This was the famous Conley, hero of St

Patrick's Day xxx celebrations at Agenvillers. . . .  

He was only a young man and . . . . the life of our

platoon. Having a party of prisoners here now . . . .