Diary of Trooper Ion Llewellyn Idriess-1915-1916-Part 1

Rations for a troop of
28 men.
18 Loaves Bread per day
3 2lb. tins Syrup     "
3 lbs Butter             "
2 Stews, mostly soup "
Heard to our surprise a
distant band. Then
marching through the
sand came the finest
Brigade infantry, over
the pontoon bridge
across the canal and
then into their train, They
are going to France, How
we wish we were
going with them. 22^nd
It seemed strange to be on 
sentry duty in the small
hours this morning and
watch the big steamers
sailing slowly down the
Canal within a few yards
of us. We could feel the
engines slowly throbbing

of a bit P. & O boat. She
was well lit up, we
could almost imagine
we were sitting in the deck
chairs. Some of the passengers
were Australians, or knew
Australia well for they
"Cooeed" to us on the banks
and shouted "Go it, Australia"
. . . . In the early morning
the big mobs of Egyptian

Arabs going about their
work on the canal bank
sing chanties, and it
sounds very well...
Watching some of our
Australian lads working
on the pontoon bridge this

morning, wh made me
wonder what they would
have said to a man if
he had suggested to them
that they would ever be
engaged at such work,
in the middle of a desert,
two years ago, 25^th. Good
bright weather at last.
Some buckshee tobacco and
cigarettes arrived, . . . . What
rotten luck I have at times.
Hurt my back at fatigue
work yesterday, and am
knocked out for a few
days. 29^th March. A bottle of 
pickles, 1 tin peaches, and
a tin of golden syrup
to a section arrived

"baksheesh" today from
the "Citizens War Chest
Fund," Sydney, It was
a very a much appreciated
gift. How we
wish we had more like it
B. Squadron is back The
weather is fine. There are
far less duties now and
things are going well
except for poor unlucky
me, who has got a crook
back. 31st March. Two days
ago a long straggling mile
long line of infantry neared
Serapeum, on a route
march. Men were near
dying of thirst, all in a
terrible state, no water

in the desert on a
hot day, with heavy
packs up. Next day
some of the exhausted
men who had come in
showed their tongues
covered with blisters
through thirst. Our
Brigade water carts
were commandered to
take f water out to
them. 1^st April. Last night
we were a few miles out
in the desert on outpost
duty. We were on top of
a ridge of pure sand.
in The night was cold,
and sentry go and
picquet was damned

miserable. When I ^we woke up
on the first watch woke up,
we were completely buried
by the sand the wind had
blown over us. As our
officer truly said, a man
will never want a grave
dug for him if he is shot
in this desert. 2^nd April.
We are supposed to be going
away tomorrow. It is about
time. Duty almost every
night, and fatigue work
all through the day, is
knocking it out of us. . . . .
They say that some of the 
infantry men on the route
march died, and many 

are in the hospital. I do
not know if it is true
that the men died, though
it is quite possible in these
rotten military Gawk
acts. 3^rd April. We are leaving
this Serapeum to-day, thanks
to the powers that be. Some of
the baggage is going by train,
some by the camel corps. The
Brigade, except the baggage
guard, is going on the 
horses. . . . . Ten of the infantry
died from exhaustion and
thirst on the route march,
so the report goes. One of the
men put the muzzle of his
rifle in his mouth and
pulled the trigger. Two
hundred of the men went
into Ismailia hospital.

They had no water, but
after a long while they
came on to bad brackish 
water. They drank it, and
it helped to send the exhausted
men mad. Rifles bayonets
and all equipment was
slung away, event to notebooks.
Although this disastrous 
"Route" march ended
but a few yards from
our camp, everything is
kept so quiet that we
cannot be sure of the
truth of all the rumours,
. . . . 9.30 am We have

just left Ismailia, that
is, us of the baggage
guard. Our third class

carriage is half full
of Arabs, half full of
Australian soldiers. The
row the Arabs make is
awful. Of course the
Australians soon have
a say in stopping that,
and any luckless arab
who walks up our share
of the carriage gets a 
very lively time. Some
of the beggars don't
like it, but the angrier
they get the more
Australians like it.
. . . . All the trains are, as
usual, swarming with
troops and munitions
of war. One train

I'm damned if a Turk didn't
come along 500 yards away,
driving a pack l mule.
Then another came along.
I got the rifle fixed, but
the damned thing was a 
periscope rifle, and dashed
wobbly. Then two Turks
sauntered leisurely out of a
sap, towards a trench. Bang!
The dust cleared between the
two of them, and those Turks
did the prettiest sprint imaginable
back to the sap. Meanwhile
the periscope frame had
kicked me on the jaw, and
dashed near knocked me down
the trench. Then another
Turk sauntered slowly
along. We did not see

where the bullet hit, but
that Turk seemed to dive and
vanish. Since then we've
only seen the top of their
heads, running very lively
through the sap. If the
Turks up at Grahams
Post, where we have the
steel loopholes and our
own good rifles, were a 
quarter as game, we should
put up some great sniping
tallies. .. These flies are
awful. Twenty turks
rushed part of this trench
last night; nineteen were
killed, but one fell head
over heels into the trench.
The sergeant caught him
by the throat, but some

silly fool blew the Turks
head off. . . . There was a bit
of fun up at Quinns Post a
little while ago. The boys
rigged up a good bulls-eye,
and held it up above the
trench. Each time the Turks
got a bulls eye, the boys
would mark a bull. For
an outer, the boys marked 
an, outer, for a miss they
yelled derision. The Turks
laughed loudly, and
blazed away like sports.
After a while an officer
came along, and put a
stop to the little joke. A
very brave thing was
just done there, but like
many, many score of

brave deeds, it was not
noticed except by the
few men who were there,
Some of our men had
charged, but were badly
cut up. One of the men in
the trench saw his two
mates fall close to the
parapet. He jumped
over the parapet and
got one man in under a
furious fire. Bending
over the second man, he
was shot through the
back, but with great
pain and difficulty
managed to get his
second mate into the
trench. One of the 12^th L H
for just been smashed

by a bomb. . . .In places
here there are body worms
crawling over the trench.
It is horrible. . . . .To eat
our tucker here we have to
keep one and a half hands
continually brushing away
the flies, and ^bolt eat our meal
lively. There is no place to
rest. . . . .This is the most
infernally uncomfortable
line of trenches we've ever
been in, which is saying
some. There are 48 men, in an
18 inch wide trench, with
an iron covering trying
to get peace from the bombs
and supposed to be sleeping
preparatory to our next

watch. There are maggots
crawling down the walls of
the trench. What Ho for the 
Glories of War. . .Six Turks
have just given themselves
up. Evening. First Watch.
There are a lot of mortar 
bombs flying about, but
so far none have come

in this trench. I sincerely
hope they do not either. The
Turks are only a few
yards away. . . . .A few days
after. . . I'm in a hospital
ship again, but let me see
if I can w remember
things and write them
down as they happened.
I was looking through the
periscope at the bodies

when the firing started,

bodies of our own Australians
killed when they charged
and took those trenches three
weeks ago. Little khaki heaps
of them, and single ones here
and there, lying among the
Turks. Some are only rotting
khaki, without shape or
form. The boots last the 
longest. Within a few yards
of my periscope lies a tale
which tells how furiously
both sides died. The Australians
bayonet is sticking rusted
and black, sich six inches
through the Turks back. One
hand is gripping the Turks
throat, while even now you
can see the Turks teeth

fastenend through what was
the boys wrist. The Turks
bayonet is jammed fast through
the boys stomach, (and
one hand is clenched claw
like across the Australian 
face, . . I wonder will they
fight if there is an after
world. Well the dark
began to come, and with it
a steadily increasing
volume of bullets. The top
of our possy was only one
sand bag thick, and the
bullets began to thud
through. Then in was nothing
but a continuous screech
of bullets, and the roar of
those infernal bursting
bombs, they fall in front

of us, around us, behind
us, with a blinding flash
and roar and clouds of
earth and smoke and stench
of burning cloth. Then my
mate and I had to pull 
part of our parapet down to
look through into the Turkish
trench, to shoot their bombing
men. I noticed the young
lieutenant who directed us
kept well below in the trench
and did not come and dare to
hold his head where we were
against that stream of bullets
Us old hands were split up,
man for man, with a lot
of new chaps, to steady
them who had only landed
[[?]] new me It was a very

rough breaking down.
My new mate was frightened,
so he croughed down with
the great coat thickly folded,
to throw on any bomb
should it come into the possy,
and thus try to minimise
the scope of the flying fragments
of metal. I kept the
lookout. When our bombs
would explode in the Turkish
trenches there would be
a sheet of flame and a roar
and tremble which I guess
would equal any young
volcano. At last it came
round to change watch. We
whispered instructions to
the new relief, and then the 
old relief was was slowly