BAILEY The War Diary of Herbert Bailey (2)
This is another extract from the diary of Lysterfield settler, Herbert Bailey, telling of his experiences during the final bloody battles in France in 1918.
During November - specifically at 11.00am on the 11th day - we remember the end of World War One, that terrible conflict that decimated a generation of young men. This month's local history article is an extract from the diary of an old Lysterfield identity, Herbert Bailey, who served with the Field Engineers division of AIF during the final bloody battles of the war in France in 1918. Bert's story was told by his daughter in the October and November 1994 editions of the R-LC News under the title "Eve Greenland (nee Bailey) Remembers" but in the following we hear Bert's own words.
The country truly is in an awful state. The first night we stay in dugouts, until recently occupied by German Troops. Much war material, clothing, equipment etc is strewn everywhere. Evidence of a hasty exit on all sides. Lots of unburied horses and men lie round about and for our own benefit, we dispose of numbers of them. It's not too healthy to be living in such close proximity to those who have departed a few days previously and are still lying around, especially when warm weather prevails. What a contrast in the spirit of our men now that they are continually advancing, to what prevailed only a short time ago. The dugouts which we are so often occupying recently are for the most part fairly comfortably fitted up. Fritz evidently had every intention of staying, for almost all have nice little stoves in, good bunks, furniture, accessories etc. His bad luck. Our good, just a change over.
We continue our advance and are now on the old battlefields that have been fought on and over again. The condition of the country is now far worse than anything I have previously seen. Truly one sees some most harrowing sights at times which would possibly in normal times put him off his mental balance. Fallen men, horses etc are lying round as we proceed. Scarcely a dead stick remaining of what were once woods. Everywhere desolation, rubbish, shell holes. One can pass along the road and not see the slightest sign of villages that were once there, being razed to the ground at an earlier period, they are now grown over with rubbish and appear like the rest of the wilderness . He has precious little opportunity of using his planes in the daytime. So makes the most of his night trips, paying us frequent visits with his bombing planes, the concussion of these is great. Especially if he drops an aerial torpedo in the vicinity, the concussion fairly takes one's breath.
We're going ahead now with our pontoons to assist in crossing the Somme and lay a distance back waiting a favourable opportunity. We are right in a line and under the direct observation of his balloons. I suppose he spots us and very soon things get lively around here. A salvo of shells comes over right into our midst, gets into a bunch of horses and mules, kills and wounds several, splashes a pontoon with fragments. Just luck, I suppose, quite a queue of our boys are just drawn up to a canteen nearby when the shells lobbed, the animals and the pontoon saved them. One Corporal was killed instantly, hit in the temple, several slightly wounded. Gas accompanied the shells and quite a number got more than their share. I, for one, had a pretty good fill of it, but luckily I soon recovered. Couldn't get the mask on quick enough. Several had to go away to hospital. I say luck because it's marvellous the whole mob wasn't killed right there. We go out several nights fixing up bridges etc. He has, of course, done his utmost to destroy all means of crossing to retard the progress of our troops. There are no places in these areas that are safe possies. Our water cart goes to a well in the village nearby for a supply and while there, over comes a salvo of shells, knocking out quite a number of both horses and men that were at the water point. He being in the neighbourhood just recently, of course, knows the exact range. I was getting water there myself just previously.
In one's wildest imagination it would be impossible to form any estimate as to the colossal amount of metal that has been scattered over this vast area of country that has been fought over, time and again, during the past four years and has caused such utter and terrible scenes of desolation everywhere. One goes for many miles and the same scene presents itself, not many square yards of soil anywhere, but what has been churned up and pitted with shells. Many lines of ruined and fallen-in trenches still exist showing only too plainly evidence of the conflict that has waged about them. The whole place is devastated and ruined. One also sees many hastily constructed burial grounds and cemeteries containing the fallen. Isolated graves are everywhere, the fallen one has been interred where he fell. Rough crosses or some other crude token such as his rifle, helmet etc. to mark the spot where some mother's son is taking his long rest.
Herbert Bailey
A copy of Bert's diary is available at the Rowville Library. Its full title is "Diary 1917 - 1919 of Herbert Austin Bailey".
First published in the November 1999 edition of the Rowville-Lysterfield Community News.