By-ways on Service: Notes from an Australian JournalDinning, Hector
History
By-ways on Service: Notes from an Australian Journal
Dinning, Hector
World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, Australian
This advanced railhead was so near the line as to be full of interest
on the eve of the April push. It was here you could see the immediate
preparations and the immediate results of the preparatory activity.
The local casualty clearing stations gave good evidence; you could
tell, by watching their convoys, and talking with the wounded, and
observing in the operating-theatre, what was going on. Such significant
events as the growth of fresh C.C.S.'s and the kind of reserves they
were putting-in, were eloquent. Talk with the legion of Flying-Corps
observers who were about railhead was enlightening; so was the nature
of the reserves they were laying up. The bulk and description of the
supply-reserves dumped at railhead for pushing up by lorry-convoy to
Arras told their tale also. Every night a convoy of lorries would
load and move up under cover of the darkness. There was no mistaking
the meaning of such commodities in their freight as chewing-gum and
solidified alcohol. Do not suppose, reader, that chewing-gum is for
mere distraction in the trenches. Neither is solidified alcohol for
consumption by the addicted, but for fuel for Tommies' cookers when
coal and wood are impossible of transport. Commodities such as these
make one visualise a sudden and overwhelming advance. ---- tons of
baled straw were dumped at railhead. This was not for forage, but
to strew the floors of empty returning supply-trains for wounded.
Each C.C.S. in the area had to be prepared to improvise one such
ambulance-train per day when the push was at its height. The handling
of these things makes one abnormally busy; if he gets four-hours' sleep
in twenty-four he is doing famously. But one is never so jaded as not
to be interested in these portentous signs.
Once I went up to Arras on a night lorry. The convoy crept up into
the lip of the salient. The guns flashed close on either flank; the
star-shells lit the road from either side. The reserve dump was in
an old factory in the Rue ----. An enormous dump it was. The Supply
Officer lived next it on a ground-floor. His men burrowed in an
adjacent cellar. He had laid on the floor of the attic above him eight
layers of oats. A direct hit would have asphyxiated him with oats.
His dump was unhappily placed. There were two batteries adjacent.
Whenever there was a raid and the batteries let fly, they were
immediately searched for. In the search his dump was found, on more
than one occasion. There were ugly and recent shell-holes about it. The
off-loading convoy was hit many nights at one point or another. He took
me to the bottom of the road after dark. The scream of shell was so
incessant that it rose to a melancholy intermittent moan.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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