The story of the battles fought by the Australians before Amiens is amongst the most thrilling in the history of this great world conflict. Here was the fate of civilization decided. The great German army, marching along the road in column of route, reached the crest of high land overlooking Amiens, and with but a few miles between them and this key to Paris, were held up by a veritable handful of Australians, later reinforced as the rest of the Divisions came to hand. It was the turning of the tide; the fighting raged around Villers-Bretonneux, but the car of the German Juggernaut rolled forward no more. From that day the onward rush of the enemy offensive was stayed. An impassable barrier had been set up beyond which the enemy could not pass. But the young soldiers of Australia, not satisfied with arresting his onward march, began to force the Hun back; at first slowly, and then faster and faster, until in the great offensive of August 8, when along with four Divisions of Canadians and two British, they swept him back in headlong rout, nor gave him pause until breaking through the vaunted Hindenburg line they stood victorious at Beaurevoir. The deeds of these brave men will remain for ever fresh in the minds of Australians. Australia has reason to be proud of her war effort; she has done great things; but she has paid a great price. That a small community of five millions all told should have recruited 417,000 men and sent 330,000 twelve thousand miles across the seas, is a great thing. The number of our dead--57,000--and our total casualties--289,723--show how great is the price which Australia has paid for Liberty. Although I have not seen the manuscript of _The Diggers_, with such a theme it is impossible that the author of _The Children of the Dead End_ and _The Great Push_ can fail. Sincerely yours, W. M. HUGHES. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I THE SOMME 17 II VILLERS-BRETONNEUX 33 III TOWARDS PERONNE 41 IV MONT ST. QUENTIN 53 V THE HINDENBURG TUNNEL 67 VI THE DEAD VILLAGE 83 VII GRAVES 93 VIII CAMBRAI AND AMIENS 99 IX IN THE CAFÉ 111 THE SONG OF PICARDY (1918). Oh! barren hearth of Picardy And trampled harvest field, Say, who will light your fire at night Or mill your autumn yield? No more the reaper plies his trade, The hours of peace are o'er, And gone the matron and the maid, And they return no more. The poppies blow in Picardy, The skylark sings o'erhead, And flower and bird their vigil keep Above the nameless dead; But though above the dark sky lowers, Beneath its gloom is set The little seeds of Freedom's flowers, To rim the parapet.