February – March 1916
“Seven of us went to view the pyramids last Sunday, my word it was a great sight - we climbed the biggest which is named Cheops, it is a great view from the top, on one side is the great desert like waves of the ocean as far as the eye can reach, while on the other is the River Nile with beautiful farm plots all along it. If you can imagine blocks of stone weighing from 2 to 60 tons & placed one above the other in step fashion to a height of 480ft & the whole covering an area of 13 1/2 acres, you have some idea of the pyramid Cheops. I also had a look over the Sphinx & some of the underground passages of old time cities”.
ON ARRIVAL AT Port Suez, I have never seen anything so majestic. The water in the Gulf was like a mirror, wonderfully calm. The hills on either side are spectacular and the scene reminds me of the Bible’s stories. In the far distance, we can see trains travelling along the hills.
We anchor alongside ten or twelve other transport ships and the rousing reception they offer us is a memory that will stay with me forever. I could hear Coo’ees floating across this Egyptian harbour for an hour or so. You certainly feel a warmth in your heart when surrounded by mates like this.
One of our troop ships anchored nearby is flying a yellow flag (indicates fever on board) and the ship has been quarantined for many days. An epidemic of Mumps is the word.
Several small local sailing boats pull alongside and the Gypos5 on board beg for money. Our boys throw a few pennies over and they dive to retrieve them. Hard way to earn a living! After a while some military sailors arrive and shoo them away. They are considered the biggest thieves unhung and are not permitted on board. We are instructed to remove them (throw them over board) if we catch them walking around on board the Demosthenes.
There is a briefing conducted on deck and everyone aboard is called to attention. We are advised in no uncertain manner that we are now in a war zone. The Turks have crept through the Persian Gulf in the last couple of months and have been sighted on the eastern side of the Canal not far north of this harbour.
We observe several ships head off up the Canal, heavily sand bagged around their decks. It can be assumed we will be in the thick of this war very shortly. The port and ships anchored here are all in danger and it is critical that we disembark and clear the area as soon as possible.
A hospital ship full of wounded soldiers pulls away from the wharf and passes close by. Several nurses are on deck and being that we haven’t seen a girl for a month, they receive a hearty cheer and play to it. A light-hearted moment considering the suffering that must be going on below their decks.
Two hundred and four of us are held back to clean up the ship. We’re all keen to disembark so we get stuck into it, starting on the lowest level and working upwards. Hessian bags full of rubbish are taken to the main deck where they are bundled up and turfed overboard onto the wharf. Locals are waiting below and remove the waste by cart. We scrub, sweep and clean up thoroughly, each deck is signed off by an officer when completed.
Our clean-up efforts are appreciated, and we are given a four hour leave pass while still on the ship so that we can walk into Suez and have a look around. We came unstuck a bit and got chased out of town quick smart. Unbeknown to us, the town is under martial law, no Australian’s are allowed in, only the “Tommies”. We sulk our way back to the ship and have a cup of tea on deck to compensate.
At 06:00 on 1st February we disembark the Demosthenes and board a train for Ishmalia. We need to change trains and get delayed with a three hour wait in between. I wandered about the town a little, filling in time. It’s a reasonably sized place, quite tidy. The train ride was interesting enough, however the land is quite barren. We sight some very big camps spread out along the way, full of soldiers from all over the British colonies. Many thousands of them were obviously Indian and happy enough to throw us a wave.
On the last leg into Cairo, I get an opportunity to study the landscape more and with my farmer’s hat on, the irrigation systems impress me. For a hot, dry, sandy climate they appear to be very advanced with pockets of good faming land dotted along the channels.
After arriving in Cairo, the fun part of the day commenced, with a twelve-mile march (in the dark). We arrive at Aerodrome Camp, North-East of Cairo around 02:00.
We settle in quickly and after a couple of days, permission to take leave and visit Cairo town is granted. I take the opportunity to travel in there on several occasions. The trip into town is by a very good tram system that operates quite fast. Cairo is a good-sized town but very dirty, the niggers6 keep it so. An area a bit closer to us, Heliopolis, is by far the better place. While not as large as Cairo it has some grand buildings and is a lot cleaner. The largest building is the hospital which they say contains twelve hundred rooms.
A week after arriving a few kit bags are stolen and some poor beggars lost all their belongings. Special lookout has been increased for niggers wandering into camp.
The company is advised of the aggravation that exists between the locals and camp soldiers, our presence here is not appreciated by everyone and we must remain on guard at all times. There have been a couple of riots in Cairo recently and one where eighty thousand troops and the Light Horse were sent into town to restore order. The week before we arrived, seven niggers were shot and killed by our chaps who had been cornered by a mob. The others took fright and ran off.
There is a lot of talk and joking around the camp about a riot attributed to Australian and New Zealand soldiers in the Haret Al Wassir red light district of Cairo a few months back. The Aussie’s blame the New Zealanders and vice versa but behind the closed tent flap they all claim equal responsibility and are proud of trashing an area that they believed, deserved trashing anyway. There is no love lost between our soldiers and the locals, especially in the back streets where booze and “ladies of the night” are in abundance. Those that were there say that the riots started as pay back for the number of venereal diseases brought back into camp and the aggravation that caused the military establishment. (A fair bit of aggravation to the soldier as well I might add). Others will tell you that it was just an excuse to let off some of the pressure of camp life and sharing the company of thousands of men on a war footing. Either way, the chaps I spoke to were very proud of their involvement and offer up no guarantees that it won’t happen again.
The official line is considerably different. We are constantly briefed on the behaviour expected of us when going into town. Any misbehaviour will have consequences in that leave will be declined or in the case of serious breaches more severe discipline, even lock-up, can be expected.
I am selected to work out of a town just up the road called Zaytoun, acting as a battalion orderly. It’s a bonser job, not much work and plenty of tucker. Mainly running messages backwards and forwards between the officers. Sad to say it only lasts a week, then they select someone else.
Zeitoun, Heliopolis and Aerodrome camps adjoin each other and play temporary home to thousands of New Zealand and Australian troops. Many of the men withdrawn from the Gallipoli campaign are here and their stories of Australia’s involvement are very unpleasant. My first thoughts are that their stories don’t quite align to the newspaper reports we had read back home. Certainly not in the detail that these chaps offer up in conversation. It would appear that the reporting of our losses may have been heavily censored.
Some of these men appear to be struggling. They have a stare or glaze in their eye like they are weary or very, very tired. Not all of them are interested in talking much or joining in the banter. On the other hand, those that appear a bit stronger or more open are utilized by our command to assist with training briefings and drills so that we can all benefit from their first-hand experience.
I do my best to take in as much from these sessions as possible. We can all expect that we may be fronted with similar circumstances at some point. The sharing of information on trench work, safe movement of men and equipment under fire, going out under cover of darkness and raiding parties is solid information coming from men who were doing this caper a couple of months back.
I choose to spend a lot of my spare time with the Light Horse troops. I love being with the horses, reminds me of Cloverdale. I give my time freely to help groom these beautiful animals, occasionally being permitted to ride around in the exercise yard with them.
I make inquiries about transferring to the Light Horse but the Officer in charge advises that it is not possible. I should have pushed the point when I first enlisted or enlisting through the 20th Light Horse in Colac would have been the way to go. Too late now, the horse has bolted, so to speak.
Some mail from home is trickling through and it’s such a treat to open them. Never in my life have I seen such enthusiasm when the chaps receive theirs. I feel sorrow for some poor sods who don’t receive anything, they are very disheartened.
I learn from home that my eldest cousin, Fenton Hall from the Woodlands farm has enlisted recently. He’s a lot older than me at thirty-eight. His reluctance to enlist earlier was due to his commitment to Woodlands. With his dad, Uncle Thomas, now into his mid-seventies, Fenton has been the driving force to keep their farm viable. With a bit of luck, I’ll catch up with him over here.
The Pyramids are only about seven miles south of Cairo and we travel there by train. The local infrastructure is very modern and along the Nile there are bridges with lift out sections that allow shipping to pass through. We spend nearly the whole day there and thoroughly enjoy the experience of being a tourist. The local inhabitants around this area are very friendly and helpful. Considerably different from their countrymen in Cairo town.
The camp I’m in ran a sports meeting and concert night to entertain the troops. It was well attended, and much laughter was had by all. The sports events included the 100-yard championship. As many chaps consider themselves to be decent runners, a series of heats and semi-finals were required to bring the final field down to ten men. The bookmakers did a fine trade and a stocky, well-built private from “C” company won the final in grand style, crossing the finish line a clear winner with both hands aloft.
Other events around the packed program were the relay race. Each team was required to be made up of one officer and three ordinary men. A horse race put on by the Light Horsemen, a sack race that raised plenty of laughter, a one-mile championship, tug of war and the afternoon finished with a fancy dress. The winner had dressed up as one of our officers who immediately recognized himself and laughed it off in good spirits.
The night entertainment was also a great success. There was a boxing match between the biggest man in camp and the shortest. It was all well staged and had the gathered troops in fits. The shorter man stood on a chair and pretended to knock the bigger chap out but was disqualified when the referee found a horse shoe in his glove!
Another fight between two officers was called to a halt after two rounds when the contestants became too willing and brutal. Members of the respective companies had to jump in and pull the two apart. The referee declaring a draw. The band took up with “God save the King” but the crowd had dispersed by then.
The officers in camp often complain that the quantity of work required to be done is greatly retarded due to the lack of materials available. However, this does not mean we sit around idle. There is plenty of drill in a variety of disciplines. We had two 10-mile marches last week, both before breakfast and another is scheduled for tomorrow. We are up at 4:00am, a light snack, then march five miles towards Cairo, turn around and march back in. The last mile coming back is encouraged as a free for all and everyone lifts the pace back through the gates.
Some night training takes place. The companies are split up. C & D are sent out about a mile and a half from camp and told to, “Defend the position”, A & B companies follow later and are told to, “Take the position”.
D company (my company now) were beaten badly recently but by underhanded methods. The other companies dressed up three or four men as nigs and pretended to be selling cigarettes or oranges which is not uncommon here as the niggers follow us around selling their goods wherever we go all the time.
So, they discovered our strategic points, found out we were too strong within our stipulated boundaries and attacked us from another flank and won. We got back into camp around 10:30pm and had some tea, we hadn’t had anything for ten and a half hours so were pretty hungry.
There is a lot of activity with aeroplanes flying in and out all day, a reminder that we have troops in contact with the Turks only forty miles from Aerodrome Camp, near Ismailia.
No talk of where our mob is headed next, but we are keen to get our foot in the door of this war knowing that our mates are well and truly into it a few miles away.
The Suez Canal is currently being defended by 750,000 British, Australian, New Zealand, Sikhs and Gurkha troops. It is critical for the Canal to remain open. Many skirmishes are being reported and the Turks on the Eastern side are being engaged with our big guns that have a range of up to 12 miles.
I continue to enjoy the musketry training that we use on a 30-yard range at the back of camp. My eye is good, and I consistently score well on the plates. We also have grenade drill on a regular basis. There is a bit of theory and practice associated with this weapon, the bigger men doing far better with the practical exercise of throwing it. My height is a bit of a restriction when trying to lob a grenade out of a seven or eight-foot-deep trench and clearing the parapet significantly well. No one appreciates a grenade rolling back into the trench.
There was an accident in one of the trenches during a live throwing demonstration recently when something went wrong, and a bomb exploded. Four officers were badly wounded, and two men were killed.
There are several classroom style courses on a variety of weapons, machinery and one on map reading that I quite enjoyed and attended twice. The ability to pinpoint your position or to locate one within a couple of yards by being able to comprehend a map is a critical part of soldiering. Not everyone picks the skill up easily. I had some experience with this exercise when I was with the 20th Light Horse in Colac and believe I know what I’m doing.
It is basically the breakdown of a large area map divided into twenty-four equal squares which are alphabetical noted. One of those squares is then broken up into thirty equal squares and numbered accordingly. One of those squares is then divided into four equal squares and noted as “A”, “B”, “C” or “D”. One of those squares is then broken up into ten points on the “Y” axis and the same on the “X” axis. So, basically the process just dilutes an area into smaller and smaller parcels until you’re within coo’ee of where you want to be.
The maps we work with have been supplied by the British and are considerably comprehensive and recently printed. They are considered top secret and are gathered up and recorded after each session. They are not permitted to be taken outside the tent.
I’m asked to locate the grid reference of “62.H.17.D.1.9”. I’ve got the hang of it and only takes me a minute to work my way down through the segments and put a claim in to the instructor that I have my feet in the centre of a French town called “Querrien”. When I ask the question, what is so important about Querrien, the reply is that it is a short distance from a larger town called Amiens and that, “We might finish up there”.
On the 10th March, the Battalion is given short notice that we are moving out to a staging camp called Serapeum, situated at the southern end of the Suez Canal. We’ve been in Egypt around six weeks by this time, so this move is a substantial milestone for us. The term, “Staging Camp” spells out that we are on the move and getting closer to our final destination, but we are not told where this will be, secrecy remains very much the name of the game.
We pack up our gear, have a bit of a clean-up and entrain at 1:30pm, arriving at Serapeum station at 6:00pm. We walked from there, crossing over the Canal and two miles in knee deep sand to a very dusty camp that the Turks had occupied previously. The camp is a bit rougher than we have been used to and quite exposed. On arrival, the cooks have knocked up a decent feed, we find tents and settle in.
Next day we line up and are inoculated for Paratyphoid.
There isn’t much opportunity or desire to move far from camp. The weather is quite hot and too much sand around for my liking. The flies are sending everyone crazy and the camp is a pig sty. We are kept relatively busy on routine drills and making an effort to clean the camp up as best we can.
A week later and there is a restructuring of the 5th Battalion. I am “taken on strength” and transferred to the 1st Australian Pioneer Battalion which is classified as an Infantry and light engineering unit. I’m assigned to “D” Company and am comfortable with this transfer. All my training since joining the AIF sits well with any agenda the 1st Pioneers might have. Most of the chaps I’ve been with are transferred to the same unit unless they were ear marked for specialist duties. There is no need to move around tents or reshuffle beds within the camp, everyone knows quite well what unit they belong to now.
Another week passes in Serapeum before we are given a days’ notice to pack up. “Get your mail to home in the post now, there might not be an opportunity for a few weeks” comes the order.
Sunday, 26th March starts early, reveille at 4:00am, 4:15am breakfast. At 5:00am the Battalion is marched out of camp. All tents are left standing. Seventy-six men remain in camp to clean up and will follow later. We entrained at Serapeum siding and our train departs for Alexandria at 7:30am.
It is a decent trip on the train, rattling north-west through Egypt all day. Had a few kips, saw a bit of country, mostly flat arid open space, a few camels walking around. Played some games of cards and exchanged banter about where we have been and where we might be heading now. Most of us are happy enough to be on the move again.
We pull alongside three ships docked behind each other at Alexandria Port around 5:30 in the afternoon. Embarkation commences immediately, several units are directed to the HMAT Ballarat. Light Horse troops and horses load onto the Maryland and my unit boards the 14,000 ton, HMS Saxonia.
At 7:00pm we push away from the wharf; destination – Marseilles, France.