DIGGER’S DIARY

Te Awamutu Courier, Volume 66, Issue 5599, 31 March 1943, Page 6

DIGGER’S DIARY

LAST WAR MEMORIES ON THE SOMME (By A. K. Greves) No. 5 Saturday, April 6 (1918). —A bit quieter to-day, just a few stragglers came over. Just as well, too. We lost half of our gun crew (No. 5) yesterday. The ridge beyond us seemed to have had more attention paid to it than we did yesterday. The whole lot of it seems to be ploughed up with shell fire.

At 7 p.m. we received an 5.0.5., which was promptly answered; we soon got orders to cease fire. Sunday, April 7.—One of our gunners has had enough of sliding into our bivvy, so this morning he set to work to make a more elaborate affair, using ammunition cases to line the walls. With Fritz putting up a couple of balloons and sending over a plane, he could not finish it, so he covered it over with a sheet of camouflage. So to-night a gunner and I are in our old bivvy. We hope for better sleeping quarters our next night S.O.S. We have a shoot to do at 2.30 a.m. to-morrow and my orders are, if there is any hostile shelling near the position, don’t open up. There is a slight misty rain falling outside, but I think it will clear off before long. While I am writing these notes the gunner is sleeping. Monday, April B.—By jove, we had a bit of luck this morning. In fact, I think if we fell into a cesspool we would have come up with gold in our teeth. 2.30 a.m., or rather, just before then, we got out, laid the gun on the selected target, an h.e. in the breech, and with a minute or two to go Fritz opened up. The first instalment was an over. Next in front . . . we unloaded, laid the gun back on S.O.S. lines and got back into the bivvy. After we had got mixed up in a shell storm we had a candle burning, but the exploding high-explosive shells kept putting it out with the concussion.

The gunner’s matches were getting low, so we sat in the dark. I said to Nellie, the gunner, “Will we make a break for it, or shall we chance it?” We decided on the latter.

What, a gruelling! The old bivvy was rocking like a baby in a cradle. I crept out and retrieved the dial sight off the gun. The men on No. 4 gun cleared out. A shell found its mark there. We had two and a-half hours of this shelling and still Old Nick has me labelled, “Not Wanted.” Just at daybreak, Fritz called the deal off and we got out to survey the damage. What a darned mess! Ammunition blown all over the place, but no direct hit on any of the guns. But our Bivvy Deluxe, which we may have slept in last night, was only a ring of remnants of camouflage, a big shell having struck it. (To be continued)