Chapter 13 – The backlines

Photo by British Library on Unsplash

I am releasing a chapter a day of a story I wrote as a tribute to a WWI digger, for background click here. For the previous chapter click here.

Jacko arrived in France. Behind the front lines. They were over the border in Belgium. Men of the 2^nd reinforcement were placed in their billets. Jacko made sure he stayed close to Mick. They would have a brief rest before heading to the front for the first time.

Currently they were in the relief line, soon they would move to the reserve line and then onto the front line. The intention was to spend a week in each section in reality that was unlikely.

Although technically not at the front, they were not out of the reach of German artillery. All had to be wary in case of a barrage of fire. There were scars everywhere and many buildings had been razed. Amazingly in this small village so destroyed by the war locals remained. They lived amongst the soldiers and helped them where possible. This included providing food. The men liked this as it was much better than bully beef and army rations.

The landscape was horrific nothing natural was left. Only mud. Trees, flowers, grass, crops were completely gone. Replaced by shell holes, debris and the occasional corpse of a horse or worse.

The train ride to this area had not been enjoyable, locked in carriages with no windows and crowded. Jacko had stayed near Mick but remained in complete silence for the entire journey.

Some men chatted or sang, many tried to sleep. Jacko just sat and endured the ordeal. The train crawled along as the track integrity could not be guaranteed. Gunners were stationed on the train in case of enemy aircraft attack, thankfully none was forthcoming.

Leaving the train, the men had a short march to the relief line.

Jacko recognised many faces. Men from the first deployment of the battalion. Men from the recruitment march who had been so feted upon their departure. The bumpkins that were so full of bravado that had been loud and quarrelsome. The men who had ruined his pub and town. These men no longer had the same demeanour. They appeared tired. They had expressionless faces and their eyes were missing the life they once contained. These men had arrived at the front only a couple months prior but, already the war appeared to be sucking the life out of them.

The new arrivals assessed their surrounds, those who upon leaving England that had been loud and cocky had subsided. The arrival of a cargo of coffins passed nearby, reinforced the seriousness of the situation.

Men begun unloading this cargo. Soon followed a second truck carrying wooden crosses, one man vomited and some gasped. The more experienced men sniggered at the reactions of the newbies.

Mick was quiet, Jacko asked how he was to only have the reply “Freezing.”

Whilst settling into their billets Jacko noticed two men chuckling and making notes. The men wore ANZAC shoulder patches meaning they were Gallipoli veterans. Jacko would later find out the experienced men of the front ran a book on the newbies. Who would shit themselves first when they got to the front. This was in many ways sick and perverse but entertainment at the front was thin. Jacko would also find out later that Mick had been the favourite.

Coming up towards evening the men were fed and split into companies. Jacko along with Mick stayed together and were appointed to C Company. They were introduced to their company commander a man by the name of Willis. He told the men to get some rest as it was important to rest when you could out here.

As Jacko and Mick were bunkering down, an enormous roar was heard. Shells began falling all around. This was their first experience of being under fire. It would not take long for the book to be won with one man becoming hysterical and shitting himself. In training he’d had one of the loudest mouths full of grand proclamations of what he’d do. The German shells knocked that out quickly.

The noise was like nothing Jacko had ever heard. It was horrifying. With each deadly explosion a man knew a little to the left or right and they were done. Jacko faced his mortality on his first night in France, an experience that he would grow accustomed to.

“FUCK!” Someone yelled. Jacko had no idea where from.

“MUM!” Another man wailed. He continued screaming hysterically.

“Shut that bastard up!” Willis cried. Two men grabbed him and held him down.

BOOM!

“Shit, that was close Jacko.” Mick tried looking him in the eye.

BOOM!

Dust fell on Jacko’s face. He tried to curl up tighter, his hands tight on his head. His brain felt like it was trying to get out of his head to escape the din.

BOOM!

More dust. Another man begun to scream.

“ALL YOU BASTARDS SHUT UP!” Willis screamed.

“GET DOWN AND KEEP QUIET!” He followed up with.

BOOM!

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Finally, after what seemed an eternity the deadly rain ceased. And the noise was replaced with an eerie silence.

“That’s the Germans sayin ‘ello boys.” Willis spoke quietly.

“You new lads got a bit to learn. That ain’t half of what ol’ Fritz got in store.”

“They won’t bother us again tonight so get some sleep.” Willis concluded.

Mick looked at Jacko “You right mate?”

“Yep, you?”

“Yeah all good.”

A restless night ensued, tomorrow evening under the cover of darkness the battalion would move further forward. Some returning some for the first time.

Morning came and the men were called to stand to. Prior to moving up the line under darkness. Work details were set to clear the damage from the overnight shelling. No men had been killed but there was a large amount of debris that needed clearing. The coffins had taken a direct hit and now lay scattered everywhere. The men tasked with cleaning up the coffin mess were not happy.

Whilst clearing the road Jacko saw Dick. He was weathered, his face grey and he had aged since Jacko last saw him which wasn’t that long ago.

“Dick!”

“Jacko.” Dick walked up to him.

“How’s it been out here?” Jacko asked not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

“There’s a few things they didn’t say in the recruitment pitch.” Dick still had a similar manner and sense of humour.

“Where’s Tiny?”

“Dead.” Dick paused and looked down.

“Shit. Hope it was quick. Did he see it coming?”

“Given he did it himself, yeah.”

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Chapter 12 – The Old Country

Photo by Museums Victoria on Unsplash

I am releasing a chapter a day of a story I wrote as a tribute to a WWI digger, for background click here. For the previous chapter click here.

Upon arriving in England, the boredom of the ocean journey from Australia subsided only briefly. The extra space was a relief and the food improved. For Mick the floor no longer moved, he had slowly grown sea legs but would be happy to never see a ship again. Soon though the grind of training began.

The first day of training the camp Drill Sergeant addressed the men, Sergeant Smith. Jacko thought he looked like someone who had no idea about the war let alone someone who’d been there. He addressed the troops at the morning stand to. He spoke the King’s English. This irked Jacko even further.

“Gentlemen, welcome to England. Soon you will heading to wage in glorious battle to triumph for King and the empire.

You will hold back the evil invaders and liberate our allies in France.

The initial contingent of men from this battalion have arrived in France and our now on the front line. These men worked hard and our now becoming the heroes you all will soon be.

Some of you may sacrifice everything but it will be a glorious sacrifice never forgotten. Looking at you, I see men willing and able. Men who’ll fight off the evil monster before us.

Your training begins today, it will be much harder than anything you’ve experienced. This insures that you will be totally prepared. Pay attention to your instructors as what they teach could well save your life or the man standing next to you. For King and Country!”

Some men gave a cheer. Jacko did not, he was not motivated or comforted by a speech from a bigot. As far as Jacko was concerned, he had not seen the war and genuinely had no idea. After the uninspiring speech it was straight into a long march.

The training was much harder than in Australia. That now felt a lifetime ago. The marches were longer in cold conditions. Trench digging with cold hands on cold ground. Dealing with bombs, gas, rifles and other weapons training.

The hand to hand combat drills were awful, Jacko always seemed to pitted against a bloke twice his size.

“USE LEVERAGE!” The instructor yelled.

Jacko was ready to use leverage on the instructor.

Jacko begun paying attention in training when they were introduced to a Scottish trainer by the name of Macallan. He had a scar running the length of his cheek and was missing three fingers on his left hand. His broad Glaswegian accent brought comfort to Jacko. He knew he was watching a man who had experienced the war. Macallan did not have time for bravado. He would say;

“You gonna kill yourself a German are ye laddie? Well best thing to do is shut the fuck up and listen to me. Maybe ye only lose one finger.”

Some men would ask him about his injuries, which Macallan would reply;

“Me boy dunna ask things ya dunna want the answer to.”

Jacko grew a deep respect for this man who had no time for fools. His training was detailed and practical. His words were minimal and his rebuke sharp.

“Yea’ll only do that once laddie! That pretty wee head of yours will be blown off before you can try it a second time.” He would call when someone made a critical error in training.

Part of the training involved specialist courses for sniping and Lewis Gun crews. All the recruits shooting would be tested. Those deemed the best would be given extra training in these areas. The night prior to the test Jacko was in his bunk with Mick.

“Don’t try tomorrow Mick.”

“What’ya mean?”

“Don’t try, you don’t want to be a sniper or part of the Lewis Gun squad.”

“Why not?”

“Because it puts a big target on you.”

“Target?”

“Think about it if you’re the enemy. Who ya taking out a guy with a machine gun? Or a rifle first?”

“Never thought of it like that. But there’s more money.”

“Danger money. You think couple extra bob’ll help you over there? Just keep your head down and get outta this thing. And the best way to do that is be basic infantry and not walk round with a machine gun.”

“Ok.”

“So don’t try.” Jacko ended.

Morning came. After stand to and another load of drivel spilled by Sergeant Smith. Macallan took the squad for shooting. He called out Jacko.

“Alright Private off ye go.”

Jacko took his first shot.

“Gees, you be more of a danger to the battalion on ye right flank than the Germans.”

The next few shots were much the same and Jacko was stood down and sent for further bombs training.

Later that day Macallan came up to Jacko.

“Ya, dinna try did ye laddie?’

“No idea what you mean Sir.”

“I can shoot better than that with half a hand, I know ya dinna try.” Macallan continued.

“You may just be the smartest man ‘ere. I dinna tell yea this ok. But you keep your head down over there lad alright. Forgot all these smart arses, they’ll have their arses blown above their eyes if not by the Germans by their own men. You on the other hand, keep your mouth shut. Keep it that way and learn off the men there and ye gonna be OK. She ain’t pretty over there but the smart ones learn quick, and ye dunna have much time to learn. Good boy, I’ll see ye tomorrow.”

Macallan got up and went to leave. He turned.

“Ye mate Mick was the only one who shot worse than you, the two of you in a trench the flanks better watch out.” He yelled with a wink and walked away.

***

Macallan walked away, he liked Jacko. He was smarter than most of the brazen ones that came through the training camps. Too many were not willing to show the fear that was needed to survive.

He took out a cigarette and held it between thumb and the stub of one of his missing fingers. There was a good reason he did not tell anyone the way his hand was damaged. He’d only planned to cause a “Blighty” injury to get himself home. Some respite from the never-ending noise and mud at the front.

He’d planned the incident meticulously. On an occasion going over the top. He jumped into a shell hole that contained a dead German, he plunged his bayonet into the dead man’s chest and grabbed the German’s weapon aimed it at his hand and squeezed the trigger. He had no idea the firepower and when he looked down he saw fingers strewn across the shell hole. He picked them up, put them in his pocket and screamed for a medic. He was found with the “bayonetted” German and had his hand tended to.

Arriving at the medical tent he showed the doctors the fingers and asked they be put back on. The bastards laughed.

So now he was left with the three stubs, but he’d learned to live with them and decided it wasn’t the worst thing. Being found with the German protected his reputation and he managed to be looked after and got the training role.

***

As time went on the weather grew colder, Mick’s worst fears begun to be confirmed. He asked Jacko how much colder it would get during the true winter months of December, January and February. Jacko did his best to calm Mick, but it was difficult. Mick still hadn’t seen snow and ice and Jacko had no idea how to prepare him for their arrival.

The training continued day after day and men often required treatment on their feet and other injuries. Jacko with his hardened body from labouring thankfully to this point hadn’t experienced any problems.

The men received very little news either from home but particularly from the front. There were few updates on the progress of the war and how the war effort was going. Were we winning or losing Jacko had no idea, all the men in the camp knew was training. Performing the same exercises over and over.

December arrived, another Christmas had come. The War continued. Another Christmas with sons, husbands, fathers, brothers away fighting for King and country.

As Christmas approached Jacko thought about Doris more, last year they’d spent Christmas together just the two of them. He wondered if she had found someone to spend Christmas with that year. He hoped that she was not spending it alone. Hopefully she was at Arthur’s for Christmas lunch. Christmas for the men was celebrated with a ration of pudding and rum, this was well received by all concerned.

The boisterous nature calmed somewhat on Christmas. Men talked of their families and Christmas traditions. Those with Children spoke of them fondly. One could sense the air of homesickness.

Mick was terribly homesick over Christmas. He missed his small town and his big family. The only son in a family of seven children, he thought of the fun of Christmas Day’s passed. Jacko and Mick ate their pudding together and sat quietly.

With some Christmas leave granted Jacko and Mick decided to go to a local pub, they were not granted entry. The Brits did not like the Australian soldiers and too many fights had broken out between soldiers from the two countries. “Two bob tourists” the English would cry in reference to the better pay and conditions for the Australian men. “Stuck up” or “Pom bastards” was the only retort from the Australians.

Jacko had ben singled out for attention given his still thick northern English accent. “Should be over here you Jordy!”

For these reasons the pub owner had banned Australians. So, the whole platoon of men proceeded to urinate on his wall.

Jacko chuckled to himself, he could only think of his father. The Church Pisser. And now Jacko was himself urinating in public. At least it wasn’t a Church.

It was not long after Christmas. Orders to head to Europe and the front were issued. It was France or maybe Belgium, Jacko didn’t know or care. By now the winter had set in. It would only be colder when they reached continental Europe.

It was at this point Jacko began to take stock. His secret hope that the war may end prior to his time arriving to serve at the front, was not going to happen. He would be going to the front. He would have to use a rifle in anger. His small stature would need to clamber over trenches and through barbed wire. Bullets would be shot at him. He may kill someone, he himself may be killed or potentially worse grotesquely injured or maimed.

He would face gas, mortars, bombs, planes, cold, disease and many other factors. All this and he still wasn’t quite sure what for. He couldn’t explain why the German’s were the enemy. He only knew the propaganda he was exposed to, was it true? Was it false? He didn’t know. Was he doing his duty for the King? Maybe but it didn’t feel like that. Was this now better than life on the docks? Suddenly this as a career path didn’t seem the opportunity he once thought.

He thought of Doris, sitting having dinner. The weather would be hot. The window would be open to take in the sea breeze to cool the apartment. Truly a world away from where he was.

He stopped it was not time to be sentimental. Now was time to prepare his things and ship out. He looked at Mick he could see etched on his face he had many of the same thoughts. They each other in the eye and completed their preparations.

In the background men were boisterous. Appearing excited that it would be their turn to get stuck in and give the Fritz hell. The men who made the Lewis Gun crews and snipers in particular. Soon they would find out if this confidence was misplaced or not.

Next Chapter click here

Chapter 11 – The Journey

Photo by Museums Victoria on Unsplash

I am releasing a chapter a day of a story I wrote as a tribute to a WWI digger, for background click here. For the previous chapter click here.

Jacko and Mick rose early, prepared their kit and assembled with the men who formed the 2^nd reinforcement. The order was given and the march to the station began. Marching down the main street there was some fanfare but, nowhere near the amount that had occurred when the original battalion departed. People still had the appetite to support the troops but marches of men through the main street were no longer novel.

The men were split into sections, assigned carriages and boarded the train to Sydney.

As Sydney neared Mick’s eyes grew wider and wider, he’d never been to a big city and couldn’t believe the buildings and facilities around. As they arrived at the port Jacko was impressed by the size, similar to the areas he had worked in prior to leaving England. Men marched off the trains and onto the troop transport ship. Embarking onto the ship was chaotic as men clambered for the best available beds and spaces.

The ship was much more cramped than the one Jacko had traveled to Australia on. Jacko managed to arrange that he and Mick could be near each other. Mick by now was silent, his eyes wide. The size of the city was a shock. He’d never seen a ship, nor had he spent much time around water certainly not the ocean. He had played in a creek as child but nothing like this, it was all overwhelming. Mick would barely say a word for the first week of the journey as he slowly processed what was happening.

Life on board was rough with crowded conditions and the food was awful. The main issue was boredom. Men played cards, told stories (by far Jacko’s least favourite part) or would sing songs.

Some men talked of how many Germans they’d kill and the things they would do at the front. Jacko as always kept to himself. He regularly checked on Mick who was slowly acclimatising to his surroundings.

However, Mick was seasick constantly on the first leg of the journey. He hated every moment of those first few sea-faring days. He couldn’t eat and had few moments without nausea. Mick was not the only man struggling with sea sickness, a large majority of the ship was. This made life on board unpleasant for everyone. The smell was a mixture of body odour and vomit. If one did not watch their step, they could stand in another man’s vomit.

Just as Mick was getting used to life on board, the ship stopped at Albany to take on more men and supplies. Jacko and Mick were unsure where they would put the extras on the already crowded ship. They squeezed in heading for a longer journey to Columbo.

Arriving in Columbo Mick was terrified. He thought Sydney was crazy but that was nothing compared to Columbo. During their period onshore, their senses were assaulted with sights, smells and sounds a young boy from the country could not comprehend. Mick was glad to return to the relative safety of the ship. The journey continued through Suez and Alexandria by now Mick was calming down around crowds as he slowly learned about the world outside his small town. He tried to send letters home regularly to explain to his parents and siblings about these strange places he had seen.

Whilst in Columbo Mick asked Jacko;

“It’s not cold here mate?”

“We’re not in Europe yet.” Jacko replied.

“Yeah but ain’t it coming to winter here to?”

“It don’t get cold here mate, it’s the tropics.”

“Darn right hot here, maybe it won’t be so bad after all.”

Jacko didn’t burst Mick’s balloon, he had finally begun cheering up. He left him in blissful ignorance about the temperature that they were heading for.

After seemingly endless days of sailing England appeared on the horizon. Jacko thought the day he had left, he would never step foot again on English soil, let alone this soon. As they neared, he told stories to Mick about England and growing up there. He sanitised them considerably, he omitted details of his father and his drinking. He did not open up about his family or friends, as to be honest Jacko had no one in England he would have considered a friend. He missed nothing about the Old Country.

As they neared Mick asked many questions about the weather, he had noticed the air had a chill. It was October now and the European winter would soon set in.

“Bit fresh Jacko.” Mick said as they were standing on the open decks of the ship.

“The sea air makes it cooler than it is Mick. Also, they’ll give us winter tunics.”

“Ok so it’ll be warmer in the trenches then. I don’t wanna freeze Jacko.”

This remained Mick’s fear. Stuck freezing in a trench. Jacko spoke honestly about winters in England but comforted Mick as best he could. He said the equipment, they’d been issued would suffice to keep him warm. He had doubts about this statement.

The ship steamed into port, Jacko had returned to England. He gathered his things. He thought of Doris sitting at the dinner table with an empty place setting looking back at her. “How was your day?” He thought to himself and paused, then proceeded to collect his kit and prepared to disembark.

He walked down the gangway and stepped back on English soil. He looked around, England was grey the same colour it was when he left. Orders were given to move forward, he joined the company and marched forward to their billets for the evening.

Next chapter click here.

Chapter 10 – The Order to Go

Photo by Museums Victoria on Unsplash

I am releasing a chapter a day of a story I wrote as a tribute to a WWI digger, for background click here. For the previous chapter click here.

With the first group of men gone the camp numbers were more manageable and made life more enjoyable for those remaining. The numbers would grow, and the camp would swell again as more men joined the war effort. In the interim Jacko and Mick enjoyed the extra space and relative peace of the camp in its current state.

Weeks passed the training continued its endless grind performing the same tasks over and over. It was a cool day at the morning stand to. This cool morning was a fateful one. Orders had come through that this contingent of men would form the 2^nd reinforcement of the battalion. The men would be shipped to England in one weeks’ time.

Jacko had hoped that maybe he’d seen the back of most of the men who’d left. Soon he would be joining them, his life would soon rely on them. Overall the 2^nd reinforcement was made up of good men, quieter, many signing up with similar motives to Jacko and Mick. Most importantly Mick would be going with Jacko to Europe.

Mick had never left the tiny town he grew up in. A country Australian boy. He felt some trepidation about leaving and going so far away. His family would not be able to locate France on a map and in 6 months he’d be there. Fighting against an enemy that, prior to 1914 he did not know existed. Fighting for reasons he could not explain. Mick asked questions regularly to Jacko about England and Europe, and about traveling on a ship. Jacko’s answers were somewhat soothing but also raised more concerns. Most notable of his concerns was the European winter. Mick had never seen snow or ice, in many ways the thought of sitting in a cold trench was a bigger concern than German bullets.

It was too late to turn back now.

Mick sent a telegram to his family to say that he would be coming home for his final nights before deployment.

The men were granted leave prior to departure, Jacko went to the pub the only man left he really knew was the barman. He shouted him a round on the house, Jacko drank it quicker than normal. He finished it and begun the walk home for dinner with Doris.

“How was your day?” She asked

“I’m off this week Mum”

There was not much discussion after that as Doris sat and reflected on her life so far and what may be the last dinner with her Son. They finished dinner “I’m going to leave a place set at the table for you, make sure you’re home for dinner.”

On his last night of leave Jacko picked up his kit, he would sleep at the camp ready for the march to the station in the morning.

On his way back to the camp Jacko walked past Arthur’s house. He had written him a letter. He dropped it in the letterbox and walked on.

The letter read;

Dear Arthur,

I’m off to the War tomorrow. Sorry I couldn’t tell you before I left and play cricket, but I didn’t have time and was leaving before Church this week.

Cecil at Church will play cricket with you on Sundays. Keep practicing and maybe one day you’ll be as good as Victor Trumper.

I’ll try and write to you from the front when I can. You can write to me to. Give the letters to Doris she knows how to send them.

If I get back, I’ll take you to Sydney to watch Australia play.

Your mate,

Jacko

Jacko arrived back at camp. Mick was already there. He bedded down next to Mick.

“We’re gonna be OK aren’t we Jacko?” The words just fell out of Mick’s mouth.

“I’ve got no idea.” Jacko was not in the mood to humour or offer comfort.

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Chapter 9 – The Day Off

Photo by Museums Victoria on Unsplash

I am releasing a chapter a day of a story I wrote as a tribute to a WWI digger, for background click here. For the previous chapter click here.

Whilst in camp men were granted leave on Sunday’s. This was Doris’ favourite day. Jacko would come early and get ready to go to Church.

Many men would wear their uniforms to Church, Jacko didn’t. He wore his normal Sunday best including the dreaded tie.

Doris liked that he didn’t wear his uniform. Her boy was not a solider, he was simply her son. She still had not come to terms with him going to war.

She could not picture him in a trench on the other side of the world. Why would men make her boy kill other men? Worse why were men trying to kill her son? She liked him smart in his tie and jacket.

Arriving at Church the message was the same as nearly every week. Jacko watched Arthur as he squirmed in his seat with the occasional tug on his ear by his father.

At the end of the service Doris and Jacko filed out past the minister.

“Peace be with you Doris.” He said.

“Thank you minister.” She replied.

“Jacko, how’s training going?” The minister turned and asked.

“Good thank you sir.” Jacko replied.

“Why don’t you wear your uniform to Church? We like to show pride in our boys going to war?”

“Good chance to give it a wash.” Jacko knew Doris preferred him in civilian clothes, he did to. He didn’t feel like a solider, he certainly didn’t feel any pride in being so.

“God will give you strength at the front. Fighting this most evil of oppressor. Strength be with you Jacko.”

The irony was not lost on Jacko that he was no longer farewelled with the traditional “Peace be with you.” The men of peace were now men of war. Did they truly believe that this was a righteous fight?

“Come on Jacko!” Arthur ran up behind him. Cricket bat in hand.

Jacko was enjoying cricket more each week with Arthur. Arthur was one of the few who didn’t see him differently since joining the Army. To Arthur, he was still the big brother he never had. More importantly, he was an English fast bowler that needed to be dispatched to the boundary.

Jacko went with Arthur to play. It was going to be a long afternoon in the field as always. Arthur was both batsmen and umpire so was very rarely out. Jacko didn’t mind though it was an enjoyable escape from life.

“Do you get to play cricket Jacko?” Arthur asked this nearly every week since he’d joined.

“Sometimes, we play different sports.” Jacko responded.

“What else do you do?”

“Marching, trenching, things like that.”

“Do you shoot guns?”

“Sometimes.”

“Dad says one day he’ll take me to shoot rabbits. Is shooting guns fun?”

Jacko was struck by the innocence of Arthur’s question. He’d never thought about it. He’d never shot a gun until he joined the Army.

“It’s OK. Playing cricket is better.” He responded to Arthur’s questions.

“When I join the army and go to War, I’m going to play cricket. Maybe I’ll get to play at Lords.”

“The War will be over soon.”

“But don’t you go to War to have an adventure?”

Jacko was stumped by this question.

“My Dad didn’t go to War. This War will mean there will be no more wars so you can just play cricket.”

Jacko had no idea where this answer came from. Maybe he’d heard it in training along the way. Jacko was feeling uncomfortable with the direction of this conversation.

“I can’t wait to hear about all the adventures you get to have. My Dad has never left here, and you get to go England.”

“England’s not that great. The weather is better here and the people are friendlier.” Jacko spoke from his personal experience.

“The Army seems like more fun than my Dad’s job.”

“It’s pretty boring to be honest mate. And you have to do what you’re told all the time.”

“Boys it’s time for lunch.” Doris called out.

Doris had cooked lunch for her, Jacko and Arthur’s family.

“Well that’s Lunch Arthur.”

“Not a bad start to the days play, Trumper on thirty seven not out.”

Next chapter click here

Chapter 8 – The Camp

Photo by Museums Victoria on Unsplash

I am releasing a chapter a day of a story I wrote as a tribute to a WWI digger, for background click here. For the previous chapter click here.

Just as Jacko was introducing himself to Mick, a buffoon he’d worked with came in. “Jacko!” he yelled.

Jacko’s spine tingled he’d hoped to avoid nicknames, but he was without such luck. He turned and nodded to the intruder.

Jacko and Mick would start training the next day. They spent the first day getting to know the camp and where everything was. Eating their first army meal was an experience. Others in the camp said the food varied greatly depending on the cook on duty. Today was not one of the good ones.

Jacko caught up with Dick and Tiny, who welcomed him to the camp. The camp was crowded as had been warned. Soon the first contingent of men from this newly created battalion would be heading to the front.

Jacko did not like those around him. In the short time since arriving at camp his original opinions of them had only been reinforced. They were still rough and undisciplined. The general demeanour was one of bravado. Men were raucous and most bragged about how many of the Fritz they’d kill. Many hoped that the war would not end prior to their arrival. They expected to wreak havoc on the Fritz. Many talked of the medals they would win and how that would impress women when they got home.

Most of the men were unmarried. They would dream of what French women were like and English girls.

Jacko did not share the same sense of confidence as the others around camp. That made it hard to fit in. As always, he remained the quiet one. Mick though was proving to be the friend Jacko felt he would need. A friend would be necessary to make the next few months maybe even years tolerable. Mick was a farmhand from nearby, he like Jacko was quiet and did not share the same ideas about the war as many in the camp. He was looking for adventure, but he couldn’t explain why he’d decided to sign up.

Training would start at 5am the next morning so Jacko and Mick tried to bed down well before lights out. Noise in the camp remained high until official lights out was given.

Jacko and Mick woke up and prepared themselves. They put on their new uniforms and headed out to the parade ground for the first time.

“Stand to!” Was yelled

The drill Sergeant stood up to give his morning address.

“At ease men!”

“Welcome to our new members. You have joined the greatest fighting force ever assembled to fight towards a glorious victory.

For men forming the first wave from this battalion your orders have come through, you will be leaving in one week.

For our new members you will all form part of the second reinforcement. Buckle down men and train hard.

This Great War is heading towards a Great Victory and you are all preparing to play your most magnificent part!”

That was Jacko’s initiation to the Army. Training began marching, calisthenics, rifle training, bayonet training and then some games of football and other sports to break the monotony.  

Jacko was used to routine work and this was easier than labouring so overall it wasn’t a bad life, other than having to put up with many of his colleagues in the camp. One aspect of training Jacko did not enjoy was bayonetting. Charging at a lifeless scarecrow filled with straw strung to pole did not seem realistic. The thought of bayonetting someone or worse himself being bayonetted gave Jacko the willies.  

The first week drew to a close. The first wave of men was due to leave. Jacko saw Tiny on the night prior to the departure. Sitting by himself. Jacko went to wish him well, arriving he saw Tiny was quiet, his leg was shaking uncontrollably.

“I don’t wanna go Jacko.” Tiny was quiet. It was a whisper so no one could here.

“They want me to shoot someone Jacko.” He stood up and put his hands-on Jacko’s shoulders.

“Tell ‘em mate.” Jacko tried to counsel him.

“Tell ‘em what? You think they’ll let me out now. I can’t go. I don’t wanna go over there, I don’t even know where it is and why they want me there.”

“Maybe it’ll be done before you get there.” This was all Jacko could think to try and calm Tiny.

“All the best Jacko.” Tiny said and walked off.

The morning came, the initial contingent of men were issued full kits and marched to the station. They formed a new battalion. The region’s own battalion.

Jacko and the others in camp watched as they left. Jacko saw Tiny in the formation; his face was blank and emotionless. Jacko couldn’t tell if he was scared or simply pressing everything as far down as possible, trying not to feel anything. The battalion was given quite the send-off as they marched to the station. Pride swelled in the people of the region. Their own battalion. This bunch of fathers, sons, brothers, husbands and friends would go off and come back heroes.

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Chapter 7 – The Decision

Photo by Museums Victoria on Unsplash

I am releasing a chapter a day of a story I wrote as a tribute to a WWI digger, for background click here. For the previous chapter click here.

Time passed the men who had come into town were becoming more disciplined and now were rarely seen at the pub. Leave was more tightly controlled, although when leave was granted the pub was descended upon. Jacko would quickly depart when this happened. He didn’t hang around to see Dick and Tiny, they weren’t really his mates and he wanted to be as far away from the bumpkins as possible.

The patronage of the pub continued to dwindle as more men joined training and the Australian Imperial Force. Many like Jacko were not legally old enough to drink or vote but could be sent off as part of the war machine, they either received parental consent or faked it. Many even under the age of enlistment were turned away after having lied on enlistment forms and being discovered. There were reports boys as young as fourteen were trying to enlist some succeeding and ending up at the front. Stories like this made Jacko concerned for Arthur but thankfully he was yet to grow. He looked about 10 years old, nowhere near the age of 18 (the minimum age to go with consent).

Jacko sometimes would walk past the camp, the men seemed to be treated well. With decent food and recreation activities. Military wages were decent considering food and lodging were included.

Maybe this was a chance to get out of the docks? Jacko didn’t know much about the war, he didn’t really have any moral objections to it. He didn’t really know what it was about honestly speaking. He’d heard rumours of the horrors but would this be his only chance out. A chance to change his life?

The medical rules had been relaxed somewhat since his last attempt to join in England. His sunken chest may no longer hold him back. He was also about to turn 21 the age at which he would not require Doris’ consent, which he knew she would not give.

He did not want to lie or forge Doris’ signature. In fact, not being of the age to enlist had been a convenient reason to not think about signing up. But that excuse was about to pass. The looks from people in the street that Dick talked about were coming, they’d already started.

Around all this there was the pressure of the white feathers that would occasionally show up. Jacko himself paid no real attention to them but was concerned for Doris. Being in a new country he didn’t want her to be smeared as the immigrant single mother with the cowardly son.

Another month passed work at the docks was getting harder. Summer was coming to an end but the loss of experienced men and having to deal with greenies was growing tiresome. Walking past the camp the day after his twenty-first birthday, Jacko decided maybe it was time to sign up.

Heading home for tea that evening with Doris was much the same as normal. “How was your day?” She asked.

“I’m joining up.”

“Thought you might.”

And that was that, Doris’ fears were becoming reality. She’d heard the other women talk. She knew that there were few other options for a man of Jacko’s age.

The next morning Jacko went to the camp.

“Good morning my boy!” Beamed the recruitment officer

“Here to sign up?” He followed up with.

“Yes sir.” Jacko responded.

“Complete these forms and sign your declaration to the King. Then head over that way to the medical tent. You are doing great service to your country and the empire.”

Jacko completed the forms and was directed towards the medical tent. A short man in a white coat with glasses was waiting there completing forms. He looked up at Jacko.

“Strip down to your jocks.” He commanded. Jacko saw on his coat that he was a doctor.

“Your paperwork says you’ve been declined service. Sunken chest let’s have a look.”

The doctor examined Jacko, “That’ll be fine.”

“Right identifying marks, tattoo on right shoulder, heart with arrow threw it.” The doctor jotted this down on the assessment forms.

Jacko was embarrassed by that tattoo. Thankfully he hadn’t added the girl’s name who he’d got it for. Thankfully no one knew the story and Jacko wasn’t keen to tell it.

“Right a prick here, immunisations don’t want you getting sick over there now.”

The needle stung. Jacko didn’t like the hint of sarcasm in the Doctor’s voice as he administered the shots. Small pox was what it was for.

“Right dental records then we’re all done here” The doctor directed Jacko to go to another tent.

“FIT FOR ACTIVE SERVICE”, was stamped on Jacko’s papers, and next it was off to the quartermaster to receive his uniform.

 He was issued with his uniform and boots. Along with his slouch hat.

“Don’t forget the most important part.” Said the quartermaster and handed Jacko his pay book.

“Don’t lose that. Not much point doing this without getting a dollar out of it now is there?”

Jacko looked back at him smirked and shrugged. He collected his things.

“Welcome to the battalion, proceed down that way to the tent number contained in the paperwork. We’re a bit full at the minute but the lads who’ve been here a while will be shipping off soon.”

Jacko strolled down the line of tents finding the one he’d been assigned. Given it was mid-morning by this stage most of the men were out on training duties.

Jacko opened the flap on the tent. He looked up and saw a bloke sitting there, he appeared to have also just arrived. He looked back at Jacko and walked over with an outstretched hand.

“G’Day mate, name’s Mick.”

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Chapter 6 – The March

Photo by Birmingham Museums Trust on Unsplash

I am releasing a chapter a day of a story I wrote as a tribute to a WWI digger, for background click here. For the previous chapter click here.

Another Christmas passed, the war continued. The heat had set in. Jacko was still not used to Australian summers. Summer days at the docks were hard, what made them worse was the number of people in town currently. Recruiting marches from the surrounding towns and farmland had been organised, these finished at the local showgrounds. The men would start a training camp soon and hopefully that would mean they would no longer frequent Jacko’s pub.

Jacko thought they were bumpkins, country folk. They were rough and this coming from a dock labourer said something. Ill-discipline was a feature of the men which was something the military would have to knock out of them quickly, Jacko thought.

They were brutish around town particularly towards the women. They argued with the military personnel who chaperoned them. Pay and leave were their main gripes. To Jacko the men seemed more motivated by being paid and being fed than any sense of patriotism.

Although the men themselves did not seem to be patriots the locals received them patriotically. “Doing their duty” would be a cry from many. “Give those Fritz hell.” Others would say.

Men from around the district were now joining regularly, this included the dock workers making Jacko’s days harder as he was forced to work with teenagers who knew nothing. Working with the “greenies” was hopeless. They were slow and Jacko needed his wits about him in case they dropped something or did something they shouldn’t. Jacko was feeling the loss of Dick and especially Tiny, he was now the ablest of the experienced hands meaning more heavy lifting.

For Jacko life ever since the arrival of the men on the recruitment march had been totally miserable.

The conversation at the pub solely revolved around enlistment, “You going to enlist?” someone would say “I’m thinking I’ll join up.” Most of the boys saying this were that, just boys. They couldn’t join up given they were under the age of 21.

Bluey didn’t like having so many youngsters to look out for. “No bloody respect these kids.” He would cry, they didn’t listen to his stories he hadn’t got through the dolphin one once.

Jacko had no real desire to join the military now. He had attempted to sign up prior to his departure from England. The war had not yet begun, and Jacko saw the military as a way of getting out of the docks. A way of being more than his father ever was. The military at the time had offered a form of career path and way to advance.

Jacko had gone with a friend to enlist as a cadet. During medical examination he was denied entry due to a sunken chest. Since this point Jacko had not reconsidered the military. Since the war broke out he thought about it less.

Keep your head down work on the docks was now his only thought. Maybe one day he could become the foreman if he played his cards right.

Dick and Tiny would regularly come down to the pub. Jacko delighted in excusing himself from the boys he was stuck with. Tiny and Dick looked smart in their uniforms a world away from the docks. They had some training during the day but were able to do much as they pleased in the evenings. The formal training camp would start when all the marching recruits arrived.

Jacko would ask questions about the army, because there was not much else to talk about.

“What are you going to do Tiny?” Jacko queried.

“Infantry, same as Dick.”

“But that means you have to shoot people?” Jacko was surprised.

“There’s a lot of grunt work though. Besides too big to be a stretcher bearer.”

“Too big?”

“Bloke explained to me I’d be dead in ten minutes. Stretcher bearer you are moving slowly on uneven ground, trying to carry some poor bastard that’s probably dead anyway. All the while the war continues around you. Said given my size they’ll pick me off quickly.”

“Shoot a stretcher bearer?”

“Bastards’ll shoot anything that moves.”

This all seemed strange to Jacko he partly wondered if Tiny had been spun a story. Given his size he imagined the recruiters wanted him in the infantry.

What struck Jacko was how calm Tiny seemed. There no longer seemed the concern about killing people. Was it just that hard training hadn’t started, and the money was good?

“Out the way lads!” One of the bumpkins yelled.

Tiny stood up he towered over the bloke. “Problem here mate?” Tiny said.

“Yeah there is!” The bumpkin said and belted Tiny on the chin. Men jumped from everywhere and it was the bumpkins verses the dockers. This was a big brawl. Even by the standards of this place. Jacko had never seen Tiny like this. He had the bloke who punched him in a choke hold.

Jacko tried to escape but had no luck and felt a blow come across his right cheek he had no idea where from. He fell done lack a sack of potatoes.

“You lot. Piss off ya bastards! The lotta ya get outta here!” The barman screamed the brawling started to disperse. The barman pulled out a cricket bat and continued yelling.

Jacko picked himself up he had no idea where Dick and Tiny had gone, he dusted himself off and walked home.

Walking in the door Jacko was greeted with “You better have a good explanation for that?” Doris lashed.

Jacko hadn’t realised his cheek was swollen quite badly. Violence whilst out drinking was not tolerated at all by Doris given Jacko’s father.

“The bumpkins mum.” Jacko didn’t feel like elaborating.

“Well go clean yourself up and get back for dinner it’s getting cold because you were late brawling.”

Jacko retreated to the bathroom.

“What the bloody hell is going on round here?” Commented Doris.

Something strange was going on, there was a tension in the air, and it wasn’t pleasant. Hopefully with the training camp would soon see the out-of-towners brought into line.

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Chapter 5 – The Church

Photo by Lidia Nikole on Unsplash

I am releasing a chapter a day of a story I wrote as a tribute to a WWI digger, for background click here. For the previous chapter click here.

Doris was not a strict woman, she hated her Aunt being strict with her and did not want it for Jacko. The one non-negotiable though was that she and Jacko attended Church on Sunday. Jacko also had to wear his Sunday best. This included a tie which Jacko hated and his Sunday jacket which he had to wear if it was 0 or 100 degrees.

On the walk to Church Doris would always say the same thing.

“I think you should speak to Mary today, she’s a lovely girl.”

Mary was a girl of 17, her father was a clerk in town and Doris had grown to be friends with her mother. Jacko felt that she was not the kind that would be seen going with a dock worker. He spoke to her on occasion but was terribly shy and as far as Jacko was concerned, she seemed to have eyes for another Church goer called Cecil.

“I was speaking to Mary’s mother the other day and she thinks we should go over for tea one night. I think that would be nice, don’t you?” Doris always chirped away happily on the way to church.

“Ok, mum.” Jacko didn’t argue and Mary’s mum was one of the best cooks in the region, so any invite he would not turn down.

The person Jacko spent the most time with at Church was twelve-year-old Arthur. Arthur was the son of a building site labourer. He had taken a shine to Jacko when he first arrived. Arthur had made Jacko feel more welcome than anyone else in Australia. Jacko had no idea why. He liked young Arthur who seemed like a little brother he never had.

Arthur was obsessed with Cricket. His most prized possession was a cricket bat his father had made for him. He adored Victor Trumper, he would read newspaper articles about Trumper and his great feats of smashing English bowlers all over the field. He loved to tell Jacko about Trumper’s centuries against England.

Jacko didn’t actually like cricket, it was a game he’d always felt that was played by snobs. He didn’t tell Arthur that and did enjoy playing with him after Church most Sunday’s unless it was raining.

Sure, enough one block from Church Arthur came racing up to Jacko!

“How are ya, mate?” He yelled excitedly.

“Arthur, good to see you.”

“Good morning Mrs. Doris.” Arthur looked up at Doris

“Hello, Arthur. Where are your parents this morning?” Doris responded.

“On their way mam. Mum said you can come for lunch if you like.”

“That sounds lovely.” Doris responded.

“And we can play cricket Jacko! You’re England and I’m Victor Trumper.”

They arrived at the Church door and were welcomed by the minister. Jacko and Doris took their seats. Jacko looked around. Draped over the pulpit was the Union Jack which had been since the outbreak of the war.

The service began the organ played and the congregation began singing. Jacko mouthed. He did not sing. He had to at least mouth the words. If not Doris’ elbow would be in his rib.

With the singing complete, it was time for prayers.

“Heavenly Father blessed be thy name. We praise you eternally and thank you for your mercy and grace. We pray for continued strength at this time for our community, our country, our empire as we fight a just and holy war against an evil aggressor.

We pray for the men you have emboldened to fight this war and that they will have strength to win this war in your name.

We pray for those who mourn, we all mourn with them. But may they know that loved ones they have lost are now in paradise with you. Having given all they have fighting for you.

Good be with us as you are always.

Amen.”

Jacko was still puzzled by prayers like this. But that is how they were every week since the war began. Prior to the outbreak of war God was love and saviour to all men. The minister talked of the sermon on the mount and blessed are the meek, but these sermons were not given now.

How could a God that came to save all men now pick sides?

That day’s sermon continued along the same lines that God strengthened those in battle. That the Great War was crusade that God would help the empire win. That as Christians we needed to stand and fight against the great German aggressor.

The service ended and Jacko and Doris got up, shuffled out with congregation. Greeting the minister on the way out.

Doris and Jacko went back to Arthur’s place for lunch. As soon as lunch was finished Arthur looked at his father “Can Jacko and I play cricket now?”

After receiving approval, Arthur raced to grab his bat and ball. With a piece of chalk, he drew a set of wickets on a brick wall.

“Australia have won the toss and chosen to bat.” Arthur called to Jacko.

Australia always won the toss and batted but Jacko didn’t mind. He was hopeless at batting and bowling. He was getting better at bowling though given the amount of practice he got with Arthur on Sundays.

The game begun.

“Hey Jacko. Are you gonna go to war?” Arthur looked down and asked.

He’d never asked Jacko this question. To be honest no one had with such directness.

“I don’t know mate, not old enough yet.” He replied

“But you will be soon, then you gotta go don’t ya? That’s what Minister Brown says.”

“Minister Brown ain’t totally correct. I don’t have to do anything.”

“Sounds like an adventure to me.”

“I’m not so sure about that Arthur.”

“Are you a coward if you don’t go? People say cowards don’t go.”

“Is your Dad a coward?”

“He can’t go cause he can’t see out his right eye. Otherwise I’m sure he’d go.”

“Everyone’s gotta do what’s best for them.”

“Can you play cricket in the army?”

“I don’t know mate.”

“If you can play cricket, I’ll go to war.” Arthur’s innocence was beautiful and terrifying.

“You gotta do a few other things in war.” Jacko didn’t know what else to say. He ran in to bowl and continue the cricket game and get off the conversation of war, which was making him uncomfortable.

“Four runs. Fine shot there by Trumper.” Arthur yelled excitedly as he stroked a beautiful cover drive.

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Chapter 4 – The Persuasion

Photo by Teo Do Rio on Unsplash

I am releasing a chapter a day of a story I wrote as a tribute to a WWI digger, for background click here. For the previous chapter click here.

It was late spring. As the weather heated up the pub was the best place to be after work. It was no different on this evening as Jacko sat with his work crew.

Pirate brought back a round of drinks, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, all the men lit up and sat enjoying their evening ritual. Bluey was recounting a story about a dolphin he saw in the port area one day. Everyone had heard it a thousand times before, but everyone tolerated Bluey. He was a larrikin who meant well even if his stories did all bore them to tears.

Dick then piped up, “Tiny, we gotta go mate.”

“Go where?” Tiny replied

“The War mate.”

“Piss off, Dick.”

“We can’t just stay here mate, people look at me in the street.” Jacko had never heard a dock worker speak in such a sincere tone.

“I’m not going Dick, I ain’t shootin’ blokes.”

“But they’re bastards! Tiny ain’t you seen what they do to women and kids. We gotta go and help the lads at the front.”

“If you wanna believe the propaganda bullshit Dick fine! But leave me out of it.”

“The Krauts ain’t human mate.” Dick would not stop.

“They got two eyes, two arms, two legs and look human to me. I ain’t shootin’ no one, no matter how much of a bastard you think they may be Dick. Shut up. Drink your beer, or I’ll chuck ya outta here.”

Dick looked disappointed but not surprised.

“Well I’m signing up, you should come with me while you can Tiny. Look at you mate you’re built like a brick dunny. Do you think those in town ain’t gonna look at you strange to?”

“I don’t care what they think mate, I ain’t shootin’ people.”

Dick now turned to Jacko, “Your turns comin’ to Jacko, you nearly old enough you is.”

Jacko looked back and said he’d been denied for military service previously. Dick replied, “It’s different now mate, and they won’t buy that in town.”

Dick finished his personal recruitment effort “I’m tellin’ ya lads, better to do this on your own terms.”

“Enough Dick, you interrupted me dolphin story. I was getting to the good bit.” Bluey intervened he was expert at sensing tension rising in the crew. He knew a settled team was best and it was no different at work or in the pub. He proceeded to finish his dolphin story.

“Guess you better be getting home to Doris, Jacko. Give her me regards!” Bluey said at the completion of his story. Jacko nodded, and said “See you” to the others.

“Your time’s coming Jacko, you can’t hope it don’t.” Dick said as Jacko put his hat on and walked off.

Arriving home “How was your day dear?” Doris welcomed Jacko in.

“OK, looks like Dick is gonna sign up to the War. Says he can’t walk down the street here.” Jacko replied.

“Blasted people in this town.” Doris responded.

“Wants Tiny to go with him.”

“Well from what you tell me of Tiny, no way he’ll go.”

“That’s pretty much what Tiny told him.” Jacko finished his sentence and tucked into dinner.

Arriving at work the following morning Jacko looked around. “Where’s Tiny?” He questioned Bluey upon arrival.

“With Dick.” Bluey replied.

“The War?” Jacko said stunned.

“Yep, amazing what five beers will do. He weighs 19 stone that bloke but can’t hold his drink.”

“But he’ll have slept it off now?”

“You know what Tiny’s like about his word young fella. Drunk or not he promises something he sticks to it.”

“But he don’t wanna shoot people?”

“That’s what we all know but I guess we’ll wait and find out if that stays true.”

Jacko couldn’t believe it. Tiny the gentle giant was off to War. Was it the beer, the peer pressure? Jacko didn’t have much time to think, the day’s work awaited. Bluey rounded up the crew and a couple of greenies to replace Tiny and Dick. This included the biggest bloke he could find although he had a long way to go to be as useful as Tiny.

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