Hill's letter from The Front, sent from London, 29 August 1915 / William John Rusden Hill
MLDOC 2480

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Copy of letter from "The Front"

King George Hospital, Stanford St. London.
29/8/15.

And now old sports as the old Doctor has finished with me I'll try and give you a few of my experiences at that much desired (I don't think) place – the Front. By the heading you will see that I am in dry dock, but it will please you I know to learn that to-morrow I say farewell to the establishment and wend my way home where milk pudding and thin bread and butter is not the only diet. But to get back to my story, as the monkey said. Our reinforcement only spent 10 days in Egypt but I saw enough in those ten days to satisfy me that all New Zealanders are angels in comparison with the denizens of Cairo, which is just about the lowest sink of depravity in the wide wide world. Of the life there I'll tell you – if I have the luck to get home – my stories, however, will only bear repetition in some back bar where even the bar-lady cannot hear. Well they bundled us out of Zeeloum at about 8 hours notice and we only remained in Alexandria about 18 hours, leaving subsequently in a filthy dirty tub named the Saturna for Lemnos, a Greek Island in the Aegean Sea, situated about 5 hours steam from the Dardanelles.
There were 2,700 of us on board and we lived like pigs during the trip, which occupied 2 ½ days. Submarines were reported in the vicinity and a squad of men with loaded rifles was kept on duty all the time, but nary a Sub turned up. Honestly I believe we would have welcomed one just for the sake of having a dip in the ocean (baths were denied us on board) and there was no water for washing. But our entry into Mudros, the harbour of Lemnos more than made up for any discomfort. The harbour is oval shaped, and in size about half as big as Wellington and when we arrived there were about 240 ships of all sizes and shapes at anchor in the fairway, there being no wharves or quays. Well we steamed right through this mass of shipping, and the reception we received from the crews and the troops on board absolutely beggars description.
First we passed the Aquitania, the largest steamer in the world, crowded with 7.500 troops, then we scraped past the battleship Swiftsure, and down the line we went, battleships (French and English) on port and starboard side. Hospital ships, transports, colliers, traders all round us, all crowded with soldiers and sailors anxious to honor the latest New Zealanders, I tell you it made one forget any discomfort, made one realise the wonderful spirit of the Empire and it certainly had the effect of heartening any waverer among us – (if there was one on board which I very much doubt). I counted 50 Warships at anchor – 14 battleships, 16 cruisers (English, French and Russian) and the remainder destroyers, torpedo boats and submarines. Of transports there were dozens and counting us there were 40,000 troops afloat at that moment. On shore tents were everywhere, but as to the number of men there I know not, as we did not go ashore. Two days we spent in the harbour and then on Saturday at 5 p.m. alongside came a big tug the Redbreast. She was to take us to the front, and I can assure you the boys wasted very little time in boarding her. By 6 p.m. we were outside the heads and at 8 we could hear the thunder of guns and see flashes in the sky which denoted that the great battle of which you have read full particulars was in progress. By twelve o'clock we were at anchor close to a

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shore which was a mass of tiny pin points of light, a shore which echoed and re-echoed with the report of rifles and machine guns. We were at the front at last and as we tumbled into huge lighters we realised this fact, for splash; splash; came the bullets into the water, and ping; ping; went more lead close enough to our heads to make us duck down and wish we were at home in
bed. It took us half an hour to get to the shore and fortunately no one was hit en route, though many had very lucky escapes.
The first realisation of what the war really is like came to us as we stumbled across the beach, which was just littered with wounded men – English, French, Indians, New Zealanders and Australians.There were hundreds of them, all hurt in the bayonet charge and the fighting on the previous day. Mention of wounded will conjure up in your minds, pictures of huge marquees snowy white sheets and dainty bright-faced nurses, but at Anzac where we landed there were no comforts. The wounded were just lying in rows on the ground, waiting patiently their turns to be taken off in the boats to the hospital ships in the roadstead. Taken in conjunction with the fiendish noise of the guns, the sight of the wounded had a nerve racking effect on us, but we were given very little time to think about anything, because we were still 2 miles from our post, and we had to reach it before daylight.
So on we trudged, through an opening leading to a trench and as we passed a point we were each were handed a respirator and additional ammunition – a big box, between two men. There was no marching in fours – it was just a case of get on as fast as you could and the pace I may say was not too hot, owing to our packs and that confounded case of ammunition.
In the crush and I may say it, the confusion, a fellow named Scott and I myself got separated from the rest but we struggled on and eventually came out on to an open space, when I got the fright of my life. Inadvertently we had stumbled on to a howitzer battery and just as we reached it, one of the guns was fired – as it seemed almost in my face.
Of course there was no danger, owing to the angle of the gun, but when the rush of air blew my hat off and the hellish report nigh deafened me, well to tell the truth, it scared blues blazes out of me. Soon, however, we caught up with the others and on we went through the sap, a trench, passing quite a number of poor fellows who had fallen to snipers, and at last just at daybreak we reached the New Zealanders base – just a strip of level sand between the sea and a huge cliff. Not a tent was to be seen anywhere, the homes of the "big bugs" were the homes of Thomas Atkins, Esq., just holes in the side of the hill, which resembled a huge inverted colander. On the flat were piles and piles of boxes and cases, and working amongst them at top speed were the Army service Corps and the Indian Mule Corps.
Boxes, tins of water and ammunition were being strapped on to hardy little mules and every half hour or so, away would they would go each mule with an Indian, bound for the trenches. We were told to make ourselves comfortable where we stood. We just lay down and thought of huge pints of frothy ale, of cooling shower baths, and of clean sheets and a comfortable bed, at least we commenced to think of them but the visions conjured up did not last, because Whizz; Phitt; Plunk: the bullets commenced to fly about and in a trice one of the sergeants of B. Coy. stopped one with his leg. That made us sit up and take notice and when three others received leaden presents in the space of five minutes, we began to think how nice a place a big cave or a deep well would be, but of cover of any description there was none, so we just had to sit there and trust to luck. Fortunately, I had a good marble, but quite a lot of unfortunates got "stars" a few qualified for harps and a seat on a cloud, but not many were fatally hit. We remained at the base for several hours and in that time I

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had a look around despite the bullets. The first place I struck was the clearing station – a big tarpaulin on 4 legs sheltering half a dozen doctors while make examinations of the wounded, and in rows outside were the wounded – hundreds of them, lying in the sun on the bare earth, thickly coated with dust, sweat and blood – to say nothing of the flies, which were there in millions. Poor fellows; it was quite impossible even to do anything for them. Impossible even to get them a drink of water which on the Peninsula is more precious than gold. They just lay there pending attention – removal to the hospital ships in the roadstead.
Most of them were our own fellows, New Zealanders and Australians and you will be proud to know that although many of them were wounded almost unto death I did not hear a single complaint. Some had been waiting their turns for two days, but they knew what the medical staff was up against and they grumbled not. Oh but you have just reason to be proud of the fact that you are Colonials. Away back there in New Zealand, you read in the papers that the Australasians by their brilliance and pluck achieve the impossible. You read about the glorious bayonet charges – of the dogged pluck of the few cut off and assailed on all sides. You read all this and feel pride – a just pride welling up inside you. Probably you go out and have "one' just to celebrate the victory.
But have you ever thought about the aftermath. Just try and picture what a battle-field is like the day after. You'll never succeed in getting a true impression, you must walk over it, before realisation of how horrible, how dreadful war is, and realisation came to me when we left the base and made our way up towards the firing line. We passed through a gully, up which the New Zealanders Australians and Maories had fought the night previous and Oh; the horror of it. Dead nothing but dead men, New Zealanders Maories, Englishmen, Australians, and Turks, hundreds upon hundreds of them, lying in al sorts of attitudes, some hardly marked others mangled out of all hope of recognition and swarming all over – the flies. Further up where the Turkish fire was still hot – the wounded lay with the dead. Some had been there for hours, would lay there for further hours, would lay there until stretcher bearers – heroes every one of them – would under cover of darkness, attempt their removal.
All this I saw from a shelter shed and as I gazed the bang, bang, bang of the rifles, the sharp rattle of the machine guns, the nerve racking scream and subsequent deafening explosions of the big 6" shells never for a moment ceased. Just a few hundred yards away were our trenches, the Turkish trenches but a few score yards higher up and between the trenches lying out in open spaces on the hillsides, were the killed and the wounded. What the casualty lists say I don't know, but at this one point of our long line, there were thousands lying there who will never fight again. Can you imagine just how awful it all is? Can you wonder that the realisation had come to us with an intensity almost bewildering? But you will be glad to know that the 5th (I'm not boasting) behaved equally as well as their comrades of the Main Body. They had landed but a few hours before and were in an environment calculated to shake the nerve of almost anyone, and suddenly they were under fire with a vengeance. The Turks had got right over us.
Sever of D. (Otago) Coy., were hit, and the next shell depleted the ranks of B Coy. Then came "A" Coy's turn, but only a couple of our men were wounded and so it went for some time. Every 30 seconds the trees and shrubs were torn and beaten by the rushing bullets, every little while some one was hit, but still men kept on until a friendly

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slope gave needed and longed for shelter. Here A.C. & D. Companies "dug in" and prepared for the night, a portion of B. Coy. Going on to the trenches, where troubles came with a startling suddenness. My information about this is only – second hand but I understand that they reached the trenches, took part in a bayonet charge, in which "Doolan" Downing distinguished himself, and then settled down to defensive work one of the trenches. They only lasted about 12 hours, however. The Turks went for them with bombs, and what with these awful weapons and the high explosive shells, it was not long before the trench was a shamble.
It is hard to find out who fell there, but I know that "Doolan" Downing was one of them and Lieut. A.J. Clarke and Joe Daniels – late joint Editor of the Pall Thro. and Maunfarimar were others. Downing I believe was blown to pieces. Monday morning was a day to be remembered by A.C. & D. Companies. The Turks located our dug outs and for an hour treated us to shrapnel in large doses. Adequate shelter was out of the question, and we lost about 30 more then before the firing ceased.
Later on in the day I was in the gully again, and saw four British Regiments (The Gloucesters, Royal Irish Rifles, Connaught Rangers and the Wiltshires) get cut up by shrapnel. They passed by only about 60 yards distant and from a fairly safe spot under a cliff, I saw them get merry hell. The shrapnel just mowed them downed in dozens and by the time they reached shelter, they had lost scores and scores of all ranks. If you could only have seen the glorious stretcher bearers whilst this firing was going on. Scorning all danger, they rushed into the fire zone, lifted wounded on stretchers and returned to the dressing station. Many didn't return but their fate did not deter others from the rescue work. Woe betide the man who calls the stretcher bearers "Body Snatchers" in the hearing of any of us in the future. There is not a man among them who does not deserve the Victoria Cross and I say again that you cannot honor them enough.
But to get on with the doings of the 5th. Just after Night fell, the Auckland Company was ordered into the support trenches and although we were tired out, we had to file up the sap, past the Wiltshires lying in support, past the remnants of the Gloucesters who had almost been wiped out, past the wounded waiting removal, past the dressing station almost on the firing line, and past the dead – the dead, already becoming a menace to health. And at last the trench a miserable little drain of 4ft 6ins.deep by 2 1/2 wide, smelling vilely of dead Turk and alive with vermin. To put ones head up was to court a bullet, even though night had fallen, but to remain crouching was almost to be poisoned, so we just risked both poison and bullet in turn. Thank Goodness, we didn't remain long. It was found that our presence wasn't necessary and eventually we were told to crawl out under the brow of a hill and remain under cover till daylight. No one prayed for morning more than I did. The place was alive with vermin and the near presence of several dead Turks made breathing through the nostrils a most unpleasant task. But morning at last came and with it an order from Major Hume to go down hill, and make ourselves comfortable. Some at once started off but I wanted to have a view from the hill top so waited a while. Just a short while, however, for in a minute or two, a most hellish noise broke out. The Turks were making their big attack and they swarmed over the crest of the next slope in thousands. Right up to the trenches held by the Lancashire Regt. they rushed, and now I must tell you something that will make you think. The Lancs cut and ran for it, throwing the firing line into great confusion. You will

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hardly credit the statement that the British Regt's nerve failed, but it is the gospel truth, and the worst of it is that it has happened before and it happened again this morning, as I will tell you later on. But about the "Lancs." it is only fair to state that it is really a territorial regt. similar to dozens of other regiments in Kitchener's new army, of which 110,000 men are on the Peninsula. The sight of the Turks unnerved the boys (of which the Regt. largely consists) and they came right down the hill on which I was seated, calling out "They're coomin in thousands. Oh; they've broke thro, we can't stop 'em". Many of them threw their rifles away, and despite all efforts to stop them, they bolted through the Wiltshires, who by now had got into their dug-outs, down to safety.
The Australians and New Zealanders were in the trenches to the right of the position previously held by the Lancs. and their position was now full of peril. Once the Turks gained our ridge, they would have been enfiladed and wiped out, so the retention of our hill and the beating back of the Turks was an absolute necessity. The task of driving them back was assigned to the Wiltshires, but (this is the gospel truth) the men did not leave their dug-outs and face the shrapnel which was now bursting on the crest of the ridge. Their Colonel and Major were frantic, but it was no go – they would not fall in, so a Staff Officer called "where are those New Zealanders? send them up." Lieut. Ellisden was sitting just a few yards away from me talking to Capt. Wallingford, Major Hume and Lieut. Jack, and called out to me "corporal hurry down and tell our men to fix bayonets and be ready". I rushed off and in about three minutes we were marching in single file through the Wiltshires in their dug-outs. Prior to this I felt like a lump of jelly, but when those curs "turned it up" something seemed to calm me and I quite forgot all fear, as we charged the crest.
The Turks were charging up it from the other side, but we got there first and then "What Ho she bumped". There were only 55 of us in one place (All Aucklanders) and we gave John Turk something to remember. Soon they retreated to a ridge 200 yards away and opened on us with machine guns and I can tell you old William John Rusden got a funny feeling in the region of his gizzard, when those old guns got the range. We were absolutely without protection of any kind and the bullets just swept the ridge like hail, sending up showers of dust and pebbles and hitting anyone foolish enough to raise his head 8 inches. We just had to wait till the stream passed on, bang away and then bob down like lightning.
Soon Geo. Lloyd, one of my Samoan Pals, who was next to me got it through the head, and then Chiller Sinton-the swimmer- stopped another with his head. Wally Riley was the next to go, shot through the stomach. It was hell, absolutely hell, I can tell you, and when the 75 centimetre gun on Annafarta got the range, well it was indescribable. There we were practically in the open peppered from the front by machine gun and rifle fire, while from the side, came the shrapnel from Annafarta.To make matters worse the big guns from our warships in the roadstead below began to talk and as we were only 200 yards away from they enemy, you can imagine how difficult it was for the gunners to land their shells without hitting us. Quite a number burst right over us, killing a number besides wounding others. You can't imagine how awful it was to lie there when those shells burst. it scared the very devil out of me and I am not ashamed to admit it. Still, however I had to keep up my fire and despite the fact that my rifle was almost white hot, I managed to bag quite a few Turks. In all I fired 220 shots and I

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reckon out of that lot I hit at least 50 of the beggars. It was impossible to miss 'em at times. And then William John Rusden got hit. Will tell you about it. When I left Wellington, I carried with me Jeffrey Farnel's book "The Broad Highgway" and when we landed on the Peninsula I still had it packed in my haversack with my towel. Prior to going into action I strapped the haversack on my back and as I lay on the hill it rested just between my shoulder blades like a huge pad, and pad is the right word, because had it not been for that pad, I would not be writing to you to-day.
After being on the hill three hours, a shell (one of many) burst right over me and I didn't wake up for several minutes afterwards. Then I found that a lump of the missile had lobbed fair on to my pad, smashing it to smithereens, but barring a huge bruise, doing me no further damage. It made me as sick as a dog, however, I tried to get down a bit to try and pull myself together. Got down about 20 feet and then stood up, just in time to get a lump of shrapnel in my left side. That was the end of things for a while, but eventually I rolled down the hill to a bit of a sap, where I struck a poor beggar shot through the thigh. He wasn't able to stand up, but with my feeble assistance, he got up at last just in time to get another dose. He got hit in the hand and I in the knee though mine was a mere scratch, and at last we got to the gully down which I made my way with scores of the wounded to the beach.
Most of the way down we were being fired at by snipers, but barring a graze on my hip I escaped scot free, others however were not so lucky, and I saw two stretcher bearers and their burden all fall to snipers in about 20 seconds. When I reached the beach, there were hundreds waiting to be attended to and all the time the bullets and shrapnel were flying about. Many were hit, but by this time I didn't care whether they got me or not.
After a while I found Jimmy Harper and he made me some tea- my first drink for 24 hours and eventually after being bandaged up, I went along the beach to Anzac where Norman Lewin and Tom Lawless of Wellington gave me a "sup of the cratur" and some chocolate. Found that I could not be taken off to the Hospital ship that night, so I just lay down on the beach with scores of others and waited for morning. It was cold as the devil, but I was so dog tired and weak I did not notice it much. In the morning we were taken out to the Glacon – a hospital ship – but she was full up so we were transposed to a mine sweeper and taken to Imbros – a Greek Island 10 miles away, where we were placed on the Georgian, a cattle boat. She was filthy dirty and had no accommodation, but "needs must" when the devil drives" and into her they packed 900 of us. On board there were 25 orderlies, 6 nurses and 6 doctors, so you can imagine what a task they had.
We spent 3 days on this boat and I had a lump of shrapnel removed from my side, which made things easier. Then we returned to Lemnos and were all taken aboard the Aquitania and thence to England. The Aquitania took 2,300 on board and so good was the attention that only 21 died on the way. We called at Naples and Gibraltar, and thanks to a zig zag course and finally to two destroyers we reached Southampton without striking any submarines. At Southampton we entrained for London, and you can't imagine what a relief it was to pass through the green fields of Hampshire, to see the quaint old Homesteads and to feel the warmth of the welcome of all at the various Stations. And then London at last, we finished up at Waterloo Station and we were taken in motors to King George's Hospital, about 10 minutes drive. There was no crowd to welcome us – they did not know we were coming, but occasionally we had to pull up owing to the congestion of

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traffic and then we realised that even the "gutter imps" and the "arriets" had hearts of gold. They swarmed around our cars, cheering and greeting us, and I can tell you that we New Zealanders will always have a soft place in our hearts for the "Lydies wot wears big feavers in their hats" and goes abt. wiv blokes of the nime of "Arry and Bill". Just an impression of one of the girls who jumped on to the back step of the car I was in "clad in all the colours of the rainbow and crowned with a monster black hat and huge white feather, her pinched face brightened by a huge smile, she shook hands with me to the accompaniment of these words "Good luck to yer mate. Wot are yer? Nooseealander, eh?. Sye girls, these are Noosealanders" and then what a rush. The names of New Zealanders and Australia are magic words in England just now, and our friends of the "feavers" struggled with each other to get a peep at us and to say a few words of welcome. "You've done yer bits, yer "ave. Yus we does we know all abhat yer. Good luck to yer, good luck,'ooray 'ooray for Noosealanders".
Soon our ride was over, but our welcomes had not ceased, because the huge staff of the Hospital was just itching to do something for us and do it they did. Soon we were all in bed, wounds were attended to and by 10 o'clock we were all comfortable and settled in the newest of England's Hospitals situated in the heart of London, the City we all had read about, but never expected to see. And even with the Hospital Staff, our welcome did not end. As many of us as can get about are taken out every day in cars, busses, cabs and every conceivable kind of vehicle. London proudest women are vieing with each other in their efforts to honor the soldier. Tea parties, theatre parties and drives are on every afternoon. We go to all the fashionable places we knew only in papers and books. We are treated and feted like kings. Our drives through the City are triumphal processions. Everyone waves, many take of their hats. Nothing is wanting to make the soldier (whether he is New Zealand, Maori, Australian or British) feel that his efforts have and are being appreciated. Of course we are easily recognised owing to our Hospital dress-blue trousers, blue jackets with white lapels and red ties. It is rather picturesque and is to be seen every where. I have been to several parties. Have been entertained by Duchesses, have taken tea in their homes, have talked to them of New Zealand, and have made friends in galore. It is just wonderful this London- it more than comes up to expectations, in fact the country is all that we pictured it to be and none of us want to come home until all danger of German invasion is over.
In the Hospital I am at present, there are about 1,000 Tommies-150 new Zealanders, 200 Australians. The Tommies are all from France and splendid fellows every one of them- quite unlike the men in Kitchener's army who are not much good. They are weedy and far too young and it would be a case of "God help England" if they were her last hope. Of course many of the Regiments there are splendid, but the majority are to put it plainly "no damned good". Even John Turk won't run from them, but will stand and wait for them, though he'll run a mile rather than tackle a Colonial, a Gurka or a British Line Regiment. He's terrible scared of the Colonials, because they seldom take prisoners. Some of our fellows go quite crazy in bayonet charges and they kill not only the well men but the wounded. Just one instance. In one of the charges in which our fellows took part, a fellow nicknamed "Irish" a hard bitten son of Erin, was with a crowd to which about 100 Turks surrendered. They-the Turks were all standing with their hands up when "Irish" got busy with his bayonet. He just saw

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red with a vengeance and in less than 5 minutes he had bayoneted 11 of the poor beggars. He had the 11th man on the ground when an Officer checked him but "Irish" wasn't going to lose his 11th without a struggle so he jabbed his bayonet through the Turk's shoulder, transfixing the body. He couldn't get the bayonet out then, so he got his foot on to the Turk's neck and pulled the stock of his rifle over till the bayonet broke off. "Irish is here in the Hospital with Lumbago and never tired of telling of the exploit. Stories of the fighting there I have in hundreds, but they have to keep till I come home (if I ever do). The fighting over there, however, is so awful that a fellow must be lucky to dodge a bullet.
The casualties during the big fight of which details are now filtering through as I write, were enormous. New Zealand lost thousands, and I'm sure the total list must be quite 50,000. Whole companies of Colonials were wiped out. Why even the Fifth at the end of 5 days had lost over 500. Don't ever believe stories about the glories of war, because war is not glorious, it is hell - nothing but dirt, filth, blood, sweat, toil and pain. May this war be the last the tired old world will ever endure.
And now I must bring this to a close. I leave the hospital tomorrow for a convalescent home. Will remain there a week and after a fortnight furlough I returned to the Dardenelles. Will be there I expect long before this reaches you, so when you are reading this, just have "one'' together I wish us luck. I haven't time to write to all my friends so will be glad if you will show this letter to Danie Weir, Jack Murray, John Gibbons, and Fred Earle (Evening Post) Joe Henrys, Dan MacKensie (Free Lance) and any pals who may enquire about me.
You will be sorry to hear about Wally Riley's death. I know he died a hero anyhow, so that is some consolation. And now goodbye. I haven't had a letter since I left New Zealand (the mail is bollixed up) but suppose I will get a lot in a heap.
Kindest regards to Mrs M. and Mrs H. and please tell Joe -------Stewart was in Alexandria when I left.
Good-bye old pals,
Yours as ever –
Bill.

[Transcribed by Margaret Russell for the State Library of New South Wales]