Free Eyewitness by Garrie Hutchinson

believe, but a shell caught it even there. Their work had been of the most unsatisfactory kind; some of the crews were good, and some bad, but they were the cause of disaster to us and they never received the least sympathy. Right up until the stunt on 4 July 1918 at Vaire Wood, where they fully redeemed their name among us, the mention of tanks brought forth abuse and curses from every Australian and at one time we even heard that the authorities were thinking of doing away with them.
    Later on a couple of English officers came round, they were very dubious as to the success of the stunt. As I could not see any Aussies in the open I knew that they were in the Hun trenches, and I remember telling these officers that once our boys got in they’d take some driving out. As we were sitting up watching things, a Hun over in Bullecourt must have seen us, as he turned his machine-gun on us. The two officers got away without being hit but, for an hour after that, if I showed my head, over would come a shower of bullets. Nevertheless, I managed to keep an eye on the Hindenburg Line, and every now and then I saw a few Diggers get out of it and bolt for our line, and I also saw about 30 Hun prisoners come back on their own without any escort. When they came near the ditched tank they held their hands above their heads. They seemed amazed at the thing. One boy came right past me and when he had gone about a hundred yards a shell burst close alongside him. Down he went like a log. Several of us were on the point of going out for him, when a man who was nearer ran and picked him up and brought him back to the embankment. They had barely gone 50 yards from the place where he was hit when another shell burst in the same spot. If it had been left to us to go and get him, we would have been just about picking him up when the second one came, and probably we would have received the same dose.
    An hour or so after daylight I saw some cavalry scouts going forward. They were in full fighting togs, and the amount of stuff hanging onto them and their horses was enormous. Poor beggars, I truly pitied them, for they never had a ghost of a hope, and they very soon caught it in the neck. Of course, by this time we all knew that something was wrong, and we received a fair notion of how many machine-guns were working by the way they let go at one of our aeroplanes which went over to size up the stunt. There seemed to be so many bullets in the air that one almost wondered that they did not jam each other up there. The suspense at this stage was very great, especially for those at the various battalion headquarters. I was told afterwards that, at our battalion headquarters, the following conversation took place. Captain Harold Wanliss (the adjutant): ‘I’m going to ask you once again, Colonel, to let me go. We’ve a good idea now of what’s happened, and I can’t be any use here. I feel I ought to be up there doing what I can to help the fellows. God knows what has happened to Jacka and the rest of them, and I can’t stand the suspense.’
    Colonel Peck: ‘Look here, Wanliss, do you think that it’s an easy matter for me to stay here glued to this damned dugout, simply waiting for news?’
    ‘All the more reason why I should be out there sending you information.’
    ‘Wanliss, listen to me. You’ve been a soldier long enough to know that it’s sometimes harder to stick this waiting than it is to fight. Your idea is to leave me all alone with my responsibilities.’
    ‘Well, Colonel, if you put it that way, I’ll not ask, again.’
    Long afterwards we found out that our C.O. had a special reason in holding Wanliss back; he felt that he was a man whom Australia might badly need some day, and he did all he could to prevent him from thrusting himself into unnecessary danger. As time went on I became as hungry as a hunter, and as I could see no-one who had any certain information, I made up my mind to go back to Noreuil and find out what was