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[Page 11]
Extract from letter of Pte F.W.Roberts to his wife
France
Tuesday 9th July, 1918.
Now for a few of my doings since I last wrote to you. We gradually worked up nearer to the line until finally one night we lay out on the "hopping off" tape behind out front line waiting for our barrage to open. Needless to say, I, like everyone else, was in a state of nervous tension, but the picture I had before my eyes was that enlarged photo of you and little Nancy where you're both smiling and looking happy: moreover when I glanced up at the clear starry morning sky overhead I could see our lucky star winking away at me, so I knew all was well, and then our barrage opened and the sky became clouded with battle smoke, and I forgot you all in the concentration of my mind on the job before me, which after all is the surest way to beware of danger and so return in safety. I won't go into descriptions here of the "stunt", - suffice it to say we got what we were after with the greatest of ease and with very few casualties on our side. The next two days were trying, particularly the nights, as we had to stand Fritz's bombardment when he twice tried to counter attack and drive back our flanks; in neither case did he come at the trench where I was, and each attack of his was a clear failure for him.
Do you know that all the different "Aussie" battalions are collecting material for war museums in Australia, well, Sweetie, they are, and perhaps years hence you and I and the kiddies will take a walk through some museum, and if I halt before a Fritzy field gun, 77 m.m. – the gun that fires his nerve racking "whizz-bang", you'll know we've met the gun I'm going to tell you about.
This gun is of now ancient pattern, - guns go out of date very quickly these days, - and so was mounted in Fritz's third line as an anti-tank gun. When our battalion hopped over it was captured by D Company without a round being fired from it: next day it was hauled from its position in the trench to the road, - well shelled at intervals, and when No.9 platoon climbed out of ur new front line trench to retire over the one time "no man's land" they did so at a pretty good step. We had gone into the stunt without an officer, the sergeant taking charge of us. He is an original Anzac and a very decent chap but his knowledge of topography and sense of direction are both nil. We had advanced over unknown ground and were without any idea of the way to get back, so when the sergeant led us off we promptly lost out way. We hit a road and he was for crossing it but I strongly objected pointing out that we were running out at an angle to our true direction. I finally convinced the platoon at last by pointing out tings as Fritzy's flares and directions of his shells that I was right and we took off down the road at full speed. A good hard metal road it was, but it was deeply pitted by shells and every minute we expected our issue,, but it didn't come. We came to a trench crossing the road, and some were for hopping in for a blow and to take new bearings, but I like the remainder persuaded them to move on because near by were what, a night or so ago, were Hun dug-outs, and dead Huns smell damnably. The next trench across the road we did halt however, as the air was sweeter here and once more the arguments rose and tempers grew rapidly worse as all our nerves were strained badly. Once more my argument won the day (or should I say, the night?) and we continued on down the road, crossing more trenches on the way. Just here let me say I was loaded like a pack horse: in addition to the usual rig I was carrying out souvenirs in a Fritz's haversack (same as I sent Johnny a month or so ago), and had too a heavy Hun dixie and a sword bayonet, of which more anon; so you can well imagine my step was far from buoyant, though the mind was very willing, - anything to get out safely.