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[Page 15]
writing this account I have purposely avoided mentioning individual men whom I saw do great work, but it would be impossible to speak of Pozieres without eulogizing Colonel Heane. He was "the Man" of the attack and to all the old soldiers of the Bn stands as the "beau ideal" of a C.O. and soldier. He was everywhere where danger was thickest while in the line, and none of us afterwards could recollect having seen him use communication saps. It was always across country with him. He came to see us in the front line when it seemed we were all to be annihilated, and I know how his appearance there sharing the dangers with us put new heart into the boys holding the position. And so on one could talk for some time on this subject, but as I say, I have avoided doing so from the point of view that it is not for me to do so. But this I will say-"any man who was in Pozieres with Colonel Heane holds just the same opinion as I do." That he was the best soldier we have been with in a pitched battle.
To come back to our Colonels speech, the text of which was this: Officers and men of the 1st Bn., as you all know I am a hard man and hard to please, but as I look round (he looked round and the tears glistened in his eyes as he saw all that was left of his splendid battalion), I feel proud to think I have held command of such men as you. Men,-he said- this Battalion had a wonderful name at Gallipoli but today you have done work equal to if not better than anything that was ever done on the Peninsula. He mentioned those who had gone and then with a last long look round he thanked us for what had been done and dismissed the parade.
A few minutes after we were making our way back to Casualty Corner to collect our packs. This was all we did that morning. The old support line which we had held was "non est" yet the little dugout in which we stored the packs had survived the general ruin. Every now and then a shell would come singing overhead but we had no casualties.
We looked up towards the line where we had had such a terrible time and could picture the men holding onto our place. The line of trenches there was still clearly marked by the line of bursting shells. The sky was a haze of smoke just as thick as that which comes from a fiercely burning bush fire. We could see the masses of debris being flung high in the air by the burst of the big H.E. shells and could picture only too vividly the hell that reigned supreme in that haze of smoke. But soldiers learn to live in the present. Life is too often but a matter of seconds and so the soldier trys to put from his mind those things that he would rather not remember, and we tried to do so.
When we arrived back at bivouacs though, we began to have brought home to us the loss of those who had gone. Men with whom we had lived for months, men who had been the life of all the best times, good comrades, all were gone and we began to talk of how they went. But time covers all wounds. Soon they too passed into oblivion and we spoke of the present and the future leaving the dead past to bury its dead.
In the afternoon of 26th July we marched back about three kilos to the hills just outside Albert. Here we had dugouts and rested till next morning. As night came down we stood on the hill and watched the shells falling in the place we had held and we thanked whatever fate had guarded us that we were through it unscathed and with honour.
It was here we had a few conversations with the English soldiers and though it does not effect the doings of the Bn. I feel constrained to tell what was said. They were speaking of the Artillery and could not find words to express their admiration. "Chum", said they, "you boys are wonderful. They are as quick as our men and as game as the best of us. When you boys advanced they limbered up their guns and prepared to follow. "You cannot go up there" said an English officer,-"Can't we" was the reply " Our boys are there in that hell somewhere and what they can do we can do because the guns must be behind the