ian mcdougall
  • Ian McDougall
    • Background
    • Humbled by Honour
  • Projects
    • Bloke's Lounge
    • Mentoring >
      • He said, she said
      • Helping the Homeless in more ways than one
    • Save the Post Box
    • Racism
  • Articles
    • MUSICAL MADNESS
    • MY EARLY CARS
    • This (mechanical) life
    • The Thorpe Ascension
    • Goolie grippers
    • Bewdy Bonza guide to Australia
    • Wine descriptors
    • Notes for shop assistants
  • McDoggerel
    • Political >
      • WAR IS A WHORE
      • Joe Hockey
      • Blue Ties
      • Kevin, The Musical
      • LNPeeing in their own next
      • Flegg flogged
      • Your Job
      • We're Shot to Shit
      • Can Do (A Political Pantomime)
      • Bwuce Almighty
      • Election in the Air
      • What The Hell
      • How 'ard?
      • Parly rap
      • About face, about facing the truth
    • Social issues >
      • On The Streets
      • Ready & Able
      • Where I Live
      • Telephone font
    • Here Be Demons >
      • The Truth Comes Out
      • Yeah mate, I know
      • Dread Head
      • Sometimes
      • Black Dog Barking
      • Bark you black dog
    • Other >
      • My car
      • Bloody lawn
      • Night noise
      • The Dunny
      • My Kind of Blue
      • THE CHRISTMAS FRIDGE
      • Kiss Me
      • The Stick
      • Magpie mornings
      • Delhi belly
      • Hinkum booby
      • GRIEF IS THE PRICE OF LOVE
      • Darts for Old Farts
      • Surfers ain't paradise
      • The March
      • CALLIPYGOUS
      • Bangalow Markets
      • Meanderthals
      • Four small words
      • Bessie
      • The Devil Drives a Prado
      • Desert Dawn 1991
      • Your Mobile Phone
      • Your Honour
      • The Tellie
      • I Hate The Train
    • Haiku >
      • Blokey haiku
      • Hospital haiku
      • Other haiku
  • People
    • Surf legend
    • On ya bike, Mal!
    • VALE >
      • Vale: Roger Crook
      • Vale: Nev Brough
      • Vale: Ron Dix
      • Vale: Joan Small
      • Vale: Dal Withers
    • Lieut Clarry McDougall MC >
      • Race meeting at the front
      • March to the Rhine
      • Daybreak surprise
      • Cooyar Cenotaph unveiled
    • J.F. McDougall - Queenslander >
      • J.F. McDougall - family stuff
    • Partners in Recovery >
      • Getting it out there
      • Funky postcards hit the streets
      • Phil's pouches popular
      • New life for Naomi
      • There's magic in music
      • Lessons from the edge of darkness
      • Crafting a future
      • From misery to happiness
      • Dominique - Shades of day
    • Book People >
      • Matthew on road to recovery
      • #1 Kevin Jones
      • #2 Melissa and Ann
      • #3 David Oldfield
      • #4 Multicultural moments
      • #5 Peter Burt
      • #6 Brendan Lauritz
      • #7 Matthew's mutt
      • #8 Dal loves his Wilburs
      • #9 Books found
      • #10 New shoes, new vigour, new hope
      • #11 Up there for thinking
      • #12 Jo's lessons
      • #13 Cowboy takes teens on reality ride
  • Out & about
  • Grumpy Old Fart

March to The Rhine

PictureClarry (right) with Lt Lucas, The Somme Sept 16
November 14, 1917

The Retreat of the Gun - Tremendous Sacrifice of Material

Letter from a Toowoomba boy. Lieut C. McDougall, writing to his parents at Cooyar under date November 14, continues his narrative of his journey towards the Rhine as part of the army of occupation. He says:-

It seems ages since I wrote you last; we had just completed a long trip, both by train and road.

Well, I am now in a fairly large French town over the famous Hindenburg line.  We cleaned out a house, rather one room, today to live in as the Huns left the place in a terrible state. But now have things nice and comfortable, a table to write and have meals on, and a rough bed, and a nice stove going.

It is bitterly cold and we have been having very heavy frosts for last week, after weeks of rain. Bu the days are bright and brisk and we are in good spirits. 

Although the war ended suddenly, the boys did not lose their heads, and took it as an every day event, while the French people nearly went mad. They must think us a casual lot.

I am fairly dreading the winter, and so are all the rest of the Australians, but will be able to keep in and out of the weather more now peace is almost here. Although only the armistice terms arr signed I don’t think peace will be long following.

Things have not slackened a bit and if anything, the railways and motor lorries are getting the good up to the starving French and Belgians, now free once more. All day and night train after train goes by, laden with food, and miles of motor columns laded with bread.

The poor French people returning to their homes after four years of war break down and cry their eyes and hearts out when they see the wrecks they have returned to. Nearly every French family flies a tricolour. Well, we marched out of our rest billets, where we have had five weeks’ spell from the front. All the inhabitants cried at our parting and wished us a “bon voyage”.

We were to get our train at 6pm but did not start entraining until 2m in the morning. It was freezing wait in a big open field and frost cracking in the air, so all were glad to board the rattler. It took three hours to load all the transport and horses etc and we moved out at 5.30am. 


Picture
We crawled along for miles, stopping every few miles, one train behind the other, the lines congested. In one place we did four miles in six hours. We were side-tracked for eight hours and rations ran low but we pinched food from passing trains and so kept going.

Next day we were going well when leaving St Quentin behind, when the rails sank under the heavy engine in an old shell hole on the line and there we stuck for five hours. Another engine pulled us out.

After ran hour’s run again we stopped, engine could not climb the grade so backed down and had two runs at it but no luck. Again had to wait for another engine’s help. Eventually we reached our destination near the old Hindenburg line and how funny it was not to hear guns booming and aeroplanes ands flares going up and down. All was quiet.

It took two hours to unload and a mile march to our tents but although wee had our blankets we did not get much sleep’ it was a perisher. Off again at 8am by road, and an interesting march right across the miles of strongly entrenched ridges, belts of wire, concrete pill boxes, deep tunnels and dugouts. What a beautiful position it was.

Picture49th Battalion AIF medallion
Passed twelve tanks knocked out in one heap, where I did my last fight with the Yanks. We crossed over the huge canal tunnel that caused heavy and long fighting to get and through many fortified villages, all totally destroyed by shells and bombs.

Then cut into rolling hills downs country and villages improved as wee moved along and finally got there just at dark.We are here for a few days and then hope to push on to the much talked of River Rhine and Germany and do army of occupations work. It will be an interesting trek. 

How the thing has ended! What a glorious victory it is. One cannot realise it has a finished, or rather nearly. The French people here say our bombing planes did awful slaughter every night to the Huns with bombs.

In the centre of this town is a huge painting showing England surrounded by U-boats, starving and telling the Hun soldiers to invest in a war loan.

The boys are firing off hundreds of coloured Hun flares all over the country for miles and it is some fire work display, the whole country being lit up. They are enjoying themselves some. Also letting off hundreds of Hun bombs and huge dumps everywhere here.

The force to which Lt McDougall was attached crossed Belgium on its way from ”Sivvy” Belgium November 29th. He writes:-

Did two days march since last writing you.  The weather turned wet and misty, roads got very slushy and slippery. We travelled through dairying and apple country all the way and passed through several large forests.

On the first day we could see signs of the German retreat showing signs of disorder. An old gun or wagon left on the roadside and steel helmets and ammunition thrown away. All roads were blown up at awkward turns or crossroads. 

We reached a fairly large French town by the name of Sains and camped there the night. The French people told us the Hun left in a terrible hurry. Next day the roads were littered with steel hats, ammunition and motor lorries. The latter all steel shod and wagons in dozens and several guns.

One river we crossed had about twenty large wagons thrown into it and the bridge blown up. Our fellows had made a good bridge across the tops of the wagons, which carried light traffic.

PictureClarry on bunk in France
When we came to a long uphill grade the material increased, machine guns and trench mortars everywhere. In the forest he had felled hundreds of trees over the roads, which had to be sawn and cleared off.

We reached the Belgian border and it was a great surprise to see the difference in things.
After what we had read and heard, it was more or less a staggered one. We had no sooner passed the border roads than we saw herds of cattle and sheep and the houses and country in splendid order, whilst the French territory we had passed over was quite destitute of all stock etc.

We reached this town about dark. The place is good order and although the people have harrowing tales of woe, they are living in comfort compared to the poor French. They all welcomed us heartily except a few Hun sympathisers.

While the Huns were here, butter was available at £2 a lb and candles at 3/- each and it was the same with all other eatables.

The railway station here is expected to blow up an anytime as it has three large mines under it, and they are too far gone to be removed, so just have to wait till they blow up.

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.