Letters from the hospital ship 'Maheno', No 6.

Detail of the Maheno show the doors in the side.
The utility of these doors is often mentioned in articles about the ship.
https://nzhistory.govt.nz/media/photo/discharging-patients-alexandria

A small series, of unknown length, highlighting letters from the hospital ship, 'Maheno'.

Part of my ANZAC Commemoration in the year 2020.

Assumed Identity

Name: Eric Edward McGrath
Service No: 2518
Enlisted: 13 Dec 1816
Unit: 44th Australian Infantry Battalion
Source: Australian War Memorial

Letter as it appears in the Delegate Argus (NSW : 1906 - 1943), Thursday 7 December 1916, page 2

"Fritz Got Me at Last" 

A report got around some time ago that Private E. McGrath, one time teacher at Woodglen School, had gone under at the front. Such is not the case. He has been wounded, but last word to local friends said he was doing well. Those who know 'Mac' will read the following letter, which comes from him, with interest:— 

"Fritz has got me at last. I have had a long run and many a good mate has been knocked over alongside me, and there are not too many left of the crowd who crossed with me on the "Medic." We were taken out of the line we were holding near Armentieres about the end of June and formed into a mobile division. That meant that we marched where other troops were carried in trains. Well, we marched from Armentieres to Albert, taking about three weeks, sleeping in ruined houses and straw stacks, and subsisting upon very scanty rations. Luckily I was in fine condition, and stood the march well. On arrival at Albert — which is in ruins — we left everything behind with our packs, not even taking a towel or soap— only ammunition and food. We took over the trenches in front of Pozieres from the British. They had made several attempts to take the place, but had failed. Their dead were lying all over the place. There were four of them built into the side of the trench where I was, with arms and legs sticking out, and the shell holes were full of them. When the smell got too high we had to get out at night and do the grave digging act. There were plenty of dead square heads around, too. I got a dose of some kind of gas going in, and was pretty sick. The worst want was water. It had to be carried a couple of miles, and each day a few of the carriers were killed by German shells, so we did not waste any of it in washing. After four days, during which we lost a good few men, we attacked at midnight on July 22nd. I was in an advance guard of 20 men to take part of the first line of trenches and dig them out in case our attacks were driven off. We sneaked out with fixed bayonets before midnight, and crept from shell-hole to shell-hole across "No-Man's Land." We laid down about half-way across, and suddenly 200 of our guns opened on the first line and rained shells on it for 20 minutes. Then they shift ed into the next line, and we went for the first. The German guns began to give us a warm reception. I got to the parapet, but a shell explosion upended me, and in getting up some shrapnel smashed my right foot. I shot one German swine though before I collapsed. When I came to I crawled into a shell-hole and dug in as far as I could and said my prayers. It was more like hell than anything you could imagine. Nothing to be seen but great clouds of smoke and the flash of shells, while the shrapnel simply rained down. I did not think it possible for anyone to live there, but our boys came through it in wave after wave, although they fell in hundreds. The wounded were shrieking and swearing, and those of us who could crawl were trying to tie up our wounds and those of our mates. About daylight it slackened, and I started to crawl back to our trenches. Of course I got lost and mixed up in the barbed wire, but after crawling a couple of miles I got into a trench, and was tied up by some stretcher bearers, who gave me a shovel as a crutch and started me back. I got a good way before I went under, and then an engineer officer carried me on his back to a dressing station. From there I went by stretcher, ambulance and train to Le Treporte, on the coast of Normandy. I put in nearly a fortnight here, and was operated on, and had the shrapnel cut out of my foot. They had designs on the foot, but I bluffed them off. Then to Havre, and across to Southampton on the N.Z. hospital ship Maheno. I first went to Fawcett Road Hospital, Southsea, for a week, and then out here. Had another operation the day before yesterday, and have another incision as a result. The nurses and doctors are very kind, but I am feeling only middling. I can't eat since the gas. We have concerts twice a week, and anyone who can go out, especially the Australians, have a good time. Southsea is a part of Portsmouth, and is a great holiday resort."