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."

Letters from the hospital ship 'Maheno', No 5.

Detail from a 1916 greeting card.
https://www.aucklandmuseum.com/collection/object/am_library-ephemera-16927

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

Part of my ANZAC Commemoration in the year 2020.

Assumed identity of the author:-
Name: Harold Griffith
Service Number: 1544
Enlisted: 9 Apr 1915
Unit: 17th Australian Infantry Battalion
Fate: Returned to Australia, 17 Mar 1916
Source: Australian War Memorial

Molong Express and Western District Advertiser (NSW : 1887 - 1954), Saturday 6 November 1915, page 8

"Head Down and Pecker Up." 

Mr. and Mrs. G. W. Griffith, of Manildra, have received letters from their son Harold, written from the trenches, at sea, and the Gibralta Military Hospital, on August 25, Sept. 9, and Sept. 20 respectively. Writing from the front on the back of a programme of a concert held on board the transport he travelled on from Australia, the soldier says : 

"At last we are in the trenches. We journeyed to Lemnos in a big boat, stopped at Lemnos for a day, and then transhipped into two little boats. It took us only a few hours to get off the coast of Gallipoli. We were to land at night, so we understood, and we could hear the machine guns and rifles popping a treat. As we thought we would be landing under fire, we did not feel too brisk over the matter. It certainly sent a creepy feeling up our spinal cords. We, however, did not get off until just daylight. We landed on a pier and moved up to our position. My word, I can tell you we were glad that we didn't have to land under fire. When one sees the hills, and thinks that it is up these that our men had to scramble with the Turks well entrenched and firing on them, it appears marvellous that they ever got there. I can tell you we were pleased that we could land in peace. One of the shells struck the boat we came from Lemnos in, but didn't do any damage. In the afternoon we had a surf, and the fact that Deadly Bill from Achi Bahi can land, and some times does land shells there, made it all the more enjoyable. Any how it was great. That night we shifted off from "Rest Gully," as it is called. We marched off as light as possible, and expected to be into the midst of it before morning. We got to a certain place, however, in some gully, and there we stretched out to sleep. Spent bullets were coming over all night, and one landed just about three feet in front of me, in a bush. A couple of our fellows got hit, one rather badly. It didn't disturb our sleep though.
It is marvellous how one becomes so used to things and takes no notice. We stopped there till mid-day, and then moved off again. After a pretty stiff march of a couple of hours, we came to Australia Gully. The only trouble in Australia Gully was that we were very short of water, and had to cut our supplies down very considerably. It was rather funny. We were pretty thirsty, but we're talking about the war. One man said that in a couple of months we would have to leave the Peninsula, as it rained so much that all the gullies were running full. At once a fellow said: 'My word, won't we have a drink then. Rather funny as at the time we were not thinking of water. 

We spent our first Sunday very quietly. Spent bullets were land-ing every little while, and there were plenty of escapes. One fellow got a bullet through his trousers, and another had one lob right along side his head. We have been here two days now and no one in our company has been hit yet. The first night I was on a bit of outpost duty but nothing happened. Yesterday and last night I was in the trenches. As long as one keeps his head down and his pecker up, things are al-right. At night you can watch over the parapet with hardly any danger, but not too long. 

The Turks here are very short of big guns, and we have had hardly any shells pelting round. The only trouble really is the machine guns. Shrapnel is not feared nearly so much as one would expect. It is marvellous how close a shell can burst, and not harm anyone. 

We have to cook our own meals, and make ourselves generally useful in that way. Our tucker is pretty good, and there is plenty of it. We have also plenty of water now. 

Harold Menzies is back in the trenches again. He came round to see us the day we landed, but I missed him. Charley saw him, and says he had some pretty close escapes. Charley and I are separated now. Being in different companies, we were sent to differ-ent places. When I saw him last he was O.K. 

Writing at sea on September 5, Pte. Griffith says :- Well, here I am, or as much as is left of me, on board a ship hopping away for England. It has happened — the first engagement, too, and that not a serious one. I got hit in the left hand with an explosive bullet from a machine gun, and it has left rather a bad gash, starting from about an inch back and between the last knuckle of the thumb and forefinger. It has opened up nearly the whole of the back of the hand to the wrist, where some of the fragments of the bullet appear to have gone, straight down on to the side of that little knob of bone on the wrist. Here it has cut the bone about a bit, which is the worst feature. The sinews of the first and second fingers are also knocked about a bit. One piece of the bullet seems to have come out about three inches down the arm underneath, but there must be others still in, I think. It is pretty sore, although a little easier now. Last Wednesday the Doctor in charge of us here took me up to the head Doctor of the boat to see whether the hand would have to come off. It was a pretty pass for me, and I had to sit outside the surgery for over an hour waiting. However, when we got in he had a look at it and said, "Certainly not! In two or three months it will heal up after the bone has been fixed, and in about a year you will have a very fair hand. The wrist will be stiff, but three fingers and the thumb will be alright, though one finger — the first — may be stiff too. It will have to be massaged a lot." What do you think of that? All this time since April 12th used up, just to shoot about 300 shots at the Turkish trenches — for that was all we could see — and this hand given in! 

To tell how the wound was received is the next item. Our battalion was split up as reinforcements for some of the other older battalions. Our company were sent to a place where there were some very good trenches, well advanced. We did a couple of days in the trenches on duty, and were to have a couple out. On Friday though, at 11 o'clock, just as we were beginning to pre-pare our dinner, we got orders to get ready immediately to go into the trenches. There was to be an advance on our right and left and we were to give supporting fire. At 4 o'clock a bombardment star-ted. Our guns from all over the place opened up, from sea and land. They went till 5, when we were ordered to go at it with our rifles, and the others to charge. The guns kicked up a row, I can tell you; they landed 500 shells, shrapnel and lyddite, and they did great damage. We started firing away — bob up, take a quick sight, fire, and down again. We were just firing at their trenches, and I never saw any Turks about at all. This kept up, going strong, and our rifles ran hot and were smoking. Several times, just as I was firing, a bullet struck the parapet in from of me, throwing dust etc. into my face, but that was alright. At 6.20, though, they got me. I just came up to shoot, when bang! right on the wrist, it seemed. It swung me round, and down I went. It was just as lucky I did both things, for it must have been a machine gun, as a second bullet grazed my neck and the third went through the hat just above the band. Talk about close shaves! Of course, I didn't know anything about the last two until later, when they were dressing me, they noticed the mark, and sure enough there were the bullet holes through the tunic and the hat. Every time I look at the little mark on the neck, the more I wonder how the bullet missed. The mark is almost in the middle of the throat, and low down. The only explanation of its missing was that the first shot swung me round, therefore I was at an angle. The one through the hat, too, was within an inch of the napper. 

When I stood on the bottom of the trench, one of the fellows grabbed the arm, stopping the blood a bit — it was streaming. The ambulance men ran along with a couple of bandages, and tied it up. I was pretty weak at the knees. Reg. Nunn was close handy, and he poured some water down my neck. From the trenches a fellow helped me down to the dressing station. After a while, those of us who could walk got going to wards the beach. I was a bit better, although still groggy. A man with part of his nose blown off helped me for a while, and after wards I was alright. Talk about a walk, though. Through saps and down gullies, it was a treat. When we got down to the beach, things were better. Every while we would get a bit of tea, bovril, and biscuit. My, it was great, especially having had no dinner or tea. Here a doctor examined our wounds, put on mine a dressing soaked in iodine, and a splint, and bound her up. Then he injected a goodly dose of anti-tetanus stuff, and I started away for the boat. After a little wait we were put on two small boats and set off to the hospital ship, the Maheno. It was great. They gave us tea, bovril, and beautiful bread and butter. I was put to bed, and slept fairly well. Nurses and orderlies very attentive; do anything possible. The meals were nice — porridge, sago, bread and butter, beef tea, tea, &c. On Sunday we got a shock — Maheno received word to put us into an other boat, and proceed back for another load of wounded. Accordingly, we were put off just before dinner into this boat, a captured German, and used as a troop-ship. Oh, what a change! It almost broke one's heart. From beautiful beds with sheets, everything clean, to this. Dirty! — no name for it. Our beds were the mess tables, on which one was given a dirty kapok mattress, a filthy blanket, and a pillow; and the meals beyond description. Breakfast: Bread and rancid butter; dinner : mutton, potatoes in jackets and sometimes hard, peas or beans, and soup (at times only the water the meat was boiled in); Tea: Bread and this butter again; every second day a scraping of jam; now and again some rice. Oh, it is terrible, when one does not feel like eating, to have to sit down and force this down. We cannot all expect hospital ships, I suppose. If we hadn't seen the "Maheno," mayhap, it would not have been so bad. However, don t let us complain. 

My hand gave me jip. The first night here I did not have a wink of sleep, the second hardly any better, the third none, and so on until Friday, when it was a bit better, or maybe I have grown used to the pain. When we reach England the hand will be X-rayed, and the bone put alright. My beard started to grow, and I had over a week's growth on. One morning, feeling a bit fit, I borrowed a razor and fixed it. There are a couple of rather good fellows below. One, with a wound in the leg, looks after me A1. He cuts up all my meat, and does little jobs like that. I have about the worst wound on that deck, and so am somewhat of a mascot. 

In a letter written on Sept. 20 from Gibraltar, Pte. Griffith said he had been there a fortnight. The wound was healing, but he was not allowed to get out of bed. He and his fellow patients were receiving every attention, and the people of Gibraltar were very good to them visiting and giving them luxuries. They were also receiving gifts from the Red Cross, but he had not received a letter or paper from home for six weeks. 

Writing on August 16, he said he had received a first-class certificate as the result of a school of Instruction Examination, but so as to get back to the front immediately he had had himself transferred to the 17th Battalion as a private.

Letters from the hospital ship 'Maheno', No 4.

https://tiaki.natlib.govt.nz/#details=ecatalogue.122948

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

Part of my ANZAC Commemoration in the year 2020.

Glossary
Mills Bombs are hand grenades.

Lang Lang Guardian (Vic. : 1914 - 1918), Saturday 2 February 1918, page 3

FROM THE FRONT.

The following interesting letter has been received from Private F. Bell, who was in hospital in England when writing: 

"I feel ashamed of myself for not writ ing before, but one had to beg for a sheet of paper and envelope, so I waited my chance and it came yesterday when the Australians came to Beaufort and provided us with nearly everything we needed; so if you happen to smell tobacco when reading this, it is from some of the gift cigarettes from Australia. I know you do not like the smell of tobacco, especially cigarettes, but I cannot buy a small pipe here and the tobacco is not good, so you see I have no option. When we are under heavy bombardment a smoke is the only thing that has been found to ease the nerves. There are plenty of chaps who never smoke unless a bombardment is on; it seems strange, but all the same it is a fact, and anyone from the front can tell you the same. Well, I have no doubt you have heard before this that I got hit in the battle of Pozieres. I will just try and give you an idea of what we did from the time we arrived there until I left. We arrived at Albert on the morning of 26th July, and the same evening we marched up to the reserve trenches. These were the trenches the Germans had been living in for the past 18 months. Some of them had dugouts down to a depth of 60 feet but the majority wore about 30 feet, and all had gas tight doors, electric lights, and a lot of them had the walls papered and even wardrobes in them. Women's clothing has also been found, so that shows they did not expect to be shifted from these underground mansions. In some cases there were as many as 10 to 50 of these rooms linked together by corridors. Well, we stopped in these dugouts until about 11 or 12 o'clock that night, and then made for the trenches on the outskirts of Pozieres. When we passed through it there was not a wall standing. I have never seen such a wrecked place in all my experience, and before we reached the trenches I did not wonder, for they put over such a barrage of fire that nearly blinded us. It was terrible, yet I believe we got in without a casualty, but before morning we had a few. I forgot to tell you I was carrying no less than 24 2lb Mill's bombs; so you can guess I was pretty tired when I reached the trenches. We had to stay there four days and nights and then be relieved. Before the fourth night we had lost about 100 men out of 300 odd. I was lucky enough to come out the first time, and we went back to the reserve trenches for four days, and during that time we had to do fatigue for the battalion that was in the front trenches. On the fourth day we received orders to go over the top and take the hill in front, also a line of trenches on the other side— that meant fatigue all that night and preparing assembly trenches about 150 yds from Fritz - not the sweetest job on earth for he took a tumble as to what was going on in front and he kept sending up flares and pumping in bullets with his machine guns—anyhow we finished it and got back to reserve just as day broke. We went to bed and slept till dinner time, and after dinner we were kept busy getting ready for the dirty work that had to be done that night. At half-past 4 o'clock on the afternoon of 4th August we started off for the trenches; each man had his pockets filled with bombs or flares or smoke bombs. The latter are a very deadly bomb. They are made of sulphur, and the fumes they give off would do for anyone in quick time. They are used for throwing into the big dugout into which 300 or 400 Fritzs may be hiding and they have to be pretty quick in deciding which they will do— suffocate, surrender, or fight for it (they never fight for it). We got a pretty rough passage trying to reach the trenches as a couple of German aeroplanes were hovering overhead and giving the signals that we were in the saps, the result was that we lost well on towards 100 men before reaching the trench. Just as we reached our assembly trench our artillery opened up with a terrific hail of fire—the most deadly bombardment I have witnessed. After it had played on their front line for about two minutes it lifted to their support trenches (this being our signal to advance) and we up over the parapet and made off towards Fritz. I was in the first wave, and our work was to get into his first line and clear it out, but as I got caught in the barb wire, I missed the first wave so I swept on with the second, passed the first line and on to the second line. All this time (which seemed like hours) we were under a hell of shrapnel and machine gun fire and the boys were falling in every direction. We reached the second trench and consolidated. Soon after we got there I saw a Fritz nicking away, so I after him and stuck him in the back, so that made up for the hit I received as soon as I got back to the trench, It was a shrapnel pellet that caught me; it caught two others as well. We were enfiladed to such an extent that it came right along the trench. My wound was not at all serious, just through the fleshy part of the arm midway between elbow and shoulder—it bled a bit; that was nothing. I stopped there 9 hours, and during that time Fritz made two counter attacks, but none of them ever reached our trenches, and very few of them ever reached theirs again. I left the trench about six the next morning and made for the dressing station about a mile back, and I saw some awful sights during that walk. Well, I went from station to station until I reached Blighty Junction and there entrained for Rouen, a distance of about 150 or 200 miles. I did not see much as I slept most of the time, being so tired out. We reached Rouen at 8 o'clock and I was taken to No. 3 General Hospital and stayed there a couple of days, and then entrained for Le Hore, a journey of about four hours. We were put on board the Maheno - a New Zealand hospital ship—but did not move off that day as we were waiting for another batch of wounded to come next morning. The treatment we received on board was excellent. We set off about midday and had a good trip across, although it was through a dense fog all the way. We reached Southampton about 7 p.m., but lay just outside the docks ready to go in at 8 o'clock next morning. There was a train waiting for us, and by 11 o'clock we were well on our way to Bristol. It was most delightful travelling. I think I told you about the lovely scenery in France, but the trip from Southhampton to Bristol excelled even that through the valley of the Rhone. I think Somerset must be England's Garden of Eden. Now we are here in hospital it is a bit quieter, though there are frequent outings to people's homes. Wills, the tobacco merchants, have their main places here, and I think they are the greatest charitable institution of the day. They supply all the hospitals with cigarettes and tobacco free, besides giving outings to about 200 wounded each week."

Letters from the hospital ship 'Maheno', No 3.

Detail from a concert program seeking to raise funds for the conversion of the Maheno to a hospital ship.

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

Part of my ANZAC Commemoration in the year 2020.

In my previous two letters from the Maheno posts, I have managed to find a record in Australian War Memorial database that tell a little of the letters author.  It is often just a scrap of information.  I have not been able to locate anything on that database for Private H. B. James.

His name is listed in the NSW War Memorial at Muswellbrook, though

Though interestingly he did correspond with home and some at least of his letters made their way to the newspaper. I can locate four letters from him in the Muswellbrook Chronicle, of which this letter is the first.

If you are interested the other letters and notes appearing in the Muswellbrook Chronicle are listed below.

15 May 1915 - Pte. James takes up a collection for the Belgian Fund.
19 May 1915 - Pte. James presented with an automatic pistol, ammunition and field glasses.
7 Aug 1915 - Listed as being at the front or on the way.
6 Oct 1915 - Listed as being ill and in hospital in Malta.
10 Nov 1915 - Letter from Pte. James (see below).
27 Nov 1915 - Letter about recovering in a hospital in Cardiff, Wales.
8 Dec 1915 - Letter about recovering in hospital at Preteign, some anecdotes of Gallipoli.
19 Jul 1916 - Report on the fighting in France.



The following letter from the Muswellbrook Chronicle (NSW : 1898 - 1955), Wednesday 10 November 1915, page 2

Private H. James, writing to his parents from Floriana Hospital, Malta, under date 14/9/15, says :— 

On our arrival on the Peninsular after disembarking during night, with spent bullets whizzing and plunking into the water all around and the sounds of the bombing and rifles cracking coming from the hills, where they were at it hot and strong, we marched to a small ravine, where we rested for a day. We then had to take up our position in the trenches, and while we were getting there the enemy observing us opened fire with his shrapnel. But the beggars can't shoot, and although some of it burst uncomfortably near we got to our position, which we were ordered to hold on to to the last man. Things are generally fairly quiet during daytime, but the Turks keep up a terrible fire at night, just to keep back any possibility of a night attack. They must waste an enormous amount of ammunition. We held our trench for a week and were relieved; but we had to go over a clear space of about 50 yards. A number of us got half way across when we were spotted and they opened rifle fire on us; we were ordered to lay flat, and we stayed there with our noses buried in the ground. I think it was the most uncomfortable five minutes I ever experienced. We could do nothing, and all the while the bullets were chipping the twigs and throwing the dust up all around. At last we were ordered to regain our cover. You should have seen Phil Garlick sprint. I am pleased to say that we all regained cover without hurt, which was nothing short of miraculous. We got out shortly afterwards alright. We were taken down near the water and camped in a donga for a rest — not by any means a safe place, us a good many of our fellows were potted by the Turkish snipers as they walked about. We were brought here ostensibly for a rest ; but during the day we were on fatigue duty carrying food, etc., up to the firing line, and at night we went out digging new saps up to the latest trenches taken. We generally finished digging at 12 o'clock, when we wended our way home through a maze of saps to our dug outs in the donga (a dry water course) to enjoy a few hours sleep. The flies there are some-thing terrible, and it's a race sometimes be-tween them and you as to who shall have the food. All day long shells screech over head from our batteries and the warships out at sea, and my word they do send it into the Turks, I have seen about 15 or 20 Turks flying in the air as the result of a single shell. The warship gunners don't make many mistakes. After about three weeks of this exciting life I was un-fortunately taken ill with dysentry and I was pretty bad. The regimental doctor ordered me into the field hospital, where I lay for three days. The hospital was just under a little hill, not a safe place, as I saw several chaps knocked with shrapnel on the flat in front and a couple of chaps knocked over by snipers. It is only fair to say of the Turks that they are fighting fair. They accidentally dropped a shrapnel shell near the hospital and they apologised and have not dropped any on it since. It is generally accepted that they are fighting fair, and that is more than can be said of the Germans. As my case did not improve I was sent on to the base. It took me all my time to crawl there. They served me and about 50 others with a cup of tea and we were all ordered aboard the New Zealand hospital ship Maheno. Whilst we were lying about, waiting to board the lighter to be towed out to the ship, one poor fellow lying on a stretcher received a stray bullet in the arm. Pretty hard luck was it not, We soon got aboard and the generous people soon made us comfortable within and without. They first brought round bread and butter and tea and it was beautiful. We had had nothing but biscuits for weeks past and as we were all pretty well starving we did whack in. It perhaps was not the correct diet for acute dysentry, but we could not resist it. We put to sea that night and after a couple of stops arrived here at Malta. Oh I cannot say too much of the Sisters on the Hospital Ship. They were nothing but kindness and consideration personified. After lying in the harbour a couple of days we were all admitted to the Floriana Hospital, where I am having a continuation of the same kind treatment and attention given me by the New Zealand Sisters. I am pleased to say that I am rapidly becoming convalescent and I would not be surprised, if when I am getting about, that I with the others will be sent to England to recuperate.

Letters from the hospital ship 'Maheno', No 2.

Hospital ship Maheno. Ref: 1/1-002212-G. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. /records/23193984

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

Part of my ANZAC Commemoration in the year 2020.

Name: John Francis McGrath
Enlisted: 27 Jan 1915
Unit: 17th Australian Infantry Battalion
Fate: Returned to Australia, 12th May 1918
Source: Australian War Memorial

Letter as it appears in the Nambucca and Bellinger News (NSW : 1911 - 1945), Friday 5 November 1915, page 5

A Wounded Australian. 

Mr. and Mrs. McGrath, Macksville, are in receipt of a letter from their son— Private John McGrath — whom it was reported was missing. He is again at the front. The following is an extract from his letter ...

"I suppose that you have heard long ago that I was wounded in action on August 27th. I was hit five times in about ten minutes. The first four did not hurt, but the fifth one did. They were all bomb wounds. I walked down to the beach, about two miles distant on my own. I reached there about 9.30 p.m. and by 11 o'clock I was on the hospital ship "Maheno." We went to Lemnos where we stayed two days, afterwards going to Malta. After three days stay we steamed for England. Arrived at Plymouth Sound we boarded the train for London. We travelled all night reaching our destination at 6 next morning and were sent in motor cars to the King George hospital, about 10 minutes drive from the station. At the hospital we were treated like lords. Although we had only been there three days the gentlemen sent round their motor cars and carriages for us, and took parties of us to their clubs, giving us as much light refreshment as we can consume. Sometimes we are taken to their own homes. I have seen many of the principal buildings in London. The hospital is near Trafalgar Square. All the visitors ask to see the Australians. They think we are great men and give us enough smokes to supply a town. Our hospital suit is a royal blue tweed suit, white shirt and red tie. We are not allowed out on our own. 

Ten days after receiving my wounds and while on the boat I was operated on. A piece of steel about an inch long was taken out of my neck. This wound was caused after a bayonet charge on August 27. We received 200 rounds of ammunition and then advanced against a Turkish position. Our instructions were to take three lines of trenches. We advanced through our trench, dug for the purpose, for about half a mile and then into the open. For half a mile we had to cross open ground. The order was given to "fix bayonets and charge." Our course was down a hill about 200 yards, and then up the hill into the Turks' trench. I formed part of the second party and we made for the second trench which we took. Others followed and we had almost, the third trench taken before I was wounded. The Australians succeeded in taking both that and two more trenches before next morning. I was in the trench three or four hours. I was not badly wounded and am nearly well again. 

I was lucky in being sent to London. It was well worth being wounded for a week or two. I will now be ready for another shot at the enemy.

Letters from the hospital ship 'Maheno', No 1.

A postcard of the 'Maheno' prior to service as a hospital ship,
from the Herbert Lomax postcard collection held at the State Library of Queensland.

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

Part of my ANZAC Commemoration in the year 2020.

Name: Sergie Alexander (Nicholas) Rosenberg
Enlisted:19 Mar 1915
Unit: 19th Australian Infantry Battalion
Fate: Returned to Australia, 4 Nov 1915
Source: Australian War Memorial


Letter as it appears in Daily Advertiser (Wagga Wagga, NSW : 1911 - 1954), Saturday 4 December 1915, page 6

SOLDIERS' LETTERS.
"HIS LITTLE BIT."
A WAGGA BOY'S REGRETS. 

Private Sergius Rosenberg, son of Mrs. Jourdain, of Baylis-street, Wagga, who has been invalided home, and is returning by the hospital ship "Maheno," writing on October 2, says:— "I do not like leaving my company, as we have worked together through thick and thin and shared all the privations, but maybe in time I will rejoin them. Looking over yonder (to Gallipoli) from the hospital ship, it looks like a huge miners' camp. The rattle of the machine guns and the crackling of the artillery in the distance sounds like a fireworks display. I had six solid weeks on the Peninsula, and in that time our battalion lost 50 per cent. of its men, so it means double work for us all. " 'Tis only while the war lasts," the lads would say, and go on with their work cheerfully. We had a severe time, but I stuck to it as long as I could until the old trouble robbed me of the chance of doing my little bit. Constant fatigue and long hours soon located my weak spot, and although the doctor did his best for me, I was sent to the hospital ship, unfit to renew my task, lacking energy and feeling "beat." Private Rosenberg was previously operated on for appendicitis.