Sydney Williams: Egypt to France

After a lull paralleled by my grandfather’s “monotony of existence in a camp ... more or less isolated in the desert”, I have returned to the history of his Division (New Zealand Artillery in the Field, 1914-18) in the transition time between the Anzac evacuation and embarkation for France. My grandfather, Sydney Williams, was stationed at Moascar, near Ismailia on the banks of the Suez Canal.

These few months saw a complete reorganisation of the Australian and New Zealand forces, and “the formation of a self-contained, complete New Zealand Division”. There was extensive training, but also games of football (read ‘rugby’?) in the evening and on Saturdays, as well as swimming in Lake Timsah.

But the men, according to the official history, were “growing weary of inaction, and confident of their fitness to take the field again”. They began to talk of France, and “to look forward eagerly to the day when they would enter the lists against the most formidable of their enemies. ... The syllabus of training which had been mapped out had hardly been completed when orders appeared announcing that the Division would shortly embark for France.”

In Moascar, my grandfather had been promoted to Artillery Sergeant on 11 March 2016. When he embarked for France on 7 April, he was with the 13 Battery under Captain T Farr, part of the 2nd Brigade commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel F B Sykes. The troops arrived in Marseilles:

Everyone was eager for his first glimpse of France, and the ship's rails were lined and every vantage point on deck was crowded as the transports made their way up the picturesque harbour and proceeded to their berth at the wharves. ... as units came ashore they were packed into long troop trains, and set off on their journey northwards through the heart of Southern France. The countryside was clad in the fresh and tender verdure of spring, and looked fair indeed to eyes that for long had gazed upon nothing more attractive than the scarred slopes of Gallipoli, the bare hills of Lemnos, and the parched and boundless spaces of the Egyptian desert. Marseilles and the sea were quickly left behind, and soon the way lay through the Rhone Valley, with its blossoming orchards and orderly vineyards, its quaint little clustering villages, and its busy towns. ... The beauties of the countryside, the sense of change, and the novelty of the surroundings left no room for dull thoughts or weariness of mind.

The troops arrived in Le Havre after a journey of about fifty hours. After camping out on a cold hillside for a few days, the artillerymen were billeted out near Hazebrouck:

in and about small villages, such as Lynde, Le Ciseaux, and Blaringhem, small places with a poor estaminet [small cafe] or two, and little else of note beyond the church with its spire standing up above the clustering thatched roofs. The old barns and disused stables, which served as billets, were made comfortable enough with the aid of straw bedding, even if they were not overclean ...

The New Zealand Division was due to go into service at Armentieres, but before that the Artillery were tested on their shooting abilities.

Each Brigade in turn was required to send a party of gunners from each of its batteries to Calais, where they carried out live shell practice on ranges on the sea-front. ... the affair was very simple, but it served to demonstrate the discipline and smartness of the gun-crews. In congratulating the men of one battery on their shooting, which had been but typical of that of all the brigades, an English staff officer explained that all batteries were being so tested prior to going into the line in France since, on occasions, one or two batteries had inflicted as much damage on their own infantry as on the enemy!

Today, it’s euphemistically called ‘friendly fire’.