William John Mcbride Capt

CAPTAIN WILLIAM JOHN McBRIDE 1st Tunnelling Company

Born 18 February 1879 at Glenelg, South Australia (SA), the son of William John and Teresa Lucy (nee Harman) McBride, William McBride signed the ‘Attestation Paper of Persons Enlisted for Service Abroad’ at Adelaide, SA on 3 August 1915. He signed the Oath to ‘well and truly serve’ on 14 August 1915.

William was 5ft 7ins tall and weighed 151lbs. He had a dark complexion, with blue eyes and dark hair. He named his wife, Kathleen Ann McBride of North Broken Hill as his Next of Kin and allotted two fifths of his pay for the support of his wife. Kathleen had moved to Prospect, SA, by the time William embarked.

William was appointed as a Private in ‘D’ Company, 2nd Depot Battalion on 14 August. He attended the Officers School from 1 to 31 October and was assigned to the 7th Reinforcements, 27th Infantry Battalion on 1 November 1915. He received his Commission as a 2nd Lieutenant on 27 November and was struck of strength accordingly.

William applied for a Commission in the Mining Corps on 3 December 1915 stating that he had graduated from Adelaide University with a B.Sc in Metallurgy and Geology. His address at the time was Miners Corps Officers School of Instruction, Engineer Depot, Moore Park, Sydney, NSW.

He was promoted to Lieutenant in the Mining Corps on 1 January 1916 and a member of No. 2 Company of the Mining Corps.

At a civic parade in the Domain, Sydney on Saturday February 19, 1916, a large crowd of relations and friends of the departing Miners lined the four sides of the parade ground. Sixty police and 100 Garrison Military Police were on hand to keep the crowds within bounds. The scene was an inspiriting one. On the extreme right flank, facing the saluting base, were companies of the Rifle Club School; next came a detachment of the 4th King’s Shropshire Light Infantry, then the bands of the Light Horse, Liverpool Depot, and the Miners’ on the left, rank upon rank, the Miners’ Battalion.

The Corps boarded HMAT A38 Ulysses in Sydney, NSW on February 20 and sailed for the European theatre. Arriving in Melbourne, Victoria on February 22 the Miners camped at Broadmeadows for a stay of 7 days while further cargo was loaded.

Another parade was held at the Broadmeadows camp on March 1, the Miners’ Corps being inspected by the Governor-General, as Commander-in-Chief of the Commonwealth military forces.

Leaving Melbourne on March 1, Ulysses arrived at Fremantle, Western Australia on March 7 where a further 53 members were taken on board.

On Wednesday March 8, 1916 the whole force, with their band and equipment, paraded at Fremantle prior to leaving Victoria Quay at 9.30 o’clock.

The ship hit a reef when leaving Fremantle harbour, stripping the plates for 40 feet and, although there was a gap in the outside plate, the inner bilge plates were not punctured. The men on board nicknamed her ‘Useless’. The Miners were off-loaded and sent to the Blackboy Hill Camp where further training was conducted.

The Mining Corps comprised 1303 members at the time they embarked with a Headquarters of 40; No.1 Company – 390; No.2 Company – 380; No.3 Company – 392, and 101 members of the 1st Reinforcements. Finally departing Fremantle on April 1, Ulysses voyaged via Suez, Port Said and Alexandria in Egypt. The Captain of the ship was reluctant to take Ulysses out of the Suez Canal because he felt the weight of the ship made it impossible to manoeuvre in the situation of a submarine attack. The troops were transhipped to HM Transport B.1 Ansonia, then on to Valetta, Malta before disembarking at Marseilles, France on May 5, 1916. As a unit they entrained at Marseilles on May 7 and detrained on May 11 at Hazebrouck. A ‘Mining Corps’ did not fit in the British Expeditionary Force, and the Corps was disbanded and three Australian Tunnelling Companies were formed. The Technical Staff of the Corps Headquarters, plus some technically qualified men from the individual companies, was formed into the entirely new Australian Electrical and Mechanical Mining and Boring Company (AEMMBC), better known as the ‘Alphabetical Company’.

On arrival William was appointed to the 1st Australian Tunnelling Company. He was promoted to Captain on 24 July 1916.

On 9 April 17 he was awarded the Military Cross for devotion to duty during the Easter Monday Raid and unintended explosion at Hill 60. The citation reads: “For conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty. He organised the defence of a deep mine system and also parties to rescue several men who had been gassed. His prompt action undoubtedly saved many lives.”

William enjoyed some leave from the Front between 24 August to 14 September 1918. On 26 October 1918 he was appointed ‘Captain to be 2nd In Command of the 1st Aust. Tunnelling Company.’

After the war, William was granted leave for Non-Military Employment, without pay, from 1 April 1919 to 31 August 1919. His address was recorded as c/o The Association of Smithers, Pinners Hall, Austin Friars, England. This leave extended to 30 November 1919 to allow him to return to Australia, via America, at his own expense.

William returned to Australia after visiting mines and treatment works in the USA, voyaging on the S.S. Niagara, and disembarked in Sydney on 28 October 1919. He reported to 4th Military District, South Australia on 31 October.

The Appointment of William McBride as an Officer in the A.I.F. was terminated on 16 December 1919. He was entitled to wear the Military Cross, British War Medal (100860) and the Victory Medal (10022).

News, Adelaide, South Australia – Thursday 5 February 1925: BRILLIANT SCIENTIST Honors for Adelaide Man IMPORTANT ENGLISH POST South Australia has turned out brilliant men who have taken their place alongside world leaders in scientific, literary, and art circles. While the fame of the writer or painter is quickly broadcast over the world the scientist generally accomplishes his greatest work in silence, if not nearly in secret. Twenty odd years ago William John McBride graduated in science at the Adelaide University with first class honors in metallurgy and geology. Since that day he has steadily climbed the ladder, quietly and unobstrusively mastering one branch of his science after another. Now a larger field is opening out. On February 12 Mr. McBride will leave Sydney by the Malkura for London to continue investigation work. A son of former Inspector W. J. McBride, Mr. McBride was born at Glenelg. He received his early education at the Kapunda, Unley, Sturt street, and Grote street Schools. He matriculated from Christian Brothers' College and graduated at the University in 1898. CLEVER METALLURGIST Leaving the University his first work was assisting to rearrange the mineralogical collection at the museum of the School of Mines. A term as assayer and mill superintendent at the Kitticoola mine near Palmer followed. In 1900 Mr. McBride joined the staff of the Broken Hill South mine as assayer. In 14 years he rose to the position of chief metallurgist. Continued. News, Adelaide, South Australia – Thursday 5 February 1925: Continued. At the outbreak of war he was sent to Port Pirie to represent the great mining companies of Broken Hill at the smelters where concentrates were being smelted by the Broken Hill Proprietary Company on a partnership basis. When the Broken Hill Associated Smelters took over from the Broken Hill Proprietary in 1915. Mr. McBride enlisted, leaving Australia with the 1st Australian T'unnelling Company, a unit of Professor Sir Edgeworth David's famous mining corps. Gallantry on Hill 60 brought Mr. McBride an M.C. and a captaincy. After a tour of Great Britain and America, in which he investigated the latest developments in metallurgy, Mr. McBride returned to Australia in 1919, and rejoined the Broken Hill South Company. In company with Mr. Gilbert Ring he visited Burmnah in 1920 to assist in conducting metallurgical investigations. The treatment of zinc concentrates was the next work which engaged the attention of Mr. McBride, in 1921 he joined Mr. Rigg in the service of the Associated Smelters and Electrolytic Zinc Company in connection.with the development of zinc concentrates roasting and acid manufacture operations. IMPORTANT' SERVICES His appointment as engineer in charge of the zinc roasting campaign for the Associated Smelters on the staff of the Electrolytic Zine Company followed in 1922, and in 1924 he was appointed consulting metallurgist to the Electrolytic Zinc Company in connection with their mainland roasting operations. He is now about to proceed to England, and will be with the Australian Ore and Metal Company, Gresham House, London. In addition to helping in the development of the flotation process at Broken Hill, Mr. McBride successfully collaborated with Mr. Rigg in the progressive development and operation of blende roasting furnaces, especially in those mechanically operated and without the use of fuel. No less successful is a special dryer for handling fine flotation concentrates. Messrs. Rigg and McBride also developed to an unusual degree of perfection the use of high grade alloy steel castings for service in blend roaster plants. Mr. McBride was formerly well known in tennis and rifle shooting circles in Broken Hill, and achieved the distinction of making the highest score in the district championship meeting of the Rifle Association in 1914. For several years he was secretary of the Tennis Association. Mr. McBride will be accompanied to England by Mrs. McBride. He will proceed via America, where he will enquire into the latest developments in metallurgy. Image below accompanied article

In December 1937, the Officer in Charge, Base Records advised the Assistant Minister for Commerce, Canberra, that the last known address for William McBride was ‘Hotel Cornucopia, Wallaroo, South Australia.

In the last quarter of 1953 at Eastbourne Sussex, he married Alice Marjorie Mansfield.

William McBride died on 27 July 1970 at Eastbourne, England.

Alice Marjorie McBride, born 15 July 1892, died at Eastbourne in the third quarter of 1973.

Who is about to proceed to London to undertake important metallurgical work.

The notes from which these extracts were taken were sent in the form of a letter to Capt. H.H. (Bert of Curley) Carroll, M.C. by Capt W.J. McBride, M.C. late of the 1st Tunnelling Company. He desired that Carroll forward them to certain friends in succession and that they reach Sydney for the Annual Tunnellers Re-union on June 7th , 1926.

On December 19th, I decided to put into practice the very old established Broken Hill custom of declaring a fortnight off at Christmas for overhaul, repairs and recuperation. So off we went for a tour of Belgium and France, planning the journey so that we would pass over the country which the First Australian Tunnelling Company knew from May, 1916 until February, 1919. We took the usual London-Dover-Ostend-Brussels route the first day, and then, after three days sightseeing in the last named city, we started off on the tour proper in a fine, big motor and with a Walloon chauffeur who could not speak a word of English. The Ordnance maps and my memory functioned well, and my French, which I have been polishing up since I came over, also came better than I had anticipated. Generally speaking the re-established of the surface of the country in Belgium and France (at least, in that area over which we travelled) is complete as far as production of crops is concerned. The replanting of young trees is nearly complete. The rebuilding of houses, factories, public buildings, churches, mines, etc., is from 75 per cent to 100 per cent complete, except in some remote places off the main track. So much so that it was difficult for me to realise that trim villages like Kemmel and Wytschaete could ever arise from the desolation as we knew it. Roads are all well re-established. All this has been done, however, by people who are working up to 14 hours per day, and with money raised by issuing Bonds against the expected reparation money from Germany. As the said reparation money does not seem likely to materialise, you can imagine the weakness of the internal position and the rage of the French! While we were at Brussels we took the opportunity to visit Malines and Louvain. At both places the work of restoration was nearing completion. Leaving Brussels on December 23rd, we went to Waterloo, and through the villages where our sections were billeted at Christmas, 1918. I made a special point of calling at the H.Q. billet at Lambusart, where we spent a very merry Christmas, 1918, with the family party. The people had unfortunately moved to another village named Moha between Namur and Leige, which was just too far off our circuit. We left Charleroi on Christmas Eve morning. This town, as you know, is the centre of the hard coal region of Belgium and consequently at this time of the year it is filthy, especially in the suburbs. Soon we were in the open country by Marbaix and Ham-sur-Heure where the Australian Corps had it H.Q. in January-February, 1919. The Christmas Eve was very pleasantly spent in faint sunshine passing in a leisurely way through the villages and billets where we enjoyed the preliminary thrills in November-December, 1918, of “Marching to the Rhine.” How the chilly grip of the long arm of Australian Corps Staffdom ended those thrills is a sad memory for all old-timers. Through Chaumont, Florennes, Phillipeville, Cerfontaine, Montbliart, Sains-do-Nord to Avesnes made a delightful drive. This stretch of country shews no signs of war whatever. In Avesnes itself we found a quite provincial French town, free from noise and hustle, and even from the disturbing presences of those “Ladies of the Lazaretto,” whom the Hun H.Q. released on masse to meet the oncoming British troops. Let me here record that the most delightful little dinner of the whole tour was served us at the little “Hotel Hubert,” in this town. Ah! Souvenir de Bailleul, de Salome et de sa cuisine delicieuse. It snowed heavily overnight and gave us a fairylike white Christmas morn. Snooping about I got a picture of the Church, which has had the damage done by our bombing nearly all made good. I also found a monument erected to one Jesse de Forest, the one and only progenitor and founder of New Yorkers. On Christmas Day our journey took us over a snow-covered terrain through Prisches, Rejet de Baillieu, St. Souplet, Busigny, Bohain (where we made merry with the locals at mid-day at that good hostel, Le Lion d’Or), and then to Bellicourt and along the bank of the subterranean canal to St Quentin. The section of country from Rejet de Beaulieu to Bellicourt is about the furthest behind in restoration of its buildings, although here as everywhere else the productive surface of the soil has been completely recovered. What wonderful tenacity these people have, and how much easier it is now to understand and get some idea of that fanatical attachment to “La Terre,” which Zola so brilliantly and poignantly described in his book of that title. Of course, I was most interested to see the Lock at Rejet de Beaulieu on the canal joining the Sambre and the Oise. Here occurred the last set battle of the War in which A.I.F. troops took part, i.e. the 1st A.T.C., some few A.I.F. Signallers, Artillery, and Light Horse. That it was a particularly stiff encounter at the Lock itself (over which Woody and his gallants lads had to throw a steel bridge, under fire from an adjacent boiler-house, strong enough to carry our heaviest armoured tank at top-speed,) is shewn by the casualty list and by the decoration list. The village Reget de Beaulieu itself is about 50 per cent rebuilt. The same state of affairs applied as regards the houses to Mazinghein, St. Souplet, La Haie Menneresse and right up, but not including Busigny and Bohain. In practicality every village, town and city the churches small and big have been re-built and most of the essential public buildings re-erected. Everywhere without exception there is erected a worthy memorial to the local soldiers who died in the war. The Gallic Cock crowing victoriously and facing EASTWARDS is often a prominent item. When we left Bohain after Christmas dinner we took the track direct to Bellicourt, passing through well remembered villages of Montbrehain, Joncourt, Nauroy, and Estrees. Most of these are indelibly imprinted on my mind for their association with mighty delay action mine scares, which I am now glad to be able to record were mainly fictions of a fertile brain and were engendered by the gloomy dungeon in which we lived for a while at Bellicourt. This wretched place, which Mulligan and Adcock also shared with us for a while, was connected by a sinister stairway to the underground canal joining the Somme and the Scheldt. All protestations regarding the non-existence of a Hun Kadaver factory to the contrary notwithstanding. I can still conjure up the awful pong that used to smite our nostrils whenever the staircase was opened and we got a blast from the underground kitchen where many weeks before one of our chance shells had dropped into the cookhouse and had scattered the Hun cookhouse crew in shreds into a boilerful of stew (that was the official yarn, anyway!. Bellicourt is not very well forward and here as in common with those many villages in this region the people are in many cases still living in the Nissen and other huts left behind by the armies. The final stages of this Christmas day journey from Bellicourt to St Quentin was marred by the discovery of a monument on the main road near the southern outlet of the canal. I enclose a picture of it on that all 1st and 2nd A.T.C. officers who, with their sections accompanied the (27th and 30th) U.S.A. divisions in their tragically inefficient effort of September 29th, 1918, from Templeux-le-Gerard and Ronssoy to the Hindenburg Line can really learn that it was “the ill ole state of Tenessee” “who broke the Hindenburg Line” after all. There is a very fine picture of this monument, the inscription on which reads:-“Erected by the State of Tennessee, U.S.A., to the Tennessee troops of the 59th and 60th brigades 30th Division American Expeditionary Forces, who broke the Hindenburg Line on September 29th, 1918.” St Quentin has made wonderful strides towards complete re-establishment, but the magnificent church is still a long way off completion and much other damage to old historic buildings can, of course, never be repaired. On Boxing Day we came back to Bellicourt so that I could go through the cemetery which holds a good many Australians and some of our own Company, and also so that we could retrace the line of our Company’s advance back through Templaix, Roisel, Cartigny and Peronne. The Bellicourt cemetery was the first regular British War Graves Commission Cemetery we had encountered, and the feeling of reverence which the orderly and unostentatious uniformity of the headstones evokes is indescribable. This Bellicourt cemetery is just at the entry to the village on the Hargicourt road. Looking across from the seat of remembrance the site of the Hindenburg Line can be seen together with the road which runs from Ronssoy to Bony. This road is now in first-class order and quite different to the state it was in on September 29th, 1918. It was hereabouts that old Lieut. Johnson was killed, and it is the only time when I have known a man have a sure and certain premonition that he was going to be “stonkered.” Very little but the outline of the great Hindenburg Line is now visible except some gaunt, more or less shattered, concrete pillboxes along the line of strike of the front line defence systems. Right on the crest of the elevated contour, from which the Hun looked down upon us from behind his supposed impenetrable entanglements, there now stands a huge modern sugar factory and a new farmhouse. Templeux, Hargicourt, Roisel, and Cartigny still shew a good many signs of damage, but the sight of our old camp at Cartigny with the actual hut still standing from which R.Q.M.S. Watts dispensed stores and good cheer (rummy fellow, Watts) gave me a warm feeling under the rib. From this camp did we not see the awe-inspiring sight of three Hun planes brought down in flames on one night? And who will ever forget the eerie sound that vibrated the summer night as 20,000 deep throated Aussies, scattered over an area of 10 miles’ radius, impartially apostrophised in the ecstasy of mingled rage and delight, both the hated bomb droppers and the heroes who had just brought them in charred ruins to the ground. By this time the weather had turned dull and served only to render the still stricken state of Peronne and Mont St Quentin yet more noticeable. I can only regret that I was unable to get a picture of the magnificent monument to the Australian Division, which crowns the rise at Mont St Quentin on the Peronne-Bapaume road in memory of their epic and successful assault. Our men, our fine young men, are here. Their spirits, too, are thick about us as we pass, and in the wailing of this droning wind we hear them cry. . . .Why are we here? With the exemption of Albert church wonderful work has been done in restoration. As through Pont Noyelles, Querrieu, Allonville to Rivery and Amiens. No signs of war damage here except as in many places an absence of young men. In Amiens itself all restored but a few big blocks where the shells from the big gun at Chuignes exploded and took heavy toll. We spent the next day, being Sunday, in an around Amiens. We started off on the high road to Villers-Bretonneux and then went on Froyart and Chuignes, returning along the Somme river through Hamal and Corbie to Amiens. Amiens is as lively as ever. We found installed in a very comfortable restaurant, etc, an Aussie, who had married a French girl and had set up a business here. A pleasant run from Amiens to Doullens showed that the French had thoroughly eradicated all signs of the Portuguese occupation. We worked our way right up to Bonvigny and Noeux-les-Mines and then back to Arras for the night. At Saulty we alighted at the famous HQ billet, “Scierie Froment.” A few well-chosen enquiries as to the health of Le Chien, and as to the state of efficiency of La Scie brought the glad light of recognition to Grandmere’s 74-year-old eyes. The call was sent forth and the clan soon gathered, headed by the chief Scieur. A bottle of the inevitable corrosive vin blanc was unearthed. Through Hauteville, Habareq, Avesnes-le-Comte, Servins, to Bouvigny we traced the old line with difficulty, but once we reached the main Arras-Bethune road and Noeux-les-Mines and turned to go back to Arras via Mont St Eloi, we were at once aware that the static war zone was at hand. The huge French cemetery on the summit of Notre Dame de Lorette and its Hun equivalent at La Targette were very depressing. There seemed to me to be hundreds of acres of serried crosses attesting the bitterness of the struggle for this vantage ground. Next day’s journey was a connecting link between Arras and Hazebrouck and took us over ground that is more interesting to the 3rd Tunnelling Co., and to the Canadian, British and New Zealand divisions than to the 1st A.T.C. However, as I wanted to see the ground thoroughly, we took the route shown through Vimy, Lens, Loos, Hulluch, La Bassee, Givenchy, Festubert, Laventie, Estaires to Hazebrouck. Here the old war zone is well marked and concrete pill-boxes and other strong defence works are plentifully scattered along the route. The outstanding feature of this action is the complete recovery of the coal mines and factories, on a plan which includes the complete rebuilding of the workmen’s houses, giving each house all modern conveniences and a plot of ground for the vegetable garden, each group of houses (say 50), an open space for a playground for the children, and each village all the necessary communal facilities. It is interesting to note the universal use of steel pit-head gear. All the shafts are down about 1,500 feet vertical, and the tubbing has been repaired and sealed from the quicksand which the Hun carefully let into the workings before he left in 1918. And so we came to Hazebrouck, in dull weather, not cold, but with an overcast sky drizzling dismally. How calm and quiet everything seemed. By this time, December 30th, I was beginning to warm up to my work, and was as keen as possible to get up into the Salient before the weather came in too wet. We went slowly through the country to Bailleul. Who can imagine that this town, which was laid in ruins in 1918, could spring up again in 6 to 7 years’ time showing scarcely a scratch. As we passed out of Bailleul round the bend in the road to Nieppe, we came slap bang on the old camp still occupied by families who have not yet been re-established. We passed Nieppe into Armentieres. This city has been completely and hideously rebuilt into the same old red brick manufacturing and industrial town. It was axel-deep in water as we passed through Romarin and Petit Point, but we were alright as soon as we got along to Ploegsteert. Le Bizet and Ploegsteert villages are quite restored. Neuve Eglise has resumed its pre-war form except that the windmill which stood outside the village on the Locre road, i.e. Stampkotmolen, is still in ruins. At Dranoutre nothing remains to show our long occupation, nor indeed any signs of war damage. Only one thing was familiar, and that was the terrific smell, which even winter could not subdue, coming from a liquid manure sprinkler as we passed. Dranoutre by similarity of sound, did recall Westoutre. We passed through Locre to Kemmel. Although the day was not perfect enough to get the full benefit of the panoramic view from the top of the rebuilt observation tower, up it we went, climbing from the Locre side past our old Kemmel camp, and down again on the Lindenhoek side. What a grand view along the ridge from Ploegsteert to Passchendaele, and inspiring, too, to see all the villages in full swing again. The Belgians have made a complete 100 per cent recovery in this region. After locating all the old landmarks, especially the sites of the craters of June 7th, 1917, we descended into Kemmel village for lunch. A fine new chateau has gone up, but not on the site of the old one, which still lies in a heap of ruins covered with weeds and surrounded by its little sedge-choked moat. In the afternoon we went along the old tracks through La Clytte and Dickebusch, and so, after rambling about Den Groenen Jager, Vlamertinghe, we entered Ypres through the Kriustraat corner, our old-time rendezvous. Ypres was an amazing sight for, with the exception of the Cloth Hall and a few buildings at the opposite end of the Square, it is completely rebuilt, and well built. We spend hours walking about the various streets and round the ramparts, through which formerly, I, for one, always went with the wind up, and I was quite put out of my stride since I had figured on holding the fort a bit among the ruins. The British Government have taken over Menin Gate and are re-erecting it as a magnificent memorial, “To those who went forth from this portal.” The old Lille Gate has been repaired, and also the damage done inside the ramparts at various spots. As you will see, we thoroughly traversed all those parts of the Salient which our Company worked over. There is a well-kept little cemetery on the ramparts just at Lille Gate. Our first excursion was out by the Menin Gate, up the St Julien Road to Poelcapelle, and then across to Passchendaele, Broodeseinde, Zonnebeke, Westhoek, Bellewarde and Hooge. In numerable pill-boxes still remain in situ, and a few mud-bogged tanks blot the scene, but everything has been completely restored, and only the absence of the big tree is remarkable. The country is dotted with many beautifully-kept military cemeteries and divisional monuments. The signs of our activities are still viable in the big light-coloured patches of yellow sand which show sites of the dug-outs on Bellewarde, Westhoek, and Brooeteseinde Ridges, Bellewarde in particular. Zonnebeke is in full working order, but Hooge Crater is now only a pond attached to the rebuilt farmhouse. . . .Ducks quack where we quaked. We stopped for a long while in the Menin Road South Cemetery. I had reserved the last few days for Hill 60, Wytschaete and Messines in order to get as much good light as possible. I had our white print of the surface trenches and of the underground system with me, and so was able to do myself proud in describing. Æneas-like, those deeds of which I think I may say without undue boasting non minima pars fui. Our monument is well placed (and well built), just about on the site of Anzac shaft. The names of our men who lie buried underneath the saps are not cut on the new monument, although I understand that they were painted on the original one. The British Monument is on the top of the contour on the edge of the lip of what was the “A” crater, and from the vantage point of futility of ever having attempted to hide daytime movement over the surface from Lille Gate, from the Hun observer on the contour, is obvious. Zillebeke, Zwarteleen, and the connecting road, the knoll road of our day—are quite trim again. Standing at the end of Lovers’ Lane, where it ended at the entrance to the front line saps, it was difficult to realise in this well-kept railway cutting that such horrors as we knew had ever had place. We took an easy tour down the ridge through St Eloi to Wytschaete and Messines, and had a look at the craters; close they appear full of water and not very interesting. The Spanbroekmolen crater interested me most. This completed our tour, and the New Year’s Day was spent in a go-as-we-pleased manner through Elverdinghe, Pop, Abeele, Cassel, St Omer, and so to Boulogne and home to London.

Tunnellers’ Old Comrades Association Bulletin No. 3 1928.

Transcribed 2010 by www.tunnellers.net from copies held by The Australian Army Museum of Military Engineering.

Interview with McBride Morgan (Garfield)

With [Bracketed italic] comments by Bowry

In response to a request by the British Government the Australian Government formed a Tunnelling Corps. Under Professor Edsworth David. It consisted of 3 companies, each of about 300 men, formed a battalion. The battalion was under a Colonel. Each company was under a major, and consisted of 4 sections, numbered 1 to 4. The sections were to work in shifts.

I had Number 1 Section in No. 1 Company.

Stopped at Alexandria where troops threw boring gear overboard and swam ashore against orders. Also stopped at Malta, and then arrived at Marseilles. Disembarked and packed into train in sections. Stopped at Lyons. Men swarmed all over station platform. Colonel, who knew no French and had been a junior ganger up in the bush, was approached and harangued by Frenchman in blue uniform with two gold stars on shoulder, pointed beard. Colonel shouted for Belgian interpreter, Van Brackel. He took one look at Frenchman, nearly dropped dead with shock and said to Colonel: “This is a retired Algerian General. And he’s ordering you to get your men out of the station before he puts you all under arrest.”

Arrived at Hazebrouch within gunshot of German front line, on French or Belgian border. Colonel lined the band – our own – up in the square and started them playing martial music. Infuriated Town Mayor came dashing up to know what we thought we were doing. The Germans would probably hear the band and would start shelling Hazebrouch.

We were Australian Engineers ranking as Royal Engineers once we got to Europe – attached to the control of the RE’s.

Before long British Army HQ sent a staff car down to supercede Fewtrell. He wouldn’t go. So two staff cars came down and drove him away. Last we saw of him.

We were split into our 1st, 2nd and 3rd companies. 1st Company went north to Bayeux, we went to Bayeux and 3rd went south to Bethune. Each section was drafted into a Canadian company for a while for instruction as we had never been near the front line before. It was while we were at Bayeux that the chap who wrote the book got his first MC. He went out across No Man’s Land and blew up a German forward machine gun post. He talks about it in book. No tunnels in this part – all water logged.

I was a Lt. In charge of No. 1 section (No. 1 Coy.) and we were to go up to Hill 60. I took a small forward party up to investigate geography and underground system under 3rd Canadian Tunnelling Coy, RE.

We took over Hill 60 in May 1916. The 3rd Can. Coy moved down south. The 2nd Can. Coy was at St Elois.

We found that the 171 Coy., consisting of clay kickers, Durham and Welsh miners, had been instructed to put in a mine. Quite a job. It had to be quiet, and had to go through 40 feet of water logged quicksand under a layer of sandy, yellow clay. We found they had decided to put in a timbered incline, through the quicksand. As water poured in through every joint they had a system of GS pumps with a sapper on each one. Just the same as the system the Romans used in the lead mines in Spain.

This was the Berlin Sap. 171 Coy. started it and the Canadians finally got it down. It became more and more difficult as the Germans started countermining in 1915 and any noise would give the game away. Before we got there the Canadians had broken into a German gallery being dug towards our lines. They filled it with explosives on the German approach side, plugged it up with bags from behind and blew it. That settled them for a long time. [Berlin Sap / Started by 171 T. Coy / then by 3rd Can. / then by 1st Oz]

When we arrived they had got down to the blue clay and had driven out a long cross cut to the German line. After certain distance, they put a Y in. Lefthand branch of Y went to the Honey Snout, highest point of Hill 60. Righthand branch went under railway cutting, under Verbranden Mollen side where windmill was built up. [Hill 60 / Larchwood Shaft - Anzac Shaft]

We had to put in more elaborate listening system in upper branches to stop high level approach by Germans across No Man’s Land (this was in sandy clay). We couldn’t put listening posts in quicksand. We had to get down a shaft which would eliminate the GS pumps and prevent water getting into the blue clay.

We put a cylindrical steel shaft down, vertical and 6 feet in diameter. We forced the cutting edge of the shaft down into the earth with four hydraulic jacks. But first we had to approach from Larchwood, the forward battalion HQ, and put in a tunnel with about 30 ft. of clay cover, dig dug-outs to house our shift men and excavate a chamber for the top of the shaft with enough cover on top to take the back pressure from the hydraulic jacks.

It was a race between the amount of water and sand coming in, and getting down to blue clay to seal it off. Couldn’t touch the steel shaft with anything as Germans would pick up sound on geophones miles away.

We put cutting edge down first, then took the jacks off and bolted on another 2 ft. section, put jacks on top again and pressed them against roof – and down again. Had a team of stalwarts inside hooking out sand as fast as they could. It took us the best part of a year.

We got down into the blue clay and excavated a chamber, then connected up to the old Canadian cross-cut and sealed it off from the quicksand higher up. So the old Berlin Sap as such filled with water. [Old!! Which one?]

The dimensions of the deep tunnels supplied by the army were 3ft. 3ins high by 2ft. 3ins. Wide. [4’3” almost certainly] This was no good for lots of our men who were 6 ft. tall and weighed 14 or 15 stone. Ralph and Jack Justice were 2 Lts., 6-footers, who were embarrassed by smallness of tunnels – they constantly brushed against sides and made a din which could be picked up on enemy geophones. Lts. W.T. Anderson and G. Wilkins were small and could manage. Big sappers had to listen on top; they crept into lower tunnels after work had been done by smaller men.

After we had sunk the Anzac shaft, we dug out cross-cuts. Method was to put in a couple of sets of small timber, with a board behind you then use heels to press a special clay cutting shovel into the clay and dig it out. We couldn’t use picks because of the noise.

We blew the Germans up a couple of times. On one occasion a listener at one of the listening posts in a “snout” (an off-shoot from a cross-cut; it looked like a hooked nose on the contour of the German front line). An officer, Ronald Hinder, went down to listen. Said he thought it was a windlass. Further listening seemed to confirm this – could count the noise increasing at about the rate it would each day by the windlass having to sink that much lower. Our Major was not noted for coming down into the deep saps, but officer in charge couldn’t do anything without his permission. He wouldn’t do anything without going down to HQ 2nd Army to see the Controller of Mines at Cassell. Chaps underground (100 feet down in blue clay) were not too keen on waiting for Military HQ – might be blown any moment. (Major was J.D. Henry, nicknamed Lollylegs. Dead now. Was an Australian with Yorkshire parents. Out-Englished the English. Wore extreme riding britches with highly polished gaiters. He was CO of the 1st Coy., which has four sections and I was CO of one of them. Woodward was OC of the 4th Coy. Fewtrell was CO of the Tunnelling Corps., which was composed of 9 Coys. at the end. The 5th, 6th, 7th 8th and 9th Coys. were reinforcements for the original first four coys.

We had to blow the mine, otherwise the chaps wouldn’t go down there. We got the Major underground, lying on the ground with geophones fixed. His heart must have been going like a sledgehammer. Lt. H.S. (Bert) Carroll took a handful of blue clay, held it over the Major’s head and trickled it into the geophone. This, plus Major’s sledgehammer pulse, convinced him Hun was about to break through any moment. He scuttled back out of the dug-out, rushed to the bottom of the steel shaft shouting, “We must blow. We must blow.” Was winched to the top and tore off back to Cassel.

We got into our top level dug-out where charges were prepared. Carroll looked at me, said, “What are we going to do.” I replied: “We’re not going to wait to be blown up because of his cowardice.” So we went down and blew. That was the last we heard of that windlass – we must have blown right into their shaft. Was only a small charge – enough to shake ground and fill it with gas to prevent their working there. We sent a message back to HQ to say charge had been blown successfully. Got rapped over the knuckles. If we hadn’t won the battle would probably have all been court martialled.

We always blew whenever we detected enemy mining. The idea was to blow hard enough to shatter blue clay, but not hard enough to let water in from quicksand.

German miners had mostly been down in the chalk where both sides used picks and made equal amount of noise. Took them a long time to get over the idea that you couldn’t use a pick in blue clay – so we were always able to hear them. Quicksand conducted the noise.

When infantry were in line, rest parties leaving line had to take our full bags with them to dump in railway cutting. Didn’t like it.

Lost quite a few men underground. On Branden Mollen (?) side they got under us in shallow workings and blew us up. Lost more men in the H and I (“hooks and eyes”) trenches on upper listening posts in yellow clay sand at Hill 60. One occasion we counterblew. Enemy was coming in under No Man’s Land. A Canadian officer and myself (this was very early on) were in a dug-out on the other side of the cut. A corporal and two men came down to say they could hear noises like creaky truck wheels under neath their little shelter up on that section. We reported back to Battalion HQ at Larchwood and they sent two Durham men up – miners trained in listening and proto work. Can. Officer, the Corporal, 2 Durhams and myself slithered over in dark and got into this place. The men pointed out where the sounds were coming from. Two Durhams knelt down, plugged ears to ground, listened for about ten minutes, then got up on knees again and looked at each other. We were breathless with suspence. I quoted Virgil’s opening to the 2nd book “All was silent and being anxious to hear, leaned forward.”

The first man got up, looked at his mate and slowly, ponderously, said, “Rats.” “Aye,” said his mate, “f______g rats.”

So we blew a small charge to be on the safe side and satisfy the infantry. Just bored a hole down 7 or 8 feet, and tamped it from the surface.

Another time we had to go down to see a Capt. Bullock and General Harvey at 2nd Army H.Q. Harvey was in charge of all mining operations. He was surrounded by a lot of hangers-on, buzzing about like a lot of backwoods, maggot-laden blow flies. When we got in to see him, he had a supercilious British Colonel with him who thought he knew something about mining. He queried Bullock on his mining experience. Bullock was a tough, fearless, very experienced Canadian. He looked at the Colonel, slowly winked at Gen. Harvey and then drawled, “Since my career began, I have fought, fu _ _ _ d and farted from Alaska to Madagascar and from San Diego to Terra del Fuego. Over the whole of that territory I have sunk shafts, driven cross-cuts, rises and what not and I have bored and explored many holes, many of them equipped with cunningly contrived wim-wams (Aus. expression for wig for a bald cut) which housed and concealed the entrances to secret pleasures and treasure troves. Well, Colonel, is that good enough?”

Everyone laughed. British Colonel discomfited. Early days – middle of 1916.

Carroll got an MC for courage in defending a sap during a raid. He led a party and mills-bombed the Germans out of a trench alongside the cut.

Woodward tells his yarn himself in his book.

I got an MC just for being there. The Captain in charge of a trench garrison generally comes in for something.

Most of our casualties were getting to and from the job. Hell’s Fire Corner and Idiot’s Corner. Germans would get the range during the day and then bombard when we were due to come through.

Belgians were spies of the first order. They signalled to the Germans from church towers, bell towers. We shot a lot.

We changed shifts on the Hill between 9 at night and 2 in morning. Had about a mile to walk. Never marched up. Each man chose his own pet route and went up independently. I was lucky – never got hit.

When we arrived there were still many civilians there, particularly around Blamertinge (?) and Popperinghe (?). The soldiers fraternized with the local girls as hard as they could. When the Highland regiments got merry in the estaminets, they used to take off their underpants and prop their legs up. The Belgian girls loved it.

German post on snout was only 30 yards from our front line. With a telescope had a clear view of Menin Gate and Lille Gate where everyone had to come out (they were higher than we).

Any man going up to Hill 60 took his life in his hands. Some couldn’t stand the strain, had to be passed out to more peaceful units. There was on Lt. who was there from the beginning. After 6 months he was showing signs of strain – drinking too much and NCO’s were complaining that he was shirking his duty of going round the listening posts. Always seemed to be asleep. I spoke to him, offered to get him a transfer. He refused, but admitted that he couldn’t stand the strain of darkness and anxiety. So we kept him out of the rough stuff, sent him on courses, gave him camp duties, extra leave and so on.

We had 300 casualties at Hill 60, including those going and coming from line. Carroll took one man out on reccy. Over No Man’s Land after the enemy had raided our front line to see if they could locate any of our exits and entrances. The reccy. Was to check our wires, and discover if there were breaks in the German wires. Idea was to throw a Mills bomb first to clear the trenches and then nip over and in to have a look round, catch prisoners if poss. No Man’s Land was only 30 ft. wide in parts.

Two sides threw stones at each other. A sergeant making a survey of the front line, put his book down without thinking on top of parapet. When he reached to get the book back, he got a bullet through his wrist. A hun had seen the book go up, drawn a bead on it and waited for the hand to appear.

When out over No Man’s Land, officer with Carroll lost his nerve and threw his revolver cartridges away. Said, “Hell, if we get caught, I’m not going to be found with these.”

NCO’s would not salute red tabs. A Bayoule major requested extra rations for working 8-hour shifts digging dug- outs and tunnels. Div. Quartermaster objected. Referred to Div. Doctor who said could only be arranged if men had lost weight by end of month. Witty Lt. put in order for a 10-ton weigh bridge, to weigh men altogether. Caused a laugh at HQ, during which Quartermaster General came in. Said: “I don’t know about losing weight. If the two or three I’ve just passed who failed to salute me are anything to go by, they’re overfed.” But we got double rum ration and extra food ration till end of war.

We were wet all the time until we got through to the blue clay. Men passing from top of shaft down cross cut to their dug-outs passed a cubby hole on one side where was sergeant, officer and man with rum barrel. Ration was measured out with 2-oz. Capstan tobacco tin – men coming up shaft got two dips. Some of young Tommies helping in bag shifting had never drunk 2 ozs. of rum in one go before – were roaring by time they got to dug-outs. How I got my MC - They were going to blow a mine at Caenflay (?). I wasn’t on duty. Capt. Avery and Lt. Tandy had prepared a charge in the little officer’s dug-out we used in the sandy layer. Avery was quick tempered. Tandy was a kanaka – South Sea Islander. His eyes went bloodshot like a native’s when he had rum. Usual routine to test detonator with battery to make sure filament was working; didn’t put enough current through to make it glow. They hadn’t put detonator under sandbag, should have done. They had gun cotton and dry primer there – put detonator in dry primer and then passed current through it. It went off and blew them all to pieces.

I was playing football at Popperinghe. SOS came to go up to Hill 60 at once. They had blown officers’ dugout to pieces, nearly filled it with sand. Blast had gone along corridor to proto room, where several men had been gassed and killed. We cleaned up the rescue room, dug the sand out of the dug-outs and sieved it. Collected remains of Tandy and Avery, wrapped in blankets and sent down to cemetery. Wives got the pensions. Lost about 13 altogether. OC of No. 4 Section was one ½ - Bill Avery. Proto men went in first and found bodies. Trapped in with sand and timber – timber propped up by hand. No nails or screws.

Wet gave lot of men chest trouble. Hookworm, prevalent in Belgian coalmines, was another trouble. Gets into intestine – makes a man listless. Came from Congo. Plenty of rheumatism.

I knew a masseuse, Miss Armstrong, who was also masseuse to Lord Hawesbury. She told him about me – and he asked me to dinner. At the time one of the British soldiers I knew was due to be court-martialled for neglect of duty. I was indignant about this – held forth at dinner about the effects of hookworm causing listlessness etc. Lord Hawesbury later raised the matter in the House of Lords and no one was court martialled for neglect of duty without a medical examination first. Galleries were then disinfected – about end of 1916 - and better sanitary arrangements were put in. Previously you did your wax on a piece of sandbag and then pitched it out on the surface. Men didn’t like drinking chlorinated water, so every dug out had a can catching drips from roof. Seeping through 30 feet of sand filtered out the germs. Surface was littered with corpses and excreta. MO’s were horrified when they heard, but men were very healthy.

Officers had to wear sandbags round their feet and heads to keep from bumping them. One, called Armstrong, went into a distant listening post. Australian sappers took no notice of him, were busy listening. He prodded one, and whispered, “Why don’t you answer? Don’t you know the voice of authority?” His head was wrapped in a sandbag and his voice was a whisper. Today in Sydney he is still known as the Voice of Authority.

We were making a connection from our dug out down to a new proto room. Had about 30 ft. of cover. Infantry had a cutting off to one side – not so deep. One came up to me, said, “Captain, we’ve come up against some timber.” I rammed an old bayonet in between two boards. Transcribed by tunnellers.net 2009

Transcibers Notes: 28 Sergeant Francis Henry Van Brakkel, age 41, shorthand writer of Sydney, NSW Lieutenant James Bowry MiD, age 28, Mining Engineer of Charters Towers, Qld Lieutenant Ralph Moroney Justice, age 39, Railway Surveyor of Jamieson, Vic Lieutenant John ‘Jack’ Bolton Justice, age 40, Mining Surveyor of Jamieson, Vic Lieutenant William Thomas Anderson MC, age 29, Mining Engineer of Neutral Bay, NSW Lieutenant Lawrence George Wilkins, age 35, Mining Engineer of Double Bay, NSW Captain Ronald Butler Hinder MC, age 23, Mining Engineer of Mosman, NSW Lieutenant Colonel Albert Cecil Fewtrell DSO MiD, age 30, Civil Engineer of Neutral Bay, NSW Captain Oliver Holmes Woodward MC+2Bars MiD, age 30, Mining Engineer of Tenterfield, NSW Major Lawrence Newsun Beverley Bullock, age 40, Engineer of Halifax, Nova Scotia [Canadian Engineers] Lieutenant Henry Herbert (Bert) Carroll MC, age 24, Surveyor/Draughtsman of Ballarat, Vic Captain Wilfred Percival Avery, age 30, Mining Engineer of Brisbane, Qld Lieutenant Arthur Elton Tandy MiD, age 33, Mining Engineer of Bathurst, NSW Lieutenant John Edward Armstrong, age 34, Electrical Engineer of Mosman, NSW

(below is taken from www.adb.online.anu.edu.au McBride, William John (1879-1970) Biographical Entry - Australian Dictionary of Biographies)

McBRIDE, WILLIAM JOHN (1879-1970), metallurgist, was born on 18 February 1879 at Glenelg, Adelaide, son of English-born William John McBride, teacher of music, and his wife Teresa Lucy, née Harman. Educated at Christian Brothers' College and at the University of Adelaide (B.Sc., 1898) where he studied metallurgy and geology, he began work with the Reedy Creek Gold-Copper Co.

In 1900 McBride joined Broken Hill South Ltd as metallurgist, chief assayer and mill superintendent under W. E. Wainwright. During his first year he enlarged and modified the milling plant; the increased efficiency and reduced costs that resulted helped the company to ride out a four-year decline in metal prices. He then carried out experiments on selective lead and zinc flotation methods, apparatus and reagents, training Thomas Andrew Read who soon took over much of the assaying. Between 1905 and 1908 McBride planned and constructed (with many technical modifications) a bigger mill which provided a high-grade lead concentrate in its first year of operation.

A controversy arose in 1908 about possible harmful effects of new explosives in use underground. McBride supervised much of the analytical work and design of apparatus, and tested and ultimately vindicated the product. Perhaps more important was his design and construction of equipment to measure suspended dust levels in underground mine air (the subject of several health surveys). To treat slime dumps containing valuable lead, silver and zinc, McBride and the engineer J. C. Cunningham devised in 1913 a sub-aeration flotation cell for T. M. Owen's mineral separation process. Their design was adopted by other Broken Hill mines and used until the 1970s.

On 17 April 1907 McBride had married Kathleen Ann Murphy (d.1952) at St Laurence's Catholic Church, North Adelaide; they were to remain childless. An efficient rifleman, mentioned as likely to represent South Australia in competitions, he was secretary of the Broken Hill Rifle Club for five years. When World War I interrupted the export of metals, he was sent to Port Pirie, South Australia, to represent the combined Broken Hill mining interests while a joint company, Broken Hill Associated Smelters Pty Ltd, was formed.

Enlisting in the Australian Imperial Force on 14 August 1915, McBride was commissioned in November and reached France in May 1916. He was posted to the 1st Tunnelling Company and promoted temporary captain (substantive in 1917). On the night of 9 April 1917 he organized the defence of the deep-mine system at Hill 60, near Ypres, Belgium, and arranged for parties to rescue men who had been gassed. For these actions he was awarded the Military Cross. He returned to Australia in 1919, having travelled through the United States of America where he visited mines and treatment works. His A.I.F. appointment terminated on 16 December.

Mining investors in Melbourne W. S. Robinson, (Sir) Herbert Gepp and (Sir) Colin Fraser — had noticed McBride's abilities. Gepp considered that McBride's training and temperament fitted him to act as liaison officer, linking the Broken Hill, Port Pirie and Risdon (Tasmania) operations, particularly the zinc roasting techniques then being developed. In the following five years his main tasks were the construction and operation of blende roasters at Broken Hill, Port Pirie, Wallaroo (South Australia) and Risdon, and of acid plants at Cockle Creek, New South Wales. He also advised Robinson and the Burma Corporation Ltd in 1920 on its Namtu gravity and flotation mill in Burma. In 1925 McBride went to Britain.

There he worked as consulting metallurgist for the National Smelting Co. (Swansea and Avonmouth). He published only one paper (jointly with Wainwright) on his research, being content to see the results applied. At various times he was a member of the Australasian Institute of Mining Engineers (later Australasian Institute of Mining and Metallurgy), the Institution of Mining and Metallurgy, England, and the American Institute of Mining and Metallurgical Engineers.

Back in Adelaide as a consultant in the mid-1930s, McBride experienced financial difficulties. By 1938 he had returned to England without his wife and re-established himself. In 1943 he was appointed works manager of Fullers' Earth Union Ltd, Redhill, Surrey. He lived at Highstead Farmhouse, Horan, East Sussex. In 1951 he retired to Eastbourne. On 3 December 1953 he married 62-year-old Alice Marjorie Mansfield at the local register office. Survived by his wife, he died on 27 July 1970 at Eastbourne. A plaque at Broken Hill commemorates him.

Select Bibliography W. S. Robinson, If I Remember Rightly, G. Blainey ed (Melb, 1967); B. Carroll, Built on Silver (Melb, 1986); W. Hodder, History of the South Mines (transcript, Broken Hill Archives); Broken Hill Associated Smelters papers and C. Fraser papers (University of Melbourne Library); Institute of Mining and Metallurgy (London), membership applications and W. McBride file. Author: D. F. Branagan Print Publication Details: D. F. Branagan, 'McBride, William John (1879 - 1970)', Australian Dictionary of Biography, Volume 15, Melbourne University Press, 2000, pp 159-160.