Diary Entries from World War I
Major General John Monash
Major General John Monash photographed at Glisy, Villers-Bretonneux area, 25 May 1918.
Dear Diary,
​
Today was our second day on the battlefield of Messines. Our troops are situated between the Messine’s Ridge and La Petite Douve Farm in Mesen, Belgium. These children alongside myself, much younger than my dear Bertha; some only at twelve years of age. These poor children, believing war was an event to be proud of as it was honourable to serve your country, or, yet, believing that it is sweet and noble to die for one’s country. Some also believed that the payment for enlisting in the war was desirable at six shillings per day whereas many of our allies were only given two shillings for risking their precious lives every single day. These Little did these innocent babies know that these battlefields are terrible places where legends die. These bloody battlefields that are ingrained into our minds as being places of enjoyment with friends. However, the battalion is moving as one man; very strong, very steady, with a sway in the shoulders and a lilt in the feet. We are content to live in the moment, to feel the warm sun, to enjoy the strength of our bodies, and to be lulled by the rhythmical momentum with which we march.
Dearest Hannah and Bertha,
​
We have been fighting in the Battle of Passchendaele (Third Battle of Ypres) for a little over two months now. I am exhausted. However, when we are not out risking our lives fighting, we were locked into trench deadlock, at which point boredom also became a serious issue. Although, the battlefield is also an extreme adrenaline pumping escapade where machine guns and other artillery provided us with a constant threat of shell-fire. Many of us, shell-shocked, unable to remain on the front-line, suffering from mental breakdowns, impaired eye sight and hearing as well as obvious tremors and a lack of concentration. Many screaming at the top of their lungs for the one’s that they love. Those of us not suffering from shell-shock, were often provided with an air, thick with bullets from the man killing machines, many being obliterated, dropping like flies at every turn of your head. During this time of extreme trauma, you give me strength to continue fighting for our fine nation.
​
And let us not mention the horrendous weather. Rain set in, bucketing down for a solid three days now, quickly pivoting the devastating battlefield of September into a quagmire. The mud here isn’t liquid, it isn’t porridge either, it is a curious sucking kind of mud… a real monster that sucked at you. The bodies of fallen soldiers, rotting, spontaneously turning into materials of our trenches. Dissolving into the Belgium soils of Passchendaele.
​
This weather, along with the extreme massacres of many soldiers, attracted rats. These rats were not just the ones found in our home, they are huge, almost the size of cats, infesting every single surface of our trenches. One of the men in my battalion was even attacked by a rat during his sleep. It clawed onto his face and sank its teeth into him. These rats came up from the canals and fed on plentiful corpses. There is also no system for waste disposal within the trenches which also added to the rat infestations.
Hannah Victoria Monash née Moss, with daughter Bertha, 1893
​
Image Source: Monash University
2nd July, 1916
6th October, 1917
6th January, 1920
Dear diary,
​
I am finally home from fighting the many battles of World War One and the trauma still lives deep within me. Thank the lord that we were able to receive care packages and parcels for the duration of the battles. The packages not only gave me the ability to rejuvenate during and after the horrid war, but allowed me to feel almost as if I were at home again, with the letters from my beloved wife, Hannah Victoria and my dearest daughter, Bertha. These parcels were fundamental in my survival throughout the war as they contained much-needed foods, magazines, cigarettes, toothbrushes, and toothpaste as well as clean clothes, underwear, and socks.
​
However, I still receive nightmares containing the horrific events of the battles, particularly those of the Battle of Passchendaele as I keep replaying all the boy soldiers which I witnessed being both physically and mentally torn apart by the devastating effects of war. Some of these innocent individuals were completely annihilated both by our living conditions as well as the opposing forces, particularly their artillery.
Sir John Monah c. 1920s