Andrew William Hall.


Sergeant Andrew William Hall, 711.

 

Andrew William Hall was born 27 February, 1887 at Broke, N.S.W., the eldest child of Thomas Henry Hall and Mary Ann nee Smith.
Andrew enlisted as a private in B Company, !8th. Battalion on 5 May 1915 and embarked at Sydney on “Ceramic” for Egypt on 25 June presumably to complete training. He proceeded to Gallipoli from Alexandria 15 August. While serving on Gallipoli Peninsular he was promoted to Corporal 21 November and again promoted to Sergeant on 12 December to replace Sergeant Sandy who died of wounds. Sgt. Hall disembarked at Alexandria ex Mudros 9 January 1916.
Andrew transferred to 5th. Brigade Machine Gun Company on 8 March 1916. He embarked from Alexandria 17 March arriving at Marseilles on the 23rd. On 16 September he transferred from 5th. Bde. M.S.G. to the 18th Battalion. Sgt. Hall was reported as M.I.A. on 29 September and found to be have been killed in action by a Court of Enquiry on 3 February 1917.
Evidence of Pte. W. A. Sellars, 2223:
Informant states that Sgt. Hall took part in a raid at Ypres on date mentioned and returned safely, but hearing that Sgt. Hooper, another of the party, was missing he returned and tried to find him, and never came back. It is believed in the Co. That he was probably taken prisoner.


From “Hell’s Bells and Mademoiselles” by Joseph Maxwell V.C.
Silent raids to cut enemy wire without artillery preparation became our next hectic job.
Those were the days when members of raiding-parties blackened their faces and hands and left behind everything that might help the enemy to identify the battalion opposite to them. Losses were established by numbers repeated verbally to N.C.O.s on returning from a raid. - - -
That night Sergeants Andy Hall, Jock Cooper, and I blackened our faces in the same dugout. Andy and Jock were two of the most perfect physical specimens one could meet. They were both six feet tall, broad, solid, and every inch soldiers. I drew number thirteen. Hall said that rather than go through with the devil’s number he would ask to be excused from the raid.
“Right,” I replied. “We will test the luck of number thirteen by taking a third light for a cigarette from this match. I will take the third and if superstition counts for anything I will be carried back from this raid in pieces.”
Rolling grey clouds muffled the stars as we lined up in the trench and waited.
“Two minutes to go, boys,” murmured Captain Lane, glancing at his watch.
Bob Dryden and his men slithered back into the trench and reported that the wire had been cut and that the enemy would probably receive the shock his life when we went over. A hissing whisper:
“Get ready. All set. Come on.”
With a wild yell that echoed on the night wind, we were over the top. There were only about twenty-five yards to cover to reach the German front line. But at that moment dozens of flares leapt to life and spun to earth like mad will-o’-the-wisps. That patch of torn earth was flooded with a ghastly radiance that rivalled the light of day. The air rocked to the bursting of hand-grenades and the rattle of machine-guns ripped along the line. We were dazzled and blinded. My chest struck high enemy wire. It slackened, then sprang taut, flinging me clear. I cannoned against Captain Lane, and with enemy bombs dropping in a deadly shower, we crouched on our bellies on Mother Earth. We once more crawled to the wire, but could not find an opening. We flung our Mills bombs, then I heard Lane, beside me, groan.
“Look out,” I bellowed. A stick-bomb dropped to earth, then rolled against his side. It bounced a yard or two, then exploded.
Poor old Paddy got the full issue. I grabbed his hand which was covered with blood, and dragged him into a shallow shell-hole. There, over us seemed to fly all the machine-gun bullets in the world. Paddy could not manage to crawl.
Paddy, whose upper lip appeared to have been shot away, and whose body was torn by more that thirty wounds, rolled over the parapet. He dropped on a bayonet which pierced his thigh.
The raid was an utter failure. When numbers were checked my two pals, Andy & Jock, were the only missing. We were told officially, later, that these two fine fellows had penetrated the German front line but were wounded so severely that they died of their wounds a few days later. The irony of it. I, who had carried the devil’s number, I, who had taken the third light from the same match was left. They were gone. By some amazing chance of fate, out of those who reached the enemy wire that night, I was the only one not wounded. Captain Lane, riddled with pieces of steel, doggedly fought for his life; won, and was invalided back to Australia.

 

History of the 18th. Battalion.

 

18th Battalion Living History Group.


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