Cruthers, James William

796 Lance Corporal James Cruthers MM - 12th Battalion AIF & Australian Army Pay Corps

James William Cruthers was born in South Melbourne Victoria on the 18th April 1895 to James and Martha Cruthers.

Not long after his birth the family moved to Western Australia and took up residence in Fremantle and also Menzies for a few years. James then had some new siblings on the way with Dorothy (born 1896), Olive (1898), Walter (1899), Alfred (1901), Doris (1903), Edith (1905) and Ada (1910).

The family set up residence in Essex Street Fremantle and James was educated locally at Fremantle Boys School. He was a member of the North Fremantle Boy Scouts in the 1900's and also excelled at athletics. Prior to the First World War James had also spent three years as a member of the 11th Australian Infantry Regiment. He had an official portrait taken of his new uniform. (pictured right).

On the 14th September 1914 James enlisted into the AIF. He was found to be fit for service, with the medical examiner recording James's physical attributes as;

Height - 5 feet 7 inches tall;

Weight - 130lbs;

Chest Measurement - 34-36 inches;

Complexion - Dark;

Eyes - Green;

Hair - Black.

After his successful enlistment James was sent to Blackboy Hill Camp where he was assigned to G Company of the 12th Battalion AIF. The 12th Battalion was made up from men in Tasmania, South and West Australia.

On the 31st October 1914 James and the WA sections of the 12th Battalion boarded the transport ship HMAT Medic in Fremantle Harbour. After the ship moved out to Gage Roads they set sail on the 2nd November 1914.

After arriving in Egypt, the Australians encamped at Mena near the Pyramids. The WA men of the 12th Battalion got together to have their photo taken. (Pictured below-courtesy Army Museum of WA)

In April 1915 James and the 12th Battalion arrived at Lemnos Island off the Turkish coast. On April 25th 1915, James landed at the Anzac Cove to North Beach area and went inland and fought for three days before he was wounded in the arm and elbow by shrapnel. He was later interviewed about his experiences when he returned to Fremantle on the hospital ship Kyarra. This was then printed in several WA newspapers of the time, including the West Australian.
 
 
FREMANTLE LAD'S EXPERIENCE.
"When I jumped overboard up to my neck in icy cold water that morning at dawn I was in charge of 16 men," said Lance-Corporal Cruthers of Fremantle, a fine stamp of a young soldier. He resumed : "When after three days, a bullet sent me down into the bottom of my trench
there was only one of that party left. That was A. R. Arbuckle, of Fremantle also.
We were in the 12th ; there were 250 of us who were attached to the Tasmanian Battalion. We had been so anxious to get to grips with the enemy that once we knew on the Saturday night that we were to attack in the morning we threw aside all thought of sleep. The men were as
eager as terriers after a rat — in fact, very similar. From the moment we got word that we were to be let loose at the Turks till I was sent back for treatment I did not see a man waver. The first lot — we were close behind — went up that hill as a hill was never scaled before. The wonder still is how it ever was done. If you saw the steepness of the place you would marvel at it. I was running up with H. E. Treasure, also of Fremantle, who was shot at by a sniper. The aim was bad. Treasure is only a lad of twenty, but he dashed for the Turk, who was in cover.
The fellow saw him coming with the bayonet, and, as the Turk does every time he sees the steel, he raced in the other direction. Treasure gained and lunged under the man's arm, and ran him through.
The Turk was a powerful fellow, but you see he would not wait for the steel. I am not big, yet I found that they would not wait for mine, although I could not get one on the end of it."
Such was the excitement of the day and the night that followed that neither Cruthers nor his companions gave thought to eating. Their biscuits, like their cigarettes had become sodden in the plunge they had taken overboard, and, on the first day of the attack, the rain began to

pour at night. The men had to rest in their wet clothes without any cover all night, waiting for and repulsing all attempts to send them back to the beach. In the morning he had just opened a tin of "bully," when a bullet took the top of the head of the man who stood next to
him. Instead of thinking any further of breakfast, I crawled away and was physic-ally sick for a long time," he said. "When I came back to take my stand alongside the poor fellow, a shell burst right on the edge of the trench and for some minutes we were busy crawling out of the sand that was sprayed upon us. Each time we showed our steel and got a chance to use it the Turks scurried like rabbits. That was the medicine for them."
That second day was as the first — no time nor thought could be spared for eating. Once he did open another tin of beef, but at that moment a shell scattered it thickly over with sand, and it was done. On the third day his company was ordered back to the beach, relief having come for
them, but they had no sooner got there than they were sent up to relieve a hard- pressed detachment on the side of a steep hill. He took his stand this time in the centre of six other men — each man of the
support had to fill the gaps as he came upon them in the trenches. The firing to which they were subjected was hot ; it came from a quarter they could not reach. First down went the three men on his left.
The first exclaimed, "Both my hands got that," and sat down and lighted a cigarette. The second did not speak again. The man next to him got the bullets in the chest, and gurgled to Cruthers, "Help me
out." It was then getting dusk, and the latter said "Wait till it gets a bit darker, then we will have a go for it." Then down went the three men on the other side of him, and he was the only one standing. Presently he tried to raise the man who had been taken in the neck and chest, but
as he bent to do so he was knocked over by a bullet which caught him just above the elbow. Then he too sat down and smoked awhile. When he crawled out he rolled down the hill into the arms of an engineer who bandaged him and pointed to the direction of the beach. "I am not hankering to go back to that hell on earth, but if they want me they
will get me," he said. "The Australians were simply magnificent. Not a man flinched. Not one wavered. They went up that hill like heroes."
'"Which they were," interjected a visitor who passed at the moment, and overheard."
 
After being wounded James was evacuated back to hospital in Cairo. His arm injury was serious enough that Doctors decided to send James back to Australia.
The Hospital ship Kyarra brought James home to Fremantle In July 1915.
 
In 1916 James would marry his long time sweetheart Kate Nestor and they would set up residence in Duke Street East Fremantle. A son, James Robert Cruthers would be born in 1916.
 
James health and injury improved and in 1916 he re-enlisted into the AIF. He was once again accepted as fit for service. James was then assigned to the 22nd Reinforcements to the 11th Battalion AIF. This group embarked from Fremantle on the 22nd November 1916 aboard the transport ship HMAT Argyllshire.
 
Tragically, in early 1917 James and Kate's five month old son would die. Both the Nesto and Cruthers family later Kate their support but it wasn't until later when letters reached James in England did he find out about the death of his son.
 
James arrived in England in January 1917, and as he had previously served in the 12th Battalion, he was able to secure a transfer to his old unit. After several months in England, James was finally sent to France and joined up with the 12th Battalion on the 20th July 1917.
 
James served with the 12th Battalion through the Third Battle of Ypres in Belgium, surviving the Battles around Menin Road, Polygon Wood, Broodseinde and Passchendaele.
 
James wrote of this time at Ypres and their part in the attack at Menin Road;
 
 
We were billeted in a big barracks (or rather what used to be a barracks as it consists only of smashed walls now) and a lad named Kennedy and myself found a lovely dugout. Of course we grabbed it, occupied it, and had a feed. All of a sudden Kennedy said “Come on out – something is going to happen!” I laughed. However he dragged me out and five minutes after a big high velocity shell blew it inside out. You should have seen my face. Rather lucky...
The first part of the journey was alright, but from Hellfire Corner (which deserved its sobriquet) we got merry hell. High explosives and shrapnel all the way. We left the road and took to the duckboards – and that is where our troubles began. My first impression was when a 9.2 shell hit a small cemetery and dug out a man who was considerably dead. When I saw him last he was lying half in and half out of a shell hole. The whole country was indescribably muddy, and there wasn’t a yard of ground which wasn’t pockmarked with shells. It was a torn and tumbled countryside which looked like the result of a mighty upheaval. The duckboard track was dotted with mules lying just where the shells got them. Dozens of them. And we passed an Australian who had evidently just been hit; his feet were on the duckboard and his head in a shell hole. It wasn’t so bad on the duckboards, though it was raining and making them a bit slippery, but when they came to an end it was awful. The mud was up to our knees and deeper still in parts. Floundering and plunging in the quagmire I cursed Fritz in every variety of “cuss” word I knew. I think I invented a few new ones. French and Arabic as well. I soon forgot the shells as I was too busy dragging my feet out of one piece of mud to place them in another. Well, to cut it short we duly arrived at our appointed place known as supports, and found that there was no cover of any sort. Raining and Fritz shelling like hell. So I grabbed a shovel and with a mate selected a spot and started to dig in. Got down a few inches when “Can’t you smell something Jimmie?”  I could. Our next shovel told the tale. We had unearthed a defunct Hun. It was no good growling so we got to work on another “possie”. We got it finished all but the roof but we were so dead tired we spread our water proof sheets over us and went to sleep. Next day we finished the joint but had to keep in our dugouts because the shells were falling just beyond us and if we showed ourselves Fritz would shorten and surely get us.
 
James survived the attacks the 12th Battalion were involved in but for the next few months he also had to survive the constant German artillery fire of high explosive and gas shells on their positions. James recorded that; 
 
 
The outpost line was 700 or 800 yards in front in No Mans Land and Fritz always put a barrage over to try and stop reliefs. Well, we got through it alright and I got my orders from the NCO who was in charge and whom I was relieving in this manner:- “Yer front is from there to there. You aint got nothing to be scared of here because there’s a morass on yer right and the 9th is on yer left. Its No.13 post. And it’s the extreme left and therefore the most dangerous. There useter be a No.14 but the gory Hun lobbed a 9” shell inter it and blew the guts out of it. Yer mustn’t try to improve the joint because Fritz planes fly about 60 feet over yer nut and they are sure to notice the difference and up goes yer show.” Cheerful.
Well we settled down in a cramped position – me in charge of a machine gun team and I didn’t know one end from the other of the gun and supposed to hold up the German Army in case of attack. Then the dirty swines started shelling. And it was some shelling too. Fairly made our teeth rattle. We got settled down and an officer came out to us. I told him the 9th were 200 or 300 yds on our left so he took 3 of my men and went to connect up with them. Said he wouldn’t be long. He was only away 2-1/2 hours. I felt dead certain that he had run into a Fritz patrol and got smashed up. However he turned up about 3 in the morning. Seemed he had missed the 9th altogether and was nearly shot by a Canadian outpost about 3 or 4 miles over on the left. He found the 9th on the way back and their nearest outpost was 500 to 600 yds away. Just enough space for the whole German Army to get through unnoticed. But that’s not my grievance – what made me feel that nobody loved me was this: while Vaughan was away with my three men (which left only 2 men besides myself) another officer came out with a fatigue party and duckboards, iron and sandbags. He said that I was to get to work and improve the outpost. Couldn’t see my way clear. Told him I didn’t want the men entrusted to me wiped out having in mind what the other N.C.O. had told me. I went on to say that half my men were away on patrol and if that material wasn’t shifted I would sink it into the mud out of sight. Needless to remark the officer (having a sufficiency of rum aboard) became snaky and said “I’ll give you 10 minutes to get to work. If you don’t start I’ll take you back under arrest and get you courtmartialled and 10 years. Of course it wasn’t any good kicking so we three set to work. It took us all night but we got finished and I knew the planes could not help but notice the difference. However, fortune favoured us and dozens of our planes came over and kept Fritz so busy that his machines could not come over. I reckoned that saved our lives. Well, my men had had a rough time of it and I reckoned that they had earned a nip of rum.
This meant going 600 to 700 yards under heavy shell fire to get it. It was too much to ask any man to go and I wouldn’t ask a man to go where I would not go myself, so I took a Dixie and started out – and caught Fritz’s dawn barrage. I got through alright got the rum and started to come back. Needless to remark I got lost and a big shell blew me off my feet, but I saved the rum. Soon as I found I was lost I marked down the spot where I was and started to walk in a circle around it. It’s an old trick but hard to carry out amongst bursting shells. I found the next post to mine on the second time round and got to 13 in the dawn. Those lads thought I was a hero, but after all, I was too busy to be frightened. Well the day was fairly uneventful though shrapnel and shell splinters made things miserable and having to stay cramped up out of sight for fear of giving the show away. I was glad when night came and with it the relief. I handed over my orders with some despatch I can assure you and got off the mark quick and lively. Our time in the line was finished and we were going right back to our billets. To complete a perfect day our guide got lost after leaving the line and we walked miles and miles over duckboards, trying to find the road. I reckoned it was the dead limit in hard luck. By the time we had walked for an hour I was quite impervious to the conditions, neither shells, mud, nor biting wind worried me. I believe I went to sleep walking for I found myself standing waist deep in a muddy shell hole. We arrived “home” 2-1/2 hours after the rest of the Battn dead beat. But it seems news had gone ahead, sort of “bush” telegram that “little Jimmie was having a terrible crook spin” and when I got in one was saying “Here’s your nap Jimmie”, and another, “Here’s your stew Jimmie”, and they dragged my muddy harness off me and gave me a big dixie of stew and – two bottles of English beer! God knows where they got it, but I feel at peace with all mankind and turned into doss as nearly happy as I could be in this country. But it would have warmed your heart to see how those boys looked after me.'
 
 
In February 1918 James had a short break at an engineering school but soon returned to his unit.
 
On March 21st 1918, the Germans launched their offensive which broke through the British lines. All five Australian divisions left Belgium and departed for the Somme to help stop the German offensive. However just as James's 1st Division reached Amiens, the Germans launched another attack which broke through the line in Belgium from where they had just departed, so the 1st Australian Division returned to Northern France and with the help of British units managed to bring the German offensive to a halt around Merris, Hazebrouck and Nieppe Forrest. 
 
Corporal James Cruthers of the 12th Battalion was awarded the Military Medal at Meteren when he led his men over ground swept by machine gun and artillery fire and repelled continuous German assaults. He was soon severely wounded and was taken back to the Casualty Clearing Station. He narrowly avoided having his leg amputated when the surgeon was able to repair the wound. 
 
According to James and a story which was passed down to his family. Shrapnel had smashed into his left leg below the knee, damaging the bones and most of the calf muscle. He was carried from the muddy trench and placed on a table in a dilapidated building. He heard the two men, presumably doctors, discussing his leg. "That will have to come off", said one. "Hang on" said the other as he looked at the patients dog tag and saw his army number (796). He's one of the very early ones. Let's see if we can save it" And they did. James leg was saved from being amputated.
 
James was then sent to England where he spent the next few months in hospital. On the 30th June 1918 James was put aboard a hospital ship and was returned to Western Australia, disembarking at Fremantle on the 24th August 1918.
 
After a medical examination at No.8 Australian General Hospital in South Terrace Fremantle, James was able return ho to his wife.
In May 1919 at a ceremony in Kings Park, James was presented with the Military Medal that he had been awarded in April 1918.

After his return, James and Kate set about building their family and Joyce (born 1919), Kate (1921), Frank (1923) and James (1924). Unfortunately Kate also died after just a few months.

The family was now living in Gibbs Street East Fremantle and James had since his return began to study accountancy and began working in that field. In the 1930's the family moved to 27 Anstey Street Cottesloe.

In World War Two, James offered his services and due to his accountancy background he was signed up for service in to the Australian Army Pay Corps (W17209). James served from 1940 to 1946 and he was then discharged.

In 1950 Kate Cruthers died.

In 1967 James applied for his Anzac Medallion and he lived until 1993, dying when he was 99 years old.

(Photos and information of James Cruthers kindly supplied by his son Sir James (Jim) Cruthers)