Somme Mud: The Experiences of an Infantryman in France, 1916-1919 by E.P.F. Lynch is the memoir of an Australian soldier who made this journey, and the opening chapter, Good-bye, Sydney Town, Good-bye gives an account of his experience. Lynch was part of a reinforcement draft of 250 men for the 12th Brigade, which sailed on a large requisitioned civilian liner. They left Sydney Harbour, trailed for a while by a small flotilla of boats filled with relatives and friends determined to keep in touch until the last possible moment, and headed out to sea, stopping at Melbourne, Adelaide and Freemantle, picking up further drafts until around 2,000 men were crammed aboard.

Life is one long monotony now. Only relief is mumps or inoculation... Days roll on. We run into heavy swell and into a great storm. Portholes are screwed down. A bit of extra lifeboat drill is given. We are now well up in the 'abandon ship' routine. The sea is heavier and the ship is lurching like a girth-galled brumby. Dinner-time comes and we man the long tables and rattle our knives and forks on tin pannikins because our mess orderlies are late with the scran.

The ship makes land at Durban, South Africa, to take on coal. The men are mostly kept aboard, but there is a 10 mile route march around Durban, followed by a few enthusiastic hours of leave and much drinking in the town; it proves difficult to round them all up again and get them back on the ship:

...every man who has been yarded up has been promoted to military policeman to help land the rest back onto the transport. Eventually we're all back, loaded up with red caps, calabash pipes, Kruger two-bob pieces, African beer and the memory of a good time. After a lot of mucking up and horseplay, we turn in and all's quiet and peaceful again.

The ship sails on the next day, eventually stopping at Cape Town, where there is another route march for exercise and more leave (more closely supervised, this time: "The C.O. isn't risking another Durban").

The next leg is northward through submarine-infested waters of the Atlantic, so there is more instruction and drills on what to do if the ship is torpedoed. There is another stop, at St Vincent in the Cape Verde Islands. The men are not allowed ashore, but native boats approach, selling oranges by way of rope and bucket lowered from the deck. It's then on to England, another long and monotonous journey:

A couple of kit inspections and two spare inoculations come our way with two lectures a day from the heads.... the ship's captain gives us advice should we get torpedoed and instructions about no lights after dark.

Three days out from England an escort of Royal Navy torpedo boats joins them, and they finally dock at Plymouth after a voyage of 12,000 miles. Some time later, another troopship takes them on to Boulogne, and then they travel by train to the 'Bull Ring' at Etaples for final training before going into action.

The overall impression Lynch gives is of extreme boredom and crowding on board the liner. Men mostly sleep in hammocks slung below decks. There is a lot of violent behaviour and cruel jokes, which he seems to consider good fun. In particular, if you're considering reading this memoir, be aware that the author relates some tales of behaviour and attitude towards native South Africans which he finds hilarious, but to modern sensibilities are staggeringly cruel and racist (the language he uses and the attitude he displays towards the native people is really something, even in the context of the time).