by E. W. Hermon
I am sorry to hear of old Betsy’s sprained ankle, but I hope it’s better. You might tell her I thought I heard her voice but wasn’t sure.
My love to you my old darling.
4th April 1917 – No. 51 – trenches, Roclincourt Sector
I had a long walk round the trenches this morning, most unpleasant as the snow has made them very bad going indeed. Our old guns have been fairly pooping off today & the old Boche has got a bit angry about it too & the air hasn’t been very balmy in consequence.
I met another K.E.H. fellow here today and he tells me that three of my original lads are close here & I hope to see them one of these days soon. I am hoping to hear all about the doggies & their work when I get your letter this evening.
There is such a damned din going on that one can hardly hear anyone speak. However, I am feeling very fit & there is something rather exhilarating about it all. The feeling that one [is] rising above all the clamour & sitting very tight on one’s natural inclination to rush out of the door & hare away into the back of beyond where one could sit down & be away & quiet for a time.
Anyhow, one does rise above this inclination alright & feels a better man for it. You simply can’t help it because the men are so proud. If you had told me that you could lay hands on every man you met in the street, clap a uniform on him & send him out into this & that he would behave like a stoic & not only in crowds but as individuals and small parties, I should have said the whole thing was absolutely idiotic. That any nation in the world could do it. Anyhow we have done it & one is proud that one is a member of a country that produces men like the men out here.
One does find some who can’t stick it as I had a man who threw himself out of a third storey window today, in order to avoid it & tho’ he landed on the pavement he has little or nothing the matter with him & so he will only get tried by C.M. for a S.I. [self-inflicted] wound.
The last letter home
7th April 1917 – No. 52 – Arras
My darling,
I’ve had rather a strenuous time in the line these last three days & so beyond a postcard I haven’t been able to do much for you, old dear.
We have been in for three days during which time our guns have been most particularly active. The result being that one hasn’t known a moment’s peace. The bottom of the trenches has had water & mud over it to the depth of the top of my field boots. Last night I was relieved, thank goodness, & the Adjutant, the Doctor and I walked back here together getting in at 6 a.m. (My town residence.)
Three more weary, mud-bespattered officers it would have been hard to find. I just flung myself down on the bed & slept as I never slept before with guns blotting off in all directions close to me without ever hearing a sound till Buckin woke me about noon. I hadn’t had six hours’ sleep in the three days, been damned nearly killed once & was what you call pleasantly weary, but it’s a wonder how very quickly a few hours’ sleep revives one & I’m as right as anything now, tho’ looking forward to bed.
The guns make life quite unbearable in the house & now I’m down in a cellar where I’ve got my orderly room & a nice brazier of coke & am really quite warm & comfortable tho’ it sounds hardly so. The erring stockings are really useful now as I’ve got them under my breeches with my field boots over them & they keep me nice & warm.
You certainly manage to put in a strenuous day when you go hunting. Your letters were a great ‘pick me up’ today as they were on the table when I got in. I’m so glad that old Bobbo got on so well with the pony – it seems to suit him fine. You have had just the same weather as we had, by your mentioning the big flakes of snow. It snowed yesterday again too. I go in the line again tomorrow. Your son certainly seems to be a helpful lad & I hope your younger one will be the same when he gets a bit bigger. Will you please thank Mimi for her letter and the Chugs too.
My own dear lass, I must go to bed now as I must store up what energy I can, as I shall probably need it these next few days as I’m likely to be pretty busy so far as I can see. Give the dear little Chugs my love & a kiss from Dad & with all my love to you old dear, & your dear old face to love.
Ever your Robert.
ON 8 APRIL at 5 p.m., the battalion left Arras for the trenches in preparation for an assault, launched at 5.30 the next morning by the 24th and 25th Battalions. Colonel Hermon was killed shortly after 6 a.m. as he crossed open ground to follow up his troops, possibly by fire intended for a tank bogged down in the mud.
He was shot through the heart, one bullet slicing through the papers in his top pocket, including photographs of his family and the four-leaved clover his wife had given him for good luck. His final words to his Adjutant were ‘Go on!’ before he sank to his knees and died almost instantaneously.
Carried from the battlefield by his faithful soldier servant, Buxton, he now lies in the Commonwealth War Graves Cemetery at Roclincourt, three miles from Arras.
Tragically, the news of his death did not reach Ethel Hermon until she received the official telegram from the War Office on 13 April. The only letter to her husband which survives was written on 12 April, three days after he had been killed, in reply to his final letter: her concern for his safety is obvious however much she tries to conceal it. Her letter was returned to her in an official brown envelope, marked ‘Killed in Action’.
12th April 1917 – Brook Hill, Cowfold
Laddie my own,
I got a lovely letter this morning, 52, written on the 7th & doubly appreciated as you must have been feeling far more like going to bed than writing to me. You must be having a desperate, strenuous time, so laddie, do spend your spare minutes in a bit of rest & not in writing.
I know, of course, now that you must have been in the front line when the show started on Monday, tho’ don’t know whether this necessarily means you were among the first to go over the top … All surmise is quite useless, I know, & yet one simply can’t help thinking & picturing things. It must be awful never getting a moment’s peace from the noise of the guns, but I’m thankful you were able to fix up a cellar for your town residence last time as that might relieve the strain a bit tho’ it could hardly lessen the noise. [The letter continues with home news about the children, how they had rigged up a tent to protect the goats from a snowstorm but in the morning it had collapsed and had taken them half an hour to disentangle the goats again.]
I went & had a bit of talk with Mrs Buckin today. She tells me you tried to persuade Buckin not to go up with you the last time you went up into the line but that he said ‘rats’ or its equivalent in language more in accordance with discipline! She said she would have a very small opinion of him had he taken you at your word & altogether was very nice & rather splendid about it. She has been awfully good in that sort of way all through.
Laddie mine … I could read so easily between the lines that you knew big & strenuous things were in front of you & I do so hope & pray you’ll come thro’ them safely laddie my own, & to your own satisfaction too. I wish the Germans would collapse like a pack of cards & end the whole thing, it’s all too damnable for words.
My best of everything to you dear, dear laddie.
Yours ever, Ethel.
ON THE SAME day Buxton wrote to Mrs Hermon in his despair at the loss of his ‘master’, whom he often referred to as ‘Father’ in letters home to his own family.
Thursday 12th April – near Arras
My dear Madam,
It is impossible for me to express in my letter my deepest and heartfelt sympathy for you in your terrible loss. I have prayed to God to comfort you. I have thought of you night & day since I found the poor dear Colonel, oh dear it is too awful. I feel broken-hearted and I don’t know how to write this letter, if I could only come home I could explain everything so much easier. I am going to try for leave, if it is only for a few hours just to have a few words with you. I wanted to go ‘over’ with him but he wouldn’t let me, he thought it much better for me to stop in the dugout until he was settled down in the new line & th
en he would send for me to bring along the rations. He was in good spirits & very anxious to get away. When he started he said nothing to me and I didn’t like to say anything to him, now I wish I had, if it was only to grab his hand for one second. He hadn’t got very far before he was shot right through the heart & couldn’t possibly have lived only a few seconds. The Adjutant ran to him but only told him ‘to go on & not wait for him’ – they were his last words for he was quite dead when they found him. I went to the Brigade in the afternoon and saw the General to arrange for the Colonel’s burial. The General was very upset & expressed his deepest sympathy with you and the children & it was comforting to hear the warm tributes of praise & sympathy from everybody on the Staff & in the Battalion. We buried the dear Colonel in the military cemetery in the village close to the trenches yesterday afternoon at 3 o’clock. The General was unable to attend but the Staff Captain was there, also Major Campbell (senior Chaplain) and two other Chaplains. We had a nice little service & after everybody had gone I lingered by the grave of my dear master & friend. Oh dear Madam, my thoughts were of you, so far away it seemed so cruel to leave him there. I feel I have lost everything. Oh! It doesn’t seem true it is like a dream, 4 days ago he was with us so full of life & hope. I never thought I should lose him but it is you & the dear children that I am thinking of all day & night. He died a brave soldier’s death. I have got the gold disc & chain which the Colonel wore round his neck. I hope I didn’t do wrong in taking it off but I thought you would like it. I have a lock of hair which I have put inside his watch and I will send them to you as soon as I have received instruction from you. All the Colonel’s kit is at present in my charge & I will take care of everything until they are sent home. The Brigade is sending all his papers that were found on him. Colonel Richardson’s brother is buried next to the Colonel. He was killed the same morning. I came down from the lines last night and am staying with the Quartermaster until the battalion comes out, but I am sorry to say there won’t be many of them. So far I know at present we lost 11 officers killed & wounded. They say the casualties were not heavy considering the nature of the fighting, & the whole thing was a great success. Oh dear this attack has cost us a lot of fine officers & men. The Cavalry have suffered too. I am writing this letter on an old Times & the first thing that caught my eye in the died of wounds list was the name of Capt. Robin Loder – how awful it all seems.
Well dear Madam I am afraid I haven’t explained things very well but I feel lost, I shall never be happy until I have been home to see you, then I could come back to try to be a brave soldier like my dear Master who was always so good & kind. I don’t know what to do without him. I miss him so, but what is my loss compared with yours. I have never forgotten my promise to you ‘to always look after the Colonel’ and have tried to do my best & I feel I can’t come back without him. Poor Mr & Mrs Hermon will be terribly upset too. The Adjutant is writing you & will explain the actual facts better than I have. Madam please forgive me for any mistakes I have made & anything I can possibly do that will be of any comfort to you I will do, if it costs me my life. I couldn’t do too much for you – you have given more to the country than my insignificant life is worth. Oh! I know how you feel so well. I tried to get Mr Heath8 & Harry to be present at the funeral but I am sorry to say [it] proved impossible. Harry and I may go back to the regiment if we like but we want to do whatever would please you. If we stop for a few days I am going back up to the Colonel’s grave & plant some shrubs round it, is there anything you would like me to do? If so, I would love to do it. Harry wished me to ‘express his deepest sympathy with you & the children’. I will now await your orders.
Please accept my very deepest sympathy in your great sorrow. I do hope they will grant me leave.
I am your obedient servant,
Buxton
BUXTON WROTE TO his own wife, Marie, on Friday 13 April, signing himself ‘Freddie’, the name by which he was known to his family.
My darling sweet Marie,
You have heard the sad news by now, poor Mrs Hermon whatever will she do, it seems too awful for her, oh my darling I feel so sorry for her, it is impossible for me to express how I feel, it doesn’t seem true that he has gone for ever. Your words have come true, Marie love. He went over on Monday morning in good spirits & very anxious to be at them but he hadn’t got very far before he was shot right through the heart & must have died in a few minutes. The Adjutant who ran to help him was the last man he spoke to, told him ‘to go on and not wait for him’. I wanted to go ‘over the top’ with him but he wouldn’t let me, he told me I should be no use to him if I got wounded or anything, so I remained in the dugout. The arrangement was that as soon as they had taken the German second line he was going to send a runner for me to come forward with the rations. But he hadn’t gone long before I was over the top myself & I hadn’t gone far before I met one of our men who told me the Colonel had been killed. I looked around for a long time before I found him, he was then quite dead, oh my darling, I did not know what to do, it upset me so. I feel I have lost a good Master & Friend. My heart is broken & I feel I can’t write about it. I want to come home & try to comfort Mrs Hermon. I can’t rest, I am thinking about her all day & night. I am going to make a special effort to get leave but I don’t suppose I shall be successful. I had quite a long talk with the General, he was very nice. He is going to let Harry & I go back to the old regiment. We buried him on Wednesday afternoon in the cemetery amongst the ruined village close to the trenches where he was killed, nobody touched him but me. I did him up in two groundsheets & made him look as nice as possible. I buried him in his uniform just as he died. I tried to get Harry there but there wasn’t time, it was such a pity. We had quite a nice little service, there was 3 Chaplains & the Staff Captain from the Brigade. I lingered by his grave after everybody had gone & prayed that God would comfort his dear Wife & children & make me as good and brave as my dead Master & my thoughts were of poor Mrs Hermon so far away. I had to have a good cry Marie love, I couldn’t help it. Oh, everything seems so changed now, there seems nothing to work for. We had had an awful time but the whole thing was a great success but at a terrible price! I mustn’t say much here but if I ever get home I can explain things better. The weather has been awful & the poor men have suffered terribly. Harry & I are going back to the regiment unless Mrs Hermon would rather we stopped here. Well my darling I mustn’t stop for more now. I did my best to write Mrs Hermon a nice letter but I am afraid I didn’t express myself very well. I hope you are all well. We are off again so I will write again first opportunity. I am all right but very sick at heart. Goodbye my sweetheart.
With my fondest love & kisses to everybody,
Ever your loving Freddie.
On 17 April Ethel Hermon replied:
Dear Buxton,
Your letter came this morning & I can never thank you enough for your loving care of him & for your sympathy & prayers. I knew you would be heartbroken & that I should have all your sympathy as you probably knew as well as anyone could know how much we were to each other.
You will by now have had my other letter telling you that I have asked Gen. Trevor & now Gen. Nicholson to let you come home if it is possible as I simply long to talk to you even tho’ you have told me so much in your letter. I can never thank you enough Buxton for that letter as though I seem to know all that pen & paper can tell, one just longs to talk to someone who was there.
I am so more than glad you have kept the chain & disc for me as I longed to have it. I don’t know what to say to you about sending the things, if you get leave it will be all right & you can bring them, but if not I think perhaps you had better post them tho’ I hate trusting them out of your hands. Still the post always has been reliable & I think you must risk it. As far as the kit is concerned I would be pleased to give the air bed, chair & everything not personal to Capt. Svensson or Lt Jolland or the Adjutant or Major Downie if they care for them but I would like the old basin & cover & its contents to c
ome home if possible.
Buxton, do they mark the graves with the name of the person buried there because I shall never rest now till I’ve seen where he lies & I must go out after the war & I trust you will be spared to go with me & show me? Who can be asked to care for it after you have left? I don’t know how to answer your question about what you & Harry should do. I daren’t take the responsibility now of choosing for you both. Gen. Nicholson wrote me that he was arranging for you to go back to K.E.H. I don’t know what to do about the horses. I think they must take their chance of who gets them. They belong to the Government tho’ if it can be worked that Mr Jackie Ashton could have them (he was an old Cheshire friend & is A.P.M.9 & had been in to see the Colonel several times) I should like it. He wrote too this morning & asked whether I would like him to try & get them. I should as he is a fine horseman & they would be well ridden & cared for, tho’ I don’t know that I could ever have them back, I feel I should never hunt again, nor do I want to. I enclose you Mr Ashton’s letter & then Harry will know that I should like this arrangement if it is worked. I will write to Mr Ashton about it tho’ things may have been settled by now & if the horses have gone elsewhere, I must rest satisfied. Once more thanking you from the bottom of my heart & hoping if you can’t get leave that you will be able to write again if you go up to the grave, also that you will tell me where you go to.
Yours most gratefully,
Ethel Hermon.
BRIGADIER-GENERAL H. E. Trevor, the Brigade Commander, also wrote twice to Mrs Hermon. These letters were found in her diary for 1917. The first letter from Brigadier Trevor was written in pencil and was dated 11 April 1917. The attack at Arras was still in progress and yet the brigade commander found time to write to a commanding officer’s widow.
‘103 Inf. Bde.’