16th May ’16
Grim, whom I saw today, tells me he thinks he will now be put permanently on the Brigade Staff. I hope he is. He deserves it. He is a worker, an optimist and a most conscientious man. A born humorist, a splendid companion and the possessor of a fund of common sense.
We have been to see the Stokes gun this afternoon. It is really a splendid weapon for trench warfare and I devoutly hope we may be able to move forward before the Hun gets a quantity of any similar engine of destruction.
All the Hooksv were there. Colonels Norman, Longbourne and our own CO, Duke from the brigade, Morris (2nd-in-Command) of the Staffords and majors and captains to burn. Quite a turn-out. Harris – little ‘Bum’ Harrisvi – the gun officer, was quite nervously damp by the time he’d finished talking and I don’t blame him.
17th May ’16
The battn has gone in again and to my surprise I have been left out with three other ‘derelicts’ Merriman, Lloyd and Cowan. We had all taken this scheme as over, but evidently it is not. We are quite in the air, however, as all the other elements have gone to the Bois des Tailles, whither we adjourn tomorrow.
Cowan has been exceedingly funny, telling stories to beat the band. ‘Somebody says something about “Stand to” is one I must remember. Also, I want to go to Manchester’. You mean you – ...... well have to go. The major also coined a good joke relative to situation reports, our daily bug-bear in the line: “Wind-up. Situation: bloody.”
18th May ’16
Life is full of changes. Last evening we were all settled in Bray, settled as though we had never been anywhere else. We all [have] become quite attached to dirty, dilapidated Bray. And now tonight I write in a roomy – old airy – apartment situated on the top of a tree-clad hill in the Bois des Tailles. Two hours ago there was virgin brushwood where we have now just finished [constructing a] mess, but quick work, keen men and a rustle round and here we are in a mess room, 12' by 12', by 10' 6" high, waterproof-roofed and canvas-sided with our beds round the walls and our lamp burning cheerily on the table. The owls hoot outside, the traffic rumbles busily on the Corbie road, the guns rumble angrily on the other flank and away in our rear is the flickering, angry light of a burning village. But overhead the evening breeze plays, rustling through the trees, the moon is aloft in a perfect sky and down in the valley below a nightingale is singing. It is all quite pleasant and charming, even the odd fires flickering among the trees where odd men are frying ration steaks or bacon, prodigal of tomorrow’s rations. It is a complete change from Bray – quite a pleasant one up to now.
19th May ’16
There is little to record except that a perfect day has been marred by the receipt of continual reports of casualties from the battn.vii They have only been in two days and the casualties already total seventeen. It is swift going – for a ‘quiet’ part of the line such as ours is supposed to be, though we no longer believe that tale.
I had a sweet letter from you today, full of sweetness and love and the breath of the springtime. It was ripping to have it here in peace and the witching surroundings the Bois furnishes. I hear today that we go for a rest after this tour, and to the Bois de Treux. It is not far away but if it is anything like this the battalion should have a happy time there and one which should do the men an awful lot of good, provided the weather holds.
The trenches will reek vilely after this sun. It always brings the smells out, the nauseating smells of decaying bodies and of the manifold foulnesses which men have trodden into their floors for months gone.
One curses the trenches in winter and one curses them in summer, in fact one curses them always and in all weathers. One can think of no good word to say for them. Where then does their undoubted fascination lie? I am conscious that it is there but reason for it I never can lay my finger on. The nearest I can get is that the very presence of danger is a fascination. And yet it is not – danger has no fascination for me, not consciously anyway. Yet I own the trenches attract me. Perhaps it is that when one is in them one feels that, more or less, one is doing one’s job. It may be that. In fault of any better explanation I will let it stand.
This afternoon I perpetrated a vile sketch of our camp showing our quarters, Maiden’s tent, the Quarter-Master’s Stores and the officers’ cook-house in the rear. Its only excuse for existence is that it will serve as a slight record of four happy days.
20th May ’16
Went across to Billon Wood this morning to see some mining experiments by the RE [Royal Engineers]. They were very interesting and bid fair to have good uses. I noticed a shell was dropping on Bray as we passed, and later we heard that four Staff officers, the BSM [Brigade Sergeant Majors] and two CSMs [Company Sergeant Majors] had been all badly wounded by an unlucky shot which landed in the yard of BHQ whilst the CO’s orders were in progress. One feels quite glad to be out of Bray. I trust we plastered some of Fritz’s villages in reply.
Merriman and Lloyd have gone in today and Cowan and I follow tomorrow. Casualties keep coming in. There are over twenty in the battalion already. Two of my lads have been killed. The toll seems too high for just holding on, but then the line is not the same as when we came in.
Cowan told an amusing tale this afternoon. When on leave, he met Ram in London – they happened to have two seats together in the Alhambra.viii After the show they sought for supper and a drink but, of course, under our new regime, everything was closed. In desperation they sought the advice of a belated cabby. ‘Where can we get a drink?’ ‘There’s only one place I know of, sirs. That’s the “Junior Turf”. You go first to the right, second to the left’ etc. They were deeply grateful and set off hurriedly. But alas! the “Junior Turf” was a cabman’s shelter. Evidently someone’s leg had been pulled.ix
Cowan saw a Bosche prisoner in Corbie today. He was a decent-looking young fellow of 21, and had been in the war from the start and twice to the Russian front. He was a Saxon and belonged to the 63rd Regiment, opposite us. He said he was fed up with the war as were many others in his Regiment and that many would desert but for fear of being shot by us when coming over. He said that lately their rations had been dry, rye bread and coffee three times per day. Often the coffee was cold. He asked for cake, was given ration bread and jam and wolfed it. ‘But this is cake,’ he said when told we had none. His story is apparently true and, if so, it is certainly encouraging because continued shortage of food can only result in reduced morale. Certainly this man was wan and white and in marked contrast to our own ruddy-faced, healthy-looking men.
21st May ’16
The Rat Hole again and, I find, a day before we were expected. The battalion is in for ten days, not eight. Had we only known there would have been but little chance of rooting Cowan and I out of the Bois.
There is nothing fresh to record. It is just the same old story here, ‘This must be deepened and that must be dug whilst, as to the other thing, undoubtedly that should be revetted tout suite.’ It is like coming back to some old job you have known all your life. Personally I feel quite fed up with it, so what the others think goes without saying, for, without any boosting spirit at all, I’m sure I am as keen as any of them. The fact is we are stale. We want a change and a rest. And yet we are not to have it, not after this tour anyway. Howsoever, ‘Carry on’ is the order of the day.
22nd May ’16
I write in Werfer Villa in the full blaze of the morning sun. We moved up here last night and there has been no sleep since. We may not sleep in dug-outs at night and the conditions of a trench board on the trench floor are not conducive to slumber. Therefore we do not sleep at night – or at any rate I do not, but prowl around dodging rifle grenades. These have become simply chronic here and have claimed nine men in two days already. They are beastly little things which come whizzing at you at an awful lick and detonate on striking. Last evening we shut them up with retaliation but at present we are not meeting with quite the same success.
We cannot always have it our own way however.
23rd
May ’16
Another day of rifle grenades. They killed one and wounded two of my men at lunchtime but we quietened them down before evening by severe retaliation.
We had a little strafe tonight against some large Hun working parties which my patrol discovered. As however it took us over an hour to get the guns to fire at them I am not too optimistic about results. The delay was atrocious and there is now a tour on to enquire reasons.
Don came in again this evening, having been sent for by BHQ. I am glad to have him, though sorry he should have been denied his tour out.
24th May ’16
Young Prince returned [from a hospital in Rouen]x tonight fit and well and full of the Anthem of leave. This will let Murray get out, for which I am glad. He has sat up with me tonight and we have yarned the hours away with tales about our old days, soldiering in the Scottish and King Edward’s Horse. It is wonderful how quickly a night passes and also how one learns to do without sleep.
Unfortunately it has rained. The mud is already up to our ankles. It is quite like old times – but none the more pleasant because of that.
Our raid was to have come off tonight – but has been indefinitely postponed. Oldham now has charge of it and I hope he will get a chance of doing the little job some other time.
Fritz has turned off today considerably. We have never let him alone and I think that is the reason. Every grenade he has sent over he has had two back for till he has become sick of it and chucked it up.
25th May ’16
Wilson, 21st,xi was up this morning for a look round. They take over from us tomorrow.
The rain has come again and we gradually became bogged once more. However, it cannot last and tomorrow no doubt will bring the sun. It has been a mixed day, a little shelling, plenty of grenade fighting and some trench mortar work. Also our snipers tell me tonight that they have hit six Huns. We have easily had the best of today’s essays all round and I think Fritz must begin to wish he had not started this rifle grenade touring.
Gee,xii my bombing corporal, has given me one of Fritz’s latest pattern grenades tonight. It was a ‘dud’ and is a perfect specimen, I am very pleased with it. Gee picked it up on top just in front of London Road. The man who fired it had forgotten to remove the striking arrangement. Fritz must have some poorly trained fellows even as have we.
26th May ’16
We came out this afternoon – a daylight relief, and very easy and pleasant it was even though Fritz put shrapnel over whilst the relief was taking place and gave us a few anxious moments. He got none of our men, however, though the Berksxiii unfortunately stopped some. One of their poor fellows was an awful mess. He was killed and about four others more or less badly mauled.
Our present resting place, Grovetown Camp, is a queer collection of tents, huts, shelters and bivouacs. It has all the joyful disarray of a Bedouin encampment and nearly as varied a population. From what one can see it is a place which has just ‘happened’. It is laid out with no attempt at order, the engineers in tents being jumbled down in the midst of MGC [Machine Gun Corps] dug-outs, infantry officers’ tents and huts and alongside infantry shelters and infantry bivouacs. At one end the Indians are in shelters of tarpaulin and canvas, with a Pioneer Battalion cheek by jowl with them in sand-bag huts.xiv It is all a jumble, it all smells fresh and clean but it is very like war. What it will develop into if the rain comes the Lord only knows, and He, for the good of mankind, is inscrutable.
27th May ’16
Went in to Bray for a bath this afternoon and met Strode there, of the Borders, and Brocklehurst of the Queen’s.xv The former desired to see Ram and the latter Murray. Strode came back to tea and Brocklehurst later. The latter is only really content when gibing at the Army. He told a tale yesterday of what happened to the Festubert way.xvi Their Divl General suddenly decided that a certain communication trench must be fire-stepped to allow of flanking fire. The trench was about a mile long and every day and night for weeks the devoted soldiers laboured at the work, losing many of their numbers in doing so. But at last it was finished. Then the brigade went out for a month’s rest. They were proud of their work and they talked about it often. Judge their surprise then on returning to find all their handiwork broken down and the trench restored to its original indefensible state.
The reason was this. The incoming general was a testy martinet. His first visit up, he tripped over a sand-bag and fell. ‘Remove all of them .... things at once. Remove them all,’ he said. And it was even so. And a stout defensive work ceased to be because a gouty general bumped a corn-afflicted foot upon an infinitesimal part of it.
No wonder Brocklehurst finds the Army amusing!
28th May ’16
Up to the brigade today, where I saw Duke and Grimwood and touched the latter for a very welcome whiskey and soda. It was a scorching afternoon. Afterwards I met Day of the Trench Mortars and rode with him to see the ‘Bangalore torpedo’xvii experiments at Bray where they were being given for the benefit of our ‘stunt’ team. It was quite interesting and very successful results were achieved.
Coming back we saw a strange sight. Nothing less than some hundred men, stripped to the buff digging in a trench. It was like an artist’s effort of ‘Labour’. Big muscles and supple joints swelling and swinging with the rhythm of the pick whilst the perspiration stood out in beads on the white flesh. It was a gladsome sight.
Merriman tells me he is likely to go to the Judge Advocate’s Department, so leaving the battalion. I hope it is true. It would suit him so much better than his present job and would let him use his undoubted talents in the sphere all his training has suited him most for.xviii
29th May ’16
Rode over to the Bois des Tailles today to see the model trenches of the Mametz system laid out by the 21st. It is a topping little piece of work and most instructive. Afterwards I went over to the top of the hill above Albert and watched the lines – on both sides – being shelled. There was some big stuff flying about and I found myself taking quite a sporting interest in the shooting.
I found my attitude rather cynical when it occurred to me how little of the sporting element I would have seen in it had I been in the line. There is all the difference in the world between the feelings of the sheller and the shelled.
The Italians have fallen back and Fritz still pounds at Verdun.xix In the meantime we sit still. But the guns keep coming up, more and more of them and no doubt our push will come when the time for it is ripe. But the waiting is long. And life in the Army for an officer is a lazy one. In peacetime I should think it must bore a fellow stiff except during manoeuvres. Here we have much more to do when we are back away from the line than when we are in it as we are at present.
30th May ’16
Fritz has blown in Wellington Redoubt and we have smashed one of his villages to bits and set it on fire in retaliation. So the game goes on. And I wish the order would come that would loose all our guns and let us strafe him as he should be strafed. Next week we do the ‘stunt’ – the little cutting-out affair of which Oldham is now in command in place of Shelmerdine. I hope it will be a success and the boys do well in it. We are a trifle sick about it, the Brigade having more or less taken it out of the CO’s hands. It is a pity and a mistake. But, I suppose, it is one of the things we have to put up with for having a young and ambitious brigadier.xx He wants to run everything himself, a youthful fault because youth is the same in its action whether it refer to the young in years or to the young in position.
The majorxxi has gone to his court-martial affair. I hope he makes a big success of it.
Wood has come back to us, after a joyous month in hospital at Rouen, cured of his wound and in great form.
31st May ’16
We played the Borders tonight at footer and beat ’em 2–nil. It was a good game and was rendered a trifle more exciting than some other matches I have been to by the fact that Fritz commenced shelling the wood whilst the game was in progress, the shells passing over our hea
ds and exploding on the slope above.
1st June ’16
Ascension Day. Also the first day of the Midsummer month. It is hard to realise that the winter seems so close behind us still and the year so little spent. Yet one cannot alter dates. They are unassailable facts.
Tom [Worthington] and I got leave and rode to Corbie. It was a welcome change indeed. We stuck to the fields the whole way and the breath of the breeze coming bowling over the clover, the rye and the grasses was a thing to remember.
We had lunch at the Poste, tea at a café and an interesting talk with a young French Lieutenant from Chipilly. The 20th French Division has come up there, the crack division of our Allies’ Army. It is to push on the right with us when this comes off. When? For all we know it is as far off as when the subject was first broached months back.
But our own little show is close at hand now. It takes place tomorrow night.xxii
2nd June ’16
We have been up and manned the Intermediate Line today. It is a good line, quite scientific with ample opportunities for cross and enfilade fire.xxiii Quite one of the best bits of trench work I have yet seen. The brigadier was there and Grant, the former as brimful of ideas as ever. I expect we will receive a ream or two of fresh literature on this subject now. That is the one fault one finds with energy in this war. It oozes out into yards of stodgy literature, facetiously known as ‘bumph’.
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