A soldiers Diary by Captain H. Raymond Smith.

[stiletto_33853]

In answer to more requests to place another book here, I asked a few people who requested this what they would like, and, this seems to have been the majority choice. A diary rather than a Memorial Book.

Captain H. Raymond Smith (Late of The Rifle Brigade, and formerly Private 2277, 1/8th Battalion, The Worcestershire Regiment)

[stiletto_33853]

As I kept a diary throughout the Great War, and served in it throughout it's duration, and indeed longer, it has been comparatively easy for me to write my personal experiences and impressions, and in the hope and belief that these may be of general interest, I have embodied them in this book.

Many of these notes have appeared during the past six months from time to time in the pages of the "Evesham Journal and Four Shires Advertiser" and the "Tewkesbury Register and Gazette," and the widespread interest they have created has induced me to make them into a more concise record.

My mobilised service in the Army - from August 8th, 1914, till August 8th, 1919, comprised two and a half years in the ranks and as an officer cadet, and two and a half as an officer, so that I saw military service in wartime from two, if not three, angles, an advantage not possessed by many who have written memoirs of their experiences, and one, which, I believe, has its value.

As most of the book deals with the adventures of the 48th (South Midland) Division, it may be of special interest to old soldiers who served in this Division and perhaps to some who are serving in it now.

[stiletto_33853]

Leaving Home - An Infantryman's Equipment - From Worcester to Swindon, and then to the East Coast - A Long Forced March.

The 8th Worcesters, as part of the 48th (South Midland) Division, were mobilised on the outbreak of war and our local Company left Evesham for Worcester on Wednesday, August 5th, 1914. I well remember the scenes of enthusiasm as the Evesham Company (then "D" Company) marched from the Drill Hall to the railway station, and my most vivid recollection is the soldierly figure of a very tall Corporal, who marched in the front rank.

So inspired was I by this martial spectacle that I enlisted in the 8th Worcesters on the following Saturday, August 8th, and with a handful of other 'rookies,' was marched from the old Drill Hall on Merstow Green to the station, from whence we proceeded by train to Worcester. Here at the Silver Street depot we were medically examined and, having passed - only one man failed out of twenty - we duly took the oath of allegiance to "His Majesty the King, his heirs and successors," and became Territorial soldiers for four years, of for (and here lay the snag) "the duration of the war."

We were at once issued with a great coat, rifle bayonet and some other equipment, but no other uniform, as they had "run out" of khaki clothing at the battalion stores. Our first meal as soldiers was a good one, consisting of hot roast beef and two "veg," and eaten at an hotel near the depot. We were then marched to our billets - private houses on Rainbow Hill. During Saturday night I "acquired" a khaki tunic and trousers, but was till minus puttees and a cap; these articles, however, were issued to me on Monday afternoon just before we entrained for an unknown destination, which turned out to be Swindon.

[stiletto_33853]

We arrived in the "railway town" about 8.30 that evening. We spent a pleasant week at Swindon, where we fired our first musketry course. I was very pleased with myself, as I was bracketed top of the recruits with another man of the same name.

From Swindon we proceeded to Leighton Buzzard. This journey was made bt train on a Sunday. I well remember stopping at Oxford and seeing a theatrical company on the opposite platform. With the characteristic generosity of "the profession" they immediately purchased chocolates and packets of cigarettes, which they threw to us across the line into the carriage windows with cries of "Here you are, boys," and "Good Luck."

On arrival at Leighton Buzzard we fouind it already occupied by the 7th Worcesters, so we marched some eight miles to Bletchley, arriving there in pitch dark. Two days later we marched back to Leighton Buzzard and entrained in the early morning for Brentwood, Essex. On arrival our Company was marched into a small "Working Men's Conservative Club" and told by the Captain that it was our billet. We recieved this information with a subdued groan. Most of us were working men, and doubtless some of us were Conservatives, but as the only sleeping accomodation was the bare floor we might have been excused any display of enthusiasm! However, we were not destined, after all, to spend the night here; the bugle sounded, we turned out quick, and were found alternative accomodation in private houses nearby.

Then, two days later, came the most trying experience we had had up till this time - the march from Brentwood to Bicknacre, a distance of twenty-three miles. This day, August 22nd, was one of the hotest days of the summer of 1914. Our equipment in those days was - like Sam Wellers knowledge of London - extensive and peculiar. It consisted of leather bandolier, containg 120 rounds of "ball ammunition", a haversack slung from the right shoulder and a water bottle slung from the left, an entrenching tool, and one's greatcoat rolled and slung by bracer straps on the back.

[marina]

Here we go, them courtesy of Andy...

Marina

[stiletto_33853]

The whole, with rifle and bayonet, weighed about seventy pounds. Our first halt was at Highlands Park, Chelmsford, about ten miles, and here we had a hot meal prepared for us - stew in our mess tins. I could only eat a little as my throat was too dry. After an hour's rest we took the road again and marched through Chelmsford and Great Baddow, and on, and on, and on.......

At the end of each hours marching we "fell out" on the side of the road and laid down for our blessed ten minutes rest, then, at the sound of the whistle, we "fell in" in fours again and continued our weary way. Several men in our battalion collapsed on the roadside in a state of utter exhaustion, and at intervals we passed men of the 7th Worcesters (who were ahead of us) who were in the same pitiable state. No one in the Evesham company "fell out", and of this we were immensely proud. After the first twelve miles or so my right heel became very painful, my pack hung on my back, and sweat ran into my eyes. At length, after hours of marching, we turned off from the main road into a wood where the path was indented with rabbit holes. Into these we stumbled, picked ourselves up again, and struggled on. At length - it was nearly dark by this time - we halted at a hamlet and about sixty five of our company were put into a little mission hall, where we fell asleep on the bare floor - a sleep of utter exhaustion.

The next day was Sunday and, thank heaven, there were no parades. We were stationed at Bicknacre for four weeks and the days passed pleasantly enough. Those of us who could hire or borrow bicycles made occasional jaunts to Chelmsford or Maldon and enjoyed "the pictures" or a variety show. On September 19th we moved to Maldon, where the 7th and 8th Battalions of the Worcestershire Regiment were billeted, until we went out to France in the following spring.

[stiletto_33853]

Entertainment for the Troops - Machine Gun Training - The Royal Review at Chelmsford.

Our life at Maldon, generally speaking, was a very happy one. There was plenty of work, however, for by this time we had entered upon a period of intensive training in order to prepare us for active service overseas. We carried out all sorts of "shemes", either in friendly rivalry with other companies, or with our own company divided into two detachments operating against one another in mimic warfare. There was one peculiarity about these operations, I noticed, and that was we always managed to get ourselves into a ploughed field sooner or later - usually at the end of the proceedings. Doubling across a ploughed field in full marching order can be recommended as a "slimming" exercise, but as a form of recreation it did not appeal to me. Also, when at last we "fell in" again on the firm highroad, one seemed to carry away quite large portions of the fertile soil of Essex on one's boots and puttees!.

At least twice a week there was a battalion route march - anything from fifteen to twenty miles - and always, except Sundays, "physical jerks," in shirt sleeves, before breakfast. To compensate for all this it must be remembered that for the most part we were billeted in private houses, and very well indeed did we get on with the good people of Maldon. The Army authorities paid 10s. a week for each man and, in addition, rations were provided. These varied both in quantity and quality, but our landlady had nothing to complain about when either my "stable companion" or I were detailed for the ration party fatigue! My co-billitee, though only twenty three, had served for nearly five years in the 4th Royal Irish Dragoon Guards, and as I had served for some years, immediately preceding the war, in the Yeomanry, we had something in common.

[marina]

Those route marches always remind me of The Grand Old Duke of York!

Marina

[stiletto_33853]

B_____ was one of the smartest men in the Battalion, and his buttons, bayonet scabbard and cap badge shone like mirrors when he turned out on parade. I did my best to follow his example in this respect, but never attained quite the same degree of brilliance.

Maldon, with over two thousand troops billeted there, was quite gay in the evenings. Despite subdued street lighting - there was absolutely no "black out" - we did not lack entertainment. Soldiers crowded the hotels and inns, the picture house, and the various halls, in which concerts to the troops were held almost nightly, proved highly popular. Mostly we entertained ourselves and there was no lack of musical and histrionic talent among the merry men of the 7th and 8th Worcesters. On one occasion, I remember, we were excellently entertained by seven charming young ladies - all sisters - who gave us a good selection from their repertoire, in response to our enthusiastic applause. Amongst out numbers was a popular recruiting song of the period, which commenced "We don't want to lose you, but we think you ought to go, for your King and your country both need you so." The sentiments expressed in this song were excellent, but as the audience consisted entirely of soldiers it seemed rather like preaching to the converted!

We had not been stationed at Maldon very long when B____ and I were called out by our Captain and told we had been selected for a course of machine-gun training. We left our comrades with some regret, but "ours not to reason why," so we packed our kit and took the road to Butts Green, a hamlet a few miles away, where we spent two very pleasant months learning all about that wonderful weapon, the machine-gun. In those days we had only two machine guns per battalion, and these were the old pattern Maxim gun, used in the South African war. The action is very similar to the Vicker's gun, and these old Maxim's - when they didn't jam - were capable of firing at the rate of about 300 rounds per minute.

[stiletto_33853]

Our instructors were very capable officers, and although it took us a long time to learn to strip and reassemble parts of the complicated mechanism, it was not long before we acquired a useful working knowledge of how to load quickly, fire and traverse, and correct stoppages. All the machine-gun sections of the 144th Brigade were billeted in a large empty house. In our room (a small one) nine of us slept on the floor. In the evenings we had to make our own amusements. These consisted of songs or card-playing in the billet, enlivened by an occasional visit to Chelmsford. Some of us walked to East Hanningfield, a few miles away, where we enjoyed an occasional rabbit supper at the Three Horseshoes. Here we entertained each other with songs and recitations, and the evenings passed pleasantly enough.

On Wednesday, October 14, 1914, the 48th Division was reviewed by His Majesty King George V. at Highlands Park. We machine gunners paraded at the ghastly hour of 4.30 a.m. when, of course, it was still quite dark. I was detailed to act as a driver as one of the regular drivers was indisposed owing to innoculation. The other driver kindly harnessed my horse as well as his own, and after a hurried breakfast we started on ouir march to Chelmsford. Horses attached to infantry units were not usually noted for their beauty, and mine was no oxception to the rule, though good food and grooming had made her as respectable looking as she had probably ever been in her life. In those days a single horse drew each machine-gun on a light two-wheeled gun carriage, which also accomodated the tripod, ammunition boxes, spare part bix etc. etc.

The Royal Review is one of the things which stands out most clearly in my memory and when I think of it the years roll back and I am standing once again on that vast parade ground. All arms were presented, and there were about 15000 troops on parade. The twelve infantry battalions were drawn up in massed formation, the 8th Worcesters being on the left of the line. The machine-gun section was stationed at the rear, so I had an excellent view of the troops in front.

[stiletto_33853]

We practised the Royal salute "umpteen" times, while staff officers and adjutants galloped up and down the ranks in a state of great excitement. Our Colonel addressed a few kind words to us, as is the custom of commanding officers on these occasions. He informed us that when the King came on to the parade ground he did not want to see a movement - "not the flicker of an eyelid!" Also we were told to look striaght to our front and not follow the King with our eyes. As it happened the sun shone out brilliantly just as the King - accompanied by Sir Ian Hamilton - arrived; the bugles rang out, and the whole of the massed battalions came to the "present" with a resounding crash of arms. The sun shone on a forest of steel as it glanced from the bayonets, and my mare stood as still as the troops in front so interested was she in the spectacle.

After passing along the ranks of the battalion, his Majesty came to the rear and insoected two machine-guns. He was, of course, in the khaki service dress of a Field Marshall. After he had made a creful inspection of each unit, he took the salute as we marched past by battalions, the massed bands playing the respective regimental march as each unit swung by. The review was watched by thousands of people from Chelmsford and the neighbouring countryside. All who saw or took part in it will, I am sure, never forget it.

After this our life at Butts Green went on smoothly and pleasantly. Our first firing course with the machine-gun was a thrilling experience. To hold the vibrating, traversing handles while the unseen stream of bullets was pouring from the muzzle was to realise something of the awful destruction such a weapon could inflict on an enemy advancing in the open. The value of the machine-gun was by this time fully realised, and with this realisation came the disturbing knowledge that our army was equipped with far too few of them.

[stiletto_33853]

During the early part of November most of us went home on three day's leave. As I was still seperated from the Company at Maldon my leave did not coincide with theirs, and in consequence I missed much public junketing, but as I had not been home for three months, a brief sight of old Evesham again was very welcome.

On my return the work went on without any particular incident. Towards the end of November the weather, which had hitherto been very fine and warm, turned suddenly very cold. On November 28 we left Butts Green and rejoined our respective companies at Maldon. B____ and I secured a good billet at the house of Mrs. W_____ near the entrance to the Recreation Ground and, incidentally, close to our alarm post. Here we lived very happily and comfortably until the time came for us to go, with the rest of the 48th Division, overseas.

[stiletto_33853]

Men of the 1/8th Worcesters at Maldon, Essex, in 1914.

Left to right: Privates G. Bayliss, C.E. Ingram, H. Raymond Smith, E. Tooley, G. Clarke, G. Bennett and Lance Corporal David Barclay.

[stiletto_33853]

Machine gunners

[stiletto_33853]

Christmas at Maldon - New Equipment - The Coming of Mules - Farewell to England - First Day in France.

My Diary for December, 1914, records intensive training for the 8th Worcesters at Maldon. On December 23, for instance, there is an entry: "Long and painful route march. Left foot badly blistered, and very painful." It is also recorded that a comrade marching next to me carried my rifle as well as his own during the last few miles. It was no uncommon practice, when a soldier on the march was exhausted or suffering from a blistered foot, for a comrade to carry his rifle for him. It is typical of the comradeship of the Army - a comradeship which found expression in far greater acts of self sacrifice in face of the enemy. My foot must have made a rapid recovery for five days later there is an entry: "Did a twenty mile route march today; stuck it well." At this time of year I rather preferred route marching, despite the weight of the equipment we carried, to manoeuvres, which often involved several hours exposure to the elements on the bleak flats adjacent to the Blackwater.

The Christmas of 1914 stands out vividly in my mind. It was the first Christmas I had ever spent away from home. B_____ and I spent the day quietly with the good people at our billet, but in the evening I was amongst those who did special "turns" at the Public Hall and the Hippodrome. I think everyone must have been in festive mood, as my performance was enthusistically received. Our celebrations lasted for several days, and parades, for once in a way, were few and far between. On the night of December 28, 1914, a furious storm broke over Maldon - one of the severest I have ever experienced. We went on a route march the following morning, and saw traces of the storm everywhere in broken chimney pots and tiles strewn about the streets in every direction.

[stiletto_33853]

So the fateful year of 1914 passed, and the new year of 1915 dawned. Few of us could have imagined what adventures we should have been through ere another twelve months passed over our heads. It is just as well the future is hidden from us, for not a few there were who never lived to see the dawn of another year.

Early in the New Year I went home on five days leave, and on my return found Maldon wrapped in a deep mantle of snow. About this time the composition of the Battalion was altered. The eight companies were reduced to four double companies. Therefore "A" and "B" Companies became "A" Company, and "C" and "D" Companies became "B" Company, and so on. At the same time the sub-divisions of these companies were altered from sections to platoons. By now we were far above the usual war strength, and at the time of our departure for France the 8th Battalion must have been nearly 1200 strong.

Rumours of our coming departure for the Front became more frequent than ever. One day we would hear that we were going to Egypt, and that a mysterious "someone" had seen piles of khaki pith helmets at the Quartermaster's stores! Then another rumour that we were booked for India went the rounds. That we were booked for somewhere overseas was evident now to everyone. First we were issued with webbing equipment in place of the old leather bandolier and pouches, which I described in a previous article. The new equipment, though more compact and servicable, was to my mind, not so smart in appearance as the old. Also it was issued to us in bits and pieces, and we had the task of assembling it - no easy one, and rather reminiscent of a Chinese puzzle. It is of interest to note that this equipment was, early in the Great War, universally adopted for the Infantry, and has remained the regulation pattern until this year. It is now being replaced by the new equipment which goes with "battle dress", or the "boiler suit" as it was disrespectfully called. One great advantage of the webbing equipment was that once assembled it could be put on and taken off altogether and the whole, comprising valise, ammunition pouches, haversack, water-bottle, entrenching tool, and bayonet scabbard, could be unslung by the simple process of unfastening the belt and slipping the braces from one's shoulders. This was a great advantage when we "fell out" for a ten minutes breather during a long march.

[marina]

Quite a lot of nuts and bolts data here, from ugly horse to all-in-one webbing! You never think of these things!

Marina

[stiletto_33853]

Then there was the coming of the mules. These intelligent animals caused some amusement at first, but they soon showed their usefulness. Hitherto our transport section had been entirely horse drawn, but now we were issued with new double limbers, each drawn by four mules. A few heavy draught horses were still retained as well as the "chargers" for the Commanding Officer, the Second-in-Command, the Adjutant, the four Company Commanders, the Transport Officer, and Transport Sergeant. Apart from these exceptions, our gallant lads of the Transport Section had to become "mule-minded" as it were, and very quickly did most of them take to their new charges.

These Army mules are the progency of a mare by a jack donkey. They inherit the intelligence of the horse, combined with the patiience and hardiness of the ass. Most of them were, I believe, imported from the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, and hundreds of thousands of these patient animals faithfully served our armies in France and on other fronts throughout the Great War, many of them giving their lives in the service of the Allies.

On March 30, 1915, the long awaited order came, and we left dear old Maldon for Southampton, en route for an unknown destination. There must have been some aching hearts that day, when the young ladies of that pleasant riverside town said good-bye to the soldiers of the 7th and 8th Worcesters, who had been billeted there for more than six months. Yes, and I believe there was not a little sadness felt by many of the older inhabitants. Indeed, how could it have been otherwise? What thoughful man or woman could, without sadness, have seen so many young men - go from their midst to unknown hardship and danger, some fated never to return.?

[stiletto_33853]

One of the things that is so appealing for me regarding this book is that the area the Worcesters all trained is local to me. Had a nice little drive late this afternoon to some of the places mentioned in his diary.

This is the hamlet of Butts Green today. The large house mentioned as the machine gun team billet is unknown for sure, but the white house on the right is the largest in the hamlet and is of an age where it would have been there.

[marina]

Great idea to post the photo - imagne them tramping up and down what was a country lane then, and learning their vickers from their maxims!

Marina

[stiletto_33853]

The Pub mentioned in post #10 where they went and had Rabbit supper, just outside of East Hanningfield but only a couple of miles from Butts Green where they were stationed.

There is nothing at Butts Green apart from a few houses.

[stiletto_33853]

I have to go past Hylands Park tomorrow so I will get a couple of pictures of the house there and the park where the Royal Review was held.

Andy

[stiletto_33853]

I feel sure that the vast majority of my comrades were excited and elated at the prospect of active service, but truth compels me to say that I experienced no such emotions. From a small boy the study of military history had always been my hobby, and I had read too much of the hardship and misery of campaigning in many wars, besides newspaper accounts of the retreat from Mons and the Battles of the Marne and the Aisne, to feel any burning anxiety to be at close quarters with a brave and ruthless enemy. However, the only thing to do was to make the best of it, so B_____ and I said good-bye to the good people at our billet, and clambering into our equipment, which was heavier than ever owing to the inclusion of a spare pair of boots, a sweater, field service kit, etc., we "fell in" and marched off to the railway station. B____ and I as machine gunners, went with the Brigade Transport Column to Southampton, while the remainder of the 7th and 8th Worcesters embarked at Folkestone for Boulogne the following day.

In due course we arrived at Southampton, and hung about the quay until early evening, when we embarked on board a huge transport ship. The embarkation took some time, as many of the horses and mules evinced a strong objection to going on board, but they were all safely shipped at last, and we found ourselves in sleeping quarters on the floor of a filthy "hold". I had nearly gone to sleep when a man almost trod on my face. I sat up, addressed some remarks to him in Army language, and, lying down again, must have fallen asleep before the ship started, as it was morning when I awoke, and went on deck. The sun was rising and the coast of la belle France was just in sight. Our escort consisted of two destroyers, and grim enough they looked as they circled the slow moving transport. As we drew in towards Le Havre they both swung outwards and set off again for England, their escort duty over for the day. On the quay were a small crowd of dock hands and a few French and British soldiers.

[stiletto_33853]

On berthing our first task was to disembark the mules. This may sound simple, but it did not work out like that. I was allotted a mule and told to lead him down the gangway. I got him to the head of the gangway easily enough, but when he saw the steep incline he refused point blank to move another inch. I pulled at his head and the Transport Sergeant and a driver encouraged him with a few whacks behind, but at first to no purpose. Then suddenly he made up his mind to go forward, which he did at a brisk trot while I ran down ahead of him to avoid being trapled on. We landed on the quay with more haste than dignity. I was ordered to ascend another gangway and lead another mule down, nut I had had quite enough of this pastime, so quietly "lost" myself by the simple process of walking behind a huge pile of fodder.

Here I met a sergeant of the 1st Worcesters, who had been out since Mons. On hearing I was a machine gunner, he encouraged me with the cheerful remark that with luck I might last about a fortnight!

When all the horses, mules and limbers were landed we were employed on various fatigues. Evening saw us all assembled on the platform of a goods siding, awaiting our train. When it came in we found we were to make our journey in cattle trucks, each labelled "40 hommes, 8 chevaux." It is true that forty men, and even more could be got into each of these trucks, but with our rifles and equipment it did not leave much floor space on which to sleep. Our train did not arrive until after midnight.

While waiting for our train, a small group of us gathered round a stall where hot coffee and tea were dispensed by a society lady, who was very friendly and understanding. She told us what part of the line we were probably going, and broke the news that we were to travel in cattle trucks.

[stiletto_33853]

Just after midnight B____ suddenly remembered it was his birthday, April 1. The good lady in charge of the stall thereupon presentedhim with an armful of packets of cigarettes and chocolate. We drank the lady's health in coffee, and "a good time was had by all!" Then our train steamed in, we entrained - there were forty-two men in our truck - and away we started on the second stage of the Great Adventure.