A soldiers Diary by Captain H. Raymond Smith.

[marina]

Getting very lively out there!

Marina

[stiletto_33853]

We only had our emergency rations with us, but we were able to get a little extra food and water during the night, by taking the water bottles and iron rations from the many bodies lying around. My two volunteer messengers returned late in the afternoon and dropped into the trench rather breathless, but smiling. Wonderful fellows! They told me that we should be relieved tomorrow, and this was good news for all. My message hed evidently been passed back to the batteries, for our shells no longer dropped short.

We were relieved by a company from the 10th R.B.'s early on the following morning, and retired under cover of darkness to the support line. Under pressure from three sides the Germans in the "pill box" surrendered; there were over eighty of them. T_____, who was acting as my batman, presented me with a handsome pair of field glasses, which he had taken from one of the prisoners. He said that he had "won" it. Our Battalion was relieved early on the following morning. D___ who was in command of "A" Company, and I left last, under the cover of a thick white September mist. On all sides, as we made our way back, were dead bodies and heaps of rifles and equipment. By the operations of the last four days we had advanced our line a few hundred yards, but at a terrible terrible cost.

We returned to Dawson's Corner, where I shaved a four days growth of beard from my face with no little difficulty and considerable pain. The first man to greet me was the company cook, who expressed delight and surprise at seeing me alive and unwounded. He got me some hot bacon and tea, and after this I slept from sheer exhaustion for several hours, though I rode with D_____ into Poperinghe in the evening, and had a good dinner there.

Shortly afterwards our Division left the Ypres Salient, and I am sure we were all glad to shake the mud of the ghastly place from our boots!!

[marina]

That's an eerie scene - the white mist and the dead lying all round. Shudder!

Marina

[stiletto_33853]

Model Trenches - Another "Big Push" - The Battle of Cambrai - No Reinforcements - The German Counter Attack.

When we left the Salient after the Third Battle of Ypres we went by rail to a camp some five kilometres from Bapaume. While we were there I rode over the old battlefields of the Somme. Bapaume and Peronne were in absolute ruins. I passed through the latter one bright moonlight night, and it was a weird experience. The entire fronts of some of the houses had been stripped by shell fire, and I remember an iron bedstead half hanging out from the floor of a bedroom which had only three walls left. It was like passing through a city of the dead!

Shortly after this our battalion took over a line of trenches in front of Gouzeacourt. These were really model trenches, dug in chalk, and were quite comfortable. This sector at the time we took it over from the Welch Regiment was exceptionally quiet, and in this respect reminded me of the trenches at Hebuterne when we took them over from the French in the summer of 1915. Most of the dug-outs were what was known as "mine dug-outs"; that is to say they had been properly constructed with pit props by men of a pioneer battalion who had been miners in civil life. They were very deep - usually about thirty of forty feet - and one descended into the bowels of the earth by means of a flight of properly constructed stairs.

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I have in my mind's eye now a dug-out which became my Company Headquarters at Gouzeacourt. It was on the left hand side of the main communication trench (Pope Avenue), and only a short distance from the firing trench. To get to it one descended a long flight of steps and then took a left turn into the officers dug-out, which was protected by an anti-gas curtain (in the shape of a chemically treated blanket), and fornished with a table, chairs, and two wire beds, one above the other. This was luxury indeed for the line, and as at this time we had received reinforcements after the fighting in the Salient, we got much more rest at night. During the night one officer from each company was on duty, usually for two hours at a stretch, and at the end of this time he was relieved by another, and was free to turn in and sleep. Actually I did not sleep very well at night in the trenches, and usually preferred being on duty and visiting the men at their various posts to remaining in the stuffy dug-out. It was here that I first met Secone-Lieut. Mc______, one of the most naturally humorous and entertaining men I have ever known. He was born in Scotland of Irish parents, and at the outbreak of war had been a medical student at Glasgow University.

[marina]

Is there a touch of nostalgia there for his old dugout?

Marina

[stiletto_33853]

I remember on one occasion he and I were walking out of the main communication trench towards the village, and the sentry on duty there saluted us in The Rifle Brigade fashion by bringing his rifle to the "shoulder" and slapping the sling with his right hand. Mc_____ was in front, and imagine our astonishment when he sloemnly returned the salute by slapping the barrel of the long Verey pistol he was carrying at the slope and giving the sentry a smart "eyes-right!" This was too much for the sentry, who was unable to repress a smile.

While we were in this sector I went on a very pleasant week's special leave at the rest camp at St. Valery-sur-Somme. I took with me a party of men down from every unit in the 20th Division. St. Valery was a real rest camp, and we only had one parade during our seven days stay there. It is a delightful village at the mouth of the Somme and there are miles of beautiful firm sand along the sea front. The climate is bracing, and after the filth of the trenches it semmed like paradise! I am sure we were all sorry when this delightful interlude was over.

When I returned to the trenches things had livened up considerably, and there was talk of another big push to be made there shortly. On my way towards the line I was overtaking a G.S. wagon drawn by six mules when the off-wheeler suddenly turned sidewys and kicked me full in the chest with both hind feet. I flew from the road over a heap of stones and into the ditch. The driver dismounted and seemed very concerned, but I picked myself up and was able to assure him I was quite unhurt. I always gave mules on the road a fairly wide berth after this!

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Soon after my return there was a very sad incident. We were sitting in our dug-out one evening after dinner when an orderly came in with a written message from B.H.Q. to say that a patrol was to leave our line at a certain time, and that Second-Lieut. Mc___ was to be in command of it. He went off with his usual light-hearted way, though he handed his letters and valuables to me "in case anything happened" to him. The men of this patrol wore ground sheets, and for some reason steel helmets were not allowed. On hearing this order, Mc____ remarked "Good, then I can wear my bowler!" A few minutes after the patrol left our lines the enemy put down a heavy trench mortar barrage, and poor Mc____ was killed.Later I had the sad task of helping to get his body in, and also writing to his sister. It was a great shock to us all, and we felt his loss more, I believe, than we should have done of any officer in the battalion.

Great preparations were now in progress for our new offensive, which was to be made from this sector. Our objective was the capture of the town of Cambrai and the piercing of the Hindenburg Line at this point. The tanks were to be the spearhead of our attack and were to be used for the first time in great numbers. I was given command of the 20th Divisional stretcher bearers, and attached to the 60th Field Ambulance, so did not actually take part in the first assaults, though I saw a good deal of the first day of the battle which commenced on that dark November morning, and watched the first advance from the Quarry at Gouzeacourt.

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This time we were to rely on the element of suprise. There was to be no preliminary bombardment, but our batteries would open drum fire on the German trenches at dawn, and at the same time the tanks (all by this time in position) would move forward, followed by the infantry, in column and not in line. On the night of November 19th it was known to us that the Germans immediately in front had been relieved by another unit, so it was certain that the surprise would be complete.

That night as we await the dawn all is quiet in the enemy lines. Al long last, it is zero hour. Suddenly there is one terrific crash as all our guns open fire in a hurricane barrage on the German trenches. The guns are firing behind me, and the force of the explosions shake the tiles from the ruined houses in the village. I have a good view from the Quarry, and it is an awful spectacle. The bursting shells from our barrage form an almost continuous sheet of flame ahead of the tanks, and behind the tanks come our infantry. There is remarkably little reply from the enemy guns; for once they have been taken completely by surprise, and a terrible surprise it must be this cold November morning.

For the remainder of that day I worked in the dressing station. Our attack was completely successful; the tanks crushed the enemy barbed wire into the sodden ground and our infantry were able to follow them through the lanes they made, without so much as catching a foot in the wire! The enemy trenches were captured almost without a struggle, and the enemy fled to positions some five miles back to the canal in front of Cambrai.

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The Officer killed in the tragic incident referred to with the patrol was 2nd Lieutenant W.G. McCormick.

Andy

[stiletto_33853]

At the ghastly hour of 2.30 a.m., I received orders to take my party up to our new front line, near the canal bank. It was a grim struggle though the mud in the pitch dark, and long before reaching our forward positions my men were tired out. Where our tanks had cut huge lanes through the enemy wire we walked quite easily, as the wire had been pressed down into the mud. In the grey of dawn we met a group of French civilians - refugees from one of the villages recaptured from the Germans. There were seven women and two men, and two of the women were carrying young children. They were plastered with mud, and their white faces expressed nothing but blank despair. Exclamations of pity broke from my riflemen, and two of them stepped forward and carried the children over a trench and directed the women to the nearest place of safety.

No sooner had dawn come than a number of the enemy planes flew over us. One of them suddenly dived low and started to spray us with machine gun bullets. We were in a sunken road at the time, and on my order the men scattered to either dise of the road, and no one was hit.

[stiletto_33853]

It was, however, a most uncomfortable experience. At last we reached the canal bank, which now formed our front line, where our attack had halted. Here a curious situation had arisen. The men of our battalion were occupying a series of isolated posts and we joined them. The Boches had apparently cleared off, leaving a few machine gun "nests" behind them. These enemy machine gunners made themselves unpleasant, and as I walked along the road, leading from the sopt where I had posted my men, to report to Battalion Headquarters, the bullets hissed around my ears in the old familiar way. It occured to me that I should be quite glad to get a nice cushy Blighty wound, but no such luck! One was forced to the conclusion that more troops should have been got up to this position as soon as possible, and the advance continued, but there was no sight of any reinforcements.

In due course we were relieved and gradually worked our way back to Fins. Here I was appointed to the command of a burial party in place of O_____, who had gone to the R.F.C. Here we operated from the old dug-out in Pope Avenue in front of Gouzeacourt, which I have already described. I shared the mess with two padres - one Church of England and the other Wesleyan.

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In the morning we went out and collected the dead, British and German were placed side by side in one big grave, and the padre conducted the burial service over friend and foe alike. During the progress of this work, which took a long time, as the battlefield was very extensive, my sergeant and I came upon a terrible sight. We approached a tank which had been struck by a direct hit from a shell in the fore part; the shell had gone clean through the thick armour plating and burst inside. We entered through the tiny door in the side of the tank, and a ghastly sight met our eyes. Three charred bodies lay inside the tank; all the clothing had been burnt off them, and they were unrecognisable. We got them out and buried thenm in a shell hole. No doubt they were killed instantly by the explosion of the shell inside the tank, and their bodies burnt afterwards.

On the morning of November 29th, wea are once more back in the old dug-out, having finished our sad task of burial. All of a sudden the enemy open heavy drum fire upon us; at first just in front, then their barrage lifts, and they are shelling these trenches and shells are flying over us into the village of Gouzeacourt behind. A runner appears with the news that the enemy are counter attacking in force, and that our men are falling back from the forward positions.

[marina]

Andy, of all the accounts you have published for us, this one seems the most dangerous and dramatic. it;s just incident after incident. Love his understatement about the machine gunners making themse;ves unpleasant!

Marina

[stiletto_33853]

I dash up the steps of the dug-out. The shells are whizzing and crashing all round now, and I have to take myself in hand before I can find the courage to leap from the shelter of the top step of the dug-out. Once in the trench I am all right again, and running forward to join my party who are manning our old front line. On our right our men are retiring past us in small parties, carrying Lewis guns and equipment. The situation is a nasty one. I can see our own men occasionally and the enemy not at all, but there is a barrage before and behind us and the smoke is very thick. Hours pass and we still hang on, with apparently no supporting troops on either flank. At length a runner appears with the news that the Boches are in Gouzeacourt, immediatley in our rear. He also brings a message from Battalion Headquarters that I am to occupy a short sector of chalk trench to the right of our present position. We are relieved by some of our own battalion and some K.R.R.'s as units have got a bit mixed in the retirement. We settle down in the new line, and despite the fact that we are being shelled more heavily now, M____, my servant, places a spirit stove on the floor of the trench and calmly proceeds to make tea!! When night falls we carry ammunition from the dump in the village to the front line, as the Boches have now been driven from Gouzeacourt. We are now holding our old front line, having been driven back to the place where we commenced the attack some nine days before. Had we been reinforced and the new positions consolidated, this, I believe, would never have happened, but now we have lost the ground, some five miles deep, which we had gained on the morning of the 20th, and several more thousands have been killed and wounded. What a war!

[stiletto_33853]

Marina,

Personal accounts, I suppose, rather than the letters home.

Andy

[marina]

I suppose that's it. but this is very gripping. Like the spirit stove and the tea in the middle of it all.

Marina

[stiletto_33853]

Glad that you are enjoying it so much. I notice that he does not spend so much time on a lot of the little things, like say Robert (the image of the foliage after a gas attack still sticks in my mind) and on the general day to day afairs.

But the bits and pieces that have stuck vividly in his mind are well written and somewhat gripping.

Andy

[marina]

That's true, Andy. Remember Robert and the officers' dinner in the lines? And the foliage as you say - that sticks with me too. Then the Shrewsbury schoolmasters and their love and nostalgia for the school and their constant interest in what was going on there. How different they all are from one another, and yet they formed that united fighting force. It's a small miracle.

Marina

[stiletto_33853]

The German Counter Attack Continues - Hard Pounding and Gas - A Change of Scene - Hill Sixty.

All that day the German counter attacks coninued, and it really seemed at one time that we should be driven further back still, but reinforcements of all kinds were coming up now, and after we had driven the enemy out of Gouzeacourt the line became stabilised again, and we held them at our old front line trenches.

The sunken roads leading from the trenches are littered with dead men and dead mules, wrecked General Service waggons and limbers. The night is worse than the day, as the hellish shelling continues. By the flashes of the bursting shells one gets strange momentary pictures - the tired, strained faces of nerve-racked men, and the wet shining on steel helmets, and the waterproof ground sheets, which most of the men have round their shoulders. My men work steadily on, carrying boxes of S.A.A. and bombs. As we leave the dump I see a man sitting beside his load - two long boxes of Mills bombs. "I can't go on, sir; I'm done in; you see, I'm forty-eight," he says in response to my question. I reply that it is not my fault he is out here, but I help him with his load, and so we go on. There is a rending scream and a terrific crash just behind, and then a terrible half-human cry of agony. It is from a poor mule mortally wounded. Its driver appears out of the darkness and borrows my revolver to put his mule out of his agony. There is a flash and a sharp report in the darkness near at hand and there is no more screaming. The driver returns and silently hands me back my revolver; there are tears in his eyes.

[marina]

He's showing an eye for detail here!

Marina

[stiletto_33853]

It is morning, and we are back in our chalk trench again. The shelling has stopped at last, and M_____ is once again engaged in making tea. In half an hour the shelling starts again. They are pounding our trench now, and the chalk is flying in all directions, and hitting us from all sides. Several of my men are wounded. A runner dashes up with a verbal message that I am wanted at Battalion Headquarters in Pope Avenue, and I start in that direction. Suddenly there is a rising shriek and a deafening bang, and I am thrown to the ground. On rising I see a man sitting on the fire step close by me. He is coughing, and as he coughs blood spurts like a fountain from his chest, which is smashed in. I pass the word for stretcher bearers, but a glance shows that it is hopeless. A piece of shell, which must have missed me by inches, has killed him. I hasten on, passing the stretcher bearers on my way, and arrive at Battalion Headquarters. Descending the stairs, I am ordered by the Commanding Officer to take my party into the front line. I return to them, a hasty word of command, and off we go. The journey up Pope Avenue seems longer than usual, and the terrible shelling still continues. Suddenly I feel a catch in the throat, and we halt, and put on our gas masks. The gas shells are dropping behind us, and the fumes are drifting back on us. After a time I am forced to remove my gas mask, as when it is on I am unable to give an order.

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We reach the headquarters of another unit, who prove to be a battalion of the Berkshires. I enter their dug-out, but am at first unable to speak on account of the gas I have inhaled. At length I am able to tell them that I have come to reinforce them. "What is your party?" asks their Commanding Officer. "Divisional Burial Party" I reply, which seems to have a depressing effect upon them.

One of their officers then accompanied me along the front line trench. Some of their men - mere boys - were kneeling on the fire step, thoroughly shaken, and no wonder. One boy kneels with his face hidden in his hands. The officer with me shakes him by the shoulders, saying "Pull yourself together, my boy; the shelling is all over now." The boy makes no response, and does not seem to hear. "You see what they are like?" says the officer turning to me.

Having arrived at our post I stationed my men, and we awaited whatever attack might be coming. By this time the light was beginning to fail. Suddenly figures appeared in front and slightly to out left, and I went forward to investigate, followed by my sergeant. The men proved to be some of our own troops falling back, and they scrambled into our trench, and on my instructions occupied the sector to our left. It certainly seemed that we were in for another night of horror. It seemed ages since I had eaten anything, and by now it had become very cold. Our battalion runner suddenly appeared on the scene with unexpected and most welcome news. "Our Division has been relieved, sir," he says, "and the Commanding Officer sent me to tell you to withdraw your party, and join the battalion at Heudicourt."

[marina]

I'm actually sharing his relief. This gets more and more tense.

Marina

[Guest geoff501]

Leave

Sorry for interrupting a good thread. Photo in post #130 is taken outside Evesham Town Hall. On the far right is a Boer War memorial. And to the left of this a smaller plaque on the wall - which has now gone. Very strange. Perhaps it's something uninteresting like a list of past mayors. Too early for a street memorial/shrine. The arched door was recently a pub/winebar until Wetherspoons wiped it out!